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JJ Hutton Jun 2011
Cindy Prine's bee buzz ringtone ripped her from
her deathlike slumber,
"Hello. Oh, hey Mom. What? Yeah, I'll be in tonight.
I agree...no, no I won't be brining Mattie. The Wilks
have her. They are wonderful with her. I love you too.
No, it'll probably sevenish. Not seven. Sevenish."

The Candy Corn Suite reeked of ****** fallout.
Sheets still wet and sticky with sweat.
The checkered floor covered in beer and discarded condoms.

Her ******* ached.
Most of the men had been awkward,
frightened, and easy to finish.
Hank, the porky 'friend of a friend', however,
had been brutal.
By the time he had finished,
her *** turned a light purple,
her back covered in spittle;
her scalp felt barely intact.

Cindy smelled pancakes and went downstairs.
"Good morning, darling. You want some hotcakes
and coffee?"

"Sure, Mama."

In the lobby, the Children's Funhouse looked like a ****** continental breakfast. Patrons from the night before and the workers
often sat side-by-side for what surely can lay claim to the
worst breakfast environment in the history of mankind.

"Will I have the pleasure of your company for a while, this time?"

"I'm afraid not. I need some time away from everything."

"Everything?"

"Todd, the baby, it's just depressing.
I'm twenty-*******-years-old, ya' know?
I did not sign up for domestication."

"Right on. Hell, neither did I," Chung-Ae Phun laughed
and curtsied, "So, where you going Cindy Lilly?"

"Back to my mom's for a bit."

"Are you two close?"

"Um, she is a brilliant woman.
We've never been able to talk,
but I guess you could say
I respect her."

"Fair enough. Cream or sugar?"

"No, thanks."

"How was Hank last night?"

"Oh, God, that ****! He--"

"What about my ****?" Hank blurted with a sinister, crinkled edge of lip.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I had no idea you were still here!"

"Why the **** should that matter," he snarled grabbing her tiny left arm.

"Hank, leave her alone," Madame Phun said sternly.

"She's just a little *****, Chung-baby."

"Hank, you need to leave."

"**** that. Not after the money I wasted on last night.
You promised me she was top rate.
I want my money back."

"Hank. This is not some fast-food joint,
where you come back to the counter
and ***** after you've eaten your burger!
Judging by the panting, sweaty mess you were
last night, she did just fine."

Cindy Prine reached for the intersection of her *** crack and belt line,
wrapped her trembling fingers around the hammer.

"Well, then I think I deserve another one on the house.
Can we make that compromise?"

"This isn't ******* Craig's List either, Hank. Get out!"

"I want another lay with this Lilly broad."

"Absolutely NOT--"

Cindy interrupted, "No, no it's okay, Mama."
Hank grinned, his gut seemed grow, the
hair around his arms spread like vines.
"Is it okay if we do it in your truck?
My room is an absolute mess."

"Fine by me. How I usually do it, anyway."

Hank opened the door for Cindy, in faux chivalry,
then proceeded to his side.
The cab felt like hell, and the metallic seatbelt burnt Cindy's skin.
"Where should we start?" Hank asked staring at Cindy's chest.

"How about you just relax for a second."
Cindy rubbed his crotch firmly, Hank closed his lids
and sunk into his chair, as he let out the first sigh,
Cindy snatched the hammer with her right hand and
quickly struck him
one-
two-
three
times.

Hank's skull sprung a leak. Blood spewed onto the dashboard.
Cindy shoved him to his side, snagged his wallet,
and proceeded
to crack three or four of his ribs.
© 2011 by J.J. Hutton
JJ Hutton Jun 2011
Cindy Used-to-be-Wilks-Now-Prine-Again
pulled a hammer from the intersection
of *** crack and belt line,
and proceeded to air out
the passenger-side window
of her in-laws Suburban.

She dropped the parcel in the
captain chair and ran back up the
driveway to the soundtrack of a
whiny car alarm.

