Andrew and Ashley: Roadtrip to 'Bama

Prelude to the Chronicles of Delphus: the Book of Nemlei

Act I: The Book of Genesister

"Where the hell do we go now?" Ashley asked, fumbling with a crumpled map she pulled from the glovebox.
"Somewhere far away, preferably." Andrew replied, as he watched his dear sister paw at the map like some tribal given assembly instructions for Ikea furniture.
It was a gloomy night, but then nights in Cof-Finland have rarely been known for their sunny disposition. Parents? Soup. Money? Stolen. Vehicle? Hotwired. Cops? Who knows? Plan? Making it up as they go. Andrew laughed at the absurdity of the situation as he unsteadily reached for a cigarette from his pocket, for the nerves.
"Again with that?" She said, snatching it from his mouth.
"You know I hate the smell!"
"What are you, mom? We killed her, and if you don't give me that back you're next."
"Oh yeah? How are you going to do it?" She asked, a smug grin plastered on her face as she moved closer to him.
"With this knife, if you don't give me the cig back." He retorted, sweat beading his forehead at Ashley's nearness and inexplicably seductive tone. He jumped as her hand traced along the inside of his thigh, and tried to swallow the lump in his throat as her delicate fingers settled over his crotch, poised like a spider on the hunt. He clawed at the armrest and side console as she delicately ran her fingers along his slowly hardening member. She let go as suddenly as she had started and swung her legs over him, fully straddling him.
"The fuck are you doing? Just give me the cigarette!" He said, voice wavering.
"Fag."
"What?"
"Don't you know? That's what they call it in Britain. A fag!"
She grabbed Andrew's hand, guiding it to her supple breast with little resistance, knowing fully where his eyes had been lingering for so many years. The raw sensuality of the situation ended abruptly as someone rapped on the car window. It was gentle but insistent. Andrew rolled the window down, a nervous bead of sweat running down his face.
"......Can I help you?" he asked, face contorted in a mixture of dread, fear, and annoyance.
"Good evening, young man;" he said, before turning to Ashley, "miss."
He was fair-skinned with a hint of a tan, dressed in a robe of coarse wool that made Ashley scratch at her arm by reflex. His hair and short beard were paradoxically of disheveled yet noble, and he had a look on his face that infuriated the very core of her being, its placidity in stark contrast to her own inner turmoil.
"What the hell do you want? Change? We don't have any, fuck off!"
"What do I want?" He hummed.
"Ah!" he snapped, "you two are in quite a bit of trouble."
"What do you mean by that?" Andrew asked, cautiously.
"Andy, let's go."
"I've been watching you–both of you–for a while. Awful stuff, dreadful." The stranger said, grimacing.
A silent exhange happened between the siblings shared almost entirely through a series of facial expressions.
Does he know?
There's no way!
Do we kill him?
We probably have to.
"I wouldn't recommend acting on your impulses, I have a habit of getting back up." He said in a jovial tone, which only served to amplify the nonspecific menace his admonishment carried.
"So... what is it you want?" Andrew asked, voice quavering.
"Right, what I want... The question is, what do you want? Money? Seems like you're set on that, at least for a few days. Power? Well, it's not your power, but I suppose it's power nonetheless."
"Tell me, how do you feel about our lord, God?"
"Doesn't exist, and if he does he's a loser."
"I can see why you'd feel that way." The stranger noted.
"If he existed he wouldn't have let... all that stuff happen." Andrew chimed.
"I'd say he works in mysterious ways, but it'd be more accurate to say he avoids work in mysterious ways."
The bearded stranger paced around, eyes darting around as though chasing a thought through his mind like a stray cat. Andrew figured he had enough time to kick on the engine and gun it, but curiousity compelled him to stay.
"How about this? Renounce the demons and their power, for it is a poisoned wine. Work an honest day five days a week, take the sabbath to rest your body and sow your seed, and on Sunday give your worship to the lord, God."
"Why the hell would we do that?"
"If you swear to do these things, I will overlook your transgressions and give you the means and opportunity to carry out His will in peace."
The two's faces ran through the full gamut of human emotion before finally settling on "cautiously optimistic."
"You can make that happen?"
"I can't. That's up to you, but I can tell you've already made your choice." He said without elaborating further.
"We did?"
"You made your choice long ago. I'm not asking you to act against your conscience, merely your nature. Good luck."
He gave a slight smile before turning and walking off. As soon as he was out of sight a loud thud and severe shifting of the car's weight elicited a panicked yelp from the pair.
"You uh... wanna go check it out? I'll hold down the fort." Ashley suggested, causing Andrew to roll his eyes as he shifted her body off of him, thin and delicate with two very notable exceptions.
He grabbed the knife and went to the back of the car.
"I don't see anything! Pop the trunk!"
Inside of the trunk was another duffle bag beside the one they had stuffed full of their parents' cash. He carefully unzipped the bag as though it might explode, and was floored by its contents. Inside of the bag was countless bundles of $100 bills in U.S. currency, two passports, and two Alabama driver's licenses. Andrew pulled out the dull pink passport and read the inside: Ashley Gulian. Country of origin: Armenia
"pack yOUr BaGs, TWINKLetOeS, We'Re goinG On an advENTuRe!" A voice shouted behind him while he was entranced by the loot.
"Fuck!" he shouted, slamming the trunk down by reflex.

