Fuckness by Andersen Prunty Read Free Book Online Page B

right out of the nightmare. But nothing wanted to move. I had those dreams sometimes where somebody was trying to fight me and when I went to fight back my punches were slow and leaden and if I tried to run away then it felt like I was trying to pull myself through water. This felt just like those dreams. By the time I had gained some sense of what was going on, Racecar wrapped a muscular hand around my ankle and yanked it out from under me. I went down hard.
    “ Fuck it,” I said, mumbling it through swollen jaws and a whumming head. It was almost like I was proving a point, lying there and taking Racecar’s blows like that.
    Even though he had no legs to speak of, his arms were like tree trunks from pulling himself around in that wheelchair so much. Why couldn’t he just use the motor?
    I hated that fucking wheelchair.
    I was face down on the carpet and those heavy hands kept hitting the back of my head. One of them was wrapped around one of my arms. I couldn’t tell which arm it was. I wasn’t sure which side of my body was which. I felt his huge eagle-shaped belt buckle digging into my back and I’m pretty sure he was trying to jab that plastic cigarette filter into one of my ears. Worst of all, I could picture him rubbing those hideous stumps all over me. I could feel them. The pain became a giant blur, like a huge red-black womb I tried to viciously tear myself out of. I could hear him grunting and growling, “You little shit. You little piece of shit. Fuckin lowlife trash. Never even offered to help me clean the goddamn basement.”
    Once it felt like I slid out of that womb, everything was kind of dark and foggy and numb. It made me think of being wrapped in cotton. The impact of the blows resonated through my body but the sharp, stinging pain was gone. The mother’s voice came down all around me like a big brassy bullhorn, amplified strumbling, a needle through the cotton.
    “ We’ve had it! We’ve had it! You’re gonna get it this time you little shit. You’ve ruined our lives. Do you hear me? Ruined them! We’re nothing because of you. You and your stupid failing and your shitty rotten brain. What are you?!” Seeing that I was a bit lost for words, she graciously strumbled the answer to her own question. "Demonshit! Demonshit! That’s what you are! Jesus Christ , we’re gonna mess you up this time. You’re getting the fucking demon horns you deserve and I hope you wear em til you die!”
    Then I felt her wrestling with my head, pulling it up off the floor, sending snapping red shivers of pain shooting down my spine. I could smell that horrible smoke and liquor stink hanging around her in an acrid cloud. I found it in me to thrash.
    The horns.
    I’d seen the horns.
    The Wig had threatened me with those horns before. Mostly she started using them as a way to keep me in my room at night. She told me that if I took a notion to wander, I’d wake up with those giant grotesque things on my head. I squirmed and bucked her off, managing to stand.
    Racecar quickly yanked my legs out from under me, being expertly positioned to do so. I flew backward and bashed my head on the door, legs sprawled out in front of me. The mother knelt on my legs, facing me, smothering me with her mannish girth. With each breath I took, consciousness slowly slipped away.
    That was the first time I felt the red crawlies and I thought maybe the mother was right.
    I did have some kind of demon in me.
    I could feel it come through my skin when the mother put those huge reddish-brown things on my head. It swirled around inside my skull, ricocheting back and forth before shooting down my spine, exploding through my heart, stomach, and groin.
    In an instant, I was fully conscious. It was almost like some kind of hyper-consciousness. I could taste and sense everything in the small house. I could see everything not only as it was but also how it would look a hundred years from now.
    The mother sensed it, this thing that had entered me,