Strangeville by Kenneth Tingle

Author:Kenneth Tingle [Tingle, Kenneth]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery: Fantasy - Thriller - Humor
ISBN: 1482053837
Publisher: Createspace
Published: 2013-01-18T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

I was doubly disoriented. Not only was I just waking up, but I couldn’t remember where I was. Daylight was just breaking and the room started to become visible around me. I could hear something scratching around on the floor next to me, moving closer.

“Cock-a-doo-del-doo!” boomed through the room, reverberating off the walls and through my skull. It was a big, menacing rooster and he was staring at me lying on the hay. I didn’t move and this seemed to anger him, like I was supposed to jump to attention at his command. “Cock-a-doo-del-do” thundered again, making me wince.

The bastard was only a few feet away and he moved closer, staring me in the eyes, glaring, like some sort of showdown in an old cowboy western. I thought he was going to peck my face with his beak. “Cock-a-doo-del-doo!”

“Get out! Go mount a hen or something,” I screamed back.

We were interrupted by the sound of boots coming up the stairs, and then Leatherface burst into the room,

“Git yer arse out of bed! Yer wastin’ daylight!”

Between him and the rooster, I felt like I was going to snap.

“You call this a bed? It looks like a pile of hay to me. What’s up with that rooster? Is he on steroids or something?”

“Yer lucky he didn’t peck yer eyes out an have em fer breakfast. Now git yer arse up before ah steps on yer head.”

I stood up sluggishly and brushed the hay off of my clothes.

“Can I take a shower first?”

“A what? Ya must be kiddin’ wit yerself. There’s some vittles on the kitchen table. Ya gut two minutes ta finish em and be in the truck wit a shovel.”

I went down through the barn into the kitchen. There was a bowl with some kind of oatmeal stuff sitting there, a spoon next to it, and a fly circling around with a buzzing sound. I brushed him away just before he landed on the white mush. It tasted like just bland oats of some kind. There was no seasoning or butter to add any flavor. The dirty, blood stained blender was sitting on the counter next to the stack of dirty dishes, and the sight of it killed my appetite instantly. I quickly forced down my oats knowing I would need the energy. There was a small bathroom off the kitchen with a dirty plunger next to the toilet. I used it, ran my hands under the hot water, scrubbed my face, and walked out to the driveway.

Leatherface was already sitting in the pick-up truck with a nasty scowl on his face.

“It’ll be sundown before ya gets yer arse movin’, boy.”

The pile of cow shit was rising out of the back like a muddy volcano. There was a swarm of flies circling it. I wondered if one of those flies landed on it, ate some, then flew into the kitchen and landed on my oatmeal. Leatherface leaned over and opened the passenger’s door for me, and we drove into a large freshly plowed field.

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