Listen to your Puppeteer…
Then Harry spoke, or so Steve thought. He couldn’t tell because of the bandanna over his mouth.
“Reach for the sky, ya filthy, sidewinder!”
Steve looked at Harry half bemused, half scared.
“Stop shining them pearly whites at me, boy, or I’ll have my Navajo Indian take you to boot hill, varmint.”
“You got to be fucking kidding me,” Steve said.
Puppeteer of Puppets I'm yanking your cords
Slanting your mind and crushing your dreams
unsighted by me, you can't see nothing
Just shout my name, because I'll hear you yell
Puppeteer
Puppeteer
Just shout my name, because I'll hear you yell
Puppeteer
Puppeteer
“This ain’t no joke, son,”
Harry’s accent was a good American, but the Welsh-valley accent tinted it slightly.
“Okay, I don’t know who is playing this joke,” Steve said in a raised voice, “but you can knock it off right now!”
Harry let out an insane laugh. Steve thought he could see the doll’s eyes narrow, like a wooden bad guy’s would in a corny Western film.
“Right, that’s fucking it,” Steve shouted, fear and anger colliding. He stormed over to the bed, and was about to pick Harry up, when an arrow sunk into the side of his shoulder, propelling him sideways, and smashing him into a table with a vanity mirror. His skull cracked the glass.
Steve got his balance back. His vision was slightly slanted. He felt dizzy. Shaking his head, he gazed out at a tall, shapely woman standing at the far end of the upstairs landing. She started hopping from one foot to the other, as she patted her mouth and let out a, whoo-whoo-whoo-whoo, noise.
She wore a flimsy animal skin dress that barely covered her groin area, and kept her huge breasts packed away. Her thighs thick; curvaceously sexy. On her head she wore a war chief’s head gear. War paint decorated her face: red and blue lines just under her eyes, bridging her nose. She too had a sheathed knife, but also a tomahawk and a quiver of arrows.
“What the hell do you want?” Steve shouted from his slumped position against the wall. Blood pumped from his arm
“You shouldn’t be spying on people at the dead of night. Tut-tut,” she said, wagging her finger at him. She sounds thick, Steve thought.
“That was you in the slaughterhouse? How the hell do you know where I live?”
She giggled like a school girl, loaded her bow, and said – “No, no, that wasn’t me.”
“Then who are you!” he demanded. “Who!”
“The person you were spying on in the estate a few nights back, that’s who. A gal can’t even get rid of the dead, without being spied on.”
Jesus, they had been dead bodies! Steve thought.
A second arrow hit him in his left kneecap, taking him to ground instantly.
“That’s it, you saucy, bitch,” Harry said. “Take the night-time spying, queer-herd-rustling-bandit down.”
Steve looked at her mouth – her lips unmoving. If she was talking for the doll, she was more than good.
She stood in the doorway, and shot another arrow, this one shooting through his right palm, and pinning it flat against his muscular gut.
“Aaarrggggghhh, you fucking bitch.”
Blood spilled out of Steve’s mouth as he shouted at the woman.
She bent down in front of him, and he heard the doll speak again.
“Fuck, Crystal. You know I get the fucking horn when you’re bent over like that. Jesus woman, I can see your hatchet wound that dress is so short. You could have put some fucking knickers on!”
Her mouth was definitely unmoving. Steve thought.
“I hope that’s your six-shooter I can feel in my back, Harry,” she said.
“You’re going to fucking wish it was!”
“Shh, Harry. Later. I have to take care of this one first. Or he might get away, and tell on us.”
“I…I…I won’t…
She twisted the arrow in his knee, making him wail, as his blood sprouted up and across her face. She could see he had a hard-on.
“Well, what you know Harry? He’s enjoying this!”
Sweat stung Steve’s eyes, as a death fever kicked in. He heard the doll laugh hysterically, and thought he could see it standing over the woman’s shoulder, as she had his hard dick in her hand, and was stroking it.
