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I looked at the pig's petrified face.

I pulled away my gaze.

A shiver went through me.

“You're mad,” I said.

He snickered.

“As a matter of fact, my boy, I'm quite happy. See, these
creatures will make us very rich.”

“Us?”

“
Me, the wife, and
you
,”
he said. “With all the money that's going to be pouring in, I
plan to buy a bigger farm, buy a bigger lab, and buy more guards. If
all goes well tonight, my boy, I'd like to hire you to be head of
security. Whaddya say?”

He put his hand out, and I shook it.

“I'm your man,” I said, smiling. I couldn't believe it!
My luck was finally turning around. At last! The future was mine.
There was a God.

We walked into the house. The smell of bacon and eggs filled the
kitchen. A fat pig had been strung up in there, spread eagle and all.
Loyd's wife cut the beast open with a sword, and all its guts spilled
out and splashed into all sorts of buckets. The black woman was beefy
– a giant meatball with extremities.

“I hope you guys be hungry,” she said. “I'm on a
roll.”

Loyd seemed nervous. He was shorter than her by many inches. I found
it an odd, almost humorous sight. He dragged me into the kitchen.

“This is that zombie expert I was telling you about, dear.”

She looked me up and down.

“He don't look tough,” she said, and put her arm on the
table. “Let's arm wrestle.”

I was shocked.

“What the hell for?”

“I wanna be sure.”

“Of what?”

“
That you're as good as you
think
you are,”
she said. “I don't wanna be payin' handsomely for no loser. Now
let's arm wrestle! Prove your worth! Don't make me mad. Don't get me
irked
.”

She reached out for me, hand opening and closing. Loyd took her giant
paw and kissed it.

“Broomhelda, please...let's not scare the man. He's our guest.”

She threw up her arms like she was giving up on the world. The fat
under her massive arms jiggled.

“If a little lady like me scares him, what makes you think he
gonna handle those zombies? I have to be careful. My life's work is
on the line!”

I raised a finger.

“
Wait.
You
made those pigs?”

She smiled.

“Years and years of research and experimenting, little man.”

“
I thought
Loyd
was the genius.”

She laughed.

“What? He just gets me them pigs. He ain't no thinker.”

Loyd hugged her.

“We make a good team.”

They kissed – tongues darting in and out – mouths making
all sorts of wet noises. After that revolting scene, Broomhelda went
back to cutting her dangling pig. She shoved a fork into its face and
yanked out an eye, throwing it onto a noisy frying pan.

“I told you to call that other one...that Doktor Boss,”
she said. “I heard he be real good. I trust them news folks on
the TV. Get this little man out of my kitchen. I ain't hiring him.
What am I? Psychotic?”

This meatball was onto me! I had to think fast. I sat at the table
and slammed my arm on it. Dishes and forks rattled.

“Fine!” I said. “You wanna arm wrestle? You wanna
SEE what I gots to give? Let's go! Me and you!”

She smiled.

“Ahhh, good. Realll goood.” She sat down and took my
hand, pumping it. “Loyd, honey, count us down.”

It was then that I noticed a bandage wrapped around her wrist.

Loyd shook his head.

“My friends, please. I have a better idea. How about we have
tea and bacon? No need for this weirdness. This is completely
unnecessary.”

Broomhelda never took her eyes off me.

“
I'll say it ain't. Hmph! This
be
my
money you paying
him. Now
count
us
down. I'm in heat!”

“Whatever you say, lover. I'm sorry to have angered you.”

He put his hand over ours.

“Ready? On the count of three.”

The kitchen hushed. The split-pig dripped its gore – that
tongue sticking out. Loyd looked like he was ready to jump back.

“One...two...THREE!”

Broomhelda's eyes exploded, and down
my arm went –
but
I stopped her – able to hover my hand just an inch over the
table. She seemed surprised.

“You ain't nothing!”

The fat on her face jiggled. She
poured sweat. I was grinding my teeth. Summoning everything I had, I
turned my wrist and pulled to the side. Our hands were upright again.
I had her. I had her
good
,
and she knew it. Broomhelda frowned, staring dead at me in disbelief.
Then something got my attention.

As our hands continued to shake, my eyes were drawn to the TV in the
next room. A priest was being interviewed on a talk show. As I
listened to him, all the other sounds around me – Broomhelda's
moaning, those utensils dancing on the table – all faded away.
The TV wanted me. I was hypnotized.

“
Life is like a video game,
and we're all being played for fools,” the priest said. “That
game character on the screen is you. Everything feels real. Being in
that TV box is all you know. But,” he said, “you're being
controlled the whole time. You think your actions are yours, but
they're not. And you're not being controlled by some stranger or
unloving god. You're being controlled by
yourself
.
Your higher self. That wiser part of you.” He leaned forward.
“And
of course
people have such a hard time getting in contact with their spirit –
believing they even
have
a spirit. It would be like you, as this video game character, turning
around and looking the gamer in the eyes. It can happen. December 21,
2012, is the key. It's when we transform. It's when we connect with
our higher selves and...evolve.”

Reality slapped me in the face, and I was back at that table, arm
wrestling. Loyd was jumping up and down, grinning, excited.
Broomhelda shook her head like a crazy person, hair whipping, sweat
flying everywhere. She was moaning in capital letters. And then God
smiled down on me. Broomhelda's wrist exploded in a rain of blood.
Her bone stuck out – veins wiggling around like excited worms.
Loyd screamed and ran up the stairs. Broomhelda gripped her wrist.
She didn't shriek. She just looked mildly disappointed.

“Goddamn,” she went. “That's the third time this
year. Oh, well.”

