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Fear and Loathing in Oz - Chapter I

"An hommage to Hunter S Thompson and L. Frank Baum."

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 Beside us raced the hurricane. 140 mph of sheer twisted speed, barely able to keep up with the rented Corvette we’d picked up in Toledo, let alone my amphetamine fueled brain. Under the dashboard was enough acid and ecstasy to turn an entire nation of jihad spouting Islamists into black-eyed love monkeys. Wrapped up in tinfoil and enough duct tape to open our own OSH to keep those drug sniffing bastard Nazis commonly known as german shepherds at bay. Not even my sharp nosed companion could spot the scent over the stink of dog sweat and urine that permeated the vinyl seats of the rental car, neither as strong as the stench of desolation that had driven spikes into our brains via our nostrils.

Toto screamed something incoherent as I pulled the wheel around, narrowly missing the cow carelessly flung across the road by raging hot winds and sliced and diced through a picket fence in the shadow of an AT&T billboard. Somebody was going to be eating road kill burgers tonight. The thought sickened me. Not that I had any issues with red meat normally, but right now, the thought of anything in the desecrated temple that was my body was more than my mind could wrap itself around without puking myself inside out.

“We’re going to die!” The dog like creature that rode shot gun screamed in my ear. Literally, might I add, the 12 gauge, double barreled weapon pointing in random directions in his panic as we bounced several feet in the air over rail road tracks that led, eventually, to Chicago. I’d had about enough of that, not minding so much the image of accidental death as it discharged 5 million leaded beads into my brainpan. I just hated to waste our last two cartridges. The others had been used shooting farmyard chickens in our flight from the demons that somehow; we were never able to shake. Even now, peering in the side mirror, I could see those fucking flying monkeys gaining on us. If Toto thought he’d something to scream at now, wait until they were ripping his genitals off and making balloon animals with them. There was only one thing left to us. I turned up the stereo.

Some say the end is near. 
Some say we'll see armageddon soon. 
I certainly hope we will. 
I sure could use a vacation from this 
bull-shit three ring cirrrrcus siiiideshow of 
Freaks here in this, hopeless fucking, hole we call LA.

“Fuck you, Faggots!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. It was lost in the roar of the music turned to ear splitting volume. Not that it mattered. My throat had gone raw, my voice lost somewhere in the last cornfield we’d driven straight through. Mother fucking crows had had the nerve to challenge us. I’d emptied the clip of my army colt, illegally obtained as were most of the hand guns stocked away under my seat, at them. Or they had been. Now they bounced about beneath my feet as the car slammed into a mailbox that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Where the fuck had that come from? Jesus Christ, even out here in Kansas us dumb ass hicks had internet. Who the fuck wrote letters any more?

The only way to fix it is to flush it all away. 
Any fucking time. 
Any fucking day. 
Learn to swim, I'll see you down in Arizona bay.

We passed a sign, more of a blur of letters, on a metal sheet that somehow defied logic, still clinging to the dying earth. Welcome to Nebraska.

“We’re not in mother fucking Kansas anymore!” I shouted at my companion. Totally gone on the mixture of ether and corn whiskey he’d been downing since this mad race had begun, he merely let out a sound that sounded like a dog vomiting up grass. Glancing over at him, I realized that was exactly what he was doing, only it wasn’t grass.

“Use the garbage bag, you dumb fucking animal!”

And then, things started getting really weird…

It’s no secret what going without sleep for 3 days and 3 nights will do to a person. The hallucinations weren’t even the worst of it. It was the shit that you wish were figments of your nightmarish psyche that really played havoc with you. Here we were having a pleasant little joy ride, trying to out race a godless twister and suddenly, we’re being out classed by some ugly bitch with a Tammy Faye makeover on a chop shopped Harley. Not only that, but she’s giving us the finger. That really got my attention. It was no longer about racing the devil, or out distancing those damn, shit flinging, dog raping monkeys. Now it was personal. The bitch needed to be taken down and by the son of a God who’d long ago left us in our own shit, too stoned on smack to pay attention anymore I was going to find a way to do it.

