Limp Pick Willy & The Sasquatch Enabler

When it came to dealings with Bigfoot; they, and the men of Redneck Voodoo had an understanding. If Bigfoot stayed out of the world of humans, the crew would leave them to their private lives. But when area livestock  began disappearing, and the locals started relaying whispered accounts of large, hairy bipeds, the boys of RV knew something had to be done. Crypto-Zoology wasn't their field of expertise, but they had the internet, and it had been long-established (in their mind's at least) that if you Google something, the information you got back was pretty reliable. So armed with the truth gleaned from such sources as; I HAD BIGFOOT'S BABY, and; BIGFOOT IS AN INTER-PLANETARY AMBASSADOR FROM VENUS, they set out for the forest where the creature had last been seen, hoping the same could not be said of them.

                                                                          *****

They had trekked through the thicket for an hour before Nelson held his hand up, signaling them to stop. He turned, squinted at the sky and then cocked his head, listening intently, his eyes tightly closed. "Do you guys hear that?" he asked, quietly.

"Hear what?" James said.

"I hear it," Chuck intoned. "There is someone hollering in the distance."

"It's Robert," Ryan said. "But he sounds far away."

"He was just here," Andy said, gruffly. "I say leave him. Just one less of you guys I have to deal with later." Andy was angry with the group. They didn't know why but they thought it best to not poke and prod to deeply. Maybe he would get over it on his own. He could be dangerous when he was angry and they hoped it would all blow over soon. They didn't want to have to watch their backs forever.

"I know you are mad at us, Andy," Nelson said. "But we can't just leave him. He could be lost for days in these woods."

"So what? He's just the Beer Bitch anyway."

"Exactly," Chuck said, sternly. "If he's gone, that means you're the Beer Bitch from now on. Now mount up and let's go get him."

"You go if you want," Andy said, watching the others walk away. "I'll stay here and wait." 

"I'll stay here with him," Gabe said. "He probably shouldn't be alone out here. There's danger everywhere in these woods.

Nelson, Ryan, James and Chuck trudged back through the jungle-like forest, hacking away at the underbrush with machetes, until they finally came upon Robert, sitting atop a large cooler, drinking a beer.

"Hey do you guys think you could give me a little help here?" Robert said, out of breath. "This cooler weighs a ton."

"You're the Beer Bitch, Robert," Chuck said. "And we have things we are carrying too."

"You're carrying a camera," Robert said, rolling his eyes. "Ryan's got a strobe light and a bible, and Nelson and James aren't carrying anything."

"Hey, wait just a minute," James said. "I've got this digital recorder in my pocket."

"It fits in your pocket."

"Maybe, but you said I wasn't carrying anything. And don't even go there about Nelson. You know he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders for us. He's like our dad."

"I prefer, big brother." Nelson interjected.

"You are Gabe's dad," Chuck said.

"That's true," Nelson said. James, Chuck and Robert all nodded in agreement. "But from now on, I'm like a big brother to the rest of you. Agreed?"

"Agreed!" they all said.

"But we have to ask Andy when we get back," James added. "I don't think it's fair to just make a new rule without him."

"Yeah, he's already mad at us," Chuck agreed.

"OMG!" Ryan said. "Somebody help him so we can just get going."

"Why don't we just drink some of the beer?" Chuck said. "That does seem like the logical answer."

"You aren't the Chief Science Officer for nothing," James said.

"OK," Ryan said. "But how much of the beer do we have to drink before it's light enough for Robert to handle?" 

"I'd say, all of it," Chuck said. "Then we can periodically throw down an empty can so we can find our way back."

"Just like, Rapunzel," Ryan said.

"I think that was Hansel and Gretel," James said.

"Who cares?" Ryan said annoyed. "Let's just get to it."

The men sat down on the ground and snapped their fingers at Robert, who dutifully gave each of them a beer (except for Nelson, to whom he gave a NA) and went to work, lightening the load for their friend.  

Meanwhile, a few hundred yards ahead, Gabe and Andy sat in silence. Finally, Gabe spoke.

"Do you hear music?" he asked.

Andy was mad at Gabe too, but he acknowledged him because it was the polite thing to do. Andy could be angry, treacherously so, but he could never just put away good manners. "Yes! I think I do," he said.

