Until Death…..

When last we saw our Pretty Little Ghoul she was at the mercy of Lucifer, aka Mr. Tall Dark and Tattooed.  He was promising her an evening she wouldn’t soon forget…….

“Oh really?” Lisa asked. “If I’m not mistaken, you are Lucifer, the big bad, the one and only great evil. What could you possibly want with me? I’m just a little ghoul looking for a job. You could have any one you want, so I doubt you are interested in me.”

Lucifer shook his head. He was amazed that this darling little ghoul didn’t realize just how special she was. Maybe no one told her, hmmmm, that was an interesting thought.
“You act as though you didn’t just want to, what was the word, oh yeah, ‘bone’ me. And you are correct, this carpet is hideous.” With a wave of his hand the horrible shag carpet disappeared and luxurious angora carpet appeared. It was so gorgeous that Lisa just wanted to curl her bear toes into the ply.

“Go ahead, I’m sure it is as soft as it is beautiful.” The deep, sexy voice said. “I thought you might like this carpet better, we’ll work on the décor later.”

Lisa’s head snapped up. She glared at Lucifer through squinted eyes.

“What do you mean ‘we’ll work on the décor later’? What difference does the décor make to me? It’s not nor will it ever be, my office.” With that she stood to make an angry exit.

Too bad it didn’t work that way.

As I said, she stood to make an angry exit, the only problem was once she stood she was no longer in the depressing office. Stunned she simply stared at the scenery surrounding her.

Tall coconut trees leaned over the bluest water she had ever seen. Of course, the fact that she had lived in Toledo the entire time she was alive, the only large body of water she ever saw was Lake Erie. And blue is NOT a color associated with Erie, brown yes, blue, nope.

Taking a shallow breath, which of course was entirely unnecessary seeing as how she was dead and all, the scent of Jasmine and salt air filled her senses. The sun felt warm and seemed to caress her skin, which was not necessarily a good thing. Dead things don’t usually do not look good in the bright sunlight, no do the last too long either.

“Do you like?” A sinfully sexy voice caressed her ears like the sun caressed her skin. “I wanted to bring you somewhere you would like.”

Turning slowly, Lisa’s eyes fell upon the most beautiful sight to be seen. Leaning against the rough bark of a leaning palm tree stood the dark skinned, tattooed man. The lack of a shirt showed off a six pack that rippled as he spoke, and it emphasized the fact that the loud, colorful shorts he wore were low slung and, in a strange way, sexy as hell. Of course, dusting of dark hair on the lower two of his six pack and trailed downward didn’t hurt.

“Well, what do you think?” His sinful voice washed over her like warm oil. “I thought might you enjoy sunshine and blue water for a change.”

“I do not ‘like’!” Lisa struggled to stand, only to realize that instead of sand under her feet it was the ratty old carpet in the office of the stange Ms. Poorbitch. “Enough with the mind games. I’m not here for that, I’m here to see if she wants to interview me on television!”

Laughter bubbled as the trees and ocean faded from view, Lucy was still leaning against the desk, his legs crossed and his posture relaxed.

“She was never going to interview you on television. She doesn’t do much of anything these days except swell up and then fart for hours until she is small enough to get through the door.” Lucy smiled a cold, evil smile, “In other words I’m telling you that Ms. Poorbitch is full of shit and you should be talking to me about anything you think matters. Not to mention that she’s unavailable at the moment.”

Lisa glanced at the desk where Ms. Poorbitch had been sitting. An empty chair, slightly damp and stained yellow, faced her. Nowhere in sight was the bloated woman who had so recently spoken to her.

“Where did she go? She was just here, I just spoke to her.” Lisa couldn’t hide the confusion in her voice, “Did you do something to her?”

Lucy just grinned, glanced at his watch and promptly excused himself.

Lisa was left alone in space that resembled a cavern more than an office. Running to the door, she grabbed the handle and promptly screamed. The handle steamed and sizzled with small pieces of her flesh. The scent of grilled bacon filled the air, which confused her beyond measure. Having been dead, well in close proximity to being dead, for several years now, she knew that her flesh, even roasted on a hot door knob, should NOT smell like bacon.

