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Dr. Prouty’s finger touched the man’s jugular. “I’m afraid he’s no longer among the living, sir.”

“Well, fuck that, Doc! Get down there and do that doctor shit you do!”

Dr. Prouty made an aghast face. “Umm,
pardon
me, sir?”

“Come on! That CRP shit or whatever, like they’d do on that old show with the bimbos in the red swimsuits? Shit, those girls were
packing
some camletoe—
Baywatch,
that’s it
.
” He snapped his fingers. “What’s the word I’m lookin’ for, Doc?”

Prouty’s lower lip trembled. “You want me to…
resuscitate
him, sir?”

Paulie beamed. “Yeah, yeah! That’s it!”

The doctor paled, already wobbling at the spirit-upheaving odor and the mere sight of the Hispanic’s rotten-margarine-and-dead-vaginal-slime slathered head. “Really, sir, that would be a
very
trepidacious undertaking…”

Paulie stared. “Doc. If you don’t bring that puppy-killin’ scumbag back to life, you
know
whose head’s goin’ in Melda’s pussy next.”

Prouty was on his knees in half a second, first opening Menduez’s airway, aspirating air into the lungs, then administering expert cardiac compressions.

Helton, Dumar, Paulie, and Argi all watched quite raptly.

Thirty seconds. Forty. Fifty.

A minute.

“Oh, dear!” the doctor wailed. “It appears that—”

—but at a minute ten seconds, Menduez lurched, hacked, threw up in a volcano-like plume, and screamed.

“The Doc did it!” Paulie yelled.

“Well ain’t that sumpthin’!” Dumar declared.

“The doctor done reached down inta the
valley’a
death
itself and pulled this evil fella right out!” Helton celebrated.

“Good job, Doc,” Argi commended, but then winced when he gingerly touched his swollen testicle.

Dr. Prouty—vomit-bespattered now—sighed, walked over to the portable bar, and poured himself a drink. Without thinking, he rubbed his crotch.

Paulie gaped. “Doc!”

“Yes, sir?”

“Did you just rub your crotch?”

Confusion bloomed on Prouty’s face. “Why…I believe I did, Mr. Vinchetti”—suddenly he looked lost—“and…for no apparent reason…”

“You’re finally gettin’ it, Doc!” and then Paulie and Argi laughed aloud.

“The Doc saved your life, kid,” Paulie returned his attention to the captive. “Ain’t ya even gonna say thank you?”

“Chit, mang!”Menduez wailed. “I’m beggin’ chew! Don’t put my head back in dare! Choot me instead! Knife me! Anyting! But not
dat!
”

“No, no, kid, you really gotta leave this to us…”

“So what now, boss?” Argi asked.

“Helton got a
terrific
idea!” Paulie alighted. “Come on, guys!” and then the men piled out—save for Dr. Prouty—and with them they dragged the convulsant form of Menduez.

They dragged him from the Winnebago, across the pavement, and into the back of Helton’s truck.

When the door closed behind them, Helton’s enthused voice could be heard, “What we’se gonna do with this here puppy-killer is something’ that ain’t never been done is all’a history! We’se gonna have ourselfs…a
quadruple-header!
” and from within, it became difficult to discern as to what screamed louder, Menduez or the hole-saw…

— | — | —

Chapter 17

(I)

An hour later, the deed was done, and the four men stood outside the truck to catch their breath in the crisp December night. Their penises had been duly slaked via the head of Menduez, into whose skull had been cut not one, not two, not three, but…

Four
holes.

Paulie shook his head in bewildered awe. “Damn. There’s somethin’ about fuckin’ heads that’s-that’s…shit, I don’t know.”

Argi lit a cigarette, shaking his head too. “Boss, that was hands down the best nut of my life.”

Paulie nodded and rubbed his crotch.

“Yessir,” Helton appended—and he rubbed his crotch too, “No matter how tight the pussy or how fine the blowjob or cornhole, a head is always better ta fuck. Don’t know why, just ‘tis. Maybe there’s some special
juices
in the brain that yer dick soak up ta give ya such a humdinger of a nut…”

Dumar rubbed his crotch. “And it were even dandier on account it were a
puppy-killer
we done it to.”

Helton nodded with authority.

All four men exchanged grievous glances in the warehouse parking lot, all shuffling their feet.

“Shit,” Paulie said.

“Shit is right,” Helton remarked. “We all just had ourselfs a great cum but now?”

Dumar stepped right up next to his father. “The fun’n games are over, and the feud’s back on.”

More silence, more glances.

“It’s fucked up,” Argi said, preposterously large testicle throbbing.

“Yeah, I could be spendin’ Christmas with my wife in Vegas,” Paulie griped, “but, no, you guys had to fuck it all up.”

The outrage of the statement seemed to cause Helton’s neck to cock his head forward. “Oh,
we
fucked it all up, huh? Well just you tell me, Paulie, how ya arrive at
that!
”

Paulie pointed and blared, “Your family started all this shit way back when! All I was doin’ was pulling some legitimate vendetta for my wife! Only reason any of this is happening is because your nephew,
Travis Tuckton,
fucked my wife’s
father
in the head!”

