Letters from the Backdoor Man:


Episode 6 of The Trailer Park Momma, "In Search of the Holy Tail"
by McTeague

We last left the Backdoor Man outside of the "Silver Star Cafe" with them Bible preachin' do gooders; out hounding all the sinners. Trying to recruit for the church; just doing as Jesus told them too: "Go over yonder and save that young man, cause you know if that boy's out drinking all night and hanging with them Ho's, that somebody got to save his soul!"

The fuckin' night is stifling, the heat is like a poultice stuck to my skin, sultry in its nature. I put on my leather jacket anyway, cause that's where I house my .45. Late hot summer nights like this with the full Moon out in the horizon; you know shit's just gonna be crazy somewhere down the line. Someone's ass is goin' to be in a bind somewhere. Some bitch is gonna lose her life. Some dude is gonna go down in a burning pit of Hell. A dog's gonna get beat to death, and some seventeen year old girl is going to run through the woods half-naked and barefoot. Provoked by her relentless predators with a fear so deep, it is unimaginable to the lazy fuck sittin' on a couch somewhere flicking through their channels like ain't nothin' goin' on in the world.

But on the contrary my brothers and sisters: Evil is goin' on in every corner of the world, at all times. Something low and dirty is goin' down! It's the heat man, and the Moon. Makes shit tingle in the brain and the hairs prickle up on your body; giving you convulsive chills. Trippin' out man; trippin' out, and all those people out there with their heads a little fucked up, well they're the ones that end up to no good. Some kind of chemical balance just broke loose; all their synapses are firing in another direction, and now they're off and runnin', and have mercy on the poor soul that finds themselves at the end of their blood-soaked hands.

Yeah, but not this boy brother; cause I'll be shovin' my .45 down your demented throat, so deep you'll be coughing and hackin' up mucus all over the barrel with your eyes waterin' up in confusion, and then I'ma blow your fuckin' esophagus right out the back of your neck. Yeah man, that's why I don't know about them people falling victim to some psychotic like John Wayne Casey, or Jeffery Dahmer. Somebody down the line didn't educate their asses right, not me though brother. Your eye starts jerking left to right bugging out, looking at me like I'm dinner. Or you thinkin' of tryin' to lock me up in some basement tryin' to pull some Pulp Fiction on my ass. I'll guarantee you the only thing you gonna be doin' is practicing the finer points to gardening, and that means you'll be pushing up daisys motherfucker.

Yeah, rule of the game brother, is don't let your ass get caught slippin'. Call it paranoia; call it what you want, but I ain't no fuckin' victim. I'll be waking up tomorrow sippin' coffee and reading all about those victims in the newspaper, and just shaking my head. Stay alert; stay alive, just like my one-eyed Uncle Jack taught me.

Damn! Look at all these jokers out here preachin' the Lord; gotta be two hundred of em' roaming around like a buncha cockroaches; sportin' their Sunday best too. Ain't never seen nothin' like it; oh, here comes the distracting brother now. Same boy tappen on that wind'a, knocking me out of my conversation with that big-tittied bartender Amanda. Yeah, but she'll be out here in a little bit, and I'm going to ride that bitch like there ain't no tomorrow. Let her old man go fishin' all weekend, and when he gets back he can have the pleasure of sniffing my ass all over his bed sheets. Men, boy I just don't know sometimes; leave their women all alone, treat em' like shit, and just go ahead thinkin' this woman's gonna do right by them. Shit makes me laugh. Well I'm gonna leave him something when I'm done; I'ma leave the scent! That foreign scent that a man just can't place right away; it steadily sinks in over time; it's a seepage and odor that will emanate itself from his ladies womb. He can't place it right away because of a little thing called "denial," a disbelief that it could actually happen to him.

Well, for all you women who think you can hide the shit; think you can pull the wool over everything; you just remember how very close to the Animal Kingdom we are. We're just a little more elaborate in our ass-sniffing rituals, but the seed is still the seed, and once it has been sowed - it lingers. All the Massengil in the world ain't gonna save your ass from a brother in tune to what's goin' down. But that's enough education for now, cause I got a well dressed black brother comin' up to me with about twenty followers behind him; all smilin' ear to ear like they just been blessed by the divine one himself. That's how it is with these religious folks: always smilin' so goddamned hard....

