The After-Life Story of Pork Knuckles Malone by Johnson MP

Author:Johnson, MP [Johnson, MP]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bizarro Pulp Press
Published: 2013-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

“So delicious.” Pa’s eyes suddenly glazed over as if honey-cured. He stepped back into the apartment toward the oven. His boots smooshsmooshed through the green goo that saturated the carpet.

Daryl grabbed his pa’s arm and pulled. “No, Pa! You don’t want to eat that!”

“Waste not, want not, boy.”

Daryl didn’t understand how his pa, the strongest man he had ever known, could succumb to PK. As much as he loved Shard and Sheila, he understood how they might be susceptible, what with their heads already filled with funny ideas. But not his pa. The man had never caved into anything in his life.

“I’m gonna bust you in the teeth for real this time if you take one more step toward that oven. I swear it!” Daryl raised his fists.

Pa turned toward him. The smile that crept over his stubbly face was not his. His smile was slow to build and long to stay, radiating geniality and warmth. Daryl cherished every rare smile sighting. Not this one though. This one was jagged and twitching, moving too fast and too far up Pa’s cheeks. Without a second thought, Daryl punched it. He put all his body weight into it, just like his pa

lii

had taught him, like a spring had shot all his muscles up through his arm and into his knuckles. Pa’s head flew back upon impact. For a moment it just hung there. Daryl thought he had broken his pa’s neck. Haltingly, it pulled itself back into place, Adam’s apple straining against neck skin, as if bearing all the weight. That wrong smile remained, now soaked in green slime.

That slime. Daryl had seen it creeping from the van driver’s nose and the gas station clerk’s ears. He had seen it pouring from his aunt and uncle. Only now did he realize what it was—a vessel for Pork Knuckles, the means with which the pig got into peoples’ heads. Wherever the slime manifested, PK followed. Now he was in Pa’s head and Daryl didn’t like it one bit.

Before Daryl could throw another punch the oven door burst open and the wad of mashed ham flew out like a cannonball. It splattered over the back of his pa’s head. It dripped over his pa’s face, forming a mask of meat, parting to leave room for eyes to peer out, and for that filthy smile.

The thought crossed Daryl’s mind that his pa was getting what he deserved for killing Pork Knuckles, that this was suitable revenge. Then he felt ashamed for thinking such a thing. His pa had tried to do the right thing, even if it was cruel, the cruelest thing that Daryl had been forced to deal with since his mother up and left, as if everything in

liii the world was more important to her than him. All he had wanted was a friend, and Pa wouldn’t even let him have that. But Daryl still loved his pa.

“You get off my Pa, Pork Knuckles, or else,” Daryl ordered.

“Or else what?” PK oinked from somewhere inside Pa.

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