The Red Rooster!

The Red Rooster written in large red letters with a caricature of a gamecock with red and some yellow feathers on a square wooden sign about 10 feet up mounted on a pole was the first thing Marlon Hayes saw as he pulled his Harley Soft Tail Cruiser into the dusty parking lot on the outskirts of Bumfuck Eygpt, Alabama. Of course that wasn’t  the small community’s real name but Marlon didn’t care. It was a running joke that Scott used to keep going back in the day. Any town out in rural America became Bumfuck Something. Right now all Marlon wanted was a cold beer and warm woman to share it with. He slowly dismounted his 6’6 300 pound frame off the bike and walked into the dark southern bar.  It was a dirty square brick building and he noticed as he walked in there was a large mirror behind a straight bar with five stools cemented to the floor. The final two had been installed so close together that a left handed person on the far stool would constantly be bumping arms with a righty. But, at 11:00 AM midmorning there were no other customers in the bar. The cool damp darkness in the bar contrasted with the hot July sun outside. The humidity outside felt like a solid sheet of hot water hanging over your head. But, in here it was as cool as a tomb  thought Marlon. Now, that was an odd thought or at least wording to come to mind. But, it fit he thought.

The rest of the bar consisted of five little round tables with two chairs each. They looked old fashioned to him. Kind of like the old drug store in the small North Alabama town to which he was born and grew up in the early sixties.  As you came in the door there were two booths. One on the left and one on the right.  Both black leather booths framed red tables.  Scott would have called this a roadhouse in his yankee accent. Marlon still heard Scott in his mind from time to time. They had met in Cali outside Bartstow at a biker bar. Must have been 5 or 6 years ago.  Marlon with his long dirty blonde hair and Scott with his constant smile and all American looks were a contrast. Marlon was tall and big and had blue eyes that at times seemed ice grey when he was intensely angry. Marlon didn’t talk much. Scott on the other hand was a chick magnet. Around 5’10 and with a smile that lit up a room when he walked in. Nothing scary about Scott. Not at all. You would never know until he pulled you into the van and had his way with you. You would never know as he finished and dumped what was left in a canyon or dirt road and started a fire with your remains. Scott was a great guy alright. He kept Marlon straight.

He saw her then. Tending the bar. Long dark hair. Hell it was long black hair and skin like ivory. Full red lips and Hazel Green eyes.  She was about 5’7 and built (as his old daddy would have said) like a brick shithouse. Marlon didn’t know what a brick shithouse would look like but dear old dad used to say it when he saw a particularly big boobed and long full hipped full legged woman. This one fit the bill. Nice curves. What can I get you hon? Her voice was full and throaty with just the right amount of whiskey soaked growl in it. She sounded like a G.R.I.T. though. (Girl Raised In The South) Marlon had thought as he crossed into Louisiana and drove across the southern part of Mississippi and into Bama that he was heading home. Now he almost felt like he was home. He actually could now head Northeast and he would be back in his old North Alabama stomping grounds in about 4 or 5 hours. Been a long  time.

“See if you can get her to come around back Marl. Scott said in his head using the old nickname.” But, Scott wasn’t there. Scott was …”Well, are you  going to stare at my boobs or order a beer while ya look?” asked the dark haired beauty. “Oh, Sorry. Marlin said coming back to himself.”  He noticed she was wearing a red halter and he could only imagine how it looked in those short shorts from the front to see her legs. Her back was reflected in the mirror and it was a fine firm but soft looking back. “I’ll have Bud Light he said. Bud Light? Okay, I didn’t take you for a pussy she laughed.  Marvin didn’t like being laughed at and he felt his face redden.  “Uh, Oh I’ve insulted you haven’t I tall, dark and ugly. Wanna tell the management on me?” Funny, her voice had changed from good ole girl from the south to Chicago call girl. Then she laughed and resumed her former southern charm. “I’m sorry bud. You are tall but you ain’t dark and actually you ain't all that ugly.” Want to buy me a drink or do you want to drink alone? “You can pour yourself a drink can’t you asked Marlon. “ Sure I can but the management don’t like it.