Loyd came running back and wrapped her wrist with a bandage. He was
crying violently. It was embarrassing. Broomhelda sat back and
exhaled and looked at me, squinting, nodding her head and going,
“Hmmm. Hmmmm.” She smiled to the love of her life.
“Loyd?”

“Yes, lover?”

“Pay this man.”

Loyd handed me an envelope and smiled at me and messed my hair up
like a dad would his son. The envelope burned in my hand – a
reminder of the sad amount inside. The Devil, complete with red
leotard and plastic pitchfork, was leaning in the doorway and smoking
a cigar. He was counting money, fanning them like playing cards. He
laughed at me and said, “So, I hear your selling your soul for
$200? Deal!”

He threw the money in my face. The bills exploded into smoke, as did
the Devil. I looked away and shuddered. Broomhelda got up.

“Lover, help me put on that purple dress I like,” she
said. “We have a party to go to.” As she walked by, she
put a hand on my shoulder. “You just taught me a valuable
lesson.”

We had a moment. It was nice.

As they went upstairs and got dolled up, I thought about that priest
on the TV. If I could turn to my personal gamer, I'd say:

“
Give me a hand here. Help me
out. Help me
win
this game
.”

But how to do it? How to suddenly –
turn around
?

Broomhelda and Loyd came back down, wished me luck, and drove off in
their beat up, white truck. The thing was a dinosaur – a time
traveler right from the 1930s, and it looked like it was having a
seizure as it rattled off into the night. So there I was, waving them
away, all alone in that field.

Well, not totally alone. Did I mention I was surrounded by a whole
mess of smelly-ass, weirdo pigs?

It was a full moon.

An hour went by.

Keep your brain open. Get ready. Get ready for anything queer.

My legs hurt. I was instructed to
just stand there in the middle of those pigs, next to the woods, and
keep my peepers open. So that's what I did. Well, for a little while.
After a few minutes of standing, I said to hell with it and goofed
around. I sat on a pig to rest my legs, even rode around on one. They
didn't like it and started shrieking. So I got off and apologized.
Did they understand me? Did they also have – dare I say it –
human brains? I thought,
If I see a pig with a human face,
I'll shit.

I reached into my pocket...looked around out of habit...and pulled
free a bottle of whiskey. I gulped half of it down and started to
feel real good. When the field started to spin, I heard a motor –
a truck coming my way. I narrowed my eyes to get a better look. Were
they already back so soon? Did they forget something? It was their
truck, yup, but Loyd wasn't driving. What I saw behind that wheel
froze my bones.

The white truck was driven by a werewolf – the first I'd ever
seen with my own eyes. All the strength went out of my legs. I wanted
to scream like a little girl. The werewolf was HUGE and barely fit
inside the truck. It parked – those ancient brakes complaining.
The werewolf got out. It was eating someone's leg. It took a final
bite and threw the leg away and stretched and yawned. I ducked, and
the pigs cried out. My mouth jumped.

“Shut up, you pigs. For the love of all that's holy, keep
quiet.”

I grabbed one – Sandy – and put my hand over her mouth.

“Please, you'll get me eaten out.”

The werewolf saw my tiny car and
looked around and sniffed the air, then shrugged and tore my car
apart – yanking out the tires and engine. My soul gave up. All
I could do then was sit there and expect to die. The werewolf opened
the fence and started taking some pigs, filling the back bed of the
truck. The monster went to get more. It was getting too close to me.
What if it finds me? What do I do? Fight the damn thing? Am
I mentally ill? Maybe I can make a run for the woods. Maybe, maybe,
maybe.
Then the pigs in his
truck start crying and such, running here and there. I saw Loyd and
Broomhelda in that truck – looking like they were trying to eat
those screeching hogs.

They're zombies,
I thought.
Praise Jesus!

The werewolf ran to save his pigs – ran and tore those zombies
apart. Arms and guts flew high into the air. Loyd's torso landed
right on my head. His nervous eyes were on me. Sandy licked Loyd's
face. His jaw went up and down like he was trying to tell me a
secret. I leaned in.

“I'm sorry,” I whispered. “I hope you make it into
Heaven. Put in a good word for me.”

The werewolf very carefully got more pigs and filled the back of the
truck until no more could fit, then it got in and drove off. I got
up. My hands and legs shook. I just stood there for a long time,
weeping with that pig oink-oinking at me. I almost died. Total shock.
You know how people say you see your whole life flash behind your
eyes? Lies. I saw nothing. 100% paralysis.

After a few minutes of me just
staring into the night with my brain filled with static, another
truck drove up to the house.
Time to
skedaddle.
I
put piggy down and
ran to the woods. I hid behind a tree and watched as this other
werewolf with large breasts got out and filled the truck with pigs.
It zoomed away, and another truck came right up after it and did the
same. Werewolves stealing pigs. Why? Were they gonna sell them?

I started thinking about the police and panicked and got out of there
– ran fast as shit with my heart thudding in my ears.

I woke up at a bus stop across from the ocean. Morning time. Orange
sky. Where was I then? Still in Waianae? Was I dead? Was I finally in
Heaven? No idea. Too tired to think. I wasn't in the mood to ask the
bum sleeping next to me with his head on my lap. I felt something in
my pants and pulled it out.

The gun.

I “forgot” to use it.

Screams for help. Down the road, those same local thugs from earlier
were beating up a white woman with canoe paddles. I ran up and shot
my gun in the air and scared the bad men away. I gave the woman my
gun.

“
Don't let them spoil your
stay. We're not all assholes. Hawaii
no ka 'oi.
”

And then I took the bus home.

Took me two hours.

End
of sample.

Purchase
the full book to see what happens next. Thank you for reading!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Raymund
Hensley is the author of
Filipino Vampire
,
Get Kilt:
A Zombie Pill
, and
Transdolphin
.
He lives in Honolulu, Hawaii.

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