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DOOM MAGNETIC! - CHAPTER EIGHT:
THE FOREPLAY REFORMER
William Pauley III
Maundin is sitting on a bed, in the dark, in a motel of which he didn’t even catch the name of. All his clothes are off, except for his stark-white briefs and his Stetson. He’s been sitting here like this for the last twelve minutes, waiting on Marley to ‘slip into something a little more comfortable.’
A small black television hangs in the corner of the room. He runs his fingers across the buttons of the remote, debating whether or not to turn it on. Will it kill the mood? An electronic cock-block? No, I don’t want that. Is the water running? Is she in the shower? Surely she wouldn’t mind. But see, Marley is sexy. Not just regular-sexy, either. No, she’s a different breed entirely. She is Grade A, prime choice kind-of-sexy. I ain’t never seen anything like her before, well, not outside of a major Hollywood production anyway.
But twelve minutes in the dark is twelve minutes in the dark, damn it. How long did she expect me to wait?
He gives up, aims the remote at the TV and pushes the power button. The TV sparks to life, bathing the room in bright shades of blue, green, and white. Oingo Boingo’s “Whole Day Off” blares from the speakers.
As if she were waiting for the cue, Marley opens the bathroom door and steps out into the main room. She’s completely naked and dripping wet from head to toe. She doesn’t say a single word as she walks across the room, over to Maundin. She pulls the remote from his hand and tosses it to the floor. He’s speechless, and probably for the better. His mouth tends to screw up moments like this anyway. She places her palm on his forehead and pushes. He falls flat against the mattress.
She climbs on top of him, grinding her hips down on his and massaging the back of his neck with her hands. Her breasts are nearly suffocating him. She grabs his face and sticks her tongue as far down his throat as it will go. She leans back. Smiles. She slides her body down along his, slithering like a snake across his legs. Her hands slide up on his hips, digging her fingers underneath the elastic of his cotton briefs and pulling them down around his ankles. He can feel her hot breath on his thigh, it drives him wild. He’s getting harder than Japanese algebra. Marley pulls herself back up onto Maudin’s hips and allows him to enter her. A single tear falls from her eye.
“Aw, shit…what’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing,” she says, then tries to smile. More tears fall.
“You ain’t…a…you know? Virgin, are ya?”
Marley shakes her head.
“What is it then? Oh shit… you ain’t got some sorta venereal disease, do ya?”
She looks deep into his eyes and says, “Maundin, do you love me?”
“Love? Do I love you?! Shit girl, I don’t know you from the girl down the hall. Hell, we only met a few hours ago and you already broke my goddamn finger, remember?” He holds up his purple, swollen finger for her to see.
“Please, Qoser baby, even if it’s not true, can you just say it to me? Just once…I just need to hear it.” She sobs. Her speech is muffled and difficult to understand.
“Qoser?!” Maundin quickly sits up, still inside her, and reaches into the bedside table drawer, pulling out a pistol. “What the fuck do you know about Qoser, lady? Spill it! I need some explainin’…”
She doesn’t speak, she just keeps crying, her face remains buried inside her hands.
Maundin pulls back the hammer of his pistol and aims the barrel right between her eyes. “Lady, you best get to talkin’, else life ain’t gonna be nothin’ but a mem’ry to you.”
All of a sudden, the bed begins to shake, separate, and lift all at once. The two of them roll over each other and fall to the carpeted floor. The bed unfolds in pieces and begins to transform into something more humanoid—arms, legs, the whole bit.
Maundin unloads a couple rounds into the mattress chest of the bed-man, but to no avail. The bed-man just laughs and pulls the sheet off his head, revealing his true identity. The man underneath is none other than Gusto Geraldo Hererra, Jr.
“Ahh, you fucked up, Maundin, my man! You fucked up bad!” he says, reaching behind his back, revealing two AK-47s, one for each hand.
Maundin looks over at Marley, she’s drying her eyes on a pillowcase.
“So, who the fuck are you?” he asks her.
“They call me Sourpuss. I’m a secret agent working for the Japanese government. I believe you have something that belongs to us, don’t you?”
“I guess I’m still not quite understandin’…did THE VOICE send you?”
“No, but your loudmouth drunk of a partner did. See, I got a call from my baby, Qoser, earlier saying that some hillbilly hick got the best of him and sawed his head clean off in some bar in Nevada. Now, I didn’t know exactly what bar it was, so I hopped around to a few before finally finding the right one. But there was one bar in particular that took my attention away from my sweet Qoser, The Pink Pigeon. Some loud drunk woman claimed she was looking for Maundin, the Nevada Bruiser, the Qoser Killer, the destroyer of the Doom Magnetic. Said you all were partners, trying to score a few free beers, I’m sure. I got her nice and liquored up, sealed her up in an empty whiskey barrel and sent her on delivery truck back to Japan.”
“So, Qoser’s alive then, I take it?”
“Oh, yes, along with the Doom Magnetic. Alive and well!” Sourpuss reveals a wicked grin.
“You know THE VOICE won’t stand for this. In a matter of hours, I’ll be free to walk the streets of Japan, the purple television in hand, and I’ll be steppin’ over your dead rotting carcasses to get to the door. Why don’t ya’ll make this easier on yourselves and just let me go about my business. THE VOICE doesn’t have to know about any of this.”
“Ha! What makes you think we’re afraid of THE VOICE? That scared little shit is too afraid to show himself! I mean, have you even seen him?” Gusto asks, laughing.
Maundin shakes his head no.
“Ha, see! You’re working for the guy and he hasn’t even shown his face to you, man! Say what you will about the Japanese, but we’re not afraid of no scaredy, hiding little mind-fucker. That’s for damn sure.”
“They say his presence cannot be withstood, that his voice alone is enough to send most men to an early grave. Only a few of us are lucky enough to hear it, plain as day. We’re his chosen ones, his disciples. If you take me, he will come after you. And you can bet your ass it’ll be the last thing you or friends will ever see.”
“I think we’ll take our chances, bro.” Gusto laughs, “Now, get your clothes on. We still have a few hours yet to drive, better get a move on.”
Sourpuss tosses Maundin his clothes.
“Sorry, pal…but that’s the game, isn’t it?” Sourpuss says.
Maundin laughs. Sourpuss and Gusto look confused by his response. If only they knew THE VOICE was already in Japan waiting on their sorry asses to show, then maybe they wouldn’t be so goddamn cheery-eyed.
Paid subscribers! The next chapter of this story will be posted on December 13th! Stay tuned for Enough Seeking!
The Foreplay Reformer
© William Pauley III, 2009
All rights reserved.
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