Archive for ‘Bu House Vol. 2

DARRELL VICKERS – CHAPTER TWELVE: RETURN TO SENDER

Posted in Fiction, Serialized Book with tags , , , , , , , on April 16, 2019 by segarini

CULT MANSION:

You could now tell both the Bouchard beauties by the hairs on their chinny-chin chins. Totally fetching in their womanly whiskers, A. & L. closely resembled the two-thirds of ZZ Top that didn’t play the drums. The tender twins continually bussed and lingually thrust as the flap, flap, flap from a Kolibri money-counting machine filled the basement.

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DARRELL VICKERS – CHAPTER ELEVEN: MIDNIGHT CONFESSION

Posted in Fiction, Serialized Book with tags , , , , , , , on April 9, 2019 by segarini

 CULT MANSION:

The traumatized trio stood in stunned silence as they stared down at the carpet’s recently diseased nougaty center.

“Is it a dead genie?” David asked, bringing an end to the horrified hush.

“No, it’s a dead Little Theater director with a finely hand-crafted golf club stuffed up his ass,” Alison Jessica Fletcher-ed.

“He’s lucky he didn’t play tennis,” Leslie bright-sided.

“Are we going to spend the rest of our lives in jail?”

“Not if we dispose of the corpus delicti before anyone’s the wiser,” Alison reassured him.

“You mean, like, dump him in the ocean?”

“Not a chance. No matter how far out to sea you go, bodies released to the tide tend to wash back up on shore.”

Leslie nodded in agreement. “They did the last two times, anyway.”

“What????”

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DARRELL VICKERS – CHAPTER TEN: EVERYONE’S GONE TO THE MOVIES

Posted in Fiction, Serialized Book with tags , , , , , , , on April 2, 2019 by segarini

OSHAWA:

The night was still as cold as Walt Disney’s mustache. A paralyzing frigidity inexorably chewed its way through layer after layer of protective clothing like the Creature from Alien breaching security locks in its hunt for human flesh. The life-affirming warmth radiating down from the sun felt as far away as Pee-wee Herman’s next hit film.

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DARRELL VICKERS – CHAPTER NINE: A HORSE WITH NO NAME

Posted in Fiction, Serialized Book with tags , , , , , , , on March 26, 2019 by segarini

BU HOUSE:

Carnality in its most ferocious iteration was transpiring on the stained and tattered sheets of bedroom number two (and the resemblance to “number two” didn’t stop there). David, pinned and perniciously pumped upon by the mercilessly naked and monstrously pregnant Rita, was in the process of having his foreskin caramelized. The bedsprings shrieked in pain. The headboard beat out time, as if it were the coxswain on an Assyrian slave ship. Randy Rita was riding him like Phar Lap in the Melbourne Cup, her bulbous belly bouncing around like a beach ball at an Ozzy Osbourne concert.

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DARRELL VICKERS – CHAPTER EIGHT: MY WOMAN, MY WOMAN, MY WIFE

Posted in Fiction, Serialized Book with tags , , , , , , , on March 19, 2019 by segarini

 

 

  

THE OSHAWA CENTRE:

At last and with much strain, Llew divined a topic of conversation that wasn’t about hockey or the nifty goal Scott Hollis had just scored. “So, I heard from Spanky, eh? Well, Marybeth Visneski did.”

“Is she the one who gave Boden the hummer at Beano’s?” Mother asked.

“Yeah, she was. Super nice girl, though.”

“Oh, super nice,” Dad nodded. “David thought the world of her.”

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DARRELL VICKERS – ‘BU HOUSE VOL. 2: CHAPTER SEVEN – MAGIC CARPET RIDE

Posted in Fiction, Serialized Book with tags , , , , , , , on March 12, 2019 by segarini

A BRIEF EDITORIAL:

Crap. It’s everywhere. The entire continent is sinking under the overwhelming avoirdupois of magna excreta. It’s the one thing that the ever-diverging peoples of North America have in common. Way, way too much crap. We maniacally amass it until our houses are positively bursting with unwanted junk of the junkiest variety. And just to prove how unwanted that junk really is – when there’s no more room for it in our home sweet homes (Throw it away? Are you mad?!), we put it in rented concrete boxes across town. Then, the only time we see this collection of depressing domestic detritus is when we’re dropping off more unwanted depressing domestic detritus to add to the unwanted crap we already have in there. It’s basically what all of us will do with our elderly relatives when we want to sell their houses so we can go on vacation.

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Darrell Vickers – ‘Bu House Vol. Two – Return to Fantasy

Posted in Fiction, Opinion, Serialized Book with tags , , , , , , , on March 5, 2019 by segarini

CHAPTER SIX RETURN TO FANTASY

VILLA HOFFMAN:

A phone on an antique bedside table pealed out its demand for acknowledgement. A hand reluctantly reached over and raised the receiver from its cradle.

“Hello?” Dack unenthusiastically croaked.

It was Patti. She was still standing in the severely-mashie-niblicked Director’s office. He was still very dead and the former Ms. Doolittle was beginning to regret her hasty (though highly warranted) decision to turn his head into a chip-dip bowl.

“We have a situation,” she epically understated.

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DARRELL VICKERS – CHAPTER FIVE: AND WHEN I DIE

Posted in Serialized Book with tags , , , , , , , on February 26, 2019 by segarini

‘BU HOUSE:

Rita bravely reclined across the petri dish of a couch and puffed on a Virginia Slim, trying to mask the rampant odors caroming around room. A committedly intoxicated Amos staggered through her pother and made a shaky b-line to the beleaguered liquor cabinet. It took nary a horrified nanosecond for Rita to notice that her geriatric souse of a housemate was parading around her newly acquired living quarters without the benefit of leggings. And she thought morning sickness was unpleasant!

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DARRELL VICKERS – CHAPTER FOUR: OH MY LADY

Posted in Fiction, Serialized Book with tags , , , , , , , on February 19, 2019 by segarini

 

‘BU HOUSE:

David bumbled his way into the recently guest-violated bathroom carrying as many of Rita’s lady accessories as his thin, creamy arms would hold. Placing the vast agglomeration of tubs, scrubs and rubs into the sink and beside the sink and over by the toilet, he turned and pulled open the ultra-hideous seashell curtain. Behind it, and contrary to his expectations, stood an impressively beefy gentleman with his pants festooned about his ankles.

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DARRELL VICKERS – CHAPTER THREE: DANCING WITH MR. D.

Posted in Fiction, Serialized Book with tags , , , , , , on February 12, 2019 by segarini

Meanwhile, Mike’s murder-for-hire-gone-awry was still a very long way from getting un-awryed. The expensive landscaping and whimsical topiary without gave no clue to the angst and agita swirling around within its mock-Tudor magnificence.

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