Looking at her palm, expecting to see curled skin and blackened flesh, she was amazed to see a perfectly smooth, pink palm. PINK. She hadn’t seen pink skin on her own body in years. What the hell was going on??

The next thought that slammed through her stunned brain was that her ass hurt. She had dropped to the floor like a ton of bricks when she discovered the bacon smell hadn’t come from her. Landing harder than she should have, her round ass bounced a bit before settling on the stained carpet.

‘My palm is pink, my ass hurts and I suddenly want a BLT! What the fuck is happening?? I don’t eat bacon. Not since I died.’ Suddenly Lisa sobered. Yeah, she had bit the big one, cashed in her chips, bought the farm, croaked!! She hadn’t, however, taken a dirt nap nor had she counted worms.

Being a reanimated dead girl sucked, not as much as being an unanimated dead girl, but still there were times when things were just not good. Like today, when her nose fell off! Yup, it landed on the floor with a sickening splat. Definitely not good.

But now not only was her nose hanging exactly where it was supposed to be, but her palms were pink. (yes, both of the, she had looked!) Maybe she wasn’t exactly a dead girl anymore, maybe that was what Death had wanted to talk to her about.

It was his fault after all!! Who knew that Death had a side job driving a cab?? It was bad enough he drove a limo, but a cab? That was just undignified. And he had to look so damn good in those tight Levi’s he insisted on wearing when he was ‘off duty’.

She had spotted him walking down 8^th Avenue. Black silk shirt clinging to his broad shoulders, his nice round ass encased in Levi stone washed denim. Oh my, he was a sight. She, being twenty three and horny as a cat in heat, followed at a discreet distance thinking she might ‘accidently’ bump into him to make an opportunity to introduce herself.

But Death, being the devious shit that he is, darted across the street, weaving through traffic with an unnatural ease. And she, being totally enthralled with his gorgeous ass, followed him………

And was promptly smacked by a bus heading downtown at break neck speed.

She didn’t remember much after that, at least until she woke up in Mama Fred’s smoky, candle lit palor. Things had gone downhill from there.

Until now!! Hmmmm…..maybe something happened that reversed the whole being dead/not-so-dead thing. That would be nice. Then she could……

Her pornographic thought train was stopped before it left the station. The door burst open and in waddled the most disgusting, stinking sack of flesh she had ever laid eyes on. Apparently no one told Ms. Poorbitch that it was rude to ferment in polite society.

“Why the fuck are you sitting there? Don’t you have work to do?” The voice that escaped the bloated, yellow lips sounded as though it had battled its way from the depths of hell.

Apparently she was now More E. Poorbitch’s bitch.

Shit, this day was just getting better and better…..

What will happen to our little dead Ghoul?  Will she be doomed to serve this fat slug otherwise known as More E. Poorbitch??  What is in store for The Nearly Dead?

Stay tuned for the next episode.....

Moisture? What Moisture?

When last we say our little Ghoul, she was having fantasies of tracing the white tattoos that spread across his face and under the collar of his starched black shirt.  Little Lisa was enjoying some fantasies that would make your cheeks blaze and your eyes water.

So what is our little Ghoul up to now??  Read on and find out!!

Part Four

Or

Moisture?  What moisture? 

“My name is NOT Mr. Tall, Dark and Tattooed. It’s Lucifer, but you can call me Luce if you wish.” Tall, dark and tattooed said. 

“Luce? Seriously? Luce?” Lisa laughed.  She knew who More E. was talking about earlier. “Luce? Why not Lucy? Can I call you Lucy??”

The fact that she was being impertinent with Lucifer, not A Lucifer, but THE Lucifer, never lit the light bulb over her head. Lisa flew off into a giggling fit that lead to the long, twisted road of hysterical laughter.

Lucifer stood quietly while Lisa struggled to control herself. It looked like she had finally managed to get herself together when she hazarded a glance at More E. who was sitting perfectly still, her face trapped in the act of thoroughly bitching someone (Lisa) out. Her mouth was a gaping grey wound in a pasty white face, her hair stood out from her head like Medusa’s infamous snakes, frozen in the act of rearranging themselves. The horrific sight set off yet another bout of giggles that ended in guffawing and snorting like a congested pig. 