The two men rose to their feet and followed, what sounded like, the strumming of a guitar. It was one chord being played over and over. It was monotonous, yet spellbinding at the same time. They moved slowly through the bushes, as if hypnotically controlled by the tune resonating through the trees until they came to a small clearing. Gabe and Andy looked at each other and then back into the clearing. Sitting on a stump was a strange creature. It resembled a man wearing only a fur-covered loin cloth and white sneakers. It smoked a cigarette and expertly played a shining guitar. It had long, flowing black hair which it periodically flipped back away from its face because the cigarette it was smoking would occasionally catch it on fire. The smell of burning hair permeated the space. 

"What is that?" Gabe asked, his eyes wide with childlike amazement.

Andy turned to Gabe, a look of unbelief painting his face. "Satyr," Andy whispered, and turned back to the creature. "As crazy as it sounds, I think we've found a Satyr."

"Wow, really? What's a Satyr?"

At that moment, the creature abruptly stopped playing, jumped nimbly to its feet and whirled to face them. They had been discovered. 

                                                        (...to be continued)

Author's Note: While Satyrs can be found in both the Greek and Roman pantheons they are similar in each culture. Clothing (or lack thereof) and some of the Satyr's habits may differ slightly. Please feel free to visit Wikipedia.com for full descriptions and details in order to fully build your own picture of a Satyr in your mind's eye. After all, that is the fun in these kinds of stories, isn't it? If it isn't...then tough noogies!

                                                                                                                           Redneck Voodoo

Billy Cook And The Peace Church Nightmare Pt 5

The decision had been made. The crew would have to get Robert back into the confines of Peace Church Cemetery. They couldn't take the chance of exorcising a spirit as malevolent as Billy Cook, just anywhere. An experienced team like, Redneck Voodoo, knew (had seen in a movie) that Billy would be, once again, trapped within the confines of the cemetery, if that is where he was released. But if he was exorcised on the outside, all bets were off. He could go anywhere and possess anyone he chose. At least inside Billy Cook's interment grounds, they would have a fighting chance.

                                                                       *****

They drove in circles that night. Once again, Chuck's Jeep was packed with equipment and coolers. But this time, Robert sat in the back seat, flanked by Ryan and James. Andy had taken the floor behind them, beside the coolers, telling Robert that he would give him a break from being the Beer Bitch for one night. That tactic was employed to keep Robert from noticing where they were going. The team engaged Robert in constant conversation, keeping his mind from wandering, and Andy fed him beer after beer. They weren't sure at the start if Billy Cook was a drinking man, but the gambit proved successful. It took three beers, but Robert finally passed out and was snoring peacefully in the back seat.  Nelson turned off of Peace Church Road and into the graveyard without fanfare. The doors opened and the men exited the vehicle, their hearts pumping with foreboding and trepidation. Robert groaned as he slumped sideways into the back seat, no longer having Ryan or James to prop him up.

"We'd better hurry this up," Ryan said, grabbing a box out from the floorboard of the front seat. "We don't know how long he's gonna be out." The men peered down at he box. It was made of wood and, as instructed, Andy had written on the top. 'SPHINCTER EXTRACTION KIT' was what it said. 

"What the hell?" Chuck exclaimed. "What's this supposed to mean?"

"I wrote on it what you said to write." Andy said, defensively. 

"SPECTER," James said. "Not, SPHINCTER."

"I distinctly heard you say, Sphincter," Andy said, angrily. "This is bullshit."

"Nevermind," Nelson interjected. "It doesn't matter what it says on the box."

"It better not matter," Chuck said, putting his face directly in front of Andy's. "I'm not going to be involved in any, SPHINCTER EXTRACTION, tonight. That would be stupid and very UNSCIENTIFIC!"

The men continued to argue, taking no notice that Robert had climbed out of the vehicle and was standing behind them, smiling. But it wasn't Robert's smile. This one belonged to Billy Cook. The man known as Robert (or Beer Bitch) and the spirit of Billy Cook had melded together into a grotesque amalgam. The body was distinctly Robert's, but he wore the clothing (ill-fitting of, course) that they had seen Billy Cook's spirit wearing on the night of the possession.  

