#5

"Fear and Loathing in the Mighty Louisiana Bayou"
by Dallas Lee

“What’s the matter?” asked Skipper. He took a long pull out of the Jim Beam bottle. “You got a pussy between your legs?”

“I just don’t like being watched,” said Cletus. “It makes me feel all weird.”

“Ain’t nobody watching you,” said Skipper. He wiped his mouth with the back of a greasy forearm. “Go ahead and piss off the side of the boat.”

Cletus wobbled there for a second. He looked down at his exposed crotch. Then he shook his head.

“No,” he said. “I’m going over in the bushes.”

Skipper slid aside on the boat. He grunted as Cletus shuffled past him.

The two of them had been fishing out here in the bayou for the past two hours. And not yet had they had a bite. Skipper wished they’d hurry up and catch something because he was downright hungry. And when he got hungry, or drunk, you’d better watch out for his foul temper.

Overhead, the full moon sank beneath a pregnant bank of dark clouds. One could smell the rain boiling in the air.

Cletus found himself a spot in the weeds. He unzipped his pants and began to piss on a fern. He watched it as the hot piss evaporated into a small bank of mist.

And that’s when he heard the loud splash.

“Skipper?” he called. But there was no answer.

Cletus zipped up. He walked back to where the boat was moored. He squinted through the sudden downpour of rain. Skipper was nowhere to be seen.

He picked up the bottle of Jim Beam that rested in the bottom of the boat. He sniffed at it, and then tipped it to his lips. As he took the first swallow, he saw the foam of murky swamp water began to swirl.

A large tentacle shot up through the water. For a moment it lingered there, stock steady like a submarine’s periscope. And then it began to wriggle around.

“Jesus Christ!” spurted Cletus. He dropped the bottle back onto the bottom of the boat, where it shattered.

As he began to make his way off the boat, the tentacle, writhing about, shot forward and grabbed him by the ankle. With a strong force, it began to pull him back into the water. Cletus grabbed on to anything he could, but there was no stopping it.

And that’s when the Swamp Thing showed up.

Cletus gasped as the muck monster strode out of the foggy marsh.

The Swamp Thing waded into the murky water. He grabbed the tentacle and squeezed it: HARD. He did this until it released its hold on Cletus. And then, with a mighty pull, he ripped the monster from the murky depths.

It was a man, or what passed for one. Its skin was a pearly pink, and it was naked. The tentacles shot out from its groin.

“I’ve been touched by its dick!” screamed Cletus.

Swamp Thing took the monster and whirled it. And then, releasing it, sent the creature slamming into a nearby tree. Its head exploded like a ripe melon upon impact.

Cletus got down on his hands-and-knees in the boat as Swamp Thing walked by him.

“Thank you, uh, mister,” said Cletus. “You saved my life.”

Swamp Thing looked at him and nodded. Saving this human’s life had extinguished, for the moment, the voices that raged inside his head. Lately, they had become such a dominance of their own that Swamp Thing had simply begun to question his own sanity. It was something that was slowly tearing him apart.

He looked at the dead monster. One word escaped his verdant lips: “Pilate.”

“I can’t believe that Johnny is dead.”

Abby looked at Barbara over the lip of her coffee cup. She saw the first twist of tears as they welled in her eyes and began to course down her cheeks.

“I can’t, either,” said Abby. She swallowed her coffee. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” said Barbara. “It’s all happening so fast.”

“Your job at the center is always open. You can have as much time off as you need.”

“Thanks,” replied Barbara. “But I don’t think I’m coming back. I’ve been giving a lot of thought to moving back with my parents.” She flashed a weak smile. “I think I need to get away from this place and the ghost of Johnny.”

“That might be for the best,” agreed Abby. She lapsed into silence, and then asked the question that had been gnawing on her brain ever since finding Johnny’s corpse. “Had Johnny ever talked about suicide before?”

“Occasionally,” said Barbara. “But it had never been anything serious.” She laughed. “I guess that shows how much I know.”

Abby reached out and gripped Barbara’s hand.

“And I’m sorry about Johnny giving you V.D.,” Barbara told her. “When we asked you, you know, about having sex with us, I never had any idea that he had contracted it.” She sighed. “I guess I’d always been safe from it.”

“I’ll take care of it,” said Abby. Suddenly, she felt that haunting in her crotch. “That’s the least of your worries, right now.”

“This may sound wrong,” said Barbara, “but I’m glad that you were the one who found him. I don’t think that I could have handled it.”

Abby was quiet. Then she asked: “Had Johnny been seeking any help?”

“If you mean had he been visiting a shrink, yes.” Barbara studied her hands. “He’d been going to one for the past few months.”

“Who?” asked Abby. “Does he or she know that Johnny is dead?”

“It’s a he. And no, he doesn’t know that Johnny has passed on. Someone will need to tell him, though.”

“Do you want me to do it?”

“No,” said Barbara. “I guess that’s something I need to do.” She laughed.

“What’s so funny?” asked Abby.

“Do you know what the shrink’s name is?”

Abby feigned a smile and shook her head.

“It’s Michael Caine.”

“You mean like the actor?” Abby put her hand over her mouth as she giggled.

“Just like the actor,” said Barbara.

“Sorry,” Abby told her. “But that’s kind of funny.”

“I know,” said Barbara. She wiped away her tears as she looked at Abby. “Look, thanks for the coffee. But I think I really need to get back to the apartment and finish packing. I think I want to get out of this town as fast as I can.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” asked Abby. “Maybe you shouldn’t be in there alone right now.”

