Episode 3 Finale – Part 1

VAMPIRE WEAKENED

OR

YOU’RE GONNA NEED A BIGGER THROAT

 

“He’s dead?” Lowell was doubly stunned. First he had been told that his beloved cousin Bethany Ward had just been run over by a crystal meth smoking grave digger’s grave yard tractor and then he had been told there would be no need to exact vengeance upon the worthless fool because he was already dead!

“You there pal?” It was Murray, the dark herald, bringing Lowell back to the present reality.

“What happened?” Lowell was impatient.

A long pause…Lowell could her Murray breathing.

The pause continued.

“I think it would be best if you just got to the hospital friend,” said Murray. He said this in almost a rushed way–a hurried if not frantic way–clearly there was something he wasn’t telling Lowell, something he wished not to tell Lowell. This was not like Murray, not like him in the least. We are not certain at this point, not certain at all, that Lowell feels much of anything in the way of emotion–least not the way you or I do, but, he feels (felt?) something for his cousin Bethany, perhaps she was his sole remaining flesh and blood? And we know, or at least strongly suspect Lowell does not scare, does not rattle easily…But he senses something is not…right–something is amiss.

“Murray, you’re going to tell me what’s going on there and you’re going to tell me right now. What happened to Browning, and how’s Bethany?”

It was settled, Murray knew. He opened his mouth, the words coming out without malice, without inflection.

“Browning had his throat ripped out. Eaten. Ate. A good portion of his lips, tongue, and nose too.” Murray paused and looked up, as he was wont to do when reflecting, and added, “I think some of his fingers were bit off as well. I think some of his teeth are missing but, you know, hard to tell with a meth head.”

Silence.

Impossibly, Lowell asked coolly, “And what about my cousin, how is she, how is Bethany?”

“That’s the real question friend, and I’m not kidding, we both know I’m not kidding,” said Murray.

“So?” Lowell’s pallor was polar white.

“Well LB, she’s not hungry, I can tell you that.” Murray heard Lowell breathing. “And one other thing, friend, your cousin Bethany, she’s higher than a kite.

 

…

  

GRAVEYARD GAS

 

     Belle Renfield was tired. She worked the night shift at the Liberty Super Gas and by “night shift” she meant eight in the evening until eight in the mother foppin’ morning–twelve moppin’ foppin’ hours! (She’d been trying not to swear so much–it had taken a great deal of concerted effort on her part but, towards this end, she felt, the meth had helped a bunch. A bunch! In regards to househould chores and small, personal goals, Belle thought that meth was highly underrated. She often thought people were not marketing it the right way. The most popular drug not just in Wisconsin (if you didn’t consider alchohol a drug, and Belle knew, no one in Wisconsin did), meth was also the most popular drug on the planet earth. She had been surprised to learn though, that it was extremely popular with gay men. She herself did not know any truly gay men, though she knew quite a few guys who screwed anything or anyone they could when they were high on meth…Belle was somewhat sure there was a difference, but then a fly flew past her and she lost her train of thought…)

It was just past ten p.m. ”10 mother poppin’ p.m.!” she grunted. “I still got somethin’ like eight more hours to muther fluppin’ go,” she estimated. Math was not her strong suit. Meth, meth was her strongest suit these days. Who could blame her? Twelve hour shifts! At a Liberty Mother Floppin’ Poppin’ Super Fluppin’ Duper Gas station! She wondered for a passing moment how her life had come to this–hadn’t she been a nurse’s aid once? Or something? It was hard for her to concentrate sometimes. Most of the time, except when she was lit up. But it had been hours now, or something like that, since she had taken anything. She was sure it had been hours. There was no one in her Liberty Super Gas store at the moment so she did what she thought was pretty sly…she went to smoke a cigarette…

The moon was rising over the post office sitting across the street from Belle Renfield and she thought it would be nice to write some letters. “No one writes any muther fuppin’ letters anymore,” she said as she lit a cigarette. It was quiet, the town still being rural and small enough to settle down by nine in the evening except for weekend nights when things could, truth be told, be wild or…just as dead. “Just a moppin’ poppin’ small town girl,” Belle sang as she smoothly placed her cigarette on top of the garbage can lid and just as smoothly took out a pipe for her meth. “Bubble, bubble, keep me out of trouble,” she sang. She hit it and took a wonderful drag. Well, it was not so wonderful as it once was–the rush was nowhere near as intense but still, it was pretty damn good. Belle loved it! Not just the meth, no, she loved smoking it right there on the main…drag. She laughed. She laughed hard. She continued “smoking,” alternating one for the other, waving at old classmates driving by on their way home for the night. “Probably wonderin’ how ol’ Belly Belle got so skinny!” she laughed.