Lucifer just shook his head and propped his ass on the edge of the dark mahogany desk. He knew that Lisa would run out of steam sooner or later, and it wasn’t like he had anywhere he had to be. He was already in the pits of home, exactly where his minions expected to find him. 

“Lucy”, Lisa managed to gasp, “I’m calling the devil Lucy!” 

Yet more giggles, hysterical and desperate, ensued. 

‘Lucy’ stood with is hip cocked and his ass cheek propped against the well-polished mahogany wood. Humming under his breath, he stared of into space, oblivious to anything other than the cute little ghoul who was still in the throes of hysteria. 

Finally Lisa got herself under control, an errant giggle escaped from time to time, but mostly the hysteria had disappeared. Wiping her eyes (which seems like a strange thing for a ghoul to do, but ever since the sandwich Momma Fred had given her she seemed more and more like her old, living self), she slowly raised her eyes to the gorgeous bald man still quietly looking her way. 

‘So this is Lucifer. Who would have thought that the big, bad evil would be so drop dead gorgeous?’ Lisa thought. ‘I guess drop dead isn’t the correct way to describe him, seeing as how I’m already dead’ 

“Will you please stop? Do your thoughts always ramble or is this a special thing you’ve developed to drive me insane?” Lucy’s voice was still soft and smooth as velvet, but now it held a note of desperation. Apparently he could hear every single thing that crossed Lisa’s mind. 

“Ya think? Yes, I hear EVERYTHING that crosses that little mind of yours.” Lucy was exasperated now, “How about you open your pretty little mouth and actually say something instead of invading my mind like a swarm of gnats?” 

‘Swarm of gnats? Little mind? Who the hell does he think he is?’ The thought popped into her head quicker than she could halt it. Fear made her wonder if he was going to roast her tidbits over an open brimstone campfire in some far off reaches of Hell. 

Laughter assaulted her from across the room. It was his turn to laugh until the tears ran. He guffawed, howled and screeched with laugher. Soon he was sitting on the floor, laughter cascading from his lips, tears careening down his cheeks like winos down a sidewalk. 

Lisa wasn’t sure if she should laugh along with him, because of course of all the contagions in the world, laughter was the worst of all. Unfortunately her wounded pride prevented infection, so she sat, stone faced and brooding, as the Biggest of Big Evils rolled around on the floor.  

The beginnings of dampness in her undergarments disappearing as though it never happened.   
It truly sucked to be her right at this moment.  Usually any moisture associated with a Ghoul was either someone else’s blood and gore or else it was some artificial goop from a squeeze bottle.  The fact that her nether regions had dampened on their own, well that said a lot for Mr. Tall, Dark and Tattooed!  He was SEXY. 

At this second now he was anything but sexy.  It was a shame. 

Laughter trailed off to the mild giggles, finally dying off to the occasional hiccup. Wiping his eyes, Lucifer glanced up at her and once again had a fit of mirth. Shaking his head, he slowly climbed to his feet. Leaning back against the desk once again, he pulled a blood red silk handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. A silly grin plastered to his face, he looked at her and shook his head one more. 

“Are you quite done?” The chill in Lisa’s voice would have made an Eskimo pull on an extra parka, but it had no effect on The Big Bad. Which was odd, seeing as how he was the King of Hell and all, not to mention that it was hot enough in this building to make a snake sweat. “Look Lucy, I’m here about an interview, or at least that was what I was told. Now I find out that Ms. Poorbitch wants me to replace her, the poor woman. I don’t see anything the least funny about this situation.” 

Lucy, as she dupped him, watched her with eyes as hot as blue fire, which was odd seeing as how his eyes were black earlier when he showed her to the elevator. Not that it mattered. 

Or did it? 

Aw hell, who cares? He was burning a hole straight through her, not to mention ruining a perfectly good pair of comfortable panties. 

“Quite done laughing? Oh yes, I am quite done laughing. “His beautiful lips quirked into a grin. “But I haven’t even begun with you yet. But I’m about to.”

His sensual threat held the promise of an interesting evening.

Will the Brown Eyed Ghoul and the Big Bad exchange body fluids??  Is that even possible??  And what about Death, he’d promised to call our little Ghoul. 

