Kindle Edition
Amazon
Category:
Horror
Type: Fiction
Pages: 168
Copyright: May 3, 2014
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
Neon Gravy was a cure-all. To obtain this mysterious medicine, Tangerine fed people to monsters.
Cooking people wasn't all they did. Folks just got touchy when their neighbors were fed to monsters. However, if the psycho next door molested children or watched that duck hunting show, there was hardly a grumble.
Their enemies gave them the derogatory moniker The Caterers. What sort of deviants filleted their fellow man? First off, monsters would get their people meat one way or another. Supplying it stopped the hunting. The Caterers kept them fat lazy and off the streets.
Though it cost an arm and a leg, monsters provided top-notch healthcare through Neon Gravy, a chunky pink slime. It stunk of sulfur, chalky pink bubblegum and a dental drill as it grinds a cavity. Any ailment, minus old age, was cured by that glowing gunk.
Why wasn't all disease eradicated by that funky panacea? Neon Gravy was a scarce commodity. Monsters didn't just fork it over to anyone. Those in dire straits, not the band, had to pick up a bloody spatula and work as a Caterer.
Tangerine knew it was a bad job. Unfortunately, sauteing saps was the only way to pay those student loans.
If you like comedy dark and horror hilarious, hop on this raunchy roller coaster. There's a punk rock reindeer, a snooty catffish man and even a bubblegum shaman.
While I can't guarantee you'll like Neon Gravy, I can promise you've never read anything like it.
Excerpt
Reindeer Tangerine scampered to a creek to quench her thirst. No vodka in there. Water would have to do.
Flaring its nostrils at her bizarre stench, a buck sniffed her tail. Tangerine wanted to flick him off or say something snarky, but deer mode wouldn’t allow it. She rolled her eyes. That bullheaded buck didn’t get her protest. After sniffing and licking her fur, she noticed her barfly pungency.
Frolicking through the loblolly pines, she exited the suffocation of suburbia.
Tailing her was the buck from the butt-sniffing incident. The curious stag took another sniffarooni of her backside. She shook him off.
Hunters prowled about, one bearded and burly, the other a tawdry toothpick with a trucker hat.
Bang. Butt sniffer was shot in its flank. Tangerine panicked and scurried to a dense ditch full of fallen branches and pinecones.
Tracking Tangerine through her deer scent glands, the scrawny blonde hunter with long, stringy and greasy hair, grabbed a handful of earth and raised it to his nostrils. The aroma engulfed his lungs. “Smells like uh, ya know, when someone jams a cigarette butt in your beer can and you ain’t looking at it. You just grab it and drink it. Ugh, that’s what it smells like.”
She was offended until she realized her gutter gal stench kept bubba from mounting her on the wall and sniffy the deer from mounting her caboose.
“Weekend hunters. Come out here with smart-phones, leaving their litter and city stank all over the place. Somebody needs to shoot those hobbyists,” said the burly deer liquidator.
After scratching her pedicles with her hooves, Tangerine noticed some ever so sexy blades of grass. Munch.
“Don’t eat me.” Tangerine blinked her eyes. “Please, don’t eat me. I’m just a lonely blade of grass. Don’t eat me, unless you’re in to that sort of thing you kinky little girl,” said the blade of grass, chuckling up a storm.
“What are you?” asked Tangerine as she finally learned how to speak in animal form.
“Don’t look at me like I’m the freak. You’re the punk rock reindeer. It would behoove you to look in the mirror sister. Ha, ha, behoove. Every day’s punday in my redneck of the woods.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“Look. Someone gave that deer a skanky haircut,” said Burly.
“Probably some hippy protest,” answered Skinny.
“Yeh?”
“Trust fund hippies come out her sticking nails in trees. The other day a lumberjill--”
“Lumberjill?”
“Just cause I’m a deer-hunting country boy, don’t mean I’m a chauvinist. Women should shoot their way through the glass ceiling.”
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