"Excuse me my brother, excuse me my brother, may I speak the word of God to ya'!? May I preach the good word to ya!? Can you get up on your good foot my son!?"

Ha, that shit makes me laugh, I think to myself; his excitement is perpetuating.
"Well first off my man, I ain't your son. My daddy's already walked to the other side courtesy of my Mother. She made sure that the only bed that man would be sleepin' in is located at the bottom of a Mangrove swamp."

The preachin' man's brow furrowed and he drew a concerned look with the smile fading briskly from his face. I continued without hesitation, "But go on ahead and tell me what the world's all about. I ain't never shyed away from no religion. I seen and heard all kinds of it, and the Bible ain't never failed to be one of the best stories I ever read. Anytime I thirst for persecution, murder, war, rape, and death I just whip out the "Good Book." Whenever I have experienced a woman whose mere being had knocked me out of the water with her supple flesh, I would look to the 'Song of Solomon' to guide me through every sweet taste of her pure pale body."

His smile returned, but not as powerful as before, and his entourage gathered 'round me and my Hog in a circle. I turned the tunes on to ease the tension and Howlin' Wolf came screamin' through with "Evil." I popped open a beer out of my saddlebag and lounged up against the seat of my bike ready for some education. The fine brother starts preachin'. First apologizing the passing of my father - little did he know that that man got what he deserved. At that moment, while the brother was still ramblin', I noticed a huge hulk-like figure walkin' around the back of the circle in some kind of hooded gray, chamois cloth. I hadn't noticed him before, and I swear that for an instant I saw a reddish glow, but it must've been the lights reflecting off of a window somewhere.

I'm feeling comfortable with my new found friends; like the light of the Lord is shining down on me. I feel warmth and serenity; must be all that beer I been drinkin'. The brother is still preachin' and I keep my minds eye wanderin'.

"The souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and no torment will ever touch them. The whole of wisdom is fear of the Lord and in all wisdom there is fulfillment of the law."

I have to break into this obnoxiousness, "Damn brother, don't you ever speak for yerself? Those are not your words, I can speak what you speak."

Offended, he pipes back; "The Lord speaks through me! I am but a messenger sent in the flesh just as Jesus himself was delivered to speak unto you! Do you not listen?! Do you not hear?!."

A grisly growling type voice interrupted the Preacher loudly all of a sudden: "Yeah motherfucker! Ain't you listening! Yeah! We gonna make you listen!"
The hooded figure moved violently forward pushing everyone out of its way. People start screaming and running, and before I know it, it is right on top of me pinning me to my bike. Howlin' Wolf's vocals the only thing penetrating the eerie sudden silence, my blood is rushing and I am transfixed unable to budge. The figure still not revealing itself, but the eyes, they are glowing red with fever and there is a mist as the breath of a thousand rotting carcasses plumes into my face, making me gag and vomit slightly, but still I cannot move.

Yeah motherfucker!" it roars, "We gonna teach you! We hold contempt on your ass, and therefore you have been condemned! Condemned! You're a corpse motherfucker! I've been summoned for you boy! I'm the wolf motherfucka!"

And then a gust of wind out of nowhere sent a tumbleweed rollin' down the sidewalk, and the hood of the figure to fly back revealing one of the most horrendous creatures I've ever seen. I felt a squirt of piss shoot out of the tip of my dick. I was enthralled by this metaphysical creature. The features of this half man, half starvin' and raging Werewolf that kept fluctuating like in a time warp; morphing in and out with wildness!

More people ran down the street literally shrieking. The preacher man, he stuck around. This much I notice out of the corner of my eye. His Bible is wide open and his hand, wrapped with Rosary beads, is in the air toward the sky prayin'; in a frenzy: "Banish this demon Lord, banish this demon! Hear thy prayer!"

