"Holy Thumpings" is the Attacked by Gorillas serial voted on by YOU, the readers!  You wanted zombies, you get zombies! 

But they’re not in THIS installment.

The buildup, children, is so much fun…

 

1.

The man over in the candy aisle smelled like soot and whiskey and looked like he was going to be trouble.

Richard, ‘Richie’ to people that gave him a hard time, had his eye on him as soon as he walked in- he was black, not dark-as-night black, but definitely black. He had a bald head, and was about as dark as that Tiger Woods guy- stereotype or not, he looked like a rapper. Yeah, there was definitely a rapper thing going on, Richard decided- white suit, black shirt, with a gold chain peeking out… but he couldn’t figure out why the guy had on a priest’s collar. Was it a fashion thing, or was he that religious? No man with a suit that dirty could be a priest, after all. One of those odd unconnected handlebar mustache/goatee things going onto- maybe he was a pimp?

He kept his eye on the man, who was busy riffling through various packs of Mr. Goodbars and Almond Joys, even as Will and his latest girl walked in.

Goddamn Will.

Will Ritter was the kind of guy that made Richard’s asshole clench in fury- a complete prick with no social skills whatsoever, yet he managed to score the most tail out of everyone he knew in Newhaus, Virginia. Granted, it was a small town and all- but goddamn, how much ass could one man tag in a few years and not have his dick get ripped off? Every three weeks he came into Shecky’s Gas and Go with a new woman. Was he importing them or something? Richard had heard that was the smart thing to do when you weren’t getting any; he’d been saving up for some Russian thing he saw on his cousin’s computer for six weeks or so, so he knew the deal.

Life could be tough sometimes.

“Richie, how’s it going? Nuts still hanging?” Will shouted from over near the Tastycakes. Richard just rolled his eyes slightly.

“Yeah, they’re… there.”

“Good, good- ‘cuz ya know, if you lose your nuts, then there’s a big problem. Like, big.” He held his hands apart in front of him a couple of feet just to get the point across.

“Definitely big,” said Will’s new girl. When she spoke, Will looked like a lightbulb went off in his head.

“Oh yeah! Richie, let me introduce you to Lyssa.” Will picked up a couple of packs of Tastycakes and started eying the single-serve cereal packages as he motioned at his companion, who was either dressed like a hooker or that much proud of herself.

Goddamn Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Richard thought. Did they grow her in a lab or something? Tits pushed up all the way to-

“Hi,” he said meekily, offering a sad looking wave. Over in the candy aisle, the man Richard had pegged as a dirty rapper looked at a Nutrageous like it had cancer, and angrily threw it back into its box.

Lyssa, on the other hand, smiled and began to make her way over to the counter.

“Richard, it’s so nice to meet you,” she purred. She sounded foreign. “Will has told me so much about you.”

“I have?” Will looked at a package of Corn Flakes and swapped it for some Wheaties, and headed over to get some milk and then wandered towards the beer, staring at the six-packs. “I mean, I talk about a lot of assholes, but Richie ain’t nobody I’ve talked about. No offense, Richie.”

“None taken.”

“But, you said that he was the best man in all of Newhaus,” Lyssa looked at Richard and winked. Richard thought he was about to melt. “He could definitely help us,”

“Ain’t nobody gonna be doin’ no helping of us,” Will rambled in his best Fred Sanford voice. He grabbed a carton of milk and looked at the man still in the candy aisle. “Besides, I don’t need any help for what I’m gonna do, ain’t that right brother?”

The oddly dressed possible rapper or priest just looked at Will for a second, nodded slightly, and turned to look at Richard.

“Hey. Y’all got any Whoppers?”

Even though he clearly spoke, it seemed like his voice was coming from somewhere else as if his mouth was on a bit of a delay like a bad movie dub. Everyone looked at him or a few moments before Richard piped up.

