The Showdown
The Showdown
By Cramulus
Hank pulled the trigger. Through
the scope, he could see brains explode out
of the haint’s head as the gunshot echoed
off the hills. Hank let out a cowboy whoop
and got up off his belly.
“Did you see that, you
motherfucker?” he shouted. “I’m gonna
snipe every last fucking one of them!”
The only reply was a gunshot which
took Hank’s hat clean off his head.
Swearing, he scooped it up and dove into a
bush. Hank looked around frantically but
couldn’t spot Randy. That bastard was
probably snickering right now. Hank
fingered the hole in his hat and gritted his
teeth.
Later that night, when he went back
to the ranch, Hank poured himself a mug
full of plastic-bottle whiskey. He went to
the dresser, opened the sock drawer, and
took out the folded picture.
The photo was creased down the
middle right between Hank and Randy.
Hank looked himself in the mirror, then
back at the picture. He’d gained a lot of
weight since then. Lost a lot of hair, too. It
was a familiar story. Boy meets girl. Boy’s
best friend steals girl. Girl bangs everybody
and makes everybody hate each other
forever. Boys pull out guns. Girl runs away
into the irradiated badlands and is never
seen again.
“Hey Rex,” Hank shouted across
the house to his mute kid brother, “I nailed
‘nother one of them haints today.” From
the living room, he heard a golf-clap.
Hank walked across the house and
opened the front door. He stood there in
the cool breeze, sipping his whiskey and
looking out at the badlands.
by Cramulus
It was lonely out here. Hank missed
having companionship. He loved his little
brother, but the kid wasn’t a good
conversation partner.
“This shit’s gone on for too long,”
said Hank, taking a gulp from the mug.
Behind him, Rex was watching the boob.
“Ya think that old git is gonna let it drop?
Or am I gonna hafta kill all his haints?” Rex
didn’t look up.
“You drank your pac milk today?”
asked Hank, looking over his shoulder. Rex
shook his head, eyes glued to the boob.
“I’m tellin’ ya,” said Hank, “you
gotta drink a glass of it every day. Or else
you’re gonna get radiation poison. And you
do not want that.”
Half the mug of whiskey was gone
when Hank heard a bleating noise from the
back. Cupping his ear, he listened to the
noise. Hank yelled “Goddamn!” He put on
his boots, said “Goddamn!” again, and ran
out the back door.
The pacs were awake and agitated.
They were all milling around the pen in a
sort of daze. One of them, sulking in a
corner, was still bleating. Hank said
“goddamn” a few more times as he stepped
over the pacs to see what was wrong. Oh
shit, he thought as he squatted next to the
pac, it’s Pepper.
The little yellow guy was sitting in a
puddle of blood. Hank flipped the round
pac over onto his back and probed between
his legs.
Fuck. Gelded. Fuck.
Rex was staring at a glass of pac
milk when Hank burst in the back door,
furious. “That bastard Randy castrated
fucking Pepper,” fumed Hank. “He castrated
my best stud!” Rex shook his head,
dismayed.
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The Showdown
This meant war.
War? Well, the crease down the
middle of the photo had been there for
years. The war had been on. This — this
meant it was about to get mean.
Hank woke Rex up at the crack of
dawn. “It’s ‘bout time you learned how to
work the ranch.” Rex rubbed the sleep
from his eyes and got dressed. “If Randy
ever gets the balls to finish me off, you’re
gonna need to know how to work this
place yourself. And anyway, you’re old
enough to start getting’ some
responsibilities.”
They stood next to
the pac pen as Hank Hank leaned in close. “I
explained, again, how to milk know
pacs. Rex had heard this wondering. How do you want to breed ever again.
several times before, but make a hormone?”
being mute, he had no way of Rex shook his head.
objecting. “You punch her in the
“See pacs aren’t born stomach!”
in nature like cattle, they’re
made in a lab. Male pacs, called studs, are
easy to make and cheap to buy. Female
pacs, called mizzes, that’s a different story.”