Now that's a preacher man with balls, I gotta remember to come back and see this man if I ever get out of here alive.

My mind clicks back to the moment; my transfixion is over; the struggle is on. I start to move and jerk, the wolf's chest expands and he howls to the top of his lungs: "AAARRROOOO!! AAARRROOOO!!"

That's what lit a fire under my ass. I had to get free! The fear in my body going unmatched by anything I ever felt. I found myself going nowhere when suddenly the Wolf grabbed my throat, its claws puncturing my neck and the gush of warm blood rolled down my back. He lifted me right into the air and held me over his fierce gaping jowls, strands of saliva seeming to stretch a mile in their cavern. The face still eerily distorted. I struggled for air, but could get none. And I could feel my face swelling and gorging with blood. My head pounded and my eyes bulged as I stared into the face of death: "I been sent for you boy! Mr. Backdoor Man! You think you can go fuckin' every man's pussy in the world and get away with it?! Yeah! I'm the pussy gatekeeper boy! Somewhere down the line you did somebody wrong, and now you gonna pay! I'm gonna tear your fuckin' heart out and eat it in front of your dying eyes! I'm gonna stomp your guts out the backside of your spine and feed on them like dogs in the wild! AAARRROOOO!!"

The power from his howl blew my hair straight back and gelled it with some kind of mucus that slid down the sides of my face. The urge to puke came again, and I struggled harder. The Wolf's face elongated and stretched wide open; he was trying to force my head into his mouth. I jerked my knee up into his chest to stall for a second, and reached around searching the inside of my leather for my .45. I was frantic and about to lose consciousness when he reached for my chest and ripped my shirt off clawing the shit out of my skin.

In this instant everything grew silent, even the Preacher man halted his exorcism, and the Wolf stopped and stared at the Mojo bag that hung around my neck. His grip released and he yelped like a dog freshly kicked in the ribs. The next thing I knew I was on the ground gasping for air. I reached to my neck and grabbed the moist (from blood and sweat bag) and remembered it being a gift from my Mother. She said to never take it off; "It will aid you in the time of need." I guess she wasn't bullshittin'.

The Wolf docile and timid, eyes still glowing red and resembling more of a large albino man. The Preacher started to preach again voraciously, and splashin' Holy Water on the demon from somethin' resembling a salt shaker. My wits coming back to me right quickly, I located my .45 and took stance aiming right for the Wolf's chest: "Yeah motherfucker! You want to eat somebody's head around here! Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom!

Four rounds into his chest and he flew back against a brick wall. Some kind of yellow thick brown fluid was spewing everywhere. I automatically unloaded three more rounds into his stomach; releasing more of that viscous fluid that seemed to glue him to the wall with its thickness.

The slugs were only incapacitating him for brief moments. He was gaining another form of energy and began to chuckle, and then to start laughing hysterically. All right man, I headed to my bike and started it up revving the engine so the drag pipes snapped. This motherfucker's gotta go down, and I gotta get the fuck out of this town! I see Amanda the sexy bartender pinned to the barroom window in awe. The Wolf is starting to get up. Naw, naw man, I cranked Howlin' Wolf on the system "......How many more times?......You gonna wreck my life....."

and hopped on this mean ass Hog; eyed the Wolf up; put the bitch in gear, and released the clutch. The front end went up, and the Wolf started to howl one more time, "AAARRR~~~~~ but got cut short as the bike wheelied right up on top of his ass. I could feel the thud of his body hit the ground. He struggled underneath and my rear tire pinned his head to the concrete.

I yelled over to Amanda; "C'mon Ho! Get on the bike and let's go!" She ran out in her high heels and tight ass Levis jeans, and those titties bouncing the whole way and hopped on the back. I looked down at the Wolf and smiled, "Sionara motherfucker!" Held the front brake down and laid a holeshot on that son of a bitch's head that sent skin sailing twenty feet behind me. Yeah baby! The Backdoor Man lives to see pussy another day.......

Next month: Philosophy as usual, and "The Trailer Park Momma."

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