Our Snake Got Run Over

Ahh….the joys of writing a horror-romance! 

It’s such an empowering feeling.  Creating a total jackass-snake can make a person feel sick.  But getting even with him for using and abusing women is delightful! 

And so I’m writing another post about what may become a permanent part of my Infusion Blue storyline upon publication.  All content here is copyrighted.  No exceptions to that rule.  

Thanks for the kind support everyone! 

Nancy 

Arlan Truss is not having a good year.  

“He’s back in the hospital again?  Not another attack by that monster?!”   Winnie looked shocked.

Brandy nudged her friend.  “Shhhh. No.  It wasn’t that this time.”  She glanced around quickly to be sure no one was within earshot.  “He got the shit kicked out of him by a friend of his!”

“A friend did this?”  Winnie shook her head.  “I’d hate to see what his enemies do!”

Brandy had not confided to Winnie that she and Claire had performed magic on Arlan, and that it was successful.  Mostly.  Sort of.  Well, pretty much a success at any rate.  “They brought him back here because he started acting strange again.  Mumbling things that no one could understand some of the time.  The rest of the time recounting his sexual experiences in great detail.  Some of them were pretty disgusting!”

“Well, he’s out for a while now.  His doctor has him pretty doped up. There won’t be any recounting for a while.”  Winnie glanced at Brandy out of the corner of her eye.  “What about you?  Didn’t you have a bit of a thing for this guy at one time?”

Brandy shrugged slightly.  “Sure.  Til I got to know the guy.  Didn’t like what I saw then.”

“Yea.  I hear you.  He’s bad news.  And he keeps turning up like a damn bad penny.”

“What exactly happened?”

Brandy went on to give all the gory details….

The show was a sellout.  SRO.  it didn’t get any better than that. All the tabloid stories about his nasty breakup with his wife were not enough to keep  people away from Arlan Truss – so-called (and perhaps self-proclaimed) country music royalty.

He looked good.  Despite his breakdown after that mysterious seizure, which was how he was now describing it, Arlan still cleaned up nice. Donning his signature black Stetson, he strutted out onto the stage like he owned the place, smiled, put a hand to the brim of his hat to salute the audience, and began his first song.

The house was full of smiling faces and hands were busy applauding Arlan’s every gesture.  Sure the crowd was older.  A whole lot older than it used to be.  And nowadays he joked backstage about how many “fat old ladies” now filled the seats, and laughed it up at the irony of how much they loved him despite the fact that he could barely stand the sight of any of them.  He thought that was a real knee-slapper of a joke.

About halfway through the show, Arlan was in the midst of singing a very sweet love song he wrote a long time ago and nowadays hated, there was a commotion in the theatre. His old friend and good buddy, fellow country singer Zak Black had entered the lobby and was headed for the stage.  When Arlan first saw Zak he grinned, believing his chum wanted to surprise him with a song or two. No doubt the fat old ladies would enjoy that.  They loved seeing one big ol’ cowboy on stage — but two of them?  They’d go crazy!

Only there was something odd about the way Zak Black made a beeline for the stage.  Straight forward.  Determination in his every step.   He had a strange look on his face.  And the closer he got to Arlan the more it became clear to  him  that Zak was mad as hell.

It all happened in a flash.  Zak Black, big and strong as he surely stood, would normally be no match for the raging bull Arlan Truss. But in his current state, Zak possessed a strength that was downright unnatural.

The two men were suddenly in a shoving match, and then without further warning, Zak Black charged Arlan, bending at the waist and head-ramming him square in the chest, sending Arlan Truss over the edge of the stage and into the reserved seats in that coveted front row.  Arlan could do nothing but land hard, slamming down into the most expensive seats in the house, his arms and legs spread wide.

Winnie couldn’t help but giggle a bit when she added the last part.  The best part.  Arlan Truss landed smack into the lap of one Eugenia Mae Ford, 82 years old, and 288lbs.  It was her well-padded middle, the doctor said, that kept Arlan’s head from crashing onto the floor and no doubt killing him upon impact.  Eugenia, amazingly enough, escaped without a scratch.

 

 

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6 Comments Add yours

  1. Nina says:

    HA! Justice at work!

    Like

  2. Brilliant. I love hating this idiot Arlan.

    Like

  3. Jill says:

    Yesssss!!!!

    Like

  4. Sandy says:

    Arlan Truss is like those jerks we all read about in the news. The ass pinchers and boob grabbers that are getting their walking papers. Makes a girl want to yell “hooray!” : )

    Like

  5. Yolanda says:

    Oh yes – he had it coming!

    Like

  6. Kelly-J says:

    I”m laughing my ass off!!!

    Like

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