“How the fuck did that happen?” Bleach said in the passenger seat. “Is this Pimpy’s head?” She held the head by the hair spikes, eyes still dangling limply from their holes.
“Yeah,” said Dillweed, “I don’t know! I just threw it at that dude’s head and it exploded! I don’t know!”
“Did you cum on Pimpy’s head or something?”
“Seed of the desecrator, dude!”
“Oh shit, that’s right!” Dillweed reached back to get the butter container of Pimpy’s homemade hair gel. “I jacked off into his hair gel when he wasn’t looking! I thought it’d be funny, but I didn’t think it would save your life!”
An undead Real One charged from their flank. “Your left!” Dillweed yelled to Bleach. Bleach dipped her club shaft in the gel and stuck it through the Real One’s neck. His Adam’s apple burst like an over-microwaved pizza role. Two more charged them head on. Bleach took a handful of gel and slung it at them. One went down, convulsing and smoking from the mouth. The other smacked into the windshield and pounded the glass.
Dickmeyer had caught up with them and grabbed onto the backseat. Bleach grabbed Pimpy’s head with both hands and thrust it into Dickmeyer’s face and chest, shanking him repeatedly as the Real One on the windshield continued to pound. The windshield shattered. The Real One landed on the wheel, pulling it to the side. The cart burned out and tipped, spilling the passengers and hair gel into the turf.
Dickmeyer tore Pimpy’s head from his pectoral and smashed it between his hands. Orange steam billowed from his hair spike wounds. Dillweed dragged the remaining Real One over to the puddle of gel seeping into the turf and ground his face into it, trying not to breathe in the noxious fumes his head became. Bleach lifted Dillweed from the mess and pushed him in the direction of the sprinkler control shed on the horizon.
“You shall perish!” Dickmeyer growled as he rose to his feet. “I am the Brewmaster! Distiller of Pain!” He stumbled after Bleach and Dillweed as a motor roared behind them.
Bleach and Dillweed looked back to see a Range Rover speeding toward them over the course. “Who the hell is that?” said Dillweed.
“Fuck if I know, keep going,” said Bleach. Dickmeyer’s tongue whipped around her wrist. “Shit!” Dillweed grabbed the hot tongue with no real plan in mind. “It’s fucking burning me!” Dillweed saw the pain in Bleach’s face and panicked.
From the corner of his eye, Dillweed saw a horde of Real Ones emerge from over a hill.
“Go turn the sprinklers on!” said Bleach. “Go, goddammit!”
“I can’t fucking leave you!” said Dillweed. “There’s gotta be something I can do!”
“You gonna jerk off on his tongue?”
“I’m kidding, dumbass! Get to the shed! This fucking hurts!” Dickmeyer drifted closer, reeling in his tongue.
“I can do it.”
“No,” said Dillweed, unzipping, “I can jerk off on his tongue.”
“You’re goddamned insane!” said Bleach. Dillweed pulled Bleach close to him and kissed her. He ran his lips over her pierced tongue. She kissed him back, hard and deeply.
Dickmeyer was in arm’s reach when an ear-piercing shriek burst from his mouth. His severed tongue quivered back into his face. The end of his tongue went lips and slid from Bleach’s wrist. Bleach pushed away from Dillweed, slapped him, and smiled.
They ran to the sprinkler shed, Dillweed leading, the horde of undead Real Ones closing in. Dickmeyer limped through the doorway and threw himself down the stairs, shoving Bleach into Dillweed. Bleach cracked her head on the bottom stair. Dillweed’s face smashed into the water tank. Bleach attempted to stand, her balance shot to hell. Dillweed spit blood from his mouth and hinged open the lid on the top of the tank. Dickmeyer lifted Dillweed by his legs, forcing his top half to fall into the tank. Dark sperm water tried to find its way into Dillweed’s lungs. Bleach saw the doorway darken with enraged Real Ones.
The Real Ones burst into severed body parts as the Range Rover collided with them and screeched to a stop. A woman in a tracksuit flung open the door. A wave of vodka aroma tumbled down the stairs and hit Bleach hard.
“Here! You selfish fucker!” the woman threw a cast iron beer stein down the steps. “Here’s your fucking beer stein, your majesty! Happy!? Wait, what are you doing down there?”
The beer stein pinged off Dickmeyer’s head and landed in the tank. Dickmeyer groaned and looked back at his wife, dropping Dillweed. Dillweed pulled his head from the water, coughing. He grabbed the stein, filled it with desecrated sprinkler water and dumped it on Dickmeyer’s head. The room filled with the caustic fumes of Dickmeyer’s melting head as he screamed. Bleach found her feet and fell forward onto Dickmeyer, pushing him into the tank. Dillweed pushed his thumb and pinky into Dickmeyer’s melting eyes, holding his head underwater. Bleach found the controls on the wall behind her and activated the sprinklers. Water flooded through the surrounding pipes. The tank drained. A half-dissolved Dickmeyer flopped onto the floor.
Bleach and Dillweed pushed their wait up the stairs, back out into the setting sunlight. Dickmeyer’s wife stood soaked in sprinkler water, bewildered, drunk, and slightly sticky.
Dillweed wiped the blood off his lips and admired the rainbow prisms forming through the spray and the sunlight.
“I wish I’d kissed you under different circumstances,” said Dillweed.
Bleach turned Dillweed’s face to hers and said, “Nah. It’s about right for us.” She kissed him again. It hurt like hell in the best way.
THE END MOTHERFUCKER