By the time the master bedroom's light lit,
she was turning the car's ignition.

She made a beeline for the Children's Funhouse,
just under the skirt of Oklahoma City.
Blanketed by a dense tree line, the red and yellow
chipped, wooden building was thought
by most interstate nomads as an ancient eyesore.

She parked at McGowan's Store, bought a 30-pack of 'Stones and
a pack of red 100s.
Cindy ran across the lulling interstate to the Children's Funhouse.

Walked in the backdoor beaming,
"Hello ladies! Anybody want a drink?" she said to the room
full of workers.

The women of Children's Funhouse sported an image
that anyone could guess, as long as they knew
the place to be a middle-classy truck stop brothel.

After a chorus of I-do, I-do's, Cindy began tossing beers
to freckled ladies, decked in frilly skirts, saddle shoes, bobby socks,
and more often than not--pigtails.

Chung-Ae Phun, the madame, walked up behind Cindy,
tapped her on the shoulder and the two embraced warmly.
"Hey Mama," Cindy said.

"Oh, Cindy Lilly, it's so good to see you!
You picked a wonderful night to make your
prodigal return. Looks like a lot of business tonight."

"I could certainly use the money."

"Is four okay?"

"I'll take as many as you can send my way."

"That's the spirit darling. I want you to take
the Candy Corn Suite."

"I'd be honored, Mama."

Chung-Ae Phun established a fine business.
On Mondays she treated the local law enforcement,
on Sundays the district judge, and every other day
weary truckers came in to find solace.
Only special guests were treated to "special" girls
in the Candy Corn Suite.
The orange and white checkered carpet, the yellow walls,
radiated an eerie invitation.

"Let me get your outfit ready,
if you'd like you can wait in the room" Phun said.

Cindy Prine moved the stuffed bunnies and bears,
and planted on the bed.
Freedom rang like the Liberty Bell in her small skull.
Few of God's creatures ever held as much original
joy in their bones as Cindy Prine.
She could turn tundra to beachfront with a smile.

Chung-Ae Phun knocked on the door and entered,
setting a white and pink polka dot dress on the edge of
the bed.

"Your first client is a friend of a friend. Terrible gut,
smells like an ocean of whiskey, but seems nice enough."

"What's his name," Cindy asked.

"Hank."

"Send him in."

Cindy slid into the dress,
quickly pounded a beer,
heard a rapid, eager knock on the door.

"C'mon" Cindy chimed.

"Well, gawd ****, baby girl. Looks like you've been real bad."

Cindy rolled her eyes.

"I sure have. I can't find my ******* anywhere.
Will you help me look, Hank?"
© 2011 by J.J. Hutton
Geno Cattouse May 2014
making the left turn unto  Wilks ave. My steering wheel spins in my palm and
There...... on the park bench sits a red shirt and two more.

So I ease off the accelerator and squash the volume Bushwick Bill and Ghetto Boys drop low in the back seat..... Creepin.

Shirt #1 passed the dank to shirt #3 these simple ******* dont see me ......  stll creepin....shiney steel.
Locked and chambered

Shirt # 2 gets a glimpse as he takes a ****..... but now its bang bang ..... more red and chordite smoke.

R.I.P.
I have no love for the life but have been a witness.
Johnny Noiπ Mar 2019
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Pricers  Feb 2019
Sensory
Pricers Feb 2019
When the moon came about the earth found a new friend one that took away beauty's pain and added the work of wilks the ear warned the listeners that the eye is seeing words in it's place of confinement that meant the death of sound
Johnny Noiπ Mar 2019
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Bo Tansky Jan 8
Bam* Bam
Boom
Boom*
Fort Nite
just ain't right
what are we teaching
our youth
shoot em up
like John Wilks Boothe
****** horned demons
swarm the subliminal screen
legions of red ants
marching rants
screaming


shoot em up
scaredy pants
what do you have to lose
bring em down to the ground
with bullets and *****
inbound
watch out
red hawk down

another round
anyone/

— The End —