Three Little Pigs: The Pig, The House & Ouija Pig by Edward Lee

Author:Edward Lee [Lee, Edward]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Evil Cookie Publishing
Published: 2022-05-27T04:00:00+00:00

(III)

Disillusioned, dejected, and aghast, Melvin drove back to the Vinchetti house and immediately took a nap. He awoke in fits, chased by sour dreams he instantly forgot–an instance he was very grateful for–and once he awoke with a numb, pulsing erection. Melvin, as usual, masturbated with a fury, contorting into laughable shapes, and the fuel for the necessary imagery was again provided by Gwyneth.

And violence.

Rap Daddy M. made the scene, laying more hefty pimp-hand across Gwyneth’s angel face. Uh-huh, he stepped it out. “I own dis hood, bitch, and I own you!”

Then Melvin ejaculated on his stomach in grand style.

He slept again, struggling to push away less welcome images: Gwyneth’s chicanery in the tavern. I didn’t even know it was possible for a human anus to admit a human foot, he thought, but, lo, it was, the proof all too detailed in his memory. Then an even more demented thought: I wonder what Squirrelly’s... poop... tasted like... A few minutes after he finally fell into a decent state of slumber, a cacophonic staccato-burst voice exploded through his mind: “–that’s right, be there or be square and speaking of square, that last cut was ‘square-Headed People,’ off the brand-new solo album by Steppenwolf’s lead throat, John–that’s right!–John Kay, and up next–you heard it here first because the Sauce Boss knows what’s best for you, that’s right, I predicted this tune would make the charts and here it is, number twelve this week on the billboard, ‘Evil Woman,’ by Crrrrrrrrooooooooooooow... ,” and then a discordant yet eerily melodic hard rock song ground between Melvin’s ears, “Black cats lay atop your satin bed, you sure wish that you could see me dead. Evil woman don’t play your games with me...”

Melvin snapped awake and jerked up, staring hard into space. He whipped his head back and forth as if there was some way to actually look for sound, in which case all he wound up seeing was... silence.

Man...

He got up, splashed water on his face and without much conscious thought found himself meandering in the back yard. In the back of the horse stable he discovered a storage room containing what appeared to be some very old photographic equipment: spotlights, empty film magazines, a reel-to-reel film editor. Leonard D’arava made pornographic movies for the mob, he knew, and this must be some of his equipment. Hair on the back of Melvin’s neck stood up when he considered the exact nature of these films. What had Squirrelly said?

...that place was a snuff-house, but they also made scats and wet-flicks, nek-flicks, and a whole motherfuckin’ shitload of fuckin’ animal movies, man. Dogs, goats, horses... Pigs.

“It’s a sick, sick world,” he muttered to himself and left.

Next he found himself looking down into the hole Gwyneth had dug near the dog pens. The hole was considerably deep; it must have taken quite a bit of physical effort on Gwyneth’s part. That really is bizarre, Melvin realized. What would compel her to dig right there? What would compel her

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