Uncle Gary's Campfire Stories: Bayou Zombie Werewolves

by Visada, J. L. M.

  Joseph “What’s the dealio? C’mon…you know you my nig-“

  “Finish that sentence and the senate and house will have to form a caucus to find your teeth.” Barry threatened. “Now let’s get something straight…you’re not black.”

  “I’m vice black. In the event you get shot by whitey, I’ll have to assume the power of your blackness and lead the American people.” Joseph said calmly.

  “You think that if I die…you become the second black president of the United States? You really think you somehow become black when I die?” Barack sputtered.

  “Yeah…like the Highlander.” Joseph explained. “That’s why I’m vice-black now.”

  “You’re not vice-black.” Barry groaned.

  “Then how come I find fat blonde women attractive?” Joseph asked.

  “That has nothing to do with being vice-president, or being black, and you’re not black.” Obama snapped.

  “Of course I’m vice black. Every time I think about becoming president my dick gets bigger. Even the thought of being the 2nd black president is enough to make it grow longer.” Joseph said as though it explained everything.

  “That’s called an erection! You’re not black!” Barry snapped. His patience was all but gone.

  “Of course I’m black, because you’re THE MAN and you’re keeping me down. So I must be vice-black.” Joseph said it all in such a way that he thought it was all perfectly clear.

  Barry jumped up and pointed, “YOU ARE NOT BLACK! I give up trying to explain why that’s offensive…so either figure that out, or turn in your resignation.

  Joseph sulked in his chair and muttered, “Man’s always keeping me down.”

  Barry looked at Denis, “Get me that paperwork.”

  Denis nodded and said, “Yes sir. I’ll have teams ready as well.”

  “Good man.” Barry nodded. “The meeting is over, and now let’s get to work on that visit with Israel.” Barry and the others stood up and started walking towards the door. Joseph was the first out the door.

  Denis stopped the president and said, “You do realize we’re one heartbeat away from having that moron in office.”

  Barry shrugged, “Nearly makes me wish Mitt had won the election.”

  “What happened to him anyway?” Denis asked, pointing at Joseph as he began flashing gang signs to the secretary of defense.

  “We hired him an acting coach.” Barry said.

  “Yeah…so?”

  Barry sighed, “He was a method acting coach. He taught Joseph to be a method actor, but Joseph went to deep into it and just kind of lost himself. I feel kind of bad about it. I didn’t expect him to commit so thoroughly to the roll.”

  “Man that’s too bad.”

  “Tell me about it. The first role the acting coach tried to have him learn was to play was the white house dog. It was next to impossible to get him to stop dragging his ass across the White House lawn.”

  Denis laughed and said, “I’ll get you the paperwork Mr. President, but what are we going to do if we have to actually act on something there.” Denis asked nervously.

  Barry smiled, “Simple. We’ll do what George W. Bush always did. We’ll blame anything bad on our efforts to fight the terrorists. The American people still eat that shit up. Oh and Denis.”

  “Yes Mr. President?”

  “This Coonass Mullins…make sure he gets audited every year for the rest of his natural life.” Barry grinned malevolently.

  Chapter Fifty

  *** SATURDAY MORNING, JANUARY 26th, 2013 – HOTEL MAISON DE VILLE 727 TOULOUSE STREET, NEW ORLEANS LOUISIANA***

  Sarah called out to the two lumps sleeping on the sleeper sofa, “Morning Bobby! Morning B.J.! Are you both ready for breakfast? Colton thought we might want to get out there early to try and miss some of the crowd.”

  It took a few moments, but B.J. drug herself out of the warm cocoon of blankets and padded over to Sarah. “Give us both about twenty minutes and we’ll be ready.” She looked like she hadn’t hardly slept that night, her hair was a mess, she had crusty eyes, and Sarah actually recoiled from B.J. morning breath.

  “Wow! Honey you look terrible. You’ve got get more rest.” Sarah said with genuine concern.

  B.J. shot her an angry glare, “I’d love more sleep, but apparently the couple using the bedroom are Bonobo chimps and feel the need to have really loud sex until four in the morning.”

  Sarah blushed, “Oh…sorry. Colton and I just aren’t used to having to worry about keeping people up back at the house.”

