Uschi! by Tony Ungawa Page A

slaughter. He pointed a finger at the hemorrhaging eyeball wound and coldly and levelly said, “I got to tell you, retardo, I didn’t appreciate that stunt one speck.”
    And that’s when the Nissan’s door batted into him at a tremendous rate of speed and might. Put him back on the ground, spread-eagled and head bouncing off the asphalt like a dribbled basketball. He put the one eye he had to work and looked up at Uschi. Her watermelon tits were as big as ever, she was richly gore-slimed from top to bottom, and the glass pieces in her skin and slutty clothing caught the light and twinkled. Uschi blessed Li’l Bocephus with a smile; she was in desperate need of dental floss, the ample and unattractive chunks of meat and gristle lodged between teeth unavoidably obvious.
    “Funny how the world operates, isn’t it?” And she discarded the car door and lowered herself to sit sidesaddle on top of Li’l Bocephus’s chest. She crossed her legs and rested joined hands on her knee. Her additional weight caused Li’l Bocephus’s unoccupied abdominal vault to sink in like a pothole on a busy residential street, and a number of ribs cracked like celery stalks. Once things finished resettling, she continued, “A new surprise seems to take you every other second. Example: You think the Miracle Whipped feces from your best thing is the absolute finest culinary delight there can be. Then cheeseburger and roadkill arrives on the scene and opens your taste buds up to a whole new perspective of greatness. There will never be any better than that. And now your extra spicy self shows up on my radar and tells me the good stuff can just keep getting better and better. Don’t try to deny it. You are one scrumptious motherfucker. I simply can’t get enough of you. I am afraid I’m going to have to eat on you until I bust.”
    The little hairs along the eyebrow above Li’l Bocephus’s destroyed eye were squirrelly, tangled and going every which way. Uschi used the tip of her finger to stroke them down straight and even. She then leisurely inserted her finger inside the empty socket, eyelid freely parting for her. She swished it around in there for one complete revolution and neatly succeeded in prying her digit between the cheekbone and flesh. Uschi curled her finger like a hook and pulled back. The skin and meat on that entire side of the face from beneath the socket to all the way to the jawline ripped loose and came off the bone. Tendons popped like old fishing line. Even a quarter of the upper lip was taken, leaving behind on the mouth a cleft-palate condition. She shoved it all into her mouth and chewed under a dozen times before swallowing. His beard stubble was rough against the inside of her throat.
    Uschi positively tingled in delight. Boy-howdy, that were good shit. Almost better than sex. But only almost.
    Finally, Li’l Bocephus found the initiative to resist. He arched his back and bucked Uschi off of him. He next jumped up and used both hands to lift his loose intestines and organs up and sling them over his shoulder in the same fashion a fireman carries a hose. Then, spider quick, he ran some twenty feet away from the thing that was treating him like a bucket of fried chicken on Superbowl Sunday. The tail end of the viscera running down his backside was touching the ground and slithering along behind him, collecting more trash and dirt.
    Distance gave him the courage to turn around and act mouthy. “This ain’t over,” he told Uschi, who was squatting down on her haunches and yet to try and pursue the bow hunting fan bloodsucker. “No, not by a long shot is this shit over with. You hear me? I’ve put my mark on you.” His one eye hunted out Denny. “And you, too, retardo. Oh, I am not about to forget you. My mark is all the fuck on you just as much. I can find y’all anywhere on the face of the earth any goddamn time I choose. And I will get y’all. But not right now. This shit is to be continued.”
    And with