Robert E. Brown. The Automatic Horror Show II.

The tales of anna banana, sodom queen 2
bed time storIies of love & madness

EPISODE FOUR

Automatic Horror Show.
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(The corn feild duel.)

I.
"I hoped into a potato sack
I rode to hell I rode right back
on my way the sack ripped in two
I bruised my knee and it turned blue
now I'm going to collect my fee
because I did it all for you"

II.
jeering
chants of ritual hysterical cheers.
Our hero
merry vengeful fiend, villainous queen,
bathed in dust bowl critters-
skin cells, toe nails, hair, the grime of dirt and tears.The waste of the wasted, shit paper and sperm.
empowered,
loyaly animated by her positive thinking
new age mind over matter right on spiritually reeking good time aura way of being.
She sat in her worn out comfy cozy polyester love in love seat chair, unmoving.
troubles worming through her head-
a rotten crabapple core.

a word better than cherries,
better than strawberry jam

III.
Our villain:
in this melodrama of romance gone bad,
this tale of suspense and violence,
this tragedy of love.
The scandalous liasonce of perfumed words and blue thoughts Hidden among her ravenous degenerate needs crept in his voice.
A voice tense,
wound tight like a clockwork spring twisting,
ready to break.

Better than cherries
better than strawberry jam.
A psychic hot line to hell
"He was my mother and he was my father and he was
me
Every dawn the pangs of childbirth rang through my skull and he would sing old folk jingles with a brass horn echo.
When he's in a mood you can smell the stink
When he move's you can see the blisters jiggle
kick up the party santa claus, the flies are setting in."

IV.
(Adulterous dreams pissed off scemes)
the baby giggled from it's craddle at the strange sight of anna hard at work softly
panting lightly squeezing her kitchen knife-
clenching her kitchen knife-
her knuckles flexing straining tight white her veins pulsing throbbing- bulging high above her skin.
smiled at her kitchen knife,
a long and shiny sharp steel wedge,
pointy and bright.
The light reflected off the holy life taking blade right in the center where it shone silver and white.
grinned into the reflection-
licking her blue lips with her dead red spongy mucus tongue.
So beautiful.
slicing the knife through the air laughing-
a tide of sedating liquid words-
very sour words.
Words that left a foul taste in ones mouth,
mold in ones brain.
She stood relaxed,
at peace with the sound of metal scraping metal singing-
through the air and she floated off the ground,
just a little.

A Scarecrow was near by,
probably in some field just outside of town
close, very close.
Delicious.

The cradle got it's smile
stomach grumble and
it was a lovely child,
so young,
so fresh she tore the knife right down it's belly with a quick rip
and it's intestines flopped out like twine.

and she floated off the ground just a little more.
Delicious.

V.
the duel:
banshee screams sound her eminent arrival.
So deafening-
nearing closer every second.
Closer and closer
came the eerie light of her approach. Marking her distance.
First so faint.
Barley a dot.
A star burning white hot on the horizon
growing brighter as the noise grew louder-
The Scarecrow helpless.
A witness to novocaine sensations
He laid low hiding,
fretting,
shaking on his perch.

Alone.
Facing his fate.
A crucified jack o' lantern jesus
in a harvest cornfield hell.
Bird shit on his dinner jacket.
Ants in his pants.
All ready to dine
with a rag doll smile chopped into a decaying autumn pumpkin skin shell.
focusing in with her binocular bloodshot eyes.
Blood poured from her mouth as she ground her teeth into her lips
biting down-
at the sight of him.

Dog food bones.
Discarded in boredom

Our bull berserker girl stood upright with one booted foot forward and her long grey locks pulling back from the wind-
in her face
as she flew down the quiet country road-
roaring.
Speeding like a topgun souped up supersonic missile bullet cannon ball.
A mean mother fucker machine-
roaring.
Each hand gripped a calvary saber
long and old
aged-
through a dozen battles.
Baptized-
by the blood of a dozen bodies.
Dipped-
into the hearts of the failed and defeated.

touching the points to the ground
shearing sparks off into heaven
a shower of brilliant sparks lighting her coming.

Behind her wake followed a cloud of black birds,
spectators to the scene
Taunting anna on.
Watching as she made the grade.
Ready to see that malcontent go.
The barbwire in the field fence popped right off it's post preferring anna's flaking skin.
She drug the cords
flailing behind her.
Party streamers in the wind.
Each hook briefly clawing at the parting cornhusks all set ablaze by the sword sparks flying
spraying through the fall weather field.
His squared off gap tooth grin sat unmoving.

The spider on his webbed shoulder says "fuckit" and leaves

anna pointed one blade forward
in a textbook charge
the second danced outstretched at her side-
swooping.
The wooden wrists under his mitted hands began to bleed.

The black birds roasting slow death in the razing fire behind her cheered on.

Pulling back one saber to strike and one to her throat,
the time of eminent impact well at hand.

AND THE FLAMES RAGED ON, BURNING...


My Company