“Uh, no Whoppers- Mars Incorporated got into some shit with a lady in Richmond who swears some Whoppers she had were rat poison and her cat died after eating one. They cut off distribution here until they can get it sorted out. Something about a civil suit.”

The man shook his head. “Ain’t that a bitch. Best candy on Earth, and y’all ain’t got it.” He grabbed a fistful of Snickers and made his way to the counter, cutting in front of Will in the process. Will looked like he was about to say something, but the man suddenly turned back around and nodded.

“Yeah, I know I cut in front of you. Force of habit. I do that a lot.”

Will just looked at Lyssa, confused. The man offered an obviously fake smile, and turned back around towards Richard.

“You got any Humps?”

“Uh, uh… no, we have “Thick ‘n Juicy”, “Hot Buttered Rump”, “Saucy”… a lot of small market stuff, but no-“

“What the fuck do you think I’m talking about?” The man leaned over the counter slightly, and pulled at his collar. “You know what this means? I’m a man of God, son. I can’t be lookin’ at that shit. Bad for my state of mind, you dig? Besides, I’m talkin’ about cigarettes. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“You’re a… priest?” Will asked. The man turned around slightly.

“Yeah. Father Rhodes.” He stuck out his hand, nodding at Will and Lyssa. “Here on business, you could say. Got some stuff to do.” Will took the handshake, getting hurt in the process. Lyssa ignored it.

“Teaching and all that?” Will asked.

“Kinda. If you can call what I do that.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what is it that you do, Father?” Lyssa peered at the priest. Father Rhodes looked like he was about to headbutt her for a moment, but chuckled.

“I spread the teachings of Christ in my own special way.” He pointed at the both of them. “You children believe in God?” Lyssa shook her head.

“Devout atheist,” she smirked.

“Bitch!” Everyone looked at Father Rhodes like he’d lost his mind, but he angrily pulled out a Tracfone and started hollering into it.

“What?! Goddamit, what?! Bitch, I’m at the goddamn gas station trying to get some Whoppers, and they ain’t got none, so I had to get some Snickers, and- Sister Santa Maria, don’t you fuck with me! Hold on! You got me cursing in front of the people and being all loud and shit! Shit!” He stomped off and continued cursing at the phone while standing in front of the “Doritos” display.

“What is up with that asshole?” Will tossed a couple of bags of chips and a six pack of Miller High Life on the counter; he dropped everything else he had on the floor. “Lemme get some of that Skoal and a pack of Newports.”

“I hate it when you smoke,” said Lyssa.

“Well, you hate it but I like it, so tough.”

“Titty?” Lyssa pouted, sticking out her chest. Richie’s eyes almost popped out of his head, and Will, for all intents and purposes, started drooling.

“I… I’m gonna need about a minute, minute and a half, maybe six minutes to pay for all of this, Richie. Gotta make a deposit first.” Richie looked a little confused as Will and Lyssa headed out of the store and to the parking lot. How in the hell did one man get so lucky?

“Hey.” This was from the priest, who was busy rifling in his pockets. After a few moments, he pulled out two pairs of brass knuckles and slipped them on. “Richie, right?”

“Richard, but yes… Richie. Yes, yes Father, sir.” Richie felt a couple of drops of piss fall down his leg, but ignored them.

“You might wanna call the police, ‘cuz someone’s about to go to God the hard way, you dig?”

Richie nodded.

“Good. Don’t tell ‘em shit about me once they arrive- say I’m crazy like the black people you’ve seen on BET and I attacked that little motherfucker and his bitch because I was mad about health care, you got that?

“Yessir.”

“Good.  Peace be with you, my son… and get some fuckin’ Whoppers in stock next time. Best candy on Earth. Remember that.”

With that, the brass-knuckled priest headed outside.