"What are you boys up to?" the Robert/Billy Cook thing said. 

The five members of Redneck Voodoo and Gabe (who is now here, but I don't know how because I forgot to write him in earlier, so just roll with it.) all jumped and spun around in mid-air, each emitting a girlish shriek.

"Jebus," Nelson said. "Where did you come from?"

"Jebus," Andy repeated, laughing. "I love 'The Simpsons'" They all nodded in agreement, including the Robert/Billy Cook thing.

"You know what's going on, Billy Cook," Ryan said. "We're here to undo your latest dastardly deed." He opened the box labeled, SPHINCTER EXTRACTION KIT, and removed a sheet of paper. On it were exorcism instructions he had downloaded from the internet. "Grab your tools, boys," he said. "It's time to go to work."

Nelson, Chuck and James each removed a crucifix, and held them into the air as they surrounded the Robert/Billy Cook thing. Gabe grabbed the video camera and ran to the Jeep.

"I think it's best if I film from inside the car," he said, starting the engine. "I'll keep the motor running in case we have to make a quick getaway."

"Maybe we should all get in the car," Andy said. "I think Gabe has a good idea."

"Just get your gear out of the box and get to work," James said, sternly. "This requires a hands-on approach."

Andy looked into the box and removed the last remaining item. It was a rubber chicken. "What the hell am I supposed to do with this? A RUBBER CHICKEN?"

"Haven't you ever read the part in the bible where Jesus cast the demons into the swine?" Chuck said, his eyes never leaving the Robert/Billy Cook thing. "Same principle." 

"Yeah, but this is a freaking, RUBBER CHICKEN." Andy shrieked.

"We didn't have room for a swine in the box," James exclaimed. "This is perfect. Just go with it."

They continued to circle the Robert/Billy Cook thing, moving closer with each round. Their adversary moved defensively, hissing and growling at each one. Finally he stopped and spat on the ground. "LET'S GET IT ON," he screamed, and threw his head back, raising his arms toward the sky.

"God," Andy said, disgusted. "Again with the spitting." 

"Get him," Chuck said, calmly, and the team pounced on their quarry. The struggle was fierce and protracted, but eventually they were able to wrestle the Robert/Billy Cook thing to the ground. 

"You're on my foot," Nelson screamed at Chuck. "Get off, you know I have the Gout." 

"Sorry," Chuck said, maneuvering to free Nelson.

"Are we all comfy now?" Ryan asked, a little annoyed. Ryan and James each held down one of the possessed man's arms while Nelson and Chuck held down the feet. Gabe sat in the car, filming through the window, which was open just far enough to poke the camera through. The Robert/Billy Cook thing snapped at each of the men (except for Gabe, who was in the car), trying desperately to sink his teeth into their exposed flesh. "Get his head, Andy," Ryan barked. 

Andy sat down on the possessed man's forehead and began beating him on the stomach with the rubber chicken. Ryan put his knee on the Robert/Billy Cook thing's arm and held the sacred internet instructions up in front of his face, illuminating them with his flashlight. 

"Repeat after me," Ryan said. "

Ryan: By the power invested in me...

Redneck Voodoo: By the power in vested in me...

Ryan: I now command you, unclean spirit...

Redneck Voodoo: I now command you, unclean spirit...

"Wait a minute," James interrupted. "Shouldn't we be saying like, WE command you...instead of, 'I' command you...? I think that would be better.

"Do you think it makes a difference?" Chuck asked. "I think the spirit gets the point."

"WHO CARES?" Andy screamed. "HE'S TRYING TO BITE ME RIGHT ON THE...YOU-KNOW-WHAT."

"Well, I think it probably matters," Ryan said calmly. "We ought to do this right or we shouldn't be doing it at all."

"ARGHHHHHH," Andy screamed, in pain. The Robert/Billy Cook thing had hit its mark. "GET THEE INTO THE CHICKEN, BILLY COOK, Andy yelled, desperately. "GET THEE INTO THE CHICKEN, RIGHT FREAKING NOW!"