Come back soon and you will find the answers to these and other pressing questions of the Nearly Dead!

Brown eyed Ghoul…..

When we left our little brown eyed ghoul, she was sitting in the office of the very famous More E. Poorbitch, Queen of talk show host, DNA Diva, Adultery Analyst.  Poor little Lisa was confused and more than a little frightened, Ms.Poorbitch was bloated and retaining fluid (nope, it isn't water).

So let’s check in with the Not Quite Dead bunch!!

Part three

or

Brown eyed Ghoul

“You want me to take your place?? What the hell? I thought I was here to do an interview about Civil Rights for the Nearly Departed!” Lisa’s voice had reached decimals audible only to canines and a rare breed of Yeti Zombie living in Alaska. Unfortunately, Ms. Poorbitch was none of the above.

“What? I can’t hear you. Stop moving your lips and start moving your vocal cords!” Ms. Poorbitch was not known for her patience. “I’m offering you a job, a job that will make you millions of dollars, and you’re worried about an interview?”

Lisa’s eyes began to bulge as she stared at the spandex encased slug sitting before her. She didn't want a job, well, she did, but that was NOT what she came here for.

Taking a deep breath, she silently chanted a mantra for peace and began again.

“Ms. Poorbitch”, she began.

“It’s More, please. No one that works for me calls me Ms. Poorbitch”, the dry, raspy voice said. “And you are working for me, even if you don’t realize it. Luce wouldn't have let you in if you were the one.”

A sound like dried finger bones rattling together crawled down Lisa’s spine. It took a second to realize that it was laughter. The fat slug was actually laughing at her.

“I am NOT working for you. I came for an interview and if you aren't planning on doing that then I am leaving!” Lisa attempted to stand up and storm out, only to find that she was firmly planted in the downy softness of the chair.

More watched as the young ghoul struggled for a few moments. It amazed her how few of the Nearly Departed knew the rules. That was the biggest reason they didn't last more than a year or two. The young ones usually lost their heads doing something stupid. That was the only way to turn a Nearly Departed into a Truly Departed, cut off the head, or yank it off, or smash it, or shatter it.

Hopefully this sexy little ghoul wasn't going to lose her head anytime soon.

“Calm down.” The sensual voice that had greeted her at the door whispered softly. “You’ll only hurt yourself if you continue to struggle, and believe me, you don’t want to hurt yourself. Momma Fred can’t come here, and those sandwiches that More E. offered you would only make it worse.”

Lisa instantly stilled. Something about that voice, something about that drop dead gorgeous man downstairs. If she had to eat something she wanted it to be him.

Shaking that thought from her mind, she took one last breathe and turned to face More E. Poorbitch.

“Why do you do that?” More E. asked. “You don’t have to breathe you know. You’re, for all points and purposes, dead and the dead don’t breathe.”

Taking another breathe just to piss off the fat grub, Lisa closed her eyes and relaxed. Opening them slowly she thought about the nose incident earlier today and how Momma Fred had given her that glorious mystery meat sandwich. Momma Fred looked out for her, she may even love her a little bit.

This fat bitch, however, was looking to take advantage of her, and that pissed Lisa off like nothing else.
“It seems that you need me.” Lisa laughed. “But I do NOT need you. So if you want me to do something for you there are questions that need to be answered.”

More E. puffed up even larger. She was twice the size of old Jabba who ran the frog bodega on Tenth Ave.

“Well?” Lisa smiled, “Are you ready to answer my questions?”

More E. sat stiff and as erect as Jabba ever had, staring off into the distance she looked as though she were listening to something only she could hear.

“Yeah, I’ll answer your questions.” More E. finally said. “Get to it, I don’t have all day you know.”
Lisa didn't waste a second.

“How did you become, well, whatever it is you are?” She asked, looking straight at the blimp that called itself More E. “Is it true that you sold your soul?

More E. threw back her head and laughed like a hyena, a dying hyena, but a hyena never the less. Shaking her head, she reached out and grabbed herself a finger sandwich, heavy on the yellow calluses, and popped it in her mouth.