* * * * *

Will Ritter did not consider himself to be a lucky man. Normally- he’d just stumble into situations where he came out of things okay. For example, there was one time that he got into a fight near a construction site and managed to jump kick a guy in the back- that was an example of being “okay”, because who else could pull off a jump kick during a fight? No one, unless your name was Jean-Claude Van Damme; Steven Segal didn’t really move, Jackie Chan flailed around a lot, Bruce Lee was dead, so the only other person to pull off a jump kick during a fight was Will Ritter, which meant that he was coming out of things okay. “Luck”, good or bad, was for losers, and since Will wasn’t any sort of loser, he didn’t need anything resembling “luck” .

Although, due to the fact that he was getting a blowjob from a hottie in the parking lot of Shecky’s Gas ‘n Go, he was starting to think of himself as a lucky man. His mind drifted away from the usual thoughts- “What if this was Bea Arthur?” was the first one to get tossed out of his brain, followed by thoughts about Doritos, Miller High Life, Rogue’s Bastard Ale, hammers, nails, dumptrucks, jump kicks- everything was tossed out his mind, and he just concentrated on the moment at hand with his girl Lyssa… which made his death that much more tragic.

There was a bit of a snap, some tearing, and something white flashed in Will’s brain. There was blood, too much it it, and most of it was on Lyssa’s face.

“I’m sorry. I get so hungry sometimes.”

Will was aware of two things- him screaming, and the fact that she’d just bit his dick off and ate it. This was not a lucky thing, then again, he never considered himself to be a lucky man- he’d just been “okay” until now.

Now? He was in trouble and a hell of a lot of it. He clamped his hands over his ruined privates and realized that this was worse than how John Bobbit got famous. At least they found Bobbit’s dick; his would be digested and shit out, so there would be no hope of a reattachment.

Will wanted to punch through Lyssa’s stomach and retrieve his manhood, but he found himself on the concrete and whimpering instead. There was nothing he could do, nothing at all except watch her laugh at him, his blood on her mouth, his dick in her stomach, while he was on the ground crying and pleading and begging for something to save him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, bitch?”

It was the priest.

As Will died, he saw the foul-mouthed priest from the gas station walk towards him. Maybe it was his last rites, maybe it was something else, but the one thing realized was that he wasn’t lucky.

Not one bit.

* * * * *

“Kinda brave, ain’t ya?” Father Rhodes, the brass-knuckled priest, made his way towards Lyssa as Will died. “You can fuck around with these kids all you want, but your end is here and now!”

“Why do you care, ‘priest’?” Lyssa licked Will’s blood off of her lips. “We can be just ships… passing each other in the night. After all, you have been excommunicated… why is this still your business?”

“You’re a demon, an instrument of evil, corrupting Man since time immemorial! Status with the Vatican or not, I still have the holy power to whoop your fucking ass!” Father Rhodes adjusted his brass knuckles. “You’re gonna recognize my power, bitch!”

Lyssa rolled her eyes.

“I’m a succubus! I just got hungry!”

“I don’t give a good goddamn about what you are or the fact that you’re hungry! You’re gonna die tonight!”

Rhodes charged. Lyssa summoned some of her dark power and threw a few fireballs at the priest, but Rhodes slapped them aside and angrily grabbed her by the throat.

“Cock teasing bitch! From Hell or not, this is what you deserve!”

“Can’t we talk about this?!” Lyssa squirmed and squealed, but Father Rhodes clamped down on her neck even tighter.

“Shut the fuck up!”

Father Rhodes promptly punched Lyssa’s head clean off her shoulders. Her body exploded into ash, and Rhodes brushed the demon soot off his shoulders as the police arrived.

“This is the first time I’ve ever been happy to see you motherfuckers,” he said as various policemen quickly spilled out of their cars and surrounded him.

“Freeze! Stay where you are!” It was a chorus among the assembled lawmen, and that suited the brass-knuckled priest just fine.

In fact, Father Rhodes grinned as guns were drawn.

“No problem. Say, the quicker y’all take me to jail, the better. I can really do some good for the world there.”

And off to jail he went.

END OF 1