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Book: The Hungry by Steve Hockensmith, Joe McKinney, Harry Shannon, Steven Booth
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forward. Stopped. Bracing herself against the wall, she took a couple of deep breaths. The house smelled dusty from lack of circulation. Perhaps the power had just gone off? Her arm had stiffened a bit and the ache was better, though still dull and persistent. Breathing slowly and deeply, she made her way over to the box. She got down on one knee and started digging through it with her good arm. She tossed out a few odds and ends before stopping. You have got to be fucking kidding me…
"Turds on wheat toast! All the pussy you've been racking up since we split up and this is the best you could do?" She held up a white box covered in plastic and carefully taped shut. "You cannot be serious."
"There's something you can wear in there, right?" He stared at the box, face devoid of expression. He didn't know or didn't care.
Miller pulled the plastic bag off the box. She broke the seals. As she lifted the top off it became clear what had been stored inside. Terrill Lee grunted. He fought back a wry smile.
"This is my wedding dress, genius!"
"Bet it still fits, don't it?" Terrill Lee managed a weak smile.
"Poop on a popsicle." Miller held the long white dress out at arm's length, not certain whether to be repulsed or amused. It was a beautiful dress, and she'd looked like an angel that day. But now? How wrong can you get?
"Well," Terrill Lee said, "I did find a couple of other things there in the bureau, but you don't want them."
"Yes, I do. Anything's better than this dress." Miller dropped it unceremoniously back into the box. "I can't go out and do me some undead murdering while all dressed like a red-state bitch on a reality TV show. So what else have we got?"
Terrill Lee dug around in the drawer. He seemed to be stalling for time. Finally, he pulled out a couple of frilly, lacy things, just skimpy nightgowns and such. He produced a sickly smile and the last two items. Her choices were a wedding dress, those crappy nightgowns and one cup-less bustier with a pair of black, lacy panties.
"Butt floss underwear? Are you shitting me?"
He shrugged and actually had the good grace to blush.
"You dumb, redneck son of a bitch, I might as well go outside wearing Kleenex. What, you put those on when you're all alone and lonely?"
"Marilyn left these here after she moved out," he said.
" Marilyn ?" Miller's mouth hung open. "Wait. You'd actually expect me to wear something that fake-tittied little redneck twat couldn't be bothered to take with her when she dumped your country ass?"
Terrill Lee glared. "Hey, I said you wouldn't want them." He threw the undies back into the drawer. "Looks like it's either the wedding dress or you get to walk around in that T-shirt with your fuzzy beaver and butt cheeks hanging out for all to see." He gestured to her bottom, which was simultaneously exposed and shivering. Damn it, he had that look of teen lust again.
Furious, Miller struggled to contain herself. She eyed the wedding dress like a feral cat staring at a flea bath. "Jesus Jones in a port-a-potty. I don't really have a choice, do I?"
"Doesn't appear you do," he said, matter-of-factly. He continued to look at her, his eyes slowly drifting down to her exposed crotch. The son of a bitch was actually enjoying this.
"Damn it, Terrill Lee, you horny bastard, I'm going to poke your eyes out!"
They both heard noises outside.
"Keep your voice down." Suddenly pale and serious, Terrill Lee went back to the window. He eased the fabric apart, peeked out.
"Crap," he whispered.
Miller was stripping off the t-shirt. "What is it?"
"We've got company."
Miller dumped the t-shirt on the bed. She began slithering into the wedding dress. It was tight, especially going over her ass, but she could still get into it. And now Terrill Lee didn't give her shit for making noise or attracting zombies. Miller took note of that. He was changing gears, dropping the conflict. Kind of like a note from a marriage manual, don't score points just 'cause you can.
"Turds on wheat toast! All the pussy you've been racking up since we split up and this is the best you could do?" She held up a white box covered in plastic and carefully taped shut. "You cannot be serious."
"There's something you can wear in there, right?" He stared at the box, face devoid of expression. He didn't know or didn't care.
Miller pulled the plastic bag off the box. She broke the seals. As she lifted the top off it became clear what had been stored inside. Terrill Lee grunted. He fought back a wry smile.
"This is my wedding dress, genius!"
"Bet it still fits, don't it?" Terrill Lee managed a weak smile.
"Poop on a popsicle." Miller held the long white dress out at arm's length, not certain whether to be repulsed or amused. It was a beautiful dress, and she'd looked like an angel that day. But now? How wrong can you get?
"Well," Terrill Lee said, "I did find a couple of other things there in the bureau, but you don't want them."
"Yes, I do. Anything's better than this dress." Miller dropped it unceremoniously back into the box. "I can't go out and do me some undead murdering while all dressed like a red-state bitch on a reality TV show. So what else have we got?"
Terrill Lee dug around in the drawer. He seemed to be stalling for time. Finally, he pulled out a couple of frilly, lacy things, just skimpy nightgowns and such. He produced a sickly smile and the last two items. Her choices were a wedding dress, those crappy nightgowns and one cup-less bustier with a pair of black, lacy panties.
"Butt floss underwear? Are you shitting me?"
He shrugged and actually had the good grace to blush.
"You dumb, redneck son of a bitch, I might as well go outside wearing Kleenex. What, you put those on when you're all alone and lonely?"
"Marilyn left these here after she moved out," he said.
" Marilyn ?" Miller's mouth hung open. "Wait. You'd actually expect me to wear something that fake-tittied little redneck twat couldn't be bothered to take with her when she dumped your country ass?"
Terrill Lee glared. "Hey, I said you wouldn't want them." He threw the undies back into the drawer. "Looks like it's either the wedding dress or you get to walk around in that T-shirt with your fuzzy beaver and butt cheeks hanging out for all to see." He gestured to her bottom, which was simultaneously exposed and shivering. Damn it, he had that look of teen lust again.
Furious, Miller struggled to contain herself. She eyed the wedding dress like a feral cat staring at a flea bath. "Jesus Jones in a port-a-potty. I don't really have a choice, do I?"
"Doesn't appear you do," he said, matter-of-factly. He continued to look at her, his eyes slowly drifting down to her exposed crotch. The son of a bitch was actually enjoying this.
"Damn it, Terrill Lee, you horny bastard, I'm going to poke your eyes out!"
They both heard noises outside.
"Keep your voice down." Suddenly pale and serious, Terrill Lee went back to the window. He eased the fabric apart, peeked out.
"Crap," he whispered.
Miller was stripping off the t-shirt. "What is it?"
"We've got company."
Miller dumped the t-shirt on the bed. She began slithering into the wedding dress. It was tight, especially going over her ass, but she could still get into it. And now Terrill Lee didn't give her shit for making noise or attracting zombies. Miller took note of that. He was changing gears, dropping the conflict. Kind of like a note from a marriage manual, don't score points just 'cause you can.
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