At that moment, Robert's body went limp and the rubber chicken came to insidious life, pecking at Andy's eyes with its rubber beak. Andy punched the chicken in the face and rolled over on top of it, trying to subdue it. But the Rubber Chicken/Billy Cook thing fought back ferociously (considering it was a rubber chicken). The battle went back forth until it looked as if the Rubber Chicken/Billy Cook thing might be gaining the upper hand. It was then that James shouted, "Andy, use your secret weapon."

Andy understood instantly. He grabbed the rubber chicken around the neck, stared into its eyes and screamed, "YAGA, YAGA, GAGA!" He could see fear in the Rubber Chicken/Billy Cook thing's face and it seemed weaker, but Andy held tight. Defensive, talking in tongues was one of Andy's specialties and it was working now. He rolled on the ground, speaking in tongues and choking the chicken with all his might. Feeling stronger, he stood on his feet, the others shouting encouragement, but keeping their distance. The battle raged for a few more minutes until Andy pinned the Rubber Chicken/Billy Cook thing against the Jeep. Inside, Gabe quickly locked all the doors and rolled up the window.

"Get the box," Andy shouted. Chuck rushed to Andy and put the, SPHINCTER EXTRACTION KIT, on the ground by his feet. He flipped the lid open and Andy threw the Rubber Chicken/Billy Cook thing in and slammed the lid. 

He leaned heavily against the car as the rest of the team joined him. Ryan and James helped Robert, an arm around each of their shoulders. Robert put his hand on Andy's shoulder and smiled. "You're my hero, man," he said. "I'll be glad to be your Beer Bitch anytime." They all laughed and Gabe rolled down the window a few inches. 

"So what are we going to do with him now?" James asked.

"I don't think we can take a chance by leaving him here," Nelson answered. "We're going to have to take him with us. We've gotta put him somewhere we can keep an eye on him."

"How about, The Secret Headquarters?" Ryan asked. 

"My house?" James said, his eyes widening. "Toni will freak out. But I guess it will be OK. I don't think she'll be afraid of a rubber chicken."

"I HEARD THAT!" said a muffled voice from inside the, SPHINCTER EXTRACTION KIT. 

"Looks like we got ourselves an asshole after all," Chuck said, and they all laughed. 

"Screw You," said the muffled voice. "This isn't over yet."

"Voodoo Baby!" Andy said, proudly.

"Voodoo Baby!" the others answered. 

Redneck Voodoo: Return to the Captain's Lair

Billy Cook And The Peace Church Nightmare Pt 4

Robert went down hard. His airway was closing from the force of Billy Cook's vice-like grip. He was a ghost, but Robert was no match for him. Being a Beer Bitch hadn't prepared him for a confrontation with an angry spirit, and the second Billy touched him he had screamed and fainted. Still, his subconscious was awake and active and he was dreaming he was standing on the side of the road, his arm outstretched in a hitchhikers pose.
Old cars, once assembled by workers in American factories in the 40's and 50's, zoomed by at high speed.  A road sign told him he was somewhere in Oklahoma. A breeze blew at his back and he felt good, strong and full of purpose. But that purpose had yet to emerge. He knew only where he was and didn't care where he was going. Inside his head, he was still Robert, but there was someone else in there with him...someone vaguely familiar, yet unknown.

The men of Redneck Voodoo had been taken completely by surprise. They rushed toward their fallen comrade, shocked to see the image of Billy Cook begin to fade away, his hands still locked tightly around Robert's neck. James got there first and dove toward his friend's attacker, but the dead killer's image disappeared the moment he landed, dropping him firmly on Robert's stomach. James got up...Robert did not.

"Where the hell did he go?" James asked. "He was just here."

"I think you must have scared him away," Chuck said. "It's a good thing for that you got there first. I was about to put a hurt on that goofy-eyed, ghoul."

"We've got bigger problems right now," Nelson said. "I don't think Robert's breathing."

"O.M.G., he's right," Ryan said. "We'd better start CPA on him right now."

"Don't you mean, CPR?" Andy asked. "I think it's CPR."

"We don't get paid to think, Andy," Ryan shot back.