Swallowing once, she flashed what passed as a smile and pushed a button on the top of her desk.
With a thunderous roar, the dark, tattooed man from downstairs appeared. Reaching out a large hand, he grabbed the back of More E.’s head and shook her like a dog with a rat.

“Answer her.” His velvet smooth voice roared. “NOW!”

Nasty green welts appeared on More E.’s face. Purple gas began to leak from the welts, filling the room with a stench that made Lisa gag. It takes a lot to make a ghoul, even one who hates to eat meat, gag. Ghouls have little to no sense of smell, so an odor so noxious that it would affect a ghoul, well, it would have killed her if she weren't already dead.

More E. began to babble, something about making a deal with the current Devil and not bothering to read the bottom line. Then getting hit by a falling casaba melon, which apparently has the consistency of cement when dropped from a tenth floor window. On an on she squeaked and squealed. Dying and having some parasite slipped into her, and ewwww, don’t ask where they slipped it.

Lisa listened with half an ear, so to speak. With Ghouls and Zombies half an ear is a possibility, but Momma Fred had fixed Lisa up so that there were no parts missing or half there. Yay Momma Fred!! Anyway, Lisa was more intent on Mr. Tall Dark and Tattooed and what she would like to do to him right now, right here!

Yup, little Ghoul girl wanted to bone Mr. Tattoo right there on the black shag carpet. (Shag OMG, how could she not have noticed it was shag!!) Lisa was so deep in fantasy land that she didn't notice More E. had stopped rambling on and was staring at her with a look that would curdle blood, IF Lisa had any blood.

Mr. Tattoo glanced at More E. and then took a good long look at Lisa. Throwing out his hand he stopped time for every creature in creation, every creature with the exception of himself and the cute little Ghoul with the upturned nose.
 
What is next for our little Ghoul?  Will she get to live out the fantasies she so recently submerged herself in?  Or will More E. enslave her with a finger sandwich?  And who is Mr. Tall Dark and Tattooed?
Next installment to come soon!!

Part two or “On being dead”

A couple of people commented on the beginning of this story, and a few more actually send me an email about it!!  Yay!

So, here is Part Two of Are You Dead Yet!!  (after this one there will only be one installment a week)

Part Two

On Being Dead

Kicking it in a black mini skirt, white silk top over a blood red cammie and blood red Didya Chew heels, Lisa headed out the door.  She had to hail a cab, which of course, being a ghoul, was not near as easy as it should be.  Finally giving up, Lisa whipped out her cell and dialed 1-800-333-7233 (ded-ride).  Bouncing from foot to foot, she impatiently waited for the long black limo (well, hearse) that was on its way to get her.  She couldn't afford to be late.  Everyone knew that More E. Poorbitch was a holy terror if you made her wait.

Of course, since the whole deal with Lucifer everyone knew there was nothing ‘holy’ about Ms. Poorbitch.  No one that could sell their soul to Lucifer and return to this realm was anything but unholy and damned.  More E. thought she was beating the odds when she scribbled her name in blood at the bottom of the scroll, but what she was doing was

Lisa stared off into space, a blank, empty look on her face.  But of course, being a ghoul and all it was pretty easy to have a blank look on her face.  It was the ‘I’m interested in more than eating your face’ look that gave her trouble!

Her ride finally pulled up and a gaunt, skeletal man garbed in an old time tuxedo jumped out and opened the back door for her.  Smiling vaguely, Lisa nodded once and climbed in.  This was luxury!!  She had never sat on real leather seats before, let alone heated leather seats! 

“Where to Madam?” A deep, reverberating voice asked.

“Ms. Poorbitch’s office please, corner of Cemetery Drive and Morticians Way. “  No one knew why the rich television talk show host insisted on having her plush offices in such a dismal area of town.  Lisa thought it might have something to do with fast food and having a makeup artist on call 24/7.

In a blink of an eye they were in front of a tall building with blackened windows.  Lisa sat quietly until the gaunt man opened the door and offered her his hand.  As she grasp the cold, bony appendage, Lisa realize who had driven her across town.

“Death?  Is that you?”  Lisa almost giggled.  She hadn't recognized him in his ‘work clothes’ but there was no mistaking the sparks that flew when the two of them touched.

