occasion, an awkward demonstration of his brutal stupidity.
Stinker was a portly man with a scraggly beard, hair growing everywhere including his back and ears and forever wearing an unsettled countenance like he had not had sex in quite some time. His loincloth was forever pulled up too high like a nerd’s and he had a long, jutting angular nose and big green eyes which always remained on the same plain as his head...always looking straight ahead because he could not move his neck due to a previous injury.
Pile Driver soon returned with several carcasses of what could have only been those cute, furry, little tree, marmot, squirrel things the President had tried to brain a few sunlights before.
"So, what is your home like?" asked BamaOay of Pile Driver as she dropped the poor little creature on the hot coals, while he fumbled clumsily with his big hands and the acorns which were so small he dropped as many as he stuffed into his mouth.
"Home? Home is a place surrounded by a log enclosure with houses made of timber, stones and bark.”
“Hmmm, sounds marvelous,” came his reply laced heavy with sarcasm. “So, who is your Chieftain?”
“Chieftain?”
“Yes, your head honcho.”
“You mean witchdoctor?”
“Okay, witchdoctor.”
“He name Moonbeam.”
“Moonbeam? That’s a strange name.”
“Not really, he forever pulling his pants down when there is a full moon out, hence name.”
Fumbling, the President did not mind how long it took him to eat his fill of the nuts for it gave him a reason to stay awake and to marvel at IllaryHay’s breathtaking big, round ass.
“When do you think we will arrive?” he asked, as he kept getting an occasional glance at the debutante as the night grew and the flickering flames of the campfire lit the surroundings.
“Maybe, one sunlight now,” replied Pile Driver, now cuddling up close to the President to keep snuggly.
He barely heard her response his mind moving on now to a nightcap. “Say, you there, Stinker...go get us some more of those crazy fruits?”
Scratching like a cur, mindless of anything else, Stinker did not hear the President’s demand.
“I say there, Stinker!” shouted the President. “I said, go get us some more Moo Moos you idiot!”
“Yes, Master,” replied the toothless, Global Warming guru lookalike.
“Get me one...and get one for IllaryHay, too.”
“Yes, Oh Great One,” replied the man critter before scampering off into the woods.
“Tell me Piley, why were you afraid of going down the other trail back at the crossroads. Is there something demonic down that route?”
"No one knows for certain if there is a monster, or not. None who have gone in small numbers have ever been far enough down the path to have seen the things at the end, if there are such things, and lived.”
Far back in the President’s gloomy eyes a scintillant light had begun to glimmer like a Barbarian's torch glinting through the reeds of cold water ponds. His heartbeat quickened. DANGER! The newfound seduction of uncertainty and excitement! Not that BamaOay recognized these new sensations as such.
“Some large hunting parties speak of terrible smells and horrid roaring noises. Them’s me think...”
Saul’s voice suddenly called out to him murmuring as a whisper in his ear and unheard by the others.
“These sounds be deeds of powers of evil Barbarian King. The demons of fat headedness have laid claim to that path. A man of strong words, breath, strength and body is needed to beat those found on that path. You must one sunlight hence go down that pathway with your army of cannibals and Amazons and defeat those who would call us stupid and...”
The inner voice was suddenly interrupted by a clamor out in the woods...somewhere out there sounded a strange and eerie echo...or something like an echo. A moment later, again, same thing only this time louder. BamaOay started into a standing position. Were his senses deceiving him?
“Saul?” whispered the President; “Oh wise one is that you?”
Far out in the woods there pealed a whisper of frightful laughter like a demented soul. It again, sounded closer. No normal human being ever laughed like that...there was no rhyme or reason in it, just the lunacy of someone who must be mad, or indescribably stupid and vacuous with below normal intelligence. BamaOay held his breath for a second. He was not afraid, but for the moment a little curious.
“Where is Stinker?” asked B.O. concerned it was his comrade they were hearing out in the woods.
BamaOay took a quick look about the campsite...Stinker was still missing!
