"You had sex?" Fran says. "Oh my God!"
"Oh yeah," Lola purrs. "It was like a baby's arm clutching an apple. My God, whoever he was he had the right moves."
"So what happened to him?" Fran asks, leading her friend to a seat.
"I don't know," Lola says. "But if he wants some more I'm definitely up for it."
Todd looks on as a fire burns in his soul. His girlfriend is in bed with Buck, the grizzled warrior. The camper van has been rocking on its springs for thirty-five minutes.
"Why would she do this to me?" Todd says absently. "I realise she has spectacular breasts which make guys drool, especially when she wears a wet skimpy top. But she just took that Buck guy into our bed. What is going on here?"
"Don't worry about it," Nick says, "She's probably rehearsing 'I Will Survive' by Gloria Gaynor, who also sang 'I Never Can Say Goodbye' by Isaac Hayes. Seems to me like Gloria Gaynor could never make her mind up."
"How was it for you?" Buck asks, puffing on a post coital cigarette, confident that he's made an impression. He lies back on the bed, looking and sounding contented.
"Isn't that a song by Manchester based band, James?" she says absently. "Was it as good as it was for me?"
"Whatever," Buck says.
Angie is sitting naked on the end of the bed brushing her hair.
Buck is thinking that she looked better in the wet tee shirt than she looks right now, naked and sweating from her exertions.
He draws on his cigarette, then asks:
"What about Todd? Do you think he'll mind that we just fucked each other's brains out?"
"I don't really care," Angie says. "His wiener isn't all that, whereas your dick is a monster."
Frank Zappa, Buck thinks. He's amazed that kids still listen to Frank Zappa.
"You listen to Zappa?" Buck asks.
"Not really. My mum gave him a blow-job in a car park in Birmingham once. She said he was a real stand-up guy. She gave all that up though when Freddie Mercury and Elton John turned her down. She also tried giving George Michael the old five knuckle shuffle, but he said it wasn't working."
Buck tokes on his cigarette.
"I'm gonna fucking kill him!" Todd snarls. "He's got no right to go fucking my girlfriend under my very nose. I'll tear his fucking head off!"
"Easy tiger," Lola says. "You've seen what he did to that San Francisco Onion fellow. Let it be, it'll pass."
"What was that?" Nick says suddenly.
"What was what?" Lola says. She isn't really interested. She's only thinking about getting another portion.
"Some fucking chattering thing just ran by the door!" Nick says. "At high speed..."
"Maybe it's somebody come to collect SFO's bled out corpse..." Fran ventures.
"I don't think so," Nick says. "It was something malevolent. I'd bet my life on it."
"Hey Nick, wanna fuck?" Lola asks, but the moment is lost and largely ignored. Lola thinks, fuck it, I'll screw Buck when he's through with Angie.
Fran can only stare at Johnny Boy's crotch. The bulge contained therein is giving her a serious case of the vapours, whatever the vapours may be.
"Ooh!" she squirms.
"There! Did you see it?" Nick says.
"See what?" Lola asks.
"That, that fucking chattering zombie type thing that just ran by the door!" Nick shreiks.
"What's up?" says Buck, zipping his fly as he enters.
"Yeah, what's up?" says Angie who is wearing the damp tee-shirt again, kind of driving up the temperature.
"What have you been doing? With him?" Todd blurts, carried by a wave of teenage angst.
"We just fucked," Angie says nonchalantly.
"Was he better than me?" Todd asks.
"You don't really want me to answer that question," Angie says.
"Fuckin' A" Buck smirks.
Todd falls silent.
Something hits the camper van. Hard. Like a rocket propelled grenade. The camper rocks on its springs.
"Don't worry about this shit," Buck says. He picks up the shotgun. "I'll sort this out."
Todd can only glare at Angie. He feels betrayed.
"You slept with him," Todd says bitterly.
"I did not," Angie says. "Sleep didn't come into it. We fucked each-other's brains out."
"Bitch!" Todd gasps.
Buck goes outside. He bobs and weaves and points the shotgun in all directions. He steps in a pile of dogshit, recoils in horror, then he wipes his shoe on the pink shirt of the recently deceased San Francisco Onion.
Buck is wary.
There is great danger afoot. Probably covered in dog shit.
The storm has momentarily abated. The rain, the thunder, and the lightning are having a tea break.
Buck sees something move out of the corner of his eye. He wheels around and fires the shotgun. He realises immediately that he has missed his target, as a freaky, jerkily moving silhouette disappears into the darkness. Chattering.
Buck holds his ground.
This is not a man to be messed with.
"Come out you fuckers..." he breathes.
At least not now.
Buck heads back to the camper, reasoning that the peril has passed.
As he approaches the door, a busty female almost bumps into him. She carries a tray covered over with kitchen towels.
She has cleavage, and things. Things Buck kind of takes a shine to. He realises that he could have shot her.
"What are you doing?" Buck asks.
"I just brought you guys some cakes," the chick with the cleavage says. "I'm Madame Bitters, probably the finest cake baker in the world. I just thought I'd give you a little welcome to Camp Gruesome Death. With cakes."
Buck eyes her up and down. Then he eyes her down and up, his focal point being the chest area.
"That's mighty kind of you, young lady," he says. "Please come in and meet my new found friends."
"Why, I'd be delighted kind sir," Madame Bitters says. "I was once a star in the 'Below Decks' spoof pirate extravaganza. It's been all downhill since then, but you could possibly raise my profile..."
"You'd better come in," Buck says.
They enter the camper van.
"Hi y'all, I brung cakes!" Madame Bitters announces.
"I don't give a fuck what you've brought," a very angry Todd snarls. "That bastard fucked my girlfriend into oblivion. It's payback time..."
Buck looks Todd in the eye and says:
"You really don't wanna do this kid..."
Todd frowns even more...
To be continued...Possibly...