“Don’t.  Just, don’t.”  Death looked directly into her eyes.  She heard his voice in her head, ‘ I’ll call you tonight.’

Shaking her head, she grinned and headed toward the door.  The door opened to reveal a very dark, very tall and very bald man.  The startling white designs tattooed on his face and shiny, bald head startled Lisa and she could only stare.  The man was striking in an Oh my Gods, What the Hell sort of way.

“Are you here to see Ms. Poorbitch?”  His voice was soft and sensual, the type of voice that made your panties moist.  But his eyes were cold and deadly, and his hand, as he reached for her, burned with the fires of Hell.

“Yes, please”, Lisa’s voice shook.  She took one small step forward before the inky darkness closed in.

Suddenly she could see again.  ‘Well that was fucking odd’, she thought.

“Are you okay, Miss?  Some people have a difficult time with the transition.”  The soft, sensual voice asked.  “I had a hard time myself at first.”

For some reason Lisa wondered what a ‘hard time’ with this tattooed man (if he was a man) would be like.  A silly grin played at her lips and the tip of her artificially wet tongue danced around like a drunken cobra.

“Miss?”

Realizing she couldn't afford to make a bigger fool of herself, Lisa blinked away the vision of white tattoos on dark skin.

“I’m fine.  It was a shock at first, but I’m okay now.”  Lisa realized her voice was trembling, not from the vertigo that still grabbed at her, but from the pictures that played in her mind. “Thank you for asking.  And yes, I’m here to see Ms. Poorbitch.”

Bowing slightly, the dark man in the dark suit turned silently and walked toward the elevator.  “This way please” was all he said.

Although there was plenty of room to get by the dark stranger, Lisa brushed against him as she entered the elevator.  The scent of wood smoke and charcoal caressed her nose.  She was about to ask him about his cologne when the doors closed.  A soft whirring sound signaled movement, although she felt as though she were just standing in a box waiting on….well, whatever you wait on if you are standing in a box.

Some song about Napoleon surrendering at Waterloo played softly as she stood staring at herself in the mirrored walls.  Who plays disco in an elevator?? 

The doors silently slid open revealing black carpets dotted with blood red furniture.  It looked like a bad impressionist painting.

“Are you just going to stand there?  Move your ass ghoul, I don’t have all day!” 

Lisa jumped.  The disembodied voice scraped her eardrums like claws scraping cement, causing her head to swivel left, then right, then left again.

“Hello?”  Lisa’s voice was softer than ever.  Even a flesh eating ghoul can be afraid.

“Get in here!  NOW!!” the smoke ravaged voice scraped.

“In WHERE?”  Lisa was losing control on her viper quick temper.  “I don’t see a HERE to get into!”

“At least you have some spunk!  Not bad for a dead girl!” A large, heavy breasted woman dressed in a tight, blood red spandex jumpsuit appeared from no where.  Her face resembled More E., but the body was like a slug slathered in crimson.  Ms. Poorbitch was a slender and well shaped, and this woman was definitely NOT.  “Come on in, I've been waiting for you for hours!”

Lisa was stunned.  This was THE More E. Poorbitch??  This ponderous woman dressed like a cheap street walker was the most powerful woman in television?

“Ah, okay”, Lisa followed the woman into a large office, her eyes locked on the substantial ass that twitched and squirmed like to large pigs were caught in a small spandex dress.

“Please have a seat Ms. Cryptland.”  The large woman motioned toward the most luscious looking chair Lisa had every laid eyes on.  “Would you like something to drink?  Or maybe a finger sandwich?”

Lisa glanced in the direction the woman was motioning, there on a silver tray lay at least two hands worth of finger sandwiches beside a large glass pitcher of brackish looking blood.

“Ummmm, no thank you, I’m good.”  Lisa didn't think she could drink even one sip of the curdled fluid, and the finger sandwiches looked to be less than fresh, some of the fingers were covered in pale yellow calluses. 

“I suppose you wonder why I wanted to meet you.”  She. said.  “I need someone that is willing to be trained to take my place on the show.  As you can tell, I am not doing well these days.  And before you ask, yes, I am More E. Poorbitch in the flesh.”