Act II: The Book of Exodus

The heavy odor of low tide blew through the windows as the siblings' car rolled southbound down the Thirteen. They had landed in Baltimore a few days prior and, much to Andrew's relief, nobody had batted an eyelid to his and Ashley's falsified passports and identification in spite of the spurious claim that Ashley was of Armenian descent (a patently ridiculous notion). It would seem that whatever man had visited them had more clout than they had suspected, or perhaps it really was divine intervention after all. In the end it wasn't particularly relevant, as the slew of identifying documents in the dufflebag of divinity were good enough to even set themselves up with a bank account, allowing them to comfortably roll down the highways without the dangers of several million dollars in liquid assets stuffed in their trunk.
"God damn that stinks!" Ashley bemoaned, her bare feet kicked up on the console
"I've smelled worse." he said, trying not to look at her feet as he said that
"Y'know, nobody likes a one-upper."
"One-upper?"
"It's someone who has always done more than you. They've smelled worse things than you, they know cooler people than you do, you'd think they were the world's most interesting person."
"We are pretty interesting."
"True, but that wasn't my point, jackass."
"Bitch."
"Limpdick."
"i'M HerE TOo!" ??? added, helpfully
"Shut up!"
??? slumped back into the seat like a deflated basketball. Originally, ??? was tasked with corrupting the siblings and reigning them back to the path of darkness, something which the big man upstairs had decidedly not agreed with. Given ???'s generally cowardly nature, he had decided that between the bigwigs at HQ and the big kahuna capital-G-O-D, the money was on the latter. The job had gotten pretty stale anyway, he thought, since corrupting the innocent was no longer treated as a fine piece of art to be painted on a canvas, but something factory-assembled and standardized.
"Look, I think we're just a bit hungry. Let's stop for some food and stretch our legs. What do you want to eat?"
Ashley huffed and looked thoughtful for a moment.
"I dunno, let's pick the first place we find that looks decent."
"i Want a HAPPy mEaL."
"Is that going to be enough food for you? You do eat a lot."
"No, BUT I WANt thE bEanie BAby toy."
"Why the fuck are we taking this... thing along anyway? He's a demon!"
"More useful than not having him around."
"And you trust him?"
"Not really, but he seems like he wants to help."
"i AM sittIng–welL, flOating–rIGHt here YOU knOW!"
??? spotted the golden arches and immediately dropped the matter, bouncing in place excitedly.
"Welcome to McDonalds, may I take your order?" The attendant over the intercom asked with the lowest level of enthusiasm expected of a minimum-wage worker.
"Yeah, can I get a ten-piece nugget with sweet and sour sauce? Ashley, what do you wa–" he said, before being pushed into the back of his seat as she tried to squeeze her body through the window to give her order. He'd almost mustered the will to be upset if it weren't for her breasts firmly pressed against him.
"And a Quarter-Pounder with cheese."
"Anything else?"
"I'LL haVe fIve cHeeSebUrGErs, a tWENTy-pIece nuGgET, a VanILLA ShaKe, ANd A HaPpy mEAL PLEASE!" ??? shouted past Andrew's ear, causing him to wince.
The attendant checked his headset out of fear of malfunction, unaccustomed to the maddening whispers of the damned. Shockingly, the maddening whispers of the damned sounded a lot like headset static and nails on a chalkboard. He took down the order all the same, and after the siblings paid they had to wait for what seemed like a small eternity for their massive order, backing up the drive-thru up to Maryland in the process. Eventually the cashier handed several bags and boxes to Andrew, who distributed the comparitively miniscule amount of food to himself and Ashley before giving ??? his small shipping container of junk food. After cruising for a few minutes to find a desolate parking lot, the group got out of the car to enjoy their food under the warm sun and breathe the open air.
"Know something, Andy?" Ashley asked before taking another bite of her burger.
"Mmh?"
"Sorry for... well, I don't know. Sorry, I guess."
"Me too, Ashley. Me too."
"sweEt, I GOT tHE RhIno!"