  B.J. turned and walked bleary eyed back to the sleeper sofa to wake up her father, “Buy you two ball gags next Christmas.”

  “Oh we have those, but we forgot to pack them and…crap! Now I’m oversharing.” Sarah actually turned a whole new shade of red.

  B.J. froze, “Eww.” Sarah tried to apologize but B.J. stopped her. “You’re a grown woman, and Uncle Colt is…well he’s a man although grown might be pushing it a little. What you two do in the privacy of your own bedroom is nobody’s business but yours.” Sarah sighed in relief, and then B.J. locked eyes with her, “But tonight…there will be no humping after midnight! If I hear even the slightest squeak up there then I’m coming up there with a pitcher of ice cold water and throwing it on both of you. I haven’t had more than four hours sleep yet since we got here. I will get one night of sleep…OR YOU WILL PAY!” There was just something in that look in her eyes that was so distinctly “Coonass” that Sarah couldn’t help but laugh. B.J. wasn’t Bobby’s by blood, but it was obvious right then that he’d raised her. They both just got this strangely crazed look in their eyes when they set their mind on something. Sarah laughed, and that only made B.J.’s eyes narrow to two angry slits as she asked, “What’s so funny.”

  The young woman even squinted in anger like her father, and Sarah couldn’t help herself. She had to lean against the door frame because she was laughing so hard. Eventually she got control of herself and said, “I was just thinking how much you and your father are alike.” B.J. grinned, and yes it also was that same grin Sarah had seen spread across Bobby’s face a thousand times. Sarah turned to walk back upstairs to see if her husband was ready yet.

  B.J. shook her father, “Dad? Dad?” Bobby just lay there with his face buried in the pillow. “Dad! Wake up!” B.J. demanded. When Bobby didn’t respond this time B.J. decided drastic actions should be taken. “Oh no! B.J. the Terrible is going up for a sneak attack with the Senton Bomb!” B.J. stood on top of a nearby chair and then leaped over onto her father. She somersaulted in the air and landed shoulders first onto her father before rolling smoothly onto her back on the bed. Bobby’s eyes shot open as B.J. hiked her father’s leg in the air for the pin. “One! Two!” Bobby kicked out.

  B.J. rolled off the sleeper sofa, “Well my work is done. Go brush your teeth Dad. Sarah and Uncle Colt are taking us out for breakfast. I’m going to steal their shower to wash the funk off. You can have it when I’m done.”

  “You know you didn’t pin me! That means you forfeit. So I win!” Bobby laughed. “And winners get to sleep in.” Bobby turned to put his head back down on the pillow.

  B.J. jumped on the sleeper sofa as nimble as a cat. She grabbed both of her father’s arms and crossed them behind his back before straddling his back and trapping them in place, “Oh no! B.J. the Terrible is gonna unleash the Straightjacket crossface!” B.J. wrapped her hands around her father’s forehead and locked her fingers together before pulling backwards.

  Bobby howled in pain as his daughter kept pulling back. With his arms trapped he couldn’t do anything but submit, “I give! I give! UNCLE!” As soon as she let go and rolled off he started howling with laughter. “Where’d you learn that one?”

  “They had these midget wrestlers put on a show a few weeks back, and one of the managers did that to one of the wrestlers.” B.J. laughed.

  Bobby shot up and stared at his daughter, “They had midget wrestling and you didn’t call?”

 
B.J. shrugged, “I tried but you never turn on your cell phone. I called Sarah, and she said you and Uncle Colt were doing something.”

  Bobby pouted, “Did you try Colt’s phone?”

  “Yes Dad. He didn’t answer either.”

  Bobby was genuinely dejected, “So close to fulfilling my greatest non-sexual fantasy.”

  “Do I even want to know what this is about?” Colton said as he rounded the corner with Sarah.

  Bobby looked at his best friend. “We could have done it Colt!”

  “Done what?” Colton asked suspiciously.

  “We could have signed you up as a midget wrestler, and then I could have been your manager like the great Mouth of the South Jimmy Hart.” Bobby said sadly.

  “I am not midget wrestling.” Colton growled.

  “But it’d be perfect.” Bobby said, “I’d come in wearing a purple crushed velvet suit calling myself Willy Wonka, and you could come in painted orange with green hair and be the dreaded Oompa Loompa!”