To Be Continued……

Well ya’ll, there it is, part two!!  Part three will be posted later in the week.   

My twisted mind!

So, I have finally almost conquered the flu!!  Notice I say ‘almost’.  Well that’s because I’m still weaker than I was at 8 months of age!  But, I’m slowly and surely getting back to myself!

Which is the problem.  Now that I’m not longer debating my mortality with a viral enemy, I find that there are other, darker, more twisted things going on in my little mind.

You see, there has been the beginning of a story buzzing around the twisting corridors of my blackened brain like a blowfly in a carrion house!  ( If you’re one of those beings that say “Oh My God that is vile” then you need to stop reading right this moment and go find a nice Little House book to peruse!!  Believe me baby, this is NOT the story for you!)

Anyway, I NEED to get this twisted tale out of my head and somewhere that I can reference it from time to time in case there is some gleaming nugget of inspiration buried deep in its depths!
Hopefully you will bear with me as I dig deep into my grey matter for this tale of falling apart (literally), fighting big government and hard won civil rights.

Dead To Rights

PART ONE

“Damn, damn, double damn”, she mumbled as she reached for the super glue.  “Why did this happen today of all days??”

Holding her nose in her left hand, she drew an outline of super glue around the inside edge.  Slamming it back into place, she muttered and mumbled, trying, in vain, to think of any solution that didn't involve calling Momma Fred.

Counting to a thousand by threes, she put pressure on her once pert, upturned sniffer and prayed to whatever gods would listen that this would work.  Slowly removing her hand from her fractured snout, she knew there were no gods that listened to the half-hearted prayers of a ghoul. 

Her nose slid down her face and dropped onto the floor with an unhealthy sounding splat.

“Damn!”

Picking up her cell, she pushed #1 on the speed dial and hoped that the famous Voodoo queen wasn't out robbing some cemetery somewhere.

“Yeah!”, came the soft, Southern voice. “What’s up, buttercup?”

Lisa couldn't help but laugh.  Only Fred, the most vicious and powerful Voodoo practitioner in the land, well this land anyway, would call one of her creations ‘buttercup’.

“Fred, I need your help!”  Lisa cried, hoping the Voodoo queen would come as soon as possible.

“Quit pinching your nose!  I can’t understand a word you’re saying!”  Fred sounded a bit pissed off.

‘Damn’, Lisa thought, ‘that’s all I need!’

“I’m not pinching my nose, it fell off!  I need help!  Super glue”……a loud clap of thunder prevented Lisa from continuing her explanation.

“Damn girl, who did you eat?”  Fred always came to the heart of the problem, even if the problem involved cannibalism and falling parts.

Looking at her feet, Lisa didn't answer right away.  The look on her face, the missing schnozz and the fact that she was rotting at a ridiculously steady pace was enough to answer Fred’s question.

“You’re not eating, are you?”  Fred was incredulous.  A ghoul that refused to eat was a ghoul that fell apart quickly!  “What are you thinking??  Do you want to end up as an oozing green puddle in the middle of the floor?”

Another clap of thunder and the Voodoo queen was gone.

“You're not eating, are you??  Blah, blah blah…” Lisa mumbled.  “She knows I've become a vegetarian.

“Don’t think I didn't hear that!”  Fred said. 

Lisa jumped, once again dropping her nose.

“Damn, I hate it when you do that!” Lisa said as she looked at her once pert nose flattened out on the floor.

“Here”, Fred held out a vaguely sandwich shaped bundle.  “Eat this. NOW!”

Hearing the small dark woman command her, in a tone that left no doubt that there would be dire consequences, to do anything scared the living, or in her case dead, shit out of her.

Unwrapping the bundle she sighed with relief to see it was indeed a sandwich.  Taking a large bite, Lisa chewed the mildly chicken flavored meat and instantly began to feel better.  She finished the sandwich in three bites, amazing not only herself but the woman who was responsible for her continued existence.

“Feel better?”  Fred questioned.  “Isn't that better than the grass you insist on eating?  Here, have another one, only this time hold our nose back in place while you eat.”