Act III: The Book of Proverbs

Ashley stepped out of the car while Andrew went to get snacks to pump gas. It wasn't comfortable outside; the sweltering Georgia heat already coating her in a thin layer of sweat, and she shuddered at the slick feeling of her armpits sliding with every arm movement. Furthermore it was a strange neighborhood.
NIGGERS could be here, she thought, I've never been in this neighborhood before. There could be NIGGERS anywhere.
The warm wind felt good against her fat sweaty tits.
I HATE NIGGERS! she thought.
Sweet Home Alabama reverberated her entire car, making it pulsate even as the $9 wine circulated through her erotic sisterly veins and washed away her (merited) fear of minorities at gas stations.
"With a car, you can go anywhere you want." she said to herself, out loud.
She fired a glare at ???, who had given the siblings a crash course in africanoid relations when they stopped to ask for directions.
"WhAT?" He said, his three eyes shifting around nervously.
"Don't 'what' me! You know what you did."
"ARE yoU sTill ANGry ABouT ThE WHOlE 'ASKING FoR dIrectiOns' thiNg?" He balked.
"'Oh, don't worry kids, I've got this.' Really? Remind me to never let you do the talking the next time you get the urge to open whatever it is you use for a mouth."
"I tHoUGhT I HANdlED IT RaThER wElL." He balked.
"You shouted 'wus good niggas' the minute we rolled the window down. That's the opposite of handling it well. You know how awkward it is driving around with bullet holes in the car?"
"I've got the snacks," Andrew said, shaking a plastic bag bursting with chips and various sugar-laden diabetic nightmares, "What's wrong now, Ashley?"
"Just remembering the time the Magic Hate Ball decided to speak on our behalf." She replied, causing Andrew to physically cringe.
"Look on the bright side, at least it was a learning experience."
"THAT'S WHaT i'm SaYING! AnywAY, yOU GeT tHE CheETOs?" He asked, his eyes trying to bore a hole through the bag.
"I got the cheetos." He said, handing a big bag of them to ???.
How a sentient orb of malice can hold a bag of snacks is one of the profane mysteries best not pondered by mortal minds. Everyone hopped back in the car as Andrew drove off.
"Ashley, can you stop that?" He pleaded.
Ashley was leaned over with the collar of her shirt pulled down in an attempt to direct the A/C toward her chest and armpits.
"Stop what? I'm fucking hot, okay?"
"Yeah you are." Andrew mumbled under his breath.
"Huh?"
"I said 'whatever'!" He quickly corrected
Ashley thankfully ignored it as she went back to fanning her distracting chest meat, causing Andrew to have four near-misses on the way to the motel as well as almost biting his lip off every time he thought he caught a peak of her nipples. They eventually arrived at the "No Hell Motel" alive, though Andrew needed a moment before stepping out of the car to shift something in his pants so as not to hit it on the door on the way out.
"Welcome to the 'No Hell Motel', how can I help you?" The woman at the desk asked with as much warmth as an exhumed corpse.
"Evening. One room with two beds please."
The clerk observed Ashley rolling her eyes, but decided she didn't care.
"Dog's gonna cost ya." She said, eyeing ???.
"DoG? HOw DARe yOu! I'LL biTe your–"
"THAT... that's fine," Andrew interrupted, "How much?"
"Twenty bucks."
"Twenty bucks? Those towels better be fucking nice!"
"Only the finest for the princess. Twenty bucks, plus an extra twenty for the room. Take it or leave it."
"It'll have to do." He said, handing two twenties to the attendant.
"Here's the key. Try not to get cum on the carpets, it's a bitch to clean out."
"I'll uh... keep that in mind."