Then she filled her mouth with it, and started sucking. Who was tittering, Steve thought? The pain and pleasure was too much – he was slowly dying.
Then her mouth was gone. His seed dribbling down her chin, his dick shrinking away. His head lolled and his eyeballs rolled like marbles. Crystal bent closer to Steve. “Did you enjoy that?” she said. He was looking past her, watching the doll walk about on the bed, or so he thought. The fever was too bad to know what was what.
She smiled, as she rammed the tip of her knife into his left eye first, plop, then the right, plop. They popped like water balloons, and emptied onto his lap, as he yelled and screamed for mercy.
She got behind him, and started sawing through his scalp, as Harry laughed away in the sun that shone through the window.
“That’s it, bitch. Do him just like those fucking judges,” Harry said, then screamed out a crazed laughed.
* * * *
“Are we going to get moving, bitch?” Harry said. “Or are you just going to sit there daydreaming until doomsday? I think we should get the fuck out of here. Should never have come to this fucking place.”
“I had to see her, Harry, please,” Crystal protested.
“Then what the fuck are you waiting for now?!”
She started the van and let the engine tick-over for a bit, before she put it into first gear, and moved out of the car park.
“Porthcawl?” She asked Harry.
“Yes,” he said.
“We’ll go back over the mountain, shall we?” she asked.
“I don’t give a fuck.”
“You’ve finished with the book?”
“No, not yet.”
“But I thought you’d read all the stories?”
“I have,” Harry said. “But there are some bits in the back of it.”
“Such as?”
“There are a few medical notes on some of the people from the book. Fuck, they’re linked to a hospital. Castell fucking Hirwaun!”
“What?!” Crystal squealed, hitting the brakes hard. This caused them to skid.
“Fucking hell, woman. What the fuck are…”
She snatched the book out of Harry’s hands, to take a look herself. There were also news clippings on Norm, from the story “Stitch,” and Mr. Stevenson from “The Quiet Room”.
“Jesus, Harry – this ain’t fiction – it’s true. All this has happened!”
“Well, we don’t know that for sure – how would the writer know so much?”
“I don’t…” Crystal trailed off, as something out the corner of her eye struck her.
“What? What is it, Crystal?” Harry demanded.
She slowly raised her hand, and pointed out the window. “Look, over there.”
“What?”
“Parked over by there, look, in the lay-by.”
“It’s a car woman, for fuck’s sake!”
“I know that Harry, but look at it. It’s a Mustang. Just like the one in the book.”
“Ha-ha, you mean Shelby’s? Don’t be a fucking moron,” Harry said.
“But it is. It is! Oh my God, look in the back window – the crocodile is there – Mr. AC!” Crystal said.
“Oh,” was all Harry could muster.
“What shall we do?”
“Ignore him. Just drive past and don’t stop.”
Just as Crystal was about to drive off, she saw the black Mustang pull out of the lay-by and head up the mountain road.
“He’s going the same way as us, Harry.”
“And
? What’s he going to do to us?”
“I..”
“I tell you what he’s going to do – not a damned fucking thing! Fucking pussy, as he is.”
“But he’s…”
“He’s what? Big? I don’t give a fuck how big he is. I’ll cut him down to size,” Harry said.
Crystal sniggered, whilst keeping her eyes on Shelby’s car which was now disappearing around a bend in the distance.
“It may not even be him,” Crystal said.
“It’s probably not,” Harry said.
As the van rounded the same bend the Ford had taken, Crystal could see the road ahead was clear. He’d gone.
“There, all that worrying, and he’s fucked off. Petrol-head, as he is,” Harry stated. “He most likely got SDS, my dear.”
Crystal chuckled, “What’s SDS?”
“Short Dick Syndrome,” Harry clarified. “So let’s stop all this fucking worrying, and get to Porthcawl where nobody knows us.”
“Yeah, okay. And you’re right – all the worrying is silly.”
“Of course it is.”
“I think maybe we should get rid of that book though, Harry.”
“Hmm, yeah, maybe.”
“It’s like some nutter’s journal.”