Hank and Rex only owned one
mizz, Lurlene. She was kept separate from
the males, inside the barn. It was Rex’s job
to feed her three pills every morning. If it
got too hot or too cold, they let her sleep
inside the house on the rug in front of the
boob.
“Studs get really excited when they
see a mizz. Awfully excited. They get
themselves all worked up trying to impress
her.”
Hank wiped his brow with a
handkerchief and squinted at the sky. It
was going to be hot today.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he
said to Rex. “All the studs look exactly the
same, so how does the mizz choose a
mate?”
Rex was actually thinking about the
boob but he nodded anyway.
by Cramulus
“That’s what the pac milk is. They
secrete it to attract her. See, a mizz can tell
all sortsa things about the pac from the
smell of the milk. She can tell who’se got
the best DNA. Just like that. But the
problem is that a stud can only have one
orgasm in his whole life. Them scientists
haven’t figured out how to build them to
have more. He can make a little milk every
day by being around a mizz, but if he gets
too excited, he’ll blow his balls out. So if
the mizz chooses a mate, that guy is done
forever.” Hank pantomimed shooting a
pistol at the ground. “We put him down in
back.” Rex winced.
“Same with the
mizzes. After they get
what you’re preggers, they don’t
Sex equals death.” He
shot the ground again.
Rex coughed.
“I know,” said
Hank, “that’s why the
scientists engineered them not to breed.
The stud can only get off for real if he
smells the mizz’s pheromones, see? And
she only secretes them when she’s ready to
get it on. But the mizz can’t make that
pheromone on her own. She needs a
special hormone to do that. And she don’t
got it.”
Hank leaned in close. “I know what
you’re wondering. How do you make a
hormone?”
Rex shook his head.
“You punch her in the stomach!”
Hank erupted into guffaws. Rex
rolled his eyes.
It was time to milk the pacs. Hank
and Rex put down a tarp inside the pac pen
and then went into the barn to grab the
mizz, Lurlene. Rex’s arms could barely fit
around her spherical yellow body. He held
Lurlene up near the pac pen. When the
studs saw her, they went crazy, bouncing
and chomping and dripping milk all over
the tarp.
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The Showdown
“Careful,” said Hank, “if she gets
excited, she’s gonna jump right outta your
hands.”
Once the studs calmed down, Rex
carried the mizz back into the barn. Hank
shooed the studs off the wet tarp and rolled
it up. Then they hung it up over a bucket to
collect the milk. Hank tussled Rex’s hair as
the milk dripped into the bucket. Without
Pepper, the bucket wouldn’t be quite as full
today.
“Damn shame you can’t talk,” said
Hank, “’cause if Randy ever shows his face
around here, I’d want you to tell him off.”
Rex shook his fist at an imaginary Randy.
“You could tell him that he’s a no-good
shit farmer, and that shit worms are gonna
chow down on his stupid guts.” Hank and
Rex both folded their arms.
There was a crash inside the house.
Hank yelled “Goddamn!” and drew his
pistol. He kicked open the back door in
time to see Randy scrambling for the door.
A lamp had been knocked over and a few
of the kitchen cabinets were open.
“Shit damn fuck!” shouted Hank as
he cocked the pistol at Randy.
Randy dove behind the boob as
Hank took a shot. The bullet pierced the
boob, causing air to escape with a loud
hissing-farting noise. Rex gasped. Randy
dove through the door as Hank took
another shot, exploding the plastic bottle of
whiskey on the table.
In front of the house, Randy
jumped on his hoverbike and sped into the
sky. Hank, red with anger, shot at his
shrinking silhouette until the gun clicked,
empty. “Bastard got away.”
Behind him, Hank could hear Rex
sobbing. Inside the house, the poor kid was
kneeling next to the deflated boob, his eyes
red with tears.