Fred handed Lisa a slightly larger sandwich, wrapped in plain brown paper.  Opening it quickly, she grabbed her nose with her left hand and plastered it back in place.  Taking a large bite she chewed slowly, enjoying the chicken like quality of what she knew to be, until recently, human meat.  Fighting her gag reflex at the thought, she chewed once more and swallowed.

The sensation in her face was amazing.  An itch started between her eyes and grew until her entire face felt like she had dried her face with poison ivy.  Of course if she had done that she wouldn’t itch, but she remember one time when she was actually alive…..

Finishing her sandwich, Lisa let go of her pert, upturned nose, which was now firmly attached in the correct position. 

“Girl, you have got to stop this silliness!  You ARE going to piss me off if you don’t.”  Fred usually didn't call her girl.  The fact that she had showed how worried and angry she was.  “I am getting damn tired of saving your ass.  You’d think doing it once was enough, but no, you've got to continue with your stupid bullshit and get your ass in a mess.  Who ever heard of a vegetarian ghoul?!”

Fred shook her head, causing her dreadlocks to shake and tremble like angry snakes.  Lisa could see she was doing her best not to lose control.  That was a good thing, a Voodoo Queen losing control was NOT a pretty sight.  EVER.

“I’m sorry”, Lisa said in a soft voice, “I’ll try to do better, it’s just that I don’t like eating people.”

“People, smeople.  It’s meat.  It’s not like you have to go out and hunt your own, or dig up a grave somewhere.  It’s already processed and ready for you, you just have to eat it!”  The dreadlocks shook harder. “Damn dumb ghoul.  Don’t like eating people, like I’m asking her to go kill one herself.”

“I said I’m sorry!”  Lisa was beginning to get angry, even though she knew that getting angry at Fred was a lost cause in more ways than one.  “I will go to the warehouse tomorrow and stock up on supplies, okay?”

Fred smiled a tight, dangerous smile. “Okay, you do that!  Now, isn't there something else you should be doing right now?  Like getting ready for your stupid interview on the More E. Poorbitch show?”

Lisa jumped.  She didn't realize that Fred had heard about that, but then again, she was so self absorbed that she didn't realize much that happened and didn't directly involve her.  “Yeah”, she said, “I do need to start getting ready.”

“Turn around girl, look at yourself in the mirror.” Fred couldn't believe she had brought this airhead back from the dead.  Of all the corpses to select, she had to choose an airhead.  “All you have to do is get dressed!”

Turning around, Lisa gasped as she saw herself.  Her complexion had lost the sickly green tint, her nose pert,  upturned nose was perfect, the white film that had begun to cover her eyes was gone leaving behind the most beautiful green.  Even her hair was shiny and bright.

“Oh thank you!!  I look amazing!!”  Lisa gushed.  “This is great!!  Thank you!”

“Don’t thank me, it was the sandwich.”  Fred’s voice lingered as the rest of her faded away.  “Don’t forget to eat!”

Lisa dug through her closet looking for the right outfit.  More E. Poorbitch as one tough cookie.  Talking to her about Civil Rights for the Nearly Departed was going to be rough, Ms. Poorbitch would rather scream at people about cheating, spawning hell children and not knowing who your daddy was.  Civil Rights was something she didn't usually care about.

But of course, Ms. Poorbitch had recently joined the ranks of the Nearly Dead herself.  Rumor had it that she had sold her soul for the opportunity of living forever, of course she hadn't read the fine print at the bottom of the contract.  Just because she was going to live forever didn't mean she was going to be alive to do it.  After getting hit by a large, not nearly rotten enough, melon, More E. succumbed to a brain injury.  Apparently green casaba melons are sturdier than a talk show hosts’ skull, or at least sturdier than More. E.’s skull.

Two days after her death, Ms. Poorbitch crawled out of her cooler at the morgue and walked away.  Thankfully she woke up before they came to cart her carcass off for cremation!  Who says Lucifer doesn’t have a sense of humor?  More E. was going to live forever, but she had to die to do it.

Lisa idly wondered what Ms. Poorbitch ate on her carcass sandwich.

Well, that’s it for part one.  If you want me to continue, please leave me a comment letting me know.  If you think I should hang it up and admit myself to the local insane asylum, please comment saying so!!

Later y’all!!