Page 76 of All You Want
Twenty-Seven
~ X ~
I stoop almost to my hands and knees and squeeze my body between the false wall put up to separate the coal bin from the rest of the basement of the Bee Sting Bordello.
No one wanted to clean up the piled-up debris, and I left out enough dead animals and hex signs to scare the workers into leaving it alone.
I even convinced Tami to wall it off by warning her that she couldn’t dump a vat of coal without an environmental impact report. Little does she know the coal is already gone. I glued a layer on top of the container, cut the sides and installed a trapdoor, and chipped away part of the retaining wall to tunnel out into the old Chinese mine running underneath.
I rent a room in town, but I set up a survival shelter in the mine, and now that Tami has electricity running, I rewired the basement and turned the abandoned mineshaft into a real holiday inn—where I have that fox girl stashed.
Won’t they all be surprised how resourceful I am?
No one thought much of me when I was a kid, especially since I was the loose end after Mooma died. The state paid for foster care, and I didn’t want to stay with the Kings. Oh, sure, Mrs. King made a half-hearted offer, but I didn’t want to stick around and watch them coddle their precious kingpin princess, or I should say Kingpincess.
Everything revolved around how the tragedy affected her. How guilty she felt, and how it wasn’t her fault. How she accidentally poured Mooma the fatal cup of tea, and how she lost her favorite maid. How she only wanted Mooma to do up her hair, and how she couldn’t sleep without Mooma singing to her.
No one pays attention to a skinny kid with greasy hair and zits as large as mosquito bites. I stayed at the foster home, because they’re stupid people and they think I like them. They were nicer to me than my own mother who kicked me and called me a lazy bum.
The years went by, and I kept chopping wood. I grew up and lost the zits. I have a job, and I get a piece of ass now and then.
Sometimes, I have to pay.
Most times, I get it free.
I even got a sorority girl last night, but she’s only a means to an end—my Pufflebuttinski Princess.
She’ll help me get my dream come true, now that I know what really happened that night. I’m glad I never strangled her or hurt her—I couldn’t have done it anyway. My hatred might have run deep, but my love and dick run even deeper.
I’ve got big plans for my Kingcess. Something way better than death. I’m marrying her tonight for Halloween. Won’t she get a fright night and a shock for all seasons?
Which is why I have to feed the sorority girl and use her to get what I want. I creep along the tunnel with the bag of food.
“Mew, mew.” A flash of black fur streaks through the coal bin door before I have a chance to close it.
“Hey, little guy, you drag in anything interesting?” I flick on the flashlight and examine the skinny critter. His eyes are yellow saucers, reflecting the light. He nudges my boot, purring, begging for the food he can smell in my backpack.
“You’re going to have to share with the fox lady.” I pick him up and stroke his mangy fur. “Let’s see how she’s feeling this morning.”
The tunnel is narrow and short, so I have to walk like a hunchback and crawl the last portion. The air is tepid and dank, and my feet get wet from the muck and slime coming from the leaky plumbing above.
I hear Foxy’s muffled moans as I stomp the muck off my boots.
“I brought you breakfast if you’re nice to me,” I announce.
Her pale skin is turning blue, and she’s shivering uncontrollably, but she nods enthusiastically. When I first captured her, she acted so tough and thought her Bigfoot guy would come to her rescue.
Oh, she cussed and scratched, and even bit me, but one night on a cold hard slab or rock, and she’s quivering like a jellyfish.
I rip the gag off her face but leave her hands tied.
“I need to pee.” The first words out of her mouth.
“Go ahead.” I give her a shove toward the bucket.
“Untie my hands, please.”
“Sorry. I’m in charge here.” I loosen her felt costume pants, and she winces when I lower it to her ankles. “Squat for me.”