Reaching between my legs, I grabbed the first thing that I could find, pointed it out the window, and pulled the trigger.

“What the fuck are you doing, you dumb bitch?!” Toto had finally found his voice.

“Making the world safer for godless dog whores. Now shut up and let me concentrate.”

The first shot hadn’t even come close. In my defense, the monkeys had finally caught up with us and the air was full of the evil little pricks, their shit eating grins egging me on. My laughter was tinged with panic as I put a slug through the eye of one who seemed to be dressed as a bell boy. Or maybe it was a marching band uniform. Either way, dead is dead. Only down side was the explosion of brains that now covered the lens of my 12 dollar Wal-mart shades making it impossible to take aim let alone see where I was driving. Thank god for the dog's quick reactions, or we’d be filling up an urn on Auntie Em’s mantle. Really, I never even saw the tractor trailer until we were right on it.

Not that it mattered. I was too busy busting the balls of this right winger witch to care about what was on the road. Just behind her, I could see the twister carving a path of destruction though a trailer park. It seemed to grow suddenly larger, a big black cloud of daisy dukes and crop tops clothes pinned to washing lines and those fucking dolls dressed like southern belles swirling like a toilet full of diarrhea suspended in midair coming right for us. I screamed in defiance, sending round after round into the dark and twisted heart of the creature before it swallowed us whole, picking us up and tossing us end over end while Hell’s Avon lady pointed her warty finger at us and laughed like nitrous junkie on a trip to Greenland, flashing lights burning away my retinas until the goo that had been my eyeballs was running down my cheeks and pooling at the corners of my death head’s grin.

“Please pull over immediately!” she snarled, her eyes blue and red pulsating lights. I did my best to ignore her. After all, I had better things to do, like try to wrest the steering wheel away from 230pounds of crazed canine. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure, but I think he’d torn at least 2 of my fingers off and they’d joined the melee of objects bouncing around the interior of the car. An empty vodka bottle crashed against my forehead, reminding me of breakfast. That was the last straw. In a frenzied fit of pique, I wrapped my hands around Toto’s throat and began squeezing the life from him.

Some say a comet will fall from the sky. 
Followed by meteor showers and tidal waves. 
Followed by faultlines that cannot sit still. 
Followed by millions of dumbfounded dipshits. 
Some say the end is near. 
Some say we'll see armageddon soon. 
I certainly hope we will 
I sure could use a vacation from this 
stupid shit, silly shit, stupid shit...

“You fucking cocksucker!” I snarled, pushed to the edge of sanity and then into the abyss. It no longer mattered that we were being spun through the ethersphere to god knew where, about to be dropped into some fucking trash pit or tire burn. All that mattered was choking the life from this drug addled freak of nature before my buzz wore completely off. That’s the last thing I remembered. That and thinking that I would kill for a dozen White Castles.

When I came to, I realized that I’d been wrong earlier. My definition of weird had just changed 180 degrees and now included being dropped into the middle of a fucking rave party for midgets. At least we’d be able to unload the drugs. Of course, only the shit we’d cut with speed. The pure stuff, we’d need for later. Fuck later, I needed it now. Toto was a boneless pile of fur soaked in slobber. He must have had the same thought, only he’d been conscious longer then I had. Either that, or I succeeded in my mission to kill the furry fuck. For some reason, I felt kind of bad and hoped that he was just strung out on hallucinogens.

“She’s dead.” The words were spoken in awe, and I began to wonder if they were talking about me. Strange, I didn’t feel dead, but then, how would I know what being dead feels like? Not like I’d ever experienced it before. I began to laugh hysterically, struggling with the seatbelt with one goal in mind; get something inside of me that would make sense of what my drug melted eyes were translating into brainwaves. Did I mention that I hate the whole pacifier sucking day glow snuggle scene? It lacked fear. Fear that at any moment someone might wig out and go medieval on someone’s face with his or her fists. Life was only worth living if there was the danger of having someone reach down and tear your tongue out for saying the wrong fucking thing at the wrong fucking moment to the wrong fucking guy. This explains why I spend my days racing killer storms with a glue sniffing transsexual dressed in a dog suit who insists I call him Toto. Really, makes me wonder where it all went wrong. Thankfully, I began to black out again before the pain of comprehension set its needle sharp fingers into my brain, cracking my skull like a careless cook on the midnight shift at the world’s worst roadside diner.