"Wait a minute, you guys are getting paid?" James said, angrily. "How come nobody told me anything about getting paid? I haven't seen a dime from this. It would be nice if you guys told me something once in a while. It's not like I'm Andy, or somebody like that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Andy asked. The two men continued to argue while Nelson dropped to his knees and began to apply CPR.

"Would you guys stow it and get down here and help me?" he said. James also dropped to his knees and began slapping Robert across his face. At the same time, Ryan pulled off Robert's boots and was tickling his feet while Andy unbuckled the unconscious man's pants and pulled them down.

"What the hell are you doing?" Chuck said, and began slapping Andy on the hands.

"I thought it would help him breathe better."

Chuck rolled his eyes. "By taking his pants off?"

"I don't know," Andy said, embarrassed. "I've never had to do this before."



Meanwhile, inside Robert's head, a showdown was taking place. A man was approaching on foot from the distance and his feeling of comfort was quickly fading. At the same time, his face was beginning to hurt and he felt a strange tickling sensation on the bottom of his feet. His legs were chilled and he felt very vulnerable. He rubbed his dream face and closed his dream eyes for only a moment, but when he opened them again, the strange man in the distance was standing before him. He recognized him as Billy Cook.

"Hey there, mister," Billy said, stamping out a cigarette. "Now how about that lift?"




Nelson, James and Ryan worked feverishly on Robert, while Chuck comforted Andy by putting his arm around him.

"I'm not gay," Andy said, sobbing.

"I know," Chuck said, soothingly. "You're just comfortable with your sexuality."

Andy jerked away from Chuck, angrily. "I hate you freaking guys. You're all a bunch of dicks."

With that, they all stopped working on Robert and just stared at Andy. Really," Chuck said. " I thought that was why you liked us." The men all shared the laugh, including Andy.

"I think he's coming around," Ryan said, breaking up the joviality. Robert began coughing and attempted to sit up but James stopped him by slapping him one more time.

"What was that for?" he asked, rubbing his face.

"Sorry," James answered. "I'm just still mad because I'm not getting paid."

Robert just looked at him, bewildered. "K?"

"That was a close one," Nelson said. "We thought we'd lost you for sure." Ryan extended his hand to Robert and pulled him up. He tried to walk, but his pants were still down and he tripped.

"I don't even want to know," Robert said. "I don't even want to know."

Chuck was returning from the Jeep with something in his hands. "Here, Beer Bitch," he said, tossing Robert a beer. "This one's on me."

Nelson picked up the camera and began filming again as the others talked quietly with Robert and loaded equipment back into the Jeep. He noticed Robert looking over at him, uneasily. It made him uneasy too. They piled into the Jeep, each man taking his assigned seat, Robert in the back by the coolers. As they drove off toward home they talked excitedly about their encounter with Billy Cook...everybody but Robert, that is. He sat quietly, looking out the back window. He smiled, his newly acquired lazy eye, glowing in its socket.



Later that night, Nelson walked into his office to find his oldest son, Gabe, sitting at the computer. "Hey son," he said, surprised. "I'm glad you're here. I was going to call you later."

"What's up dad?" Gabe said. "You look troubled."

"I don't know. I think I need you to take a look at this recording."

"Sure," he said, and uploaded the data. They watched the final minutes of footage and sat back in their chairs. "I see what you're worried about."

"So, I'm not imagining things?"

"No dad, this is an obvious case of spiritual, zygogenesis."

"What does that mean?"

"What does obvious, mean?"

"No, what does spiritual zygogenesis mean?

"Oh that. It's just a fancy way of saying that this Billy Cook character is guilty of unlawful expropriation of the corporal being."

Nelson stared stupidly at his son. "I don't understand a word you just said, boy," he said.

"He means Robert's possessed," said a voice from behind them. They turned around to find Ryan, Chuck, James and Andy standing in the doorway. "You know this thing ain't over yet," Ryan said.

"I was afraid of this," Nelson said. "I think the rest of you were too."

"I wasn't, I thought it was over," Andy said. "I thought we were just going to Steak And Shake. Good burgers, but you know they ripped me off one time? I ordered a double-order of Chili-Cheese Fries and they only gave me a single. I wonder if I can still get my money back?"

"Concentrate men," Chuck said. "We need concentration.