Assuming the guise of a reporter Belle held her pipe as a microphone. “Tell me Belly Belle, what’s your secret? How did you lose all that weight?”

Belle smiled at the camera she imagined in front of her and said, “Three words, Ms. Renfield, cry…stal…meth.” She blurted out laughing maniacally. “Mother fluckers!” She gave all of her former classmates the finger and then ducked back inside. She wanted to straighten out the entire front aisle, the one with all of the boxes of candy, magazines, and assorted chips. “Could look much neater!” she yelled to no one as she whirled her way towards the back of the gas station, to the bathroom. She would pee and then call Chandler. Chandler was her boyfriend. “Boyfriend!” she wheezed.

He wasn’t her boyfriend.

But they made a good team. She worked at Liberty, he worked the bars and the truck stops in the greater western Wisconsin area (not excluding the Twin Cities either), and together they did what they needed to do to maintain the trailer, the rent, and their supply. Stocking shelves, sex, sex, sex, drives to the land of 10,000 Mud Ducks (Minnesota), sex, sex…it didn’t matter. They made a nice team. Only, Chandler, being an educated man, he didn’t care for swearing, didn’t care for it at all. So, it was “Muther Foppin’” this and “Moppin’ Floppin’” that…who cared?

Belle was done. She came out of the bathroom and was about ready to call Chandler and let him know he could swing by anytime–the town was extremely dead tonight!

But there was a woman in her store.

“Cheese and rice,” said Belle.

Belle greeted the woman warmly, she was very good at customer service, and she scooted behind the square, boxed in counter. She scanned the cigarette shelves hung above and around her head knowing people who came at this time were usually smoking fiends who wanted to make sure they had an adequate supply for either the night or for the next morning. The woman Belle was looking at was slim enough to be a smoker, that was for sure!

But this woman looked a little beat up, a little…run over. Still, the Liberty Super Gas station prided itself on cordial relations with its customers and so Belle smiled her somewhat toothy smile at Bethany Ward. Bethany Ward, who had not had a good day, nodded back.

“Get you something sweetie?” asked Belle.

“Got any mother fucking meth?” asked Bethany, discreetly.

Belle’s eyes widened even further–if that was possible. She looked over her shoulder at the silent security camera pointing at them and winked her left eye at Bethany in secret warning. “Yes we carry that brand ma’am,” Belle said, cleverly, and as warmly as possible–this might be a new friend! Maybe she could help her and Chandler with the trailer and all of that…but she might need to work on her discretion a little–and her hair. They could put some long sleeves over her arms to cover those bruises. “Cheese and rice honey, your old man really worked you over,” said Belle. It was tough making rent sometimes, she knew.

Bethany looked down her arms, looked down at her legs. “Felt like a goddamn tractor,” she said and then added, “Do you have any mother fucking meth?” Bethany Ward stared at Belle, longingly, the moon was now over the insurance building Chandler rented next to the post office and the shadows of the small trees next to it were just reaching the curb. It was another beautiful night in Hayward.

Belle smiled again, her tongue snaking its way through one of the several gaps she had between her remaining teeth. This chick was kind of hot too, not as skinny as she was (yet) but if she was this desperate for meth, she obviously could join Chandler’s “insurance” team! She was beat up but, the men never really minded that all too much thought Belle. That was another really nice thing about meth: It was the great equalizer.

Bethany Ward smacked her hand on the counter.

“Do you have any goddamn, mother fucking meth?” she said, angrily. Her skin was turning whiter by the second.

“Honey, honey, honey,” said Belle. She placed her hand on top of Bethany’s. “Like I said, yes dear, we sure do carry that brand of cigarette but (and here she lowered her voice in a conspiratorial manner, knowing the camera was watching her) we’re out up here and I have to go in back to get more.” She jerked her head in an overly exaggerated manner to indicate the back of the Liberty Super Gas station.

“Is that where the fucking meth is?” yelled Bethany Ward.

Belle’s eyes popped. She smiled and grimaced and laughed all at once. She loved this girl! Wow! Chandler was going to love her!

Belle rushed out of the boxed in service counter and went around to where Bethany was standing, rigidly, like a corpse with rigor mortis. She grabbed Bethany’s hand and put her mouth right next to Bethany’s ear. God she smelled great! Clean–like a hospital! Whispering, she said, “I have a little.” She felt her lip brush Bethany’s ear. Lord this was hot! “But I have to call my guy and have him bring some more. Just come with me to the back of the store. Pretend like you’re going to use the restroom, and then duck into the storage room with me, okay?” Belle let her lips purse on Bethany’s. Catching the scent pouring out from Belle’s mouth, Bethany swung her face to its source. The two women breathed as one, mouth to mouth.