Act IV: The Book of Revelations

The siblings lied in their respective beds, pillows pressed firmly against their ears to suppress the cacophany originating from the bathroom. What was initially reported on the local news as the clarion call of Gabriel's trumpet heralding the end of days, was in actuality the equally apocalyptic vanguard of two pounds worth of Flamin' Hot Cheetos charging through ???'s inner-workings like a rhinoceros on amphetamines. Andrew clenched his teeth in frustration, noting that the impending rectal ragnarok was a direct consequence of his failure to heed the sinister sphere's warning about spicy snacks. Finally, after what seemed like several small eternities, the distinctive sound of a mortar pulverizing a stone building could be heard, and it seemed at last the world could know peace again. One more apocalypse averted, a small mountain moved, humanity could live another day.
What. The. Fuck. Ashley mouthed to Andrew.
He tentatively removed the pillows from his ears, and nodded to Ashley who did the same.
"Here's a wild suggestion: don't give spicy snacks to the Odious Orb!"
"How the fuck was I supposed to know this would happen?" He shouted, throwing his hands in the air.
"Gee, if only he fucking TOLD YOU!"
"I seem to remember a certain someone snickering about it when I told her!"
"Nice one, Andy, sure wouldn't want you to shoulder any responsibility!"
"It's Andrew, not Andy!"
"'Oh, oh I'm Andrew! I'm a big boy, I went to college!'" she mocked.
"Here we go again! Let me guess, next you're going to say I abandoned you?"
"Sure as hell didn't hesitate to drop your pants for the first slut that asked! That's not abandoning me?"
"sWeEt dAMn, doN'T ReCoMmeNd gOIng IN ThERe fOR A Few EoNs" ??? whistled, phasing through the bathroom door.
The Ball of Bad reflexively dodged the pillow launched haphazardly in the general direction of Andrew.
"I fucking hate you!" She screamed, tears rolling down her face.
"The feeling's mutual! Why the fuck did I think it was a good idea to go out here with you? You never change, you'll always be the same brat you were a decade ago!"
???'s three eyes shifted uncomfortably around the room while Ashley loudly sobbed into her remaining pillow, eventually letting out a sigh. He didn't have lungs, but he always enjoyed the gesture.
"yOU, GIrL. You'Re A maniPuLatiVE, POsSEssiVE BItcH wHo buriES EveryTHIng unDER sCHEmes AND INNuENdo. yOu neveR SAY whAt yOu meAN, aNd wheN YoU do it cOMES oFf aS a jOke BeCAusE yOU can't TAke AnythiNG SerioUSlY."
She looked up from her pillow and gave him a smouldering glare that could have burned a hole through concrete.
"At least someone gets it!"
"oh NO NO NO, lET'S TALK aBOut YoU bITch Boy. yoU wanT tO Be TREATed lIkE An adulT bUt yOU Can't Take rEsPONsIBilITY For ANYythING! THe wOrld is CruEL, yoU'rE a NOrMAL gUy wHo Is a VICtIM Of CiRcumSTance! it'S yoUr SIsTer, YOUR paRENts, tHe water ComPaNY, dEMoNS! eVERyoNe's fAult bUT youRS, riGHT AnDrEW?"
"That's not–"
"i DiDN't SAY i WaS FINISHEd!" He shouted, stomping over Andrew's retort, "you'VE got a giRL tHAt'S CRazy–LIteraLLy–aBOut You, You'Ve GOt a bAjILLIoN DoLlARs in FrEe MONeY, MoST peopLe kILL to HaVe THAt. you Want To be trEAtED like AN adULt? tHen stoP acting LiKe DECIsIONs YoU MAdE areN'T yOuR ResPONsiBIliTY."
The room was silent for a good while save for a residual sob from Ashley here and there.
"NOW, KiSS Your siStER. tHAt's A tHrEAt."
Andrew went over to Ashley's bed and sat next to her, causing her to quickly turn over and cross her arms. He scooped her small frame up and held her in his arms from behind.
"I... I don't hate you. I know why I came out here with you."
"...I don't hate you either." she replied, leaning in to his shoulder.
Andrew turned his sister around and gave her a light kiss on the nose, making her giggle.
"kISs Her ON THe MOuth, FAG!"
"Can you leave us the fuck alone for a second?"
"...FinE, bUT i'M takiNG sOME CaSh. I wAnNa Go TO ThE waFfle HOusE AND gET SOME cHoCOLate cHiP PANcaKeS."
"Then do that!"
"I'm goINg, i'M Going! sweAr to hELL, iF THis ROOm doESN't sMelL lIke sEX wHen I COMe bacK i'm BUYING HoT ChIPS aGaIn!" He said, before phasing through the wall, causing the people in the neighboring room to scream in terror.
"So..."
"Wanna go full sister-fucker?"
"You don't have to say it like that."
"I'll let you feel my tits."
"I'm going full sister-fucker." He replied, matter-of-factly.