"It's obvious we need to get Robert back to Peace Church Cemetery," Ryan said. "I think you need to come with us, Gabe. You can film while I perform the circumcision. I'll need the rest of you to assist me."

"Don't you mean exorcism?" Andy asked. "I think it's, exorcism."

"Whatever," Ryan said.

The men all pulled up chairs and began making their plans, five great minds, now joined by a sixth. It was life or death for their friend, Robert and they were willing to give it all for the best Beer Bitch they had ever had. And they knew that no case is ever finished until the fat lady says, "Voodoo Baby."

                                                                (... to be continued)

Meet Redneck Voodoo!

When Redneck Voodoo began recording its adventures a few short weeks ago, they were known only to a few. It hardly seemed necessary to describe these brave individuals in great detail since their exploits were only intended to be shared with interested friends and family. Little did they know that their courageous deeds would become legend. Since its humble beginnings, the Voodoo Blog has been read by the thousands (true story) in eight countries (also true). Readers have been glued to their seats, in Russia, Germany, Brazil, Ukraine, France, Italy, and Indonesia and of course, The United States, cheering the team on as they expel the ambassadors of darkness from the natural realm. But now, because of their rapidly, growing reputation, we find it necessary to introduce these indomitable men and women (well, one woman) to the world. So without further ado we bring you, Redneck Voodoo…up close and personal.

Rachel Eisensee Scout	This little green-eyed lady might be “Child of nature and a friend of man”, but don’t let her delicate, good looks fool you folks. Rachel is as tenacious as a pit bull when it comes to rooting out the denizens of evil. Fear is the F-word to this little gal. And that is a word she never uses. There are two mysteries surrounding Rachel. The first mystery is why her boyfriend, Chad, lets her hang with this bunch of He-Men. The second mystery is why she would want to?
Josh Hamm Scout	Josh is a private guy. He was born on a mountain and raised in a cave, ghost hunting and dancing are all he craves. And he does a hell of job of both. Heir to the Hamm’s Beer Company fortune, he eschewed riches for the chance to battle the darkness. His toughness is legendary. He once put out a cigarette on Chuck Norris’ face, and Chuck answered meekly, “Thank you sir, may I have another?” Josh just walked away. “No, bitch,” he said, laughing.
Andy Ogden Assistant EVP Guy	Andy is an enigma. His hobby is Quantum Physics. He writes haiku and brandishes the rugged good looks of a 70’s porn star (if he could grow a mustache). Though he was built for violence, he abhors it, until he comes face to face with an evil entity. His specialties include; Defensive talking in tongues and screaming like a little girl. Also, he is not afraid to admit when he is scared (which is most of the time).
Robert Lowrance Beer Bitch	Since Robert is not yet an official member of Redneck Voodoo, his job is to observe and to pass beverages to team members. Since ghost hunting is thirsty business, the importance of his job is incalculable. Robert hopes to become a member as soon as the team thinks up an appropriate initiation or they find another beer bitch, whichever comes first.
James Anderson Head EVP Technician	When a ghost is shy, don’t ask why. Just call James, and what he calls, his trusty, “Ghost Voice Recording Thingy”. Tech nerds like James use all kinds of fancy technical terms that those of us with a lower I.Q. don’t understand, but he has earned the trust of Redneck Voodoo. We may not speak his language, but he speaks good, “Ghost”.
Chuck Crouch Chief Science Officer	Chuck is not only wise in the ways of science; he is 6’ 2” and 110 lbs. of ghost hunting Fury. He can expertly navigate his way around a laboratory, usually without breaking too many things and he can spew scientific terms with the best of them, even if he doesn’t know what they mean. Steven Hawking once said about Chuck: “Charles Crouch represents the great mysteries of science. I’d love to be there when they cut his head open and examine his brain, when he dies. It’s people like him that make me feel even smarter”. Heady praise, I would say.
Ryan Beerly Spiritual Liaison	The Reverend Ryan Beerly received his ordination from the prestigious, Universal Life Church, internet site. Not just anyone is accepted into their ranks. You must first go there and fill out a form. Not only is Ryan the team’s, strobe light operator, he is fearless in the face of supernatural threat. Evil is aware of his credentials and fear his mighty presence. He is also available for weddings, Bar Mitzvahs and exorcisms. .
Nelson Webb Scribe	Nelson is the elder statesman (not by much) of the group. Though he is an active ghost hunter, he is also observer and chronicler of the Voodoo team’s exploits. Poetic, articulate and wise, (and an all-around great guy) he puts down for posterity, the great and noble acts of selflessness performed by these undaunted warriors (which he hopes to sell at a later date, to the highest bidder).