Scott spoke up again…” You pussy whipped already big boy? Let’s have some fun…I’ll get the van ready.”  Marlin again shook his head and whispered “you ain’t really here Scott.” The bartender said “Who are you talking to hon?” “ Here’s your beer I’ll be back I have to speak to management.

Marlon nursed his beer and lost himself in thought. “Well, asswipe we need one big score and I know just where to get it...Scott again. Scott was always in his head  these days. But, Scott wasn’t, couldn’t be here. Scott bought the farm…Marlon giggled almost hysterically as he remembered.

Scott planned these things. He was the brains and Marlon was the brawn. It wasn’t that Marlon was dumb or even slow. He just didn’t have the smarts that Scott did. He also didn’t have the people skills. But, Scott messed up. He didn’t see the butcher knife until it was up to the hilt in his belly. He had just finished with her. He was just about to pick her up when her eyes opened. How was that even possible after  the beating he had given her in the van? Slut, shouldn’t have gotten in. Drunk, dirty slu…The little blonde pulled her hand up from behind her and the knife was in him before he could react. Marlin sitting on the ground just outside the van saw Scott fall with the girl on top of him. Marlon was on her in a moment. He pulled her up and slapped her hard. She fell and he went to Scott. There was blood everywhere and when Scott coughed he spit up blood. He looked with horrified eyes up at Marlon. “Messed up this time. Really fucked the pooch” Scott wimpered and then he was gone. Marlon looked over but the girl was still on the ground alive or dead he didn’t take time to check. He panicked. He ran behind the van and jumped on his bike and decided he had been in California long enough.

Hey buddy, how’s the beer? Marlon looked up and saw a short blonde haired dude. Blonde? His hair was bleached bright yellow and he had it in a spike short cut. He had a tattoo saying mother on his left hand and on his right arm plainly visible since he was wearing a black tank top was a symbol but Marlon didn’t know what it meant. It was on the top part of his arm. A yellow crescent moon over a black cross.  Who are you? Asked Marlon. “I’m Samael.” Replied the man. I’m management.

“Where’s the bartender? Marlon wondered out loud.”  Samael then put out his hand as if to shake but as Marlon reached up he felt a sting on his hand and then he felt nothing.

Marlon woke up in a dark room with a full moon shining in the window. “Where am I? he muttered.” He then realized that he was unable to get up off the mattress on the floor. Was he in the back room of the bar? The girl kept talking about management. When he got up he  would find the tall brick shithouse woman and the short spiked freak and break both of their heads. But, first he would make the blonde freak watch as he did the girl.

Suddenly, she was there. Pale skin shining in the moonlight. “Where’s your boss?” Management where is he?” barked Marlon. She laughed. A full throated head flung back belly laugh. Oh, you poor stupid asshole. I don’t have a boss. “Management works for me.” “I’ve never had a boss and if I did it wouldn’t be a he.” “I’ve never bowed to a he and never will.”

She began to smile…but he must be on drugs because her smile increased. Her mouth with those ruby red lips seemed to fill the world. Her “eye teeth” as his mother used to call the two on the top front that framed the rest became sharp. Fang like. Her eyes were not hazel or green now. Oh God, they were black. Completely black. He felt his very soul freeze and the pain in his neck as she rended his flesh was horrific. His whole being was paralyzed. He felt his soul being sucked into a black void. His head filled with her laughter and a voice as loud as a thousand waterfalls rang in his ears and filled his whole being with the sound. “Lilith! Bringer of death, desolation and Goddess of Nightmares.

Marlon was given one brief glimpse of a dark, desolate world. A dying world that couldn't die. He knew he was like that world. Then he knew no more. At least not in this world.

When the Devil was a woman,
When Lilith wound
Her ebony hair in heavy braids,
And framed
Her pale features all 'round..."The Diary of an Orange Tree" Hanns Heinz Ewers, Nachtmahr: Strange Tales.