“I’m gonna go get the
motherfucker,” swore Hank. And he meant
it.
by Cramulus
The sun wasn’t quite up when
Hank finished installing the gigantic
magnifying glass. He was in the hills just
east of Randy’s ranch, polishing the lens, a
large circular piece of superglass. The lens
was mounted on a metal rod which Hank
had driven deep into the rocky soil.
Superglass was sturdy – not even a bullet
would break it. Hank smiled at his
handiwork.
“It’s gonna be sunny this morning,”
said Hank to himself. “Perfect weather for
revenge.” As the sun peeked over the hills,
light was focused into a bright beam
pointing at Randy’s ranch. As he watched
from the distance with binoculars, Hank
snickered like a kid watching ants fry under
his magnifying glass.
Randy’s face appeared in the
window, squinting at the intense sunlight
streaming directly at his face. He cursed
loudly and began to scramble. Seconds
later, Randy emerged from the house in his
long johns, running barefoot towards the
giant lens mounted in the hills to the east.
“Better do something about that
laser, boy,” Hank said quietly, snickering,
“It’s gonna set your house a’fire.”
It would take Randy at least five
minutes to get up there and pull the giant
magnifying glass out of the ground. Hank
made his move. He darted over to the barn
and threw the doors open. Animals rustled
nervously inside.
Hank talked to himself, pretending
Rex was there with him.
“Haints, like pacs, are made in a lab.
They’re kinda like plants—they eat sunlight
instead of food. When they have too much
energy, they poop it out. We use the guano
for fuel.”
The sleepy animals blinked in the
dim light of the barn, anxious. Each animal
was covered by a sheet. The sheets had
little eye holes cut in them, making the
haints look like little ghosts. They made
excited noises, looking at the abnormally
bright sunlight outside. Hank kicked open
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The Showdown
the pen door and the haints rushed outside,
mooing happily.
Hank talked to an imaginary Rex as
he pulled the sheets of the haints. “Ya see,” stopped in his tracks, his mouth agape.
he explained, “those idiot scientists don’t
know what they’re doing. Haints aren’t
made very well. They aren’t supposed to get
more than a few minutes of sunlight per
day or else… well, watch this.”
The haints, frolicking happily,
began to burn in the direct, focused
sunlight. Their skin bubbled and steamed,
their happy moos reaching a frenzied,
orgasmic crescendo.
The light shifted slightly as Randy,
in the distance, fumbled
with the gigantic lens. He Hank’s voice cracked as up. “When Randy was in
tried to pull it up out of the tears welled up in his eyes.
ground, but was having
trouble lifting it at the right “It’s a motherfucking jizz hormones. All the studs are
angle. Finally, the light parade.”
dimmed as he successfully
removed it from the rocky soil. But it was
already too late.
The haints were happy at first,
mooing as they excreted round, shiny dung
pellets on the ground. After a few minutes,
the content moos took on a note of panic.
They couldn’t stop shitting. The light,
focused by the lens, had charged them up
too much. There was blood in the stool.
Then there was more blood. Then, darker
blood. They were mooing in terror, shitting
themselves to death.
Most of the haints would shit their
guts out and shrivel up like raisins in the
morning sun. But even the survivors would
be useless now, their bowels prolapsed
from overuse.
By the time Randy got back to the
ranch, Hank was far away, his laughter
echoing through the dusty badlands hills..
“Hey Rex,” said Hank as he entered
the house, half expecting to see his kid
brother sitting on the couch in front of the
boob. The deflated boob was still flat on
by Cramulus
the floor and Rex was nowhere to be seen.
Must be out back, doing chores, thought Hank.
Hank came out the back door and
Rex was inside the pen, trying to get
a grip on a slippery mizz. The studs were
bouncing around, knocking Lurlene out of
Rex’s hands every time he managed to get
his arms around her. Pac milk was
everywhere, coating every surface. It shot
out of the studs like thick, wet sneezes.
“What the fuck happened?” cried
Hank as he leapt over the fence. Rex shook
his head, tears in his eyes.