“No,” replied Barbara. “I need to do it by myself. It may sound strange, but I want to be alone with Johnny’s ghost for a while.”

“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned his ghost.”

“Is it?” Barbara smiled, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t believe in ghosts. Maybe we should say his spirit, instead.”

“I don’t believe in them, either,” said Abby.

“Well, I’m going now.” She got up from the table and hugged Abby around the shoulders. “I really appreciate this talk.”

“That’s what friends are for,” said Abby.

“I’ll call you before I leave.”

“Please do,” Abby replied.

She watched Barbara collect her things. And then she watched her cross the street outside the coffee shop.

Abby sighed.

For a fleeting moment, she thought about Swamp Thing and the love that they’d shared. There’d been no suicide committed between the two of them, but she still felt as is something was dead.

“And you’re such a liar,” Abby told herself. She could see Swamp Thing in her mind’s eye. “You do believe in ghosts.”

“Are you on your period?”

Tefe looked up at Abby, scowling. “No,” she said. “And what would that matter?”

“I just thought it might have something to do with your current lapse in your powers,” said Abby. She studied her hands. “Have you ever lost them before?”

“No.” Tefe sighed. “And, to be honest, it’s kind of scaring me.”

“It should.”

“I left Blaze on that planet,” said Tefe. “He might be dead, now, for all I know.”

“Would you like to have that conscious?”

“Fuck, Mom, what do you think I’m here for? Sometimes I think you’re so dense. Yes, it’d be on my conscious. I just thought you might have a solution, is all.”

“I do have a solution,” said Abby. “And I think you know what it is.”

Tefe laughed. “You’re talking about me going to see dad, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Aren’t you the one who said I should leave him out of it?”

“Yes,” repeated Abby. “But there might be no other way. Unfortunately, I think you need to go see him. There’s a good chance he’s your only hope for rescuing Blaze.”

“And if he doesn’t know what to do?”

“Damn it to hell, Tefe,” snapped Abby. “I don’t have all the answers.”

Tefe stared at her.

“Sorry,” said Abby. “I didn’t mean to be so raw.” She sighed. “But there is something you can do if he can’t help.”

“And what’s that?”

“The Parliament of Trees,” replied Abby.

“Damn,” said Tefe. “I was afraid that you’d say that. They’re the last thing I’d need.”

“Go to your father,” said Abby. “Blaze needs you.”

“Yeah,” said Tefe, disdain drowning her words. “The last thing the bastard said to me was that he was going to kill me. I really need to hurry.”

“Just do it… before it’s too late.”

Tefe crawled out of her chair. As she turned her back, she mumbled: “Thanks, Mom.”

“You’re very welcome,” said Abby, smiling. She watched Tefe leave the center, and sighed. She rubbed her sweaty hands together.

For the second time that day, Abby thought about the Swamp Thing. There was an ache in her heart to see him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not now. She envied Tefe going to see him.

Maybe one day, she thought. Maybe…

“This is bullshit.”

“If you didn’t want to go on the trip,” said Artie Mesburger, “then why are you here?”

That was a good question for Condor “The Hammer” Nail. He’d recently retired from the Southern Wrestling Confederation. He’d gotten tired of abusing his body for the small pennies that he was being paid.

Now, he found himself on a small charter boat exploring the Louisiana bayou. He’d gone on it to relax himself, but it had been doing anything but. Artie Mesburger and his wife Alice were getting on his nerves with their regular tourist rhetoric. And their guide, a Chinese man named Chin, was faring little better with his faux bayou dialect.

“There’s a legend around here,” said Chin, “about a swamp monster that walks on two legs like a man. Few people claim to have seen it. If you look closely” – he turned a spotlight out into the murky swamp night – “you might see it, too.”

Artie turned around in his seat. He stared back at Condor.

“What do you think about that?” he asked. “Think we’ll see anything out there?”

“I don’t think shit,” said Condor. “And I still think this entire trip is bullshit.”

“You don’t have to be so negative,” said Alice. “Let others enjoy their time.”

“Yeah mister,” said Chin. “You only paid five bucks for the trip. What do you expect? Naked bayou girls doing a lap dance?”

“It’d be better than this,” said Condor. “I never thought I’d say it, but I think paying a naked girl to make my dick hurt would be a better time.”

“Please,” said Artie. “You don’t have to be so vulgar in front of my wife.”

Condor glanced at him, but kept his mouth shut.

“Now, if we’re over that,” said Chin, “the swamp is full of legendary monsters and ghost stories.”

And that’s when, from the overlapping Cyprus trees, two large spiders climbed down their webs. They plopped down onto either side of the boat, their fangs whet as they opened-and-closed.

“Is this part of the trip?” asked Alice. “Surely this isn’t real.”

“Shut up, lady,” said Chin. He felt himself piss his pants.

“Dear God,” said Artie. He pulled back further into the boat as one of the spiders closed in on him.

Condor looked around him at the spiders. If it came down to it, he’d die before he’d let these monsters take him alive. Or so he thought before one of them unleashed webbing that covered him, throwing him back onto the floor of the boat.

Alice screamed as one of the spiders began to climb aboard. Archie kicked out frantically, pushing it back into the swamp. It opened its fangs and let loose with a howl that made his skin crawl.

“What do you think now, Mr. Big Time Wrestler?”

Condor glanced through the webbing. He watched as the spider stared at him with its eight-eyes.

“I think we’re fucked.”