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She’s a Brick House Chapter 2

 The characters of the Southern Vampire Mysteries belong to Miss Charlaine Harris. No infringement on my part is intended. The characters on True Blood belong to Mr. Alan Ball. No infringement on my part is intended.

I have no BETA, editor, or other such charming person. All mistakes are my own.

 This story is rated M.


“You ready Samuel,” Tara asked as she glanced through the story one more time.

“Yes,” he smiled. “I like your diligence,” he said pointing to the book, “but sadly, will not do you much good with this crowd.”

 Mrs. Pigg came into the bar and sat down.

“Tequila,” she sighed. “And just keep them coming.”

“Tough day?” the woman dressed all in black with a green skin tone ask her.

“For starters, as you can see, I am a pig. Every day is a tough day. Folks love bacon and all.  Then, I had children. Just what was I thinking?” she sighed.

“My name is Mrs. Pigg,” she said with a nod of her head. “You got kids?” she threw back her head as another shooter was dispensed and as soon as it was sat in front of her down it went and she motioned for another.

“No,” the witch said. “I am E. Witch. Just call me E.”

“Good for you, E.,” she sighed as she tipped the next shot down her throat, admiring the burn. Reminded her of the burn when she gave birth. “I got three girls, I love’m all, but I would not give you a half pence or a penny for all three of them put together. My oldest, she owns this bar, The Brick House. Do you think she lets me drink for free, hell no. And I can say, good on her and how proud I am, but damn and fuck and shit,” she stomped her foot, “there are times when I could sure use some one in the biz to toss me a bottle under the table. Just damn and fuck and shit!”

“What happened?” E. leaned in and motioned for a glass of the same.

“My girls are grown.   And to encourage them to move out and not move back in, I sold my house, split everything four ways and sent them on their way. Then I moved back in with my momma to take care of her. It is cramped and then some but there is no room for anyone else…or so I thought.

As I said, money and furnishing, split four ways. My oldest, she invested in this bar. Seems to be doing a nice business. My middle child, she bought herself a house of sticks. No chinking, leaky roof, fireplace does not draw, that born yesterday sign on her forehead there for all to read. Bangelica is not the smartest of the girls, but she has a good heart, wants to believe and is easily fooled.

That brings me to my youngest. Angelica. Leave the bottle,” she said to the barkeep. “From now on, I am pouring my own. You can’t keep up,” she admonished him with a sad shake of her head.

“She…she…is a good child in her heart, but I swear, what a slut! If it’s male, she’ll fuck it.”

“Ah-m-m-m,” Sookie shook her head.

“Oh, oops, sorry…” Tara made a face.

“If it is male, she will invite it into her bed. Just pick an orifice and she’s entertained there. Now mind you, she does not charge or anything. Why, they don’t even have to buy her dinner cause she is all about “Hey…” comes out of her mouth, then her clothes come off and then it is put it here and move it there and let me suck on that. That girl child takes after my momma. Just say’n.

I gave all the girls their inheritance. Angelica is frugal for a day or two and before she moves out, she goes down to the river and cuts reeds and then does some gleaning in a farmer’s field and she builds herself a house. A straw house.”

“Well, that’s thrifty,” E. nodded her head in agreement as Mrs. Pigg poured her a snout full.

“Well yes, and when she moves into her own place she is all excited because she has found herself a roommate. A male,” she rolled her eyes, “roommate.

A Were wolf roommate.”

“Were?” the witch crossed her eyes. “A Were and a pig? Really? And that did not give cause for alarm? Like maybe she’ll end up a side order with a couple of eggs over easy and toast? A ham portion with spatzel? Or roasted whole for Yuletide with an apple in her mouth?”

“Oh, it gets better. I will let you guess as to what his last job was.”

“Was?” E. chortled. “As in he now does not have a job?”

“That would be correct. He has a sugar tit to suck on. Why does he need to work?”

“I really am not very good at guessing,” the witch sighed, “since I lost my spelling ability.”

“That is okay because his last job was working at the circus,” Mrs. Pigg shook her head in disbelief. “The circus! There was a gravedigger who wanted to court Angelica. She would have nothing to do with him dead people and all…yadda, yadda, yadda.

Garfield the gravedigger, well now, he’s a man with a steady job and a guaranteed income. You know, Death and Taxes! Come on! These are hard times but you know he is always going to eat. If nothing else, if the grieving family can’t pay, he can sell the parts. Lots more money in parts anyway. Everyone knows that. Old Doc Frankenstein is a good customer. Pays up front whether he needs that part at the moment or not! Just show up at his door and he’ll dig into those deep pockets and you’ll eat for a couple of months!

But someone from a circus! She was dancing up and down! She told me she had always wanted to join the circus!   And now she was joined…” Mrs. Pigg beat her head against the bar. “Well hell yes, wolf boy,” she righted herself, “move your ass on in here! And look! Here is my inheritance. Let’s get you a hair cut, a new suit of clothes and a new pair of shoes, a fine gold watch; got his ears pierced, with some fancy gold earrings to wear, a tattoo that says, and I shit you not, Eat More Bacon, and who knows what else.”

E. was startled. “You mean he was attached to the gypsy circus that just passed through here?”

“The one and only,” she said in disgust as she threw up her arms in the air. “You know, the night they left, they stole everyone’s laundry that was hanging out on the line. Took I don’t know how many chickens. Why they even purloined the front steps from the Old Woman that lives in the shoe. She sent her old man out the next morning to collect eggs and he fell off the front porch. Broke his penis. Not that she is complaining. Says she is looking forward to having some time off from birthing. And she said every time they had sex, when he would roll off her, he’d fart and she said there went her big O. It smells so bad she said it was like she had never had one. Says she does not miss that at all, all that expended energy and her orgasm evaporates, faster than his fart,” she said snapping her fingers.

The witch got quiet, decided what the fuck and just charged on. “This Were that she is seeing…?”

“Was seeing,” Mrs. Pigg stuck her finger down her throat and made gagging sounds. “The man whore she was seeing,” she stressed sitting upright. “She came home this morning, crying about the good sex and his great big piece of business and how he made her howl with desire and her titties would get all tight and he’d suck her off…seems the sex was so hot they burned her house down. Of course, first thing he did was high tail it on out of there and left her without any clothes on her back and no dick in her front.”

“Burned down…” the witch had another hit and let the magic of the alcohol take her. “This Were got a name?” she asked as she dispensed herself another drink.

“Alcide Herveaux,” she snickered. “It even sounds like a cheap