“The mizz is excited,” said Hank
angrily as he scooped her
the house yesterday he
musta switched her pills for
blowing their goddamn
loads. ” As he tried to hold
the mizz up above the excited studs, thick
milk splashed at him from all angles.
“They’re all worthless now.”
Hank’s voice cracked as tears
welled up in his eyes. “It’s a motherfucking
jizz parade.”
“This ends here, Randy,” shouted
Hank, the sun setting to his left.
“Damn right it does,” said Randy,
his thumb hooked into his belt loop above
his pistol.
They stood twenty paces away from
each other, guns loaded. Rex stood nearby,
half hidden behind a boulder.
“You killed my pacs,” said Hank.
“You killed my haints,” said Randy.
Hank sneered. “You made me
shoot my boob.”
Randy spat tobacco the ground.
“S’only fair. You been shooting my haints.”
Hank laughed, “Yeah? Well you
made me do that when you dumped all those
sand weevils in my bed.”
“I only did that on account a you
getting my dog hooked on drugs,” said
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The Showdown
Randy. “Do you know what it’s like to buy
drugs for a dog?”
“Whatever, you peed on my
carpet,” said Hank, his fingers drumming
on the holstered pistol.
“Whatever, you stole my girl.”
“Whatever?” shouted Hank, “You
stole my girl!”
Tumbleweed bounced by. The
badlands were silent except for the low
whistle of the desert wind.
“It gets lonely out here,” whispered
Randy.
Hank nodded. “Sure does.”
Rex, crouching behind a rock,
squinted at the two. He couldn’t figure out
what was going on. They had stopped
yelling, now they just kept staring at each
other’s faces. The anger was gone – they
had reached some kind of mutual
understanding. They were having a
moment together.
Hank and Randy began to walk
slowly towards each other. Hank looked
like he was going to cry. Then they were
standing toe to toe, eye to eye, lips
quivering.
They kissed.
It was hesitant at first, neither man
willing to let his guard down. The tension
slowly melted into tenderness.
Suddenly, the ground began to
rumble like an earthquake Hank and Randy
held each other, trembling as the sand
shook. Rex pressed himself flat against the
ground.
Suddenly, something burst out of
the earth. A cloud of dust filled the air.
Hank and Randy saw a familiar
silhouette. The two clung to each other as
the dust settled.
“Lurlene?” they both said at once.
Rex’s eyes were wide. Was this the
girl they had been fighting over all along?
Living in the irradiated badlands had
changed her – her skin was scaly, her eyes
were yellow and catlike. Her hair looked
by Cramulus
like wreckage, and instead of hands she had
giant red lobster claws.
Hank shook his head in disbelief.
“Jesus, what happened to you?”
“I thought you was dead,” said
Randy.
Lurlene hissed, revealing a double
row of fangs. She was pissed. “You think
you’ve been lonely?” she said, her voice like
battery acid. “Look what you’ve done to
me. Fuck you two!”
Lurlene lunged forward, snapping
her lobster claws. Hissing, she grabbed
both Hank and Randy by the necks. Their
eyes bulged as she squeezed, slicing open
their throats. Hot, sticky blood sprayed
everywhere. Lurlene let go and the bodies
wavered for a moment before they
collapsed to the ground.
Rex moaned, grabbing handfuls of
his own hair. Lurlene spun around, seeing
Rex half behind the boulder.
“Oh God,” she said to herself, “I’m
so sorry.”
Rex shook his head over and over
again, tears welling up in his eyes.
“Come here baby,” Lurlene said,
scooping up Rex and sitting him on her
shoulder. “I’ll take care of you.”
Rex didn’t know what to make of
the female mutant who had just killed his
older brother. But he was alone now, and
so was Lurlene. Rex thought her voice
sounded familiar, like somebody he had
known a long, long time ago.
Their silhouettes faded into the
sunset as she carried him away from all this.