Act V: The Gospel According to Nemlei

Andrew sat on his favorite rocking chair sipping at a drink which was an iced tea in name only, but whose DNA was primarily sugar with just a pittance of leaf water to dilute it. His wife, Ashley had gotten the "recipe" from one of the housewives in her obligatory post-mass gossip session, apparently you can't count yourself as a real southerner without treading the knife's edge of diabetes. The gentle whisper of the wind beating the leaves of the numerous trees which dotted their yard compelled him to take a sip from his drink, a decision he immediately regretted as the sugary nightmare assaulted his teeth with a sensation comparable to chewing gravel.
"Andy!" his wife called to him as she opened the screen door to the front porch.
"What's up?" he asked, wincing after accidentally taking another sip.
"Fred called, he's swinging by to drop off the new fridge, you know, the one with the ice maker."
Ashley wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind and kissed him softly on the crown of his head.
"Nice, thought I'd have to drive over and get it myself."
Frederick Oskermeyer, "Fred" to his friends, "Freddie" to his special friends: A balding department store middle-manager whose mother was likely taken in the biblical sense by a sasquatch, smelled perpetually of cigarette smoke and that one aftershave which appears spontaneously in your medicine cabinet once you hit your mid-30's, and the proud owner of a continually expanding harem of college-aged women whom Ashley would classify as hussies in no certain terms. He's a good friend to have, and while Ashley didn't like him at first (it's the cigarettes, she's not a fan of fags) she warmed up quickly once she realized he was a fly trap for the nasty floozies who would otherwise try to seduce Andrew.
"Aaaand watch your drink," she warned, nudging Andrews arms aside to sit on his lap "there we are."
"How you feeling?"
"Not bad, doctor said I might start getting morning sickness pretty soon though." She said, rubbing her tummy which had yet to show any signs of pregnancy.
"That so? Guess we still have plenty of time for..." he left the statement hanging in the air as he went in for a kiss, "activities."
"Careful stud, talk like that might make a girl think you feel some sort of way about her."
"The things I'd do to you if Fred wasn't on his way..." he said, running his hands over Ashley's ample breasts.
"Yeah, might be best if we hold off for a bit, poor guy doesn't need to see the gun you're smuggling down there!" She said, playfully flicking his crotch.
Andrew tried his best to think of anything he could to suppress his raging erection as Fred's pickup turned the street corner with their shiny new fridge (the one with the ice maker). Eventually he settled on the image of Fred's burgeoning disco-era chest hair, which may have been too effective as he now reconsidered having sex that day at all. Fred's truck rolled to a stop at the foot of the driveway, the squeal of neglected brakes shattering the peace of the idyllic suburb.
Andrew got up from his comfortable seat and set his watered sugar on the porch rail before heading over to meet him at the head of the path. A woman he didn't recognize sat in the passenger seat, probably one of Fred's newest conquests.
Bright dyed hair, fake glasses, the beginnings of the architect's grand design rolling over her too-tight denim shorts. Yep, it's a Fred special alright.
"How ya doin' there, Andy?" Fred greeted him in his characteristic Michigan accent.
"Never better, Fred. See you got me my new fridge!"
"Sure did, the one with the ice maker! I'll give ya a hand in gettin' this bad Larry down and inta the kitchen."
"No way, Fred, you do too much for us as it is!"
"Horse hockey! Not gonna let your pregnant missus do the liftin', no sir! Besides she's lighter than she looks and I don't mind liftin' the load."
"You mean the fridge?"
"Yeah, sure." He said, throwing in a wink that threatened to give Andrew a second chance at the wet sugar he just drank.
Fred grunted with effort as he shuffled the fridge to the edge of the truck bed, and in no time they had it on its side and en route to the kitchen.
"You kids sure seem to be doin' good." he said between breaths.
"Yeah," Andrew grunted, "we're pretty much settled in at this point."
"Goin' to church every Sunday?"
"Well..." Andrew said, knowing full well that "every" Sunday was a bit of a stretch.
"Don't sweat it kiddo," Fred said, taking a deep breath as they settled the fridge with the ice maker down, "God ain't in the church anyway."
"Where's he at then?"
"Well, if I were him I'd say he's probably everywhere, but maybe sometimes he checks on his flock just to see how things're goin'."
"If you were God?"
"If. Say, speaking of which, where's the old Badsketball, now that I think of it?"
"Oh, he's haunting some waitress in the city for the week."
"Why?"
"Ashley said that she looked at me with 'whorish eyes', so she sent ??? after her."
"What is he, a dog? Anyway, stay out of trouble kiddo."
You too, Fred."
"No can do, I'm about to go get into some trouble. If you catch my drift."

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Pub: 28 Apr 2024 01:56 UTC

Edit: 15 Oct 2024 00:02 UTC

Views: 787