Not wanting the enchanted moment to escape, Belle gabbed Bethany’s wrist and, in a frenzy, navigated them both towards the back. “Here is the restroom ma’am, I hope you find it clean and welcoming,” she announced to the spies she knew where lurking in the cameras. She guided Bethany towards the restroom door and then smoothly pulled her into the back storage room with her, keeping the door just ajar, in case anyone entered the store, customer service being of the highest priority at Liberty Super Gas. She hugged Bethany in towards her skinniness, giggling.

“Where’s the fucking meth?” said Bethany.

In a flash, Belle lit her little pipe, inhaled deeply, and then planted her lips onto Bethany’s. The two women held their lips together while their brains unfurled. Bethany set the pipe on a stack of twelve packs of Orangina soda and grabbed Bethany’s wrist, rubbing her body excitedly against her new best friend.

The delicious buzz entering into her mind’s universe once again, Bethany hissed, “More.”

Mistaking her meaning, Belle slipped her hand past the waistband of Bethany’s bottoms. Were they pajamas? Bethany’s skin was electrified by Belle’s touch and she kissed her even harder, her tongue searching every crevice, every gorge of the other woman’s mouth, seeking more of that life giving elixir. She grabbed Belle’s head, grabbed her stringy hair forcefully and, eying her, said, “More.”

Giggling naughtily, Belle took another hit, repeated the locking kiss, and kept her hands busy once she had placed the pipe back down. Damn this woman was hungry for it! Smearing their pulsating bodies against each other, the two women watched as a new star was born, somewhere over the twelve packs of Orangina soda, through the crevice of the ajar door, past the front counter, out the door and over Chandler’s insurance building. Chandler! Belle unlocked her lips and tongue from her new best friend. As Bethany’s tongue stuck out from her mouth like a snake, looking for its brood, jerking this way and that, her eyes beckoning, Belle reminded her, “I’m almost out sweetie! I have to call my guy. You’ll love him!” As Bethany tried desperately to put her tongue, her mouth, her teeth, back onto the skinny woman’s, Belle kept giggling protesting, “Just wait! Just wait!”

Belle managed to get her flip phone out of her back pocket and hit the number one button on her speed dial. After one fourth of a ring Chandler answered. As Belle explained the situation to him (in their sneaky meth code) Bethany smelled her skinny friend’s hair. She ducked her nose and mouth under it and started licking her neck. She could taste it, sense it–on and in her craggy skin!

The hunger exploded within Bethany, cannons shooting behind her eyes lit the evening sky and in the haze of the roar she felt her wings return! They danced out from under her skin and fluttered out into existence once more–how lovely! The skinny woman was laughing, laughing, giggling, giggling, snapping shut her phone and explaining that Chandler would be here in a moppin’ ploppin’ jiffy. Bethany felt the skinny woman’s hand continue its previous explorations and Bethany’s minefield skin reached up, sparks humming like never before. Groaning, Bethany said, “More.”

“Goddamn this is so fucking hot,” moaned Belle. In panic at her curse words, she pressed her hand hard into Bethany, looked her in the eye and said, “Please don’t tell Chandler I swore.”

“I promise not to tell,” said Bethany.

“And for now, I won’t tell him about this,” said Belle, looking at her hand, inside of Bethany’s pajamas.

“I know you won’t” said Bethany.

Then, feeling the dawning of an Ice Age of an entirely different kind, feeling her wings expand and touch the crystal meth heavens and their cosmic eternity of nuclear circular intensity, her orgasming body issuing forth Noah’s flood, she bit hard and she bit cleanly into the right side of Belle’s neck. As Belle Renfield started to protest the roughness (but not protesting too much–these things happened!), Bethany swung her mouth back to Belle’s.

“Sweet Jesus!” screamed Belle as her ark met its own flood, and then, feeling the sharp, strong, meth fueled teeth of Bethany sink into and through the side of her mouth, Belle kept screaming. She screamed as Bethany snapped off the first chuck of her bite and swallowed it whole. She screamed as she saw Bethany’s mouth, smeared in her blood, streak back to her–teeth flashing! They clamped hard onto the better part of Bethany’s tongue before removing it. She screamed as she now could see Bethany’s wings as she spread them out, filling the stock room, brushing the stacks of Orangina soda.

After several more chomps, Belle screamed no more.

Licking, licking, licking, drinking, drinking, drinking, and chewing, chewing, chewing, chewing, Bethany, assiduously supped.

 

NEXT: CHANDLER BING GETS SOME BLING OR, FINALLY, THE FINALE!