“Yeah. But it’s good.”
Crystal put the radio on and listened to the words being sung as they seeped out of the speakers.
Memoir of a madman
Walk the line once more
Entries of uncertainty
Dear memoir I'm here to stay…
“Yeah, they are amusing stories. But if they are all real, then how the hell haven’t we heard about them, Harry?”
“Fuck knows.”
As they rounded the next bend, Crystal saw the Mustang. It had pulled into another lay-by, which was set off the mountain road. There was a large male standing in the road, waving her to a stop.
“Oh, no! Now what, Harry?”
“Run the big fucker over.”
“I can’t do that, what if someone sees me do it?”
“Hmm, then just drive past him.”
“I can’t do that, either. He’s standing in the road. I’ll have to pull over.”
“He doesn’t much look like the guy in the comic,” Harry said.
“Hmm, no. But he does have the shape and size, though.”
She brought the van to an abrupt and sharp stop. If it is him, she thought, then he’s more handsome in the flesh than on page, Crystal thought, as Shelby stepped closer to the van. She hesitated in winding her window down. But she did, and put on her dumb voice, trying to sound as thick as they come.
“Did you break down or something?” she asked Shelby, who was now almost close enough to touch. He had a confused look on his face - her question had him baffled. He’s falling for it.
“Erm, yeah, I have. Do you have a phone on you?” he asked, stepping right up to her window. Is he hiding something behind his back? Crystal thought, when she couldn’t see his right hand.
“No, I don’t have a phone,” she said, smiling.
“Oh, then could you give me a lift to the nearest petrol station, please?”
Hmm, that would be the place where I killed that young slut, Crystal thought. That place is probably crawling with police at the moment. What am…
“Cool doll, is he yours?” Shelby asked.
“Erm, oh, yeah – he’s mine. His name is Harry. Say hello, Harry.”
Shelby ducked his head, so he could see Harry.
“Fuck you, arsehole!”
“Harry!” Crystal said. “Don’t be rude.”
“That was amazing,” Shelby said. “Your lips didn’t move!”
“That’s because I’m real, you dumb fuck!” Harry continued.
“Okay, Jesus. I’m sorry, Harry.” Shelby said, playing along with it all.
Shelby smells really good, Crystal thought, as she found herself buckling to his bright smile and charming ways.
“So, any chance of that lift?” Shelby asked again.
“Okay, I don’t see why not,” she said. After all, what harm could come of it, she thought. He seemed friendly. Not like the freak in the book. Maybe it wasn’t the same guy. Just a massive coincidence. Or maybe he even wrote the book, and decided to put himself into it as a killer? I could ask him.
His next words froze her blood in her veins.
“I see you have the book, too?” Shelby said. “You do know who I am, then.” His tone was flat. “Because I know all about you two. That’s why I pulled you over. Wanted to make sure.”
“W…wh…what are you talking about?” Crystal said.
“Don’t play dumb,” he said. “The book over by the fucking doll. “White Walls and Straitjackets.”
“I…I…”
“Stop playing games with me. Did you post it to me? Did you?!” he said, his tone taking on a much sharper edge. “You’ve been following me about, haven’t you? You know what happened to the last smart bitch that tried to catch me out, don’t you? That’s her soft toy in my car. A souvenir. But I’m sure you know that, don’t you?!”
“No, I don’t. And I didn’t write the book, I swear. It just turned up in the glove compartment. We found it this morning. Honest,” Crystal said, knocking off the stupid voice. It wasn’t working here. Not this time.
Crystal turned to him, and they looked at each other – fear in both sets of eyes.
“Then who wrote it? And how do they know so much about us?”
“I have no idea.”
“Hey, SDS boy – why don’t you go and fuck your dead mother, you stupid prick,” Harry said.
Shelby didn’t see Crystal’s mouth move, nor did he see the doll move. “Don’t fucking insult me, bitch, or I will kill you!”
