Fairy Tales & Other Murders by Mike Marino (readera ebook reader .TXT) 📕

I can't make up this stuff! Corn on Macabre stuff to be sure. So Hey kids...what time is it? It’s Howdy Doody time you little bastards Chapter Four - Rosemary's Baby Meets Son of Sam

 

Startling information...regarding real estate and ancient burial grounds...bear in mind..(seriously) my Mom’s name was Rosemary and my Dad’s name was Sam so in effect I am Rosemary’s baby and the son of Sam. Weird but true.

 

If there’s anything I’ve learned from years of ingesting and digesting a smorgasbord of horror films it’s this...if you move from the city to a quaint Norman Rockwell village chances are you’ll be devoured by giant mutant spiders or you’ll end up hacking your family to death Amityville style then bury them in the local pet cemetery where they will rise again as the living dead with a retribution driven fuel injected mission of revenge.

 

If you move to mom and pop middle America, and have children...99% of the time they well end up demon possessed with spinning heads spewing language a drunken sailor or even drunker writer would wince at. The reason for all this...simple...the house you purchased, quit your cushy six figure city job for and uprooted your family for is buried atop an unknown ancient Indian burial ground….which means after your kid disappears into a television set you’ll need the help of a wise old Native American medicine man with much mojo at his disposal and perhaps a dwarf lady who says scary shit about demons in the voice of a 33 and a third munchkin played at 78 rpms.

 

The small rural areas also have plentiful pet cemeteries...once Muffy has punched her time card and expended her initial nine lives she can get a free pass and get a bonus life if buried in the obligatory forbidden area. However, cute little Muffy may come back as Catzilla and you become a two legged can of Happy Feast. Dogs are worse….if you’re not careful...buried in a or bitten by a bat in a hole in the ground, it can get as cranky as Cujo and will eat your kibble and bits. The rural houses of the unholy (Sorry Jimmy Page...had to use it) may result in a room full of flies with and an ominous voice telling you to “GET OUT”... the voice of the demon possessed Amityville Welcome Wagon. Soon phones will melt in your hands, unlike M and M’s that only melt in your mouth.

 

In Poltergeist, the little girl get sucked into a TV set...this would not have happened if they had a decent cable system. “Hello, Cox Cable..my little girl is stuck in a netherworld in your TV.” Pause after an operator takes your call…”We’re aware of that Sir. Plenty of kids are getting stuck in there today. Use your remote and go to the Sci Fi Channel...you’ll find her there...then on your VCR button mode….press eject. If that doesn’t work we can send a midget over tomorrow between 8 am and Midnight..will someone be there?”

 

Another tip...if you have a teenage daughter in High School and her name is Carrie...don’t let her go to the prom under an circumstances...and never let her babysit at a home next to the Michael Myers family...hide the Ginsu knives as well.

 

If you are planning a Torrence family mountain vacation make sure there are no axes around or twin girls in the hallway that like to ride in blood soaked elevators...and if your son has an imaginary friend located in his index finger...cut it off before you leave home…

 

One more thing...if traveling late at night and flickering neon sign says “Vacancy” at a run down motel and the desk clerk looks like Tony Perkins wearing a wig and shawl...head on the down the road….FAST!!

 

Chaper Five - Murder on the Yellow Brick Road

 

The Yellow Brick Road was paved with not good intentions, but, with tiny little horny people with tiny little hard-ons referred to as Munchkins - the people were called Munchkins, not the hard-ons.

 

The neighborhood also included a leering lesbian witch with a big ruby red one that passed the labia litmus test and was always cocked and locked, ready for any action packing adventure while ramping and camping it up in Oz; behemoth bags of opium; a heartless traumatized tin man;, a salacious brain dead straw man on medication and a libidinous lion with lustful leanings...all with cavorting carnal desires and misdirected sexual intentions to “do” training bra Dorothy who just one month prior started having her periods, or as she said in later interviews, “I went from tampons to tornadoes overnight, then I met these three cheese omelette weirdos. Disgusting, rusting and dusty. Foul mouthed midgets and hot to trot horny hags. It was like being back in Catholic school with everyone trying to get a peek up my skirt to see if gingham has a G-spot.”

 

Her road less traveled began after touchdown from a black and white tornado from the corn fields of the Rectangular state of Kansas to a technicolor tenderloin district of of the Ninth Gate of Family Entertainment Hell, or affectionately called Munchkinland, a neighborhood of hoodlums, gangsters and pimps all controlled by a crime syndicate of snarky syncophants known as the Lollipop Guild which made the notorious Westies mob of NYC look more like the singing Beastie Boys fighting for their right to party.