Dumar howled while Helton’s face reddened, and then the elder blared back, “Well, I hate ta tell ya this, Paulie, but the only reason my nephew,
Travis Tuckton,
fucked your wife’s father in the head is ’cos your wife’s father,
Thibald Caudill,
fucked Travis’
mother
in the head!”

The heaviest silence of all dropped over the scene.

Paulie’s mouth fell open. He looked to Argi, then he looked back at Helton. “
What?
”

“You heard me!” Helton thundered. “Thibald Caudill, your wife’s fuckin’ father, was a cad, a creeker, and a thief, and he stolt valuable land from my brother Tuff, he did! So when he hears that Tuff’s fixin’ ta sue, Caudill
killed
Tuff and then ta add insult ta injury, he fucked Tuff’s
wife,
Joycie Tuckton, in the head! Joycie Tuckton was Travis’s
maw!
”

Paulie and Argie stared, slack-jawed.

Helton continued to roar, “So it was
your
side that started this feud, not mine!”

More seconds of silence ticked by.

“Argi,” Paulie croaked, “I don’t think he’s lyin’.”

Argi shook his head. “Ain’t seen none of the seventeen signs, boss.”

“Helton, are you on the level about this?”

“Yer dang straight I am! We’re decent backwoods folks who mind our own business! We don’t do nothin’ ta no one less’n they deserve it!”

Paulie seemed flabbergasted. “Well how do you like
that
shit? Marshie never told me it was her father who started it all. She told me he was an innocent victim…”

“Ain’t anothin’
inner-cint
’bout Thibald Caudill! Lower than
snake-
shit, he was! The evilest man ta ever come out’a these parts, and he got what he deserved!”

Paulie began opening and closing his fists, clearly in a high mode of agitation. “Why that lyin’ bitch. She only told me half the story, and here we are tearin’ the shit out of each other just so she can have a laugh. Man, that pisses me off!”

“It’s fucked up, boss,” Argi said. “And it looks like all this—”

“—is
our
fault!” Paulie cracked. “If she’d told me the fuckin’ truth in the first place, then there’s no way I’d have pulled a vendetta on you guys! It’d be a violation of the code!” Paulie stormed tight circles in the lot. “Fuck! I
hate
it when chicks fuck with me like that!” He looked at Helton. “Shit, man. I don’t know what to say.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry.”

Helton’s bushy brow cocked up. “You’se…
apollergizin’?
”

“Well, yeah,” the don admitted. “I fucked up ’cos I believed my fuckin’ wife.” He ground his teeth. “Argi, what’s wrong with me? I do it every time, don’t I? Marshie’s my third fuckin’ wife and she’s pullin’ the same shit the first two did. Paulie the Puppet. They lie like fuckin’ rugs but I believe ’em
every time.
Just show me a great set of legs and a great set of tits and a pretty face, and they get me wrapped right around their fuckin’ fingers. Paulie see, Paulie do.”

Helton chuckled. “Well all men git hoodwinked by purdy gals on occasion. See, it’s a gal’s
nature
 lie to their fellas’n make ’em look like a horse’s bee-hind.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Paulie’s gaze drifted back to Helton. “Well, Helton. It’s your call. If you want to keep this fight up and try to get your revenge, I gotta admit, you got the right to.”

Helton reflected. “Aw, yeah, we could do that, and I don’t mind tellin’ ya you’d more’n likely git’cher asses wored out, but…seein’ how you’se just
apollergized
…I’m perfectly fine in considerin’ this whole awful thing as nothin’ but a great big misunderstandin’.”

“Well shit, Paw,” Dumar barked. “This man deserves to die bad on account’a what he done ta my fine li’l son Crory!”

“I understand what’cher sayin’, Dumar,” Helton replied, “but you’n me both know that Crory weren’t really a
fine li’l son.
The kid was
born
with glue on his fingers. Bet a day didn’t go by when he didn’t steal somethin’. A kid with a touch’a the thief runnin’
that
deep in his blood? His death might easily have been a case of somethin’
goin’
around and then
comin’
around…”

Dumar chewed his lip. “Well, I never thunk of it that way so’s…maybe you’re right,” but then hatred flared back in his eyes. “But what about my poor wife! These boys dug up her
corpse,
fucked it, then pumped her belly up with shit! My lovin’, faithful Mary Beth!”

Helton winced a bit, “Son, that may be true that they fucked her dead body’n filled her with shit, but…”

“But
what,
Paw!”

Helton sighed. “I never told ya ’cos I didn’t think it needed tellin’, but shit, boy, there weren’t nothin’ lovin’ and faithful ’bout Mary Beth. Since the day you was married, I started hearin’ stories ’bout her fuckin’ and suckin’ fellas fer hooch or cash”—he pointed his omnipotent finger—“and you cain’t tell me you didn’t hear some’a them stories your own self.”

Dumar stalled, then admitted, “Well, yeah, Paw, I did. But I were so up’n in
love
with her, I didn’t believe ’em.”

“Hey, I hear ya, kid,” Paulie said and then he and Argi laughed. “Fuckin’
wives,
huh? They’re
all
a pack of liars.”