“I didn’t – he did,” she said, motioning to Harry. “I don’t want to fight, I just want to get out of here, before someone else finds out about this book, and arrests Harry and I,” she looked at Shelby all pouty. Her eyes sad.
She is fucking loopy, Shelby thought, but she’s gorgeous. Not like any of the young stupid ones I’ve hunted and killed before. Crystal is a woman, and a smart killer at that. I want her.
“How do I know you won’t turn me in?” Shelby asked.
“Why would we want to do that?” Crystal asked.
“Yeah, dipshit?” Harry chirped.
Again, no movement from her lips. It was effortless ventriloquism, Shelby thought. Is she sticking her tits out further for me to leer at?
“I guess so. We could try and find out who the author is between us?” Shelby offered.
“Like form an alliance?” she asked.
“Yeah, of sorts. Why fight each other?”
“Hmm, I guess so,” Crystal said. “That could be fun,” she said, winking at him, and rolling her tongue around her lips.
He got stiff.
“Yeah, it could,” he said.
“Maybe we should cement our partnership?”
“And what do you have in mind?” he asked.
She got out of the van, showing him her whole figure. He was a few inches taller than her, which he liked even more. She is so much sexier in the flesh, he thought.
“Come with me,” she said, leading him to the side of the van, where she slid the door back, and got in. He followed her in as she closed the door. “Touch me,” she said.
“What?”
“Feel my tits. It’s been so long since I had a real man,” she said.
“Fuck you,” Harry called from the front. “I’m more man than you’ve ever had.”
Shelby hesitated, unsure of whether he was being led into a trap, but he knew he could take her if push came to shove. He put his hands out, and moulded her tits there in the dim light; she moaned and threw her head back.
“I’m wet,” she whispered down his ear. He groaned.
Shelby pushed her up against the van, and rubbed her groin through her clothing. He felt powerful over her. She didn’t resist in the slighte
st. Her hand was at his belt, tugging it loose and lowering his zipper. She soon had his stiff cock in her hand. He whimpered as she gently stroked.
She ran her hand through his hair, then grabbed a hand full of it, pulling his head back, and making him yell.
“Argh, you fucking b…”
She quickly moved to the side and with all her strength rammed his face repeatedly against the side of the van. She heard his nose shatter, and he slumped down. She backed away from him.
“What you know, Harry,” she said. “He does have SDS!”
Shelby could hear two voices laughing in his dizzy state, as he picked himself up off the floor of the van. His head pounding. The bitch was dead. He pulled cheese-wire out of his pocket as he straightened up.
She was standing at the other end of the van, the doll in her arms. One of Harry’s boots was in his hand and up over his head, ready to swipe down.
“You. Are. Fucking. Dead!” Shelby said, approaching Crystal with his semi-hard dick hanging out of his fly.
When he got close, he balled his fist and punched Crystal in the face, but she didn’t go down, just staggered backwards. Blood pumped from her split lip.
“Thought your fucking doll was going to save you?” he yelled, standing over the crouching Crystal, who still held Harry in her hands. Her face turned away from Shelby.
“Hey, shrimp dick?” Harry said.
Shelby looked at Harry.
“Stop fucking talking in that dull voice,” he shouted at Crystal, blasting a fist into her ribs, making her yelp out in pain.
“She ain’t talking for me, arsehole,” Harry said, swiping his boot down.
Shelby tried to avoid the attack, but the sweeping motion of Harry’s arm was just too quick, and the spurred heel of the boot sliced off Shelby’s exposed privates.
He fell back against the side of the van, blood pumping from his groin area. He squealed like a dying pig, whilst he tried to stem the flow of blood.
Crystal got up from her crouch, and walked over to Shelby. She shifted Harry to the crux of her left arm, and picked up a heavy spanner from off the floor.
“I make no alliances,” she said. “Harry and I will find out who wrote that book. Your raping days are over!” she told him,
“Nooo…” he gargled out.
Crystal clobbered him over the head again and again with the robust work tool, whilst Harry slashed away with his boot spur. This resulted in them being drenched in blood.
White Walls and Straitjackets Page 11