  “I am not dressing up like an Oompa Loompa.” Colton growled.

  “Okay, well maybe I could wear a cape and have a mustache. That way I could call myself Coonass El Matador. Then you could come to the ring wearing giant bull horns and we’d call you Torito.” Bobby said.

  Colton glared at his friend, “I am not calling myself little bull just so you can dress up like a matador.”

  Bobby held up his hands, “Okay, my last offer. I dress like-“

  “NO NO NO! I am not gonna dress up just so you can live out some weird wrestling fantasy.” Colton snapped. “I’m not gonna do midget wrestling.”

  “But…midgets…and wrestling…and…and midget wrestling.” Bobby sputtered and just couldn’t seem to understand why his best friend wouldn’t want anything to do with it.

  “No.” Colton only said the one word, but he made it clear that was the end of it.

  Bobby stood there pouting, “Why?”

  Colton sighed, “Bobby…I’m a forty-six year old man. That’s just too old for that kind of stupid.”

  Bobby was inconsolable, “But we could have been the midget equivalent of Hulkamania.”

  Colton looked at his friend and actually felt bad that he was disappointing the man. Colton sighed, “I’m not going to wrestle, but if you’ll quit pouting like a baby I might know something you’ll like even better.”

  Bobby eyed his friend suspiciously, “Okay?”

  Colton shook his head, “I can’t believe I’m going to do this.” Then he looked his friend in the eyes, “I know where a strip club for little people is.” Bobby made no response. In fact he just stood there frozen. The only hint that he’d even heard Colton was the huge grin. “Bobby?” Colton asked nervously. Bobby’s head actually started jerking a little to the right as though there was some sort of short circuit in the man’s brain. “Bobby? Buddy?”

  “Midget…strippers?” Bobby spoke with all the hopefulness of a five year old child asking about Santa Claus.

  Colton grinned, “Yeah. It’s a specialty club that caters to us little people. Now if you’ll quit moping I’ll take you there tonight.” Colton looked over to his wife, “If you don’t mind honey?”

  Sarah looked at her husband, and then looked at Bobby. If the man had been a dog, the SPCA would have made a commercial about him, and Sarah Mclachlan would have supplied the soundtrack. Both earlobes were shot off, he still had two black eyes, and bruises all over his body. There was just no way around it. The man looked pitiful. “Okay, but try and be home by midnight.” Then she looked over to B.J. “Well I know you wanted some sleep, but how about a girl’s night out?”

  B.J. grinned, “Oh heck yeah!” B.J. looked at her father, “And you better not come home drunk.”

  “Yes mother.” Bobby said as he rolled his eyes.

  B.J. got up in his face, “I mean it. I can put up with your snoring, and I can put up with the farting, but I am not going to share that bed with you passed out drunk covered in body glitter and smelling like tiny skanks. When you get home I expect you sober enough to take a shower. Are we clear?” Bobby nodded in agreement. “Good, we wasted enough time. We both need to get cleaned up for breakfast.”

  ***800 Decatur St***

  “Oh God…that was delicious.” B.J. said before belching. “Oh…excuse me.”

  Sarah grinned, “Hey in some cultures that’s a compliment.”

  “Really?” B.J. asked.

  “I have no idea, but it sounds good.” Sarah laughed.

  All four of them sat at Café Du Monde finishing their breakfasts as they sat outside enjoying the cool, but not cold morning. B.J. smiled at all the horse drawn carriages. It was still early enough that they weren’t too busy, and so she got to watch them clip-clop around slowly as their drivers waited for people wanting a ride. “So Sarah, you really used to live around here?”

  “Yes, when I was single I lived over in the Garden District on Carondelet Street near the Anshe Sfard synagogue.” Sarah smiled.

  “Jew church? Did they do a lot of singing like in that fiddler movie?” Bobby asked, drawing the attention of several people at other tables.

  Sarah grinned, “No Bobby. They aren’t running around singing like Fiddler on the Roof. They were all actually very nice people. They’re just like you or me.”

  “Well maybe not just like me.” Bobby smiled and used one hand to mime scissors cutting off the tip of his other hand that was miming a penis. Bobby’s eyes focused on something down the street. He paled and looked terrified, “Oh shit.”

