Episode Notes
The Last Taibon by Rob Fields
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Episode Notes
The Last Taibon by Rob Fields
Buy the new "Babysitter Massacre" book! https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08P4ZF9LG/
Get Cool Merchandise http://store.weeklyspooky
Support us on Patreon http://patreon.com/IncrediblyHandsome
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Music by Ray Mattis http://raymattispresents.bandcamp.com
Produced by Daniel Wilder
This episode sponsored by HenFlix.com
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Transcript:
It’s dark, the middle of winter, and it’s a fucking blizzard. I’ve been walking along this highway for a while now, keeping tight hold of my Reebok Pump basketball shoes. I suppose I take great joy in knowing that I’m walking around in the elements half-naked and barefoot, and am actually quite comfy. Also, I’m fucking soaked from all the snow. I’ll have to take my clothes off and let them dry when I can find a place to take shelter. Not the first blizzard I’ve walked through, and it won’t be the last.
It’s about an hour before I finally see the lights of what appears to be a tavern. I turn and walk across the snowy parking lot and past several covered cars. I’m sure there’ll be people inside waiting out the storm. But I’m wondering if a certain motherfucker named Richland Jillian will be inside.
I open the door and walk in. Of course this fucking place is going to be filled with men. They all look at me, some gawking that I’m dressed like a slut, while others are probably wondering how long I’ve been out in the blizzard like this. And, no, I don’t see Richland Jillian in here. Might as well have a drink before I head back out. Not a single motherfucker in the place says anything to me as I make my way to the bar and sit on a stool.
The bartender slowly approaches me. “Can I . . . help you?”
I point to the bottle. “I’ll take that Fire Water – all of it.”
He just looks at me. “All of it?”
I dig into my tattered jean shorts and pull out some money. Then I slam it onto the bar. “Did I fucking stutter?!”
The bartender takes my money and hands me the Fire Water. No asking me for an ID, which is how I like fucking it. After popping the spout off and draining the hot cinnamon liquor, I slam the bottle down and see the looks on everybody’s faces, especially the bartender’s.
“You, um, want anything else?” he asks me. I point to the unopened bottle of Jim Beam. “All of it?”
Slapping the bar gets that bottle put right in front of me. I open it up and this time enjoy my drink. So delicious . . .
Then, one of those motherfuckers finally decides to approach me. I suppose I’m always asking for this kind of fucking shit since I’m a blonde who’s wearing tattered, short denim shorts and an athletic top that’s only good for covering my small titties. Like I said, I look like a total slut. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to wear normal clothes for a very long time. And now . . . I’m pissed when a guy who looks like he could eat me whole puts his hand on my shoulder.
I neither hesitate nor look his way. “Hands off, motherfucker!”
He clamps down on my shoulder now. “Quite a mouth on you, little girl. Little young to be in here, aintya?”
I almost swing my bottle to shatter it on his head, but I stop and remember that it’s Jim Beam. I take hold of his wrist and make him scream in intense pain. Then I turn around and give him a kick that sends...