Fucking midgets. Before I could sink into oblivion they had their glitter speckled faces up in mine, their whispers sounding like screams as their pupil-less eyes bulged out like they might explode all over me, muttering in creepy little doll girl voices about the witch being dead. That woke me up. Maybe I’d gotten off a lucky shot and taken out the bike dyke somewhere over Kansas. Or was it Nebraska? I had no way of really knowing. Good riddance, though. The world would be a better place without her. Grinning like a maniac, I began to cackle, and they gave me room. I’d have done the same, if I were them. In fact, I wouldn’t have blamed them if they’d taken a two by four and started beating me down before I became dangerous. I figured they had about 60 seconds, seconds that were rapidly slipping away, before they were truly fucked and I became a nightmare of obsessive compulsions out of the front page news. Even Spiderman would have his hands full dealing with me in nightmare form.

I screwed off my head and held it in my hands so I could get a better look around. Maybe I just hallucinated that part. I kind of hoped I had. I was still in the Corvette, covered in monkey brain, feces covering the vinyl seats surrounded by technicolor midgets with serious hard-ons sort of shuffling around. God damn shit flinging apes.

“I have to fucking pee,” I mumbled, opening the door and half falling out of the rental, held in by the shoulder belt that Toto had insisted I wear with an admonition of ‘safety first’. Goddamn Dog. Unable to hold it any longer, I let out a stream of urine that ran down the inside of my jeans and into my Converse high top. Great. My shoes was filled with my own piss. At least it wasn’t flying monkey piss.

“You saved us!” The midgets shouted out in unison. God, we had to get out of here before I went totally insane and started shooting again. In fact, the very thought had me scrambling for the shotgun. Two shots left. I figured I could do some serious damage before they took me out with sheer numbers. I’d just about made up my mind to go on a spree when I looked down to see a pair of black and white stockinged sticks peeking out from under the chassis of the Corvette that ended in a pair of serious heels. Shit. I’d taken out a crack whore by the looks of things. Taking a closer look, I decided it was more likely a stripper. Fucking shoes had some serious heel on them. Not to mention they were covered in sequins or maybe it was blood. Either way, they looked right out of a Fredricks of Holllywood catalogue.

“Goddamn, Dot.” Toto had chosen that moment to come back to life. Good. Now I wouldn’t have to take the fall alone. If I played it right, I could but the blame on the dog. Hell, I was still a minor. The worst that could happen was being shipped off to juvi or shuffled around to another foster home. After getting groped by Auntie Em and her dyke friends after they’d downed a cupboardful of Boone’s Farm, it didn’t seem like such a bad fate. Still, it would be better to make a run for it.

I struggled with my seatbelt. Miraculously, my fingers had reattached themselves somewhere over the cornfields and I was able to navigate the process with only a little trouble, allowing me to spill bonelessly out onto the pavement. Lying there, I stared up at a raspberry lemonade colored sky, suddenly overcome by giggles. It was kind of pretty. Even the screaming profanities that erupted from my dog suited companion didn’t phase me. I wondered if perhaps I had somehow managed to down a couple of smiley faced tabs and had forgotten about it in the midst of all the strangeness.

“Keep your damn dirty paws off of me, you fucking freak!” That from Toto. I rolled my head to one side, staring at him as he slapped at his own hands. The midgets didn’t seem to want to get near him, not that I blamed them. He was wired dangerously on the best of days. I started laughing harder as he begin whimpering, swatting at the air. The monkey’s had finally caught up with him.

“I told you, you stupid cock sucker.” I’m not sure if I said it out loud, or not. Not that it mattered either way. I had warned him, after all. Oh, shit. That meant they’d be on me next. Panic set in and I started to scramble on hands and knees, distancing myself from Toto, the car, and the corpse beneath it.

*Lyrics by Tool.

Written by sprite
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