Scary Rednecks & Other Inbred Horrors (35 page)

“Hey.
 
Eddie, Wake up.”

“Yeah, Ed, get your ass awake.
 
We’ve been waiting for you.”

He didn’t know how long it had been, but he woke up, his body felt numb.
 
His mind was fuzzy.
 
He opened his eyes slowly and noticed that night had descended.
 
The backyard was brightly lit by two spotlights, each affixed to a corner of the house, high under the eaves.

“Eddie.
 
Long time no see.
 
How was the Army, man?
 
Did you kill anybody?”

Edwin shook his head to try and rid himself of the cobwebs, but it was to no avail.
 
He was having trouble thinking straight.

“I told them, Ed.
 
We told them how you killed Henrietta.
 
You know, you shouldn’t have done it.”

“I was puking in the weeds. I didn’t do anything,” he answered automatically, turning his head to the left.

“Yeah, I know,” said Clay grinning, “but they didn’t.”

It was Clay Archie, just the way he remembered him, except now wearing a hat and shirt and dungarees.
 
Straw poked out from the seams almost hiding his ghostly pale face.

“Man.
 
You got old.”

Edwin spun his head to his right, and where he’d seen the skeletal remains of Little Timmy earlier, was now the painfully pale features of the little man, giggling happily. He turned and looked to the porch, twenty feet away.
 
Old Man
Jonston
sat beside Henrietta, his hand resting atop hers upon the table.
 
Like his friends, she was pale, a ghost, and he could make out her satisfied smile even at this distance.

“Tell us a story.
 
Old Man
Jonston
been following your career.
 
He told us about them wars you was in.
 
Tell us about Grenada.
 
Tell us about Panama.
 
Tell us about Saddam.
 
Tell us about all
them
demons you conquered,” came the squeaky recognizable voice of Tom from the other side of Timmy.
 
“Come on man, we
gotta
long time to kill.

by David Whitman

C
arl Levine looked out the window and saw Russ Wilson’s dog, Ka-
pow
,
shitting
on his front lawn.

“That goddamn son of a bitch!
 
It’s all over for that fucking dog!”

The feud had been going on for the last two years. It had started when Russ had taken to parking in front of Carl’s house.
You don’t own the damn street, Levine
, Russ had said.
 
From there, it had elevated into an all out war.

Every day they could be seen shouting over the fence that separated their yards, each of them daring the other to come over and put a little action into those fighting words.
 
Both men could often be seen sitting at the window, just waiting for the other to make the next move.

As Ka-
pow
did his business, he seemed to be smiling at Carl.
 
Here’s my gift to you
, he seemed to say.
 
The poodle didn’t even try to run when he saw Carl running toward him, hands outstretched.
 
The dog finished its business, kicked his back legs twice in a kind of burying movement, and then escaped through a trench under the fence.

Furious, Carl ran over to the wooden fence and peered over it, blue veins bulging across his bald head.

Russ was sitting on a lawn chair, wearing his favorite food stained Hawaiian shirt, scribbling on a crossword puzzle.
 
Ka-
pow
sauntered over, spun around twice, and sat down next to his master.

“
Goddam
you, Wilson!” Carl yelled.
 
“I told you about that damn dog!
 
You’re not going to be happy until I kill the little son of a bitch!”

Russ looked up from his crossword puzzle, as if he heard a fly buzzing somewhere within the vicinity of his ear, and scratched his beard lazily.
 
“That you, Levine?” He looked over at Carl.
 
“What’s the idea?
 
I’m trying to sit here on this bench and enjoy my week off and now you’re harassing me.
 
Go back in the house, you little man.”

“I’m telling you, Wilson,” Carl said.
 
“I’m going to kill that little bastard.
 
I want you to get over here and clean up the mess he left.”

Russ frowned.
 
“What are you talking about, Levine?
 
Ka-
pow’s
been sitting here by me for the last half-hour.
 
If he had gone off to relieve himself, I would have seen him go.
 
Now go away and leave me alone.”

As if listening to his command, Carl disappeared.

Russ patted the poodle gently on the head.
 
“Good boy, Ka-
pow
.
 
You’re always making your Poppa proud.”
 
He loved making Levine’s life miserable.
 
It provided entertainment to his boring life ever since his wife, Mary, had left him, the miserable bitch.
 
“Now,” he said, scratching his long beard with the pencil, his concentration turning back to the puzzle.
 
“What’s a six letter word for supplant?”

Just as he started to write the answer down, a pile of dog shit landed in his lap with a disgusting
plop
.
 
He looked up from his lawn chair, stunned.

Carl was leaning over his fence waving at him with a shovel, an enormous grin on his face.
 
“Eat shit, Wilson!
 
Next time that dog comes over on my lawn, I’m
gonna
shoot the fucker!”

Russ looked down into his shit buried lap, his mouth open in wide “O” of disbelief.
 
That bastard has some balls after all
, he thought, before his shock gave away to anger.
 
He stood up from his chair, throwing his crossword puzzle book on top of Ka-
pow
, eyes bulging with rage.
 
“Levine!
 
I’m going to kill your crazy ass!”

Carl smile widened, exposing his yellow teeth.
 
