Chewy candy core

     The bucktoothed Beeper fastened onto Bug’s dashboard resembled some last-second compromise between career barfly and shaved squirrel.  Draped across the ceramic figurine’s practically skin-bursting bone work some slinky spaghetti-strapped dress in gross approximation to the number Marilyn Monroe made famous, the thigh displayer, whirling up over the air vent, only any sexiness on display here the kind appreciated by the genus of perv seeking release from improbable niche porn titles like The Girls of Auschwitz. The Beeper easily midpoint in the skin flaying process, some invisible sandpapery tongue wearing the dermis down in pursuit of a promised chewy candy core.  Sipe wondered how Hope liked it, her latest would-be savior zipping around all points Little Creek, one of her parents’ devised despicable dolls so prominently displayed.

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Handsome Sipe

Sipe smiled.  Gwen thought of a corpse trying to smile, trying it on just the once, thinking it looked all right before lumbering back into the midst of the living. 

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Sibling love

For a moment he imagined Roxanne in the backseat.  Her lips sucked up under her teeth.  Moving the flesh over her chompers, producing a sound, lovey-dovey noises, noises like someone pretending they were going to eat you up.  He’d forgotten how she came up with that, the lipless routine, just one of the hundreds of ways to torture a little brother.  Quite the feat, once a week, an all-new weak point exposed, exploited.  Sometimes she roped a friend into helping.  Greta outgrew torturing Sipe.  But Roxanne reveled in it.  There had been another lipless god.  Some other girl, pretending to take bites out of Sipe, holding him down, those lipless, toothless mouths snapping at him, gouging away, Roxanne losing it, laughing when her partner-in-crime started chomping Sipe’s crotch, through his pajamas, Sipe screaming, convinced the Colvin girl was going to chomp off his little boy weiner and he’d have to pee out of his butt from then on.  Sara.  Jenny.  One of them, the older one, the Colvin that didn’t pick her nose and eat the gold on the bus.   

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Sipe the Gourmand

“Ok.  Ok, “ said Sipe.  “Look at me.  Mr. Lowry, look at me.  I hear of anything happening to her, Hope’s friend? I will come back here.  I will cut off pieces of you.  I will cook them.  And I will eat them. And you will watch me eat you until there isn’t enough left of you to keep you alive.  Figure a couple pounds off you.  Maybe more.  And just so you know, so you can form a kind of loose timeframe, the duration of all of that, even before I start on you, I’ll take Bonnie’s baby, and I’ll cook it.  I seen your pans here, in your kitchen.  They’re big.  A baby would fit in a pan big as that.  I don’t know how long it takes to cook a baby on a burner.  I could Google it, sure, but that’s just hearsay, some random idiot’s estimation.  But we’d find out, how long it takes, you and me.  What it smells like.  What it sounds like.  A baby.  And maybe Mrs. Lowry, she can listen to it, too.” 

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