White Out by Eric Dimbleby

Author:Eric Dimbleby [Dimbleby f.c]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sf_postapocalyptic
Publisher: Severed Press
Published: 2014-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

Her house smells awful. I’ve made a big honker of a mistake coming here.

There’s cats everywhere, pissing on every bit of the rug, climbing on all the cabinets and furniture, making the whole joint smell like a litter box that ain’t been cleaned in three years. I don’t even think these mangy little shits even have litter boxes. I think they just piss in Marianne’s bathtub. Or maybe they just piss in her mouth. She’s nasty like that.

When I first saw Marianne in that window, I thought I might be obliged to give her the old in-and-out like I’m known to do, and I thought I might even get some kicks out of it. But I gotta say: the smell of this shithole makes my soldier go all soft. I couldn’t get hard in here if I had ten porno tapes blasting at the same time and I was being rubbed down by big-boobied Swedish girls with wet mouths and no Daddy-issues. It’s hard to deliver the goods when the smell of piss is so strong.

All kinds of smell, and they’re not all from cat piss. She keeps making me these pukish green shakes that smell like the devil’s dick, sayin’ it’s some kind of special grass. Marianne says it will cleanse me and make my spirit sing. Can you believe that shit? My spirit sings plenty, thank ya’ much Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior, no thanks to you Marianne, of the Jingle Bell Sweater Tribe. This bozo thinks that there’s some sort of power in being kind to people. She said that shit—not in those words but that was what she meant.

“I don’t follow traditional religions. My God is the propagation of absolute, unflinching kindness, and loving one’s neighbor as one hopes to be loved themselves,” she said to me yesterday. I was trying to eat some sweet potato crackers but having a hard time with it, what with them being hard as rocks.

“Yeah. Me too, I reckon.”

And Marianne keeps asking about What’s His Name. Every time she starts running her mouth about it, I tell her that he’s out tryin’ to get help for us. I explain that he said he’ll be back in a few days with fresh supplies. When I say that, she makes this scrunched up fucking face that makes it look like she’s sucking on a lemon, kinda lookin’ like she don’t believe me. This cat-hoarding ninny won’t take me at my word and that sort of hurts me in a way that stings like a summummabitch.

I don’t let people hurt me for long. I get to hurtin’ em back.

I woke up this morning and I said to myself, “Self, you’ve gotta just tell her what happened. Tell her that you cut her neighbor real deep and he bled out all over the place. Tell her that you’ll do the same to her if she doesn’t get rid of the cats and clean herself real proper-like. Tell her that you’ll do

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