Suddenly, stabbing through that awesome laughter came the din of something that was undoubtedly mortal. The President turned his head to one side to improve his hearing, his ears acting like radar dishes. He cursed the campfire and the flickering shadows it cast and veiled the source of the noise in the woods and made seeing the thing creating the disturbance impossible.
The laughter grew louder, but then turned to screams...not of joy, but of pain. Then sounded faintly the drum of more crazy laughter. BamaOay was dumbfounded. Somewhere out there a human was probably being tortured, possibly to death and by what manner of horror God only knew. The din of the hysterical laughter halted abruptly and the screaming rose unbearably mingled with other sounds unnameable and hideous. Evidently the man had been overtaken and BamaOay, his flesh crawling, visualized some ghastly fiend of the darkness cowering on the back of its victim crouching and tearing.
Then the noise of more terrible screaming and short bursts of inhuman shouting came clearly through the abysmal silence of the night and the crazy chuckling began again, but bumbling and irregular. The laughter persisted, but with a gasping, grunting sound.
The sweat stood cold on the President’s unibrow and hairy body. This was some loathsome horror, a horror of intolerable proportions.
“God, for a moment’s clear sight!”
The frightful drama was being played out within a very short distance of him to judge by the effortlessness with which the hubbub reached his ears. But, in this hellish half-light, veiled by shifting shadows, the forest surroundings appeared to be full of hideous illusions: goblins, giants, more of those damn flying Chihuahua-vampire-bat things.
He shouted out striving to scare the creature away with his mighty, bellowing barbarian voice. The shrieks of the unrevealed broke into a hideous shrill squealing; again there was the noise of rustling bushes and then from the shadows of the tall forest trees a thing came reeling...a thing that might have been a man and falling at the President's feet writhing in pain. The lunatic raised its face up to him...it was Stinker.
The campfire cast a light on the stooge’s condition. BamaOay stepped back several steps, the unnameable had happened and he shuddered, a rare thing for him who had seen shit before, but nothing like the bloody mess he was witnessing before him.
“Shit, hemorrhoids,” exclaimed the President; “Stinker’s got piles!”
Nothing save for the combination of mad laughter, sobbing cries and gibbering gibberish now yammered from the fellow’s hole.
“He’s mad, crazy as a fruitcake,” BamaOay stated bluntly, “delirious with pain.”
Then like the shouts of a rioter in a mob coming to ear he was aware that he was not alone in his revulsion. He looked around his cold eyes piercing the shadows hiding some of those standing around gawking at the same scene. He saw little, but he perceived...he sensed...that the others’ eyes were staring with horror. He straightened and drew up his women’s driver pausing for a second. The reflection of the firelight danced upon the dull luster of the chrome-plated head.
Pointing at the poor soul he added, “This is what happens when you don’t eat your vegetables. Think about that the next time you sit down to dinner.”
The shadows melted and the President saw! At first he thought it only a shadow of mist, a wisp of moor fog that swayed from the guy??
?s rear end. He gazed on in horror.
More illusion? he thought.
Then the thing set about to take on shape, vague and indistinct.
“Back up everyone! He’s still taking a dump!”
Horrified eyes flamed upon the poor creature...eyes which held all the stark dread which has been the heritage of man since the fearful dawn ages...eyes frightful and near insane with a lunacy transcending earthly insanity.
The olfactory shattering travesty that had overtaken Stinker, like so many horrible travesties, was yet something everyone in this little group could relate to, many having suffered the same mortal frailty at one time or another in their lives.
BamaOay was secretly horrified, yet remained close at hand and as cold as ice. “How much crap can this guy shit?”
The others began to waver having no such psychological strength to overcome the visual and gamy onslaught. He, however, was now a barbarian and could easily understand how the horror lying in crazily laughing pain could upset the others...a testimony to his barbaric nature.
Of one thing he was sure; there was no way Stinker was sleeping with he and the others. There would be no soft bed of grass, but only the dreary woods and at least a hundred yards of it. Stinker’s screams nor pleading did not matter for he would soon be dragged down to the creek and thrown in...again...and again, drowned if necessary before being allowed back into the troop.
Now a vague and grisly mouth gaped wide and the demoniac laughter again shrieked, but soul shaking in its