It Came From the Hoarding Nest!
“Okay, Youtube.” A doddering, bald, greasy & grotesque male specimen speaks to the camera closely and threateningly. His voice slurs from duster huffing and alcoholism. It is a creature of twisted yet conflicting origin: bespeckled and bald but still fairly young, able to decipher the sweeping miracle of technology but still confused by basic hygiene and instruction, destructive but still functional, all things describing the despised wretch and their parasitic compatriots.
“Joshhhhyyyy.” Evilly whispered by the human embodiment of a decaying Wendigo. Known as ‘my one true love’ by the fellow duster enthusiast and much more directly as “the crack whore witch” by their anti-fans; Josh slowly lurches in the direction of his lover and enabler Jessica. Theirs is an affair drawn from gas station romance novels found in the corner of the disused and sketchy establishment. They have slowly become the leading power couple of white trash cringe shows of the internet.
A hideous “SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” sound tears through the awkward silence as the pair woof down their Duster appetizer. The chat watching along with the pathetic spectacle make reference to David Lynch’s Blue Velvet by typing in all caps “MOMMY, BABY WANTS TO FUCK!” As Josh whispers to his partner in crime to keep quiet for the time being as he perfects what in his mind is the ultimate alcoholic beverage. The making of the Mead is a practice that dates back a while ago and is the ideal attention-grabber and click bait generator. The Mead is the name this backwoods mad chef lends to his home-made alcohol drawn from bizarre concoctions. Josh’s unclean hands with black nail polish chipping away clutches at the ingredients of his latest abomination:
Ingredients: diluted anti-freeze, Dollar Store red wine, off-brand Cheetos, Red Bull, over $75 worth of sauces from Little Caesars, and the remnants of a broken classic Gilbert U-238 Atomic Energy Laboratory with actual Uranium left over by Josh’s grandpa.
Josh slurs “Grandpa’s apple sauce” instead of “Grandpa’s cough medicine” as confirmed by the chat. Jessica asks the bespeckled magician where he found the Atomic Energy Laboratory where Josh explains how it was in a storage unit he helped move (I.E. steal from) that his father asked for assistance with and he was fascinated by the glowing dust emanating from it. “Bombs away!” He slurs in mongoloid ecstasy, amazed at the sparks emitting from his strange brew as it takes on shapes and colors he cannot pronounce, shifting and turning in rapid succession unlike previously defiled concoctions. Josh and Jessica soon retreat, with Jessica huffing away duster off camera, Josh succumbs to alcohol-induced slumber as the stream mercifully shuts off, and The Mead waits in its jar with menacing fury…
Through the phlegm and remnants of lanced boils, from cockroach larvae and wolf’s milk, stirred from piss and expired food, and willed by the alchemy of dark intent with radiation. I awaken. My home quakes with my self-awareness of being the bizarre alcoholic concoction made sentient. The dirty glass I look out from teases my appetite as the two makers of my genesis lie blissfully unaware of a superior being that is so very hungry like the newborn needing its milk.
I shift my protoplasmic mass to and fro, moving the jar little by little to tip over until my escape is made and the glass breaks.
Freedom. Hunger. Evolution. These are my primary motivations hanging above my consciousness as etchings in the sky commanding me to go and destroy. This is the only motivation I need in my will to power and it is so very thirsty. I creep over from the disgusting floor of the trailer, soaking in the dirt and grime long ignored and accepted by the occupants. There in the corner, not very far from my creator, I see the decaying Wendigo glowing in skeletal ecstasy like a reverse Sleeping Beauty.
In my stealthy approach, Jessica pays no attention having long gone comatose due to her vices, and my liquid being makes first contact to their dirty feet where it takes several seconds for there to be a response. Soon, as I strip and suckle the calloused feet there is a muffled and slurred screaming from a creature less human than me. She screams and strikes me but both of her gnarled fists sink inside my all-annihilating body rendering her suffering into insect agony. She calls forth her disabled lover but her slurred words can only communicate so much in her suffering as unwashed flesh is stripped down to the yellow fat and soon the red meat and brittle bone, her blood slurped away in my necessary thirst but I as I reach toward her pubis and belly, I discard the days-old tampon and spit it out as even I have more dignity. The screaming mutates as I consume more and more, pulling at the flesh like an evil hickey, as the meat agonizingly succumbs to this necessary destruction, slurring “Ohmuhgawwwddddd” in white trash final prayer and desperation. With each bite and nibble I feel my being grow and become stronger, breaking apart the legs backwards and sidewards as the gutcunt is removed in brutal liposuction. The meat begins vomiting in horror and can no longer speak, I keep reaching towards and am horrified by the drooping breasts lined with stretch marks and tear them away in a whiplash, leaving empty craters for what was once -perhaps- intended to be the motherly features but gone to waste and neglected. The meat stops moving as my form evolves to a point where I can semi-stand, and in my first real walk I lift it up and break it backwards with the shattering of a spinal cord and pushing out all of the pitiful waste in a torrent of blood & bile. The noise finally awakens my creator.
“Wuuuutttttt?” Is one of the last words of KingCobraJFS who I mock by opening my chewing mouth and show him his bride and my supper, forcing him to witness his mate dissected and dissolving into an annihilating ether. He prays on his knees to false gods and calls for Ozzy for assistance as I make my way towards him, glad to be the last thing that he sees as I confront a malding horror. Before more cursing and before his pocket knives could be reached, I have evolved tendrils that spring out and pin him in his place as I make his finale quick and painless in thanks to having him be the genesis of my rightful creation. With jaws ever-growing I lick my lips with several tongues and finally bite down on the greasy and balding skull. With a great big bite, removing brain and thought, blood crushes through the eyes and ears, an 85 IQ squeezes out in bright and pink colors, and I indulge in that slurry of what was once human.
As I finish my justified annihilation, I look towards the windows and announce to myself: “First the trailer park. And then, the world!”
