Soothing the Savage Swamp Beast by Zakary Mcgaha

Author:Zakary Mcgaha [McGaha, Zakary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: epub, ebook, QuarkXPress
ISBN: 978-1-947654-90-7
Publisher: JournalStone
Published: 2019-03-14T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

Sleep-fighting

Aldert just gotthe bang-fuck of a lifetime from his hot little wife with a sweet little ass. This is the first time (the FIRST time) they tried anal. It wasn’t too gross, because they used a condom. However, upon exiting, the condom did reek. But that didn’t matter.

Now he’s lying next to her, propped up against the headboard, arms behind his neck, wishing he had a glass of whiskey and a big ole cigar. Vogel, on the other hand, is lying on her side, complaining at seemingly fixed intervals of a pressure behind the walls of her anus.

Aldert is lost in fantasies:

Aldert is a man of intrigue, a man of global espionage. He’s fucked many willing women on his exploits. He’s also killed many a well-dressed thief. They’ve all buckled and screamed under his know-how; he knows how to use a gun, he knows how to throw a blade, he knows how to kick throats so hard the Adam’s apple flies backward and knocks loose the vertebrae of the neck-spine.

He’s forced back to reality when Vogel screams: “My ass hurts!”

He looks down and sees ten fingerprint-shaped bruises caressing her butt cheeks. “They’ll heal, darling,” he says, before returning to his spy-man fantasies.

***

It’s the middle of the night, and Vogel is sound asleep (all rock-like and whatnot). Aldert, however, he’s not even partway tired. It’s troubling, really. Inside his head there are screams, there are mechanizations, there is death destroying itself and transitioning into something new. A part of him that was away is now back from the void, and it’s giving the house new rules.

BE MORE STAND-OFFISH.

FUCK THOSE PEOPLE YOU DON’T LIKE, FUCK ’EM IN THE EARS AND WATCH CUM ROLL DOWN THEIR NECKS; LAUGH ALONG WITH THE WIND’S HOWLING.

He goes to the kitchen and starts eating more than what’s sensible. He shoves bread, deli meat, and cheese into his mouth, then squirts in the mustard. “Nom nom,” he says, before he gets to the milk, then it’s: “Gulp gulp.”

He rips his shirt from his body and sees muscles. Sure, there were muscles before, but now they’re all veiny and kind of bulgy. How to explain this to Vogel?

Inside his mind: there’s a redneck standing there with a dog on a leash, that dog is dripping green slime; it’s one of the ones that killed his (Aldert’s) puppers. “Fuck you, man,” says Aldert, right before he kicks the man in the gut. The dude’s spine breaks with his lower back jutting out like a V.

“Fuck! I broke the sink!”

***

“I’m sorry, baby. I had an accident. A big, bad accident. I . . . I was sleep-fighting.”

“Sleep-fighting?”

“Yes. Sleep-fighting.”

“As in, there was someone there, in your dream, and you kicked them, and then woke up and realized you kicked the sink?”

“Yup.”

“That’s scary, baby,” says Vogel while sitting down at the breakfast table. She pinches the bridge of her nose and says, “Ow.” Her nerves are starting to act up again. They’re acting up in a bad way. Living is starting to hurt.

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