  Sarah, Colton, and B.J. looked to see what Bobby was so afraid of, and then immediately tried to hide their faces. “Oh shit!” They all said in unison.

  “FINE! I didn’t want to drink in your establishment anyway…FUCKER!” Bobby’s ex-wife screamed at the manager of Voodoo Harley Davidson. She was wearing a purple leopard print tube top that barely contained her sagging breasts that kept threatening to escape, and gold hot pants to go with her fishnets and spiked heels. It was a look that she might have actually been able to pull off when she was young, but age had caught up with her. Now she was starting to get soft around the middle, and fat was pooching out around the top of the hot pants. Years of smoking had changed her sexy pouting lips into something closer to snarling fish lips. It was clear by the way she carried herself that she still firmly believed that she looked exactly the way she did twenty years ago.

  “Ma’am for the ninth time we don’t sell alcohol. We sell Harley Davidson clothing and accessories.” The manager said in a gentle but firm tone.

  “FINE!” Sue screamed as she wobbled down the sidewalk with what could only be called the worst camel toe in the state.

  “Jesus…Mom looks like a hooker.” B.J. whispered.

  “Don’t talk about your mother like that.” Sarah said. “Whatever she is, does, or has done, she still gave birth to you. Don’t forget that.”

  Colton peeked over his shoulder, and then cringed, “Oh shit! I think the camel toe winked at me.”

  “Don’t talk about She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.” Bobby groaned as he tried to hide behind his drink.

  B.J. giggled, “I can’t believe you just made a Harry Potter reference.”

  “I read those damn books to you so much I’ll never get that shit out of my head. Now stop laughing because if your mother hears laughter then like all truly evil things she’ll feel instinctual need to find the source of that happiness and kill it.” Bobby warned.

  “Oh look! There’s my traitorous daughter, the useless idiot she calls a father, and his two friends the bimbo and the fat midget freak.” Sue hissed.

  B.J. started to respond, but Sarah put a hand on her shoulder and shook her head no. “Come on guys. I think this is our cue to leave now. Waiter! Check please.”

  Sue sneered, “Oh! Always so classy. What’s wrong? Don’t want to lower yourself to my standards Miss High and Mighty.”

  Sarah sighed and turned around, “We’re not going to do this. You can try all y
ou want, but I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of an argument. I’m not going to give you the chance to feed into your drama. Have a nice day Sue. We’ll just pay our check and leave you to your wonderful day.”

  The blonde growled at Sarah as her eyes filled with rage. “Sure. You can be classy. You’ve got money. You’ve got fame. You have that little fat freak you call a husband, you’ve got my husband, and now MY daughter. It’s easy to be classy when you have everything.”

  “What are you talking about?” Sarah asked.

  “Oh don’t play stupid. Do they both fuck you at once, or do they tag out when one gets done?” Sue spat.

  Sarah gasped, she couldn’t even find the words to respond, but B.J. didn’t have any problems speaking up, “Jesus Mom, could you be any more tacky?”

  Sue’s eyes locked on her daughter. “Why I ever listened to that idiot is beyond me.” Sue hissed as she pointed at Bobby. “I should have-“

  “Sue…please don’t.” Bobby begged.

  “Don’t what?” B.J. asked, “What was she going to say?”

  A wicked smile curled across Sue’s face, “I never wanted you.” B.J. recoiled as though she were slapped, and seeing that just egged Sue on, “I only slept with your real father because I thought it would teach this loser a lesson. Then I end up pregnant, and he begged…BEGGED me not to give you up. Now look at you. I carry you nine months and how do you repay me. You help him to steal my home out from under me. I should have aborted you when I had the chance.”

  “You’re a monster.” B.J. sobbed. Sarah pulled her into a protective hug.

  Sue growled, “Sure, go to her. Like I said, you have my husband, and now you have my daughter. I hope you’re proud.”

  “I still don’t know what that means. I don’t know why you are angry with all of us. You’re the one that wanted to sleep around. Where is the guy you left with anyway?” Sarah asked.

  “He wasn’t man enough for me!” Sue spat, “So I dumped him a couple of days ago.” Sue kept pushing in on them. She wouldn’t stop yelling and screaming. Some of it was that she’d been drinking since last night and hadn’t stopped, but a lot of it was just her normal behavior.