“Why don’t you just come over and try it, you shit eater?
 
I think it’s about time I put you in your place.”

Russ ran over to the fence and began to climb, his pudgy body dancing precariously just at the top, before he slipped and fell into Carl’s lawn.
 
He landed on his back solidly, feeling the air explode from his lungs, his Hawaiian shirt ripping open from where it had caught in the fence.
 
His hairy belly stuck out like an obscene parody of pregnancy.
 

Before Russ could get to his feet, Carl brought the shovel down on top of his head, gritting his teeth as it connected with a dense thud.

The shovel wriggled in Carl’s hand before it came alive with a burst of painful electricity.
 
He could feel pulses of energy blasting through the handle and into his body.
 
As if he was holding a live power line, Carl danced up and down energetically, spittle flying out of his chattering teeth.

The switch was sudden.
 
Carl found himself inside Russ’ portly body.

Russ let go of the shovel and looked down at himself, his mouth dropping open, bewildered to find himself in the thin and wiry frame of his hated enemy.

Carl, his ass planted firmly on the ground, looked up to see himself standing in front of him with a shovel at his feet.
 
Ka-
pow
was standing off to the overgrown grass, his head cocked to the side curiously, a small whimper escaping from his furry lips.

Dazed, Carl got to his feet, rubbing his head dumbly.
 
Something was wrong, he felt heavier somehow, and he was wearing Russ’ Hawaiian shirt.
 
He looked over at himself.
 
He felt like he was staring at his own reflection, only he didn’t have any control over what it did.
 
In panic, he fled into his house.
 
Russ, just as frightened, ran into his house as well.

Ka-
pow
watched the both of them silently and began to whine.

Mrs. Anderson, the elderly neighbor across the street, was wondering just what the hell was going on.
 
She had just seen them fighting on the lawn and then she had seen Carl run into Russ’ house and vice versa.

Carl was looking into the mirror of his bathroom and wondering what in the hell Russ Wilson’s reflection was doing in it.
 
He ran his hands through Russ’ thick, curly hair, feeling for the first time in years what it felt like to actually not be bald.
 
He began to finger his newly acquired beard inquisitively, pulling his hand away with disgust when he saw that it was dotted with food.
 
He had never been able to grow one himself-it always came out looking vaguely like some kind of animal mange.
 
The smell of Russ’ body odor wafted into his nostrils and he flinched, his eyes wincing at the ripeness of the scent.
 
To say something weird had happened was an understatement.
 
They had switched bodies. His brain was actually floating in the disgusting skull of his hated neighbor.

He jumped when the phone rang, stumbling out to the living room, his mind still trying to get over the shock of what had happened.

Vacantly, he picked up the receiver.
 
“Uh, Hello.”

“Levine, you bald asshole!
 
Give me back my body!”

“Wilson, what in the hell did you do?” Carl asked, his voice whiny and high.

“
ME
!” Russ shrieked into his ear, causing him to flinch in pain.
 
He still felt a dull ache from when he had apparently hit himself with a shovel.
 
“M
E
! Levine, I think we’d better get some goddamn facts straight here!
 
First, you throw a pile of dog shit into my lap!
 
Second, you attack me with a shovel!
 
And now, you’ve somehow stolen my body from me!
 
I just looked into the mirror and saw your chrome dome shining at me, I damn near lost my eyesight from the glare!”

Carl, finally getting his bearings, shouted into the receiver, “You big, fat, lumberjack-looking redneck prick!
 
You think I’d want your out of shape, near death, pile-of-lard-of-a-body with egg yolk in the beard?
 
Don’t you even wash this mountain of waste?”

“So what are you trying to tell me, Levine?” Russ shot back. “You trying to say you have nothing to do with this?”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to say.
 
What do you think, Wilson, that I’m some kind of black-magic-practicing warlock?
 
Obviously something weird happened.
 
We’re going to have to try and switch them back somehow.
 
Come back over, and I’ll smack you over the head with the shovel again.”

“What, are you crazy?
 
Has the sun been burning into your smooth plate of a head too long?
 
I’m not going to let you hit me with a shovel again, even if I am in your body.” There was a pause and Carl heard a faint zipping sound. “Oh, and don’t it figure.
 
Let me correct that last statement.
 
I’m not going to let you hit me with a shovel again, even if I am in your body with the little, itty-bitty dick.
 
Jesus, Levine, it looks like a baby’s broken pinky.
 
No wonder you don’t have any kids.”

Carl looked into the hallway mirror and watched the bearded face of Russ Wilson turn red with embarrassment.

“You still there, Levine?” Russ asked.
 
“I have a better suggestion.
 
How about if I come over and hit
you
with a shovel, or actually, I mean me.
 
Jesus, this is getting confusing!”

“No way.
 
You’re not coming near me.
 
I’ll call you back, Wilson.
 
I need some time to catch my breath.”

“Before you go, Levine, I got one last thing left to say.
 
If this is some kind of permanent deal, I think I got myself gypped in a major way here.
 
Almost like trading in a Porsche for a Yugo.
 
You take care of that fine piece of machinery you got there, Levine.
 
Because I’m going to take it back.”