It has been a pleasure to introduce you to these modern men and women of valor. It is my hope that the world can read these words and know without question that they can sleep safely in their beds tonight. It is for you that they toil tirelessly in the never ending battle against the evil entities that would commit all manner of atrocities against you. So if you happen upon one of these courageous individuals on the street, don’t bother to thank them. Just nod and say, “Voodoo Baby”. They’ll get it.

Billy Cook And The Peace Church Nightmare Pt 3

Robert dropped his beer. The can rolled up against his feet and poured unceremoniously onto the ground. He stared silently at the figure standing against the tree. Where had he come from? he asked himself. Had he been there all along? He tried to remain calm and reasonable but his suspicions told him it was useless.

"So? What do you think?" the stranger said. "Think I can get a lift or what?"

"Uh, uh, I don't know, man," Robert stammered. "I'll have to ask the others." The man against the tree threw his cigarette onto the ground and stamped it out.

"Sure," he said, looking up. "I was countin' on that."

The man looked directly at Robert and the full moon illuminated his face. Robert could see he was young. He wore dated-looking blue jeans and a pair of black cowboy boots with a silver kick plate. A pack of cigarettes was rolled up in the left sleeve of his dirty, white T-shirt. He pushed his long, greasy bangs out of his face, exposing a conspicuous , lazy eye. Robert was about to call out for the others when the man looked into the fog in response to the sound of approaching footsteps.

Nelson emerged first, flanked by James and Ryan. Andy came next and, as usual, Chuck brought up the rear.The man looked directly at them and nodded.

"Well, well," Nelson said. "Looks like we have a visitor."

"He says he needs a lift," Robert said, looking at Nelson and then back at the man.

"Oh, we know what he wants," Chuck said, stepping to the front. "Just not sure we can accommodate."

The man stepped into the road and stared for a moment. "Why, I don't think that's very neighborly," he said, and spat on the ground.

"That's gross," Andy said. "And not very sanitary." They all looked at Andy and shook their heads. "Why is everybody always looking at me like that?" he asked, slightly annoyed.

"I'll tell you what's not very sanitary, boy," the man said. looking at Andy. Peeing on my...I mean, people's graves. Not very respectful either. Not in my book."

The team looked at Andy again. "I didn't know his grave was over there." he said. "It was an honest mistake. It was dark."

"We know who you are," James said, holding the digital voice recorder in the air.

"I don't think you're gonna need that, James," Chuck said. "He's standing right there."

"I know that," he said, and put the recorder back in his pocket.

"So what's it gonna be? Can I get a lift or not? I've been waiting for one for a long time."

"About 58 years, by my count," Nelson said. "You've thumbed your last ride, Billy Cook. You're traveling days are over. We're here to put you to rest, once and for all."

The man took a step toward the team and squared up, his legs spread apart, his hands at his side. He stared at them and smiled. "Rest is for the dead or lazy," he said, and spat again.

"Hey, Andy screeched, "What did I say?"

But Billy ignored him and continued his defiant stance. "I don't know who you guys think you are," he said. "But you're gonna be my ticket outta here. Nobody fools with Billy Cook. Even death hasn't stopped me"

With that, he whirled to face Robert who was leaning against the Jeep, examining his fingernails. Billy moved quickly toward him, his lazy eye glowing with an unmatched hatred. A hatred for all things good and decent. A hatred for life and the living. Robert was frozen. He tried to scream but the sound stuck n his throat and all he could manage to do was throw his arms up in front of his face. Billy Cook reached for him...grinning...his dead, glowing eyes piercing the night. His hands wrapped around Robert's throat just as his scream finally emerged. Billy's cold, lifeless fingers were the last thing he remembered before he lost consciousness.