 

As Dorothy made landfall, she was approached by the Wicked Butch Bitch Witch of Brighton Beach who tries to enlist Dorothy into a life of prostitution and hypodermic needles. “Ever make it with a little person, my dear?” she is queried as the Wicked Butch lifts Dorothy’s gingham dress to get a peek, which piqued Dorothy’s long suppressed libido. “First it was the nuns, then a priest, a cross-eyed altar boy and now this shit” she screamed!

 

It was at this point that confusion ran rampant. Witnesses say Dorothy pulled a Ruger ,44 mag auto pistol from her garter and pumped 6 rounds into the hideous hag, screaming red faced and in a blind fury “MAKE MY DAY BUTCH!” Munchkins dove for cover, but, later as witnesses, many reported that they heard three shots being fired from the Yellow Brick Road Sassy Knoll. It was also reported (perhaps erroneously) by Brian Williams that Dorothy swiped the pair of ruby red pumps Butch was wearing at the time. NBC declined to comment. The ruby red pumps may have belonged to David Bowie at one time or another, but that is a spider from Mars of a different color.

 

After the gunsmoke cleared Dorothy was as dazed and confused as a Led Zeppelin song and kept calling for Auntie Em, Auntie Em when out of the clear blue a rather fetching witch known as Cabaret Dietrich, a real manly Marlene who was the dead Butch’s sister emerged. She was simply smashing with a fabulous fedora fetish and an unappeased appetite for corn fed farm girls. Ding dong the Butch was as dead as a doornail and Dietrich wondered what kind of a whack job would kill with a gun and not the obligatory rural black and white farmhouse! It was time for revenge and Dorothy was called to a sit-down by Dietrich and Munchkin Mafioso and was told she had to get out of Dodge by sundown and to return the ruby red pumps she kept as a kill trophy.

 

She promises, but, later in a dark dank beer joint she meets Glinda the Bukowski barfly who kept waving a swizzle stick she drunkenly referred to has her magic wand. She sees the enticing piece of jailbait enter the Yellow Brick Dive which was part of the truckstop complex where she plied her trade. Dorothy wanted a ride, to anywhere near Wichita, and Glinda was only too happy to take her for the ride of her life, but not to Wichita. Instead, Glinda runs a tab she never intends to pay buying the young girl a burger and a brew, (you don’t need I.D in fairytales!) Then she pumps her full of a few laced drinks, a snort of coke and soon Dorothy ends up in the sack with real hot “hey can I watch” Glinda. In exchange for her sexual favors Glinda offers Dorothy an old Sunoco road map with directions to a place called Oz where she can fence the pumps for a Greyhound ticket home.

 

However, all that glinders is not gold, Dietrich is sulking and lurking in the shadows and at one time had also claimed Glinda as one of her cabaret conquests! She bursts into the bedroom catching them in bed with there pants down, all the while screaming s stream of filth and threatening Dorothy with penetration by 100 Flying Monkey Dildos!

 

In her quest to escape her erotic escapade, she runs slam bang into a rusting bulk of a hulk of a Tinman who confesses he is actually the William Burroughs Steely Dan Dildo and by the simple act of squirting a little lubrication to him and to her, in appropriate places, they can be off , running and cumming to the races down that quarter mile estros fueled Yellow Brick Road dragstrip for that wonderful wiz jizz that was jazz.

 

Steely Dan takes Dorothy by the hand to a seedy back alley bar to meet some friends, two more losers, you know the kind that still haven’t scored at the mall by closing time.

 

The dive was loud and brassy and sassy.“I guess I’m not in Kansas anymore, Toto!” she screamed orgasmically. “Seems more like a jumpin’ jive juke joint in Harlem on a Saturday night…” It was a real Warhol experience. Dig the scarecrow dude with the day-glo jacket and velvet hat in the corner blasting powder up his nose with a lion doing Lenny Bruce imitations while finger poppin’ beatnik munchkins are flying higher than Judy Garland with an arm full of junkie juice. The scarecrow cat is howling like a Ginsberg ginsu knife slicing through the night, while the lion blushes as he touches himself in an impure manner..”forgive me father for I have sinned, but hot damn it felt good! And don’t tell me you don’t diddle under your cassock you perverted Cossack!”

 

The lion is cowardly inwardly and outwardly, and no longer king of the forrrressssttt he said in a loud Lahr voice. “I’m a queen now and no animal is safe!” So the tin dildo, the straw pimp and the lion with tender loins began to blaze a stairway to heaven in an