                                                           (...to be continued)

Billy Cook And The Peace Church Nightmare Pt 2

Andy Ogden was many things. He was handsome, smart and courageous as a Trojan, but he held his water like a 12 year-old girl, getting tickled on a trampoline next to a waterfall. When he had to go, you had better get out of his way. The men of Redneck Voodoo piled out of the Jeep and surveyed the graveyard as Andy scampered past them, his legs squeezed tightly together from the knees, up. He stopped at the first tree he came to and prepared to relieve himself.

"Be careful of the gravestones, Andy," Ryan said. "That's a sure way to anger the spirits."

Andy breathed deeply and rolled his eyes. "I know that," he said. "I'm not an idiot."

"Yeah, we don't even know where Billy Cook's grave is," Chuck added. "We wouldn't want to PISS him off, just yet." It took a moment, but they all finally got the joke, and shared a laugh.

Andy finished and joined the rest of the group. It was a clear night and the moon was full and Hollywood couldn't have written a better scene. A low-lying fog draped the main graveyard, leaving wispy gaps that invited the curious or dauntless in for a closer look. The place had seen hundreds of years of death and had finally given up caring. Now the only life that ventured near was the occasional teenager, claiming his rights of passage by racing his fears from the main gate to the big oak where the road did a loop at the back end of the property.  Young legs pumped and jumped to avoid imagined skeletal hands that reached out from the tall grass, knowing that if they slowed down they would be dragged down to a place where only shadows dwelt and unknowable horrors took place. They would run, barely daring to breathe, fighting back screams, until finally,they would arrive back at the gate and their friends--who would be laughing hysterically by now--only to claim that they had, in-no-way been frightened. They would gain bragging rights for years to come and the spirits of Peace Church Cemetery would close their eyes and rest again, until the next brave adolescent came to test his mettle.

But these men had tested their mettle many times before, in supernatural battles, much like this one. They weren't sure what lay ahead, but they had an idea. They were looking for one grave out of hundreds and now wished they had come in the daylight. As brilliant as the team was, this idea had not occurred to them. Their flashlights scanned the grounds within their few square feet of visibility. It was tedious work, but they busied themselves with one of their favorite pastimes; theoretical scientific argument.

"OK, I'll go over this one more time," Chuck said. "It's the linear relationship between absorbance and concentration of an absorber of electromagnetic radiation."

"We know what the Beer-Lambert Law is, Chuck," James said, annoyed. "We just don't think it applies here."

"Yeah, I'm not sure you know Beer-Lambert as well as you think," Robert added.

"Well, I know one thing, Robert," Chuck shot back. "I know you are the BEER BITCH! So why don't you go get me one?"

Robert turned around and walked back toward the Jeep and the beer cooler. Though they had walked less than fifty yards from the vehicle, in the fog, Robert felt very much alone. The fog seemed thicker now and more claustrophobic. His visibility had shrunk to less than a foot and he could no longer hear the voices of the other men. He could feel his throat beginning to tighten and he fought the compulsion to turn around and bolt for the safety of the group.  He knew if he did, he would never become a member of Redneck Voodoo.
He wouldn't dash a long-time dream because of his childish fear. Man up, he told himself. But it wasn't helping. His footfalls seemed amplified inside the thick, white cocoon of the mist. He even imagined he was hearing an echo, but soon became convinced the sounds were coming from somewhere else...from another person.

"Nelson?" he called out, but received no answer. "Ryan? You guys?" Maybe it was a trick. Maybe they were just playing with him. Maybe he was just letting his imagination  run away. He walked faster and faster until he was running. Ahead, the fog was clearing. He could see the Jeep and could feel his heartbeat calming. It had been his imagination after all. Wow, he thought. What a wuss. He reached into the back seat and grabbed a beer for Chuck and one for himself and leaned against the car to drink his. To his right he heard a twig snap. A match scrapped against a boot and a fire jumped to life in the corner of his eye. Robert jumped and whirled to see a young man leaning against the tree that Andy had urinated on only ten minutes earlier. He was smoking a cigarette and looking at the ground. Robert was stunned, speechless.

 "Hey mister," the young man said. "Think you fellas could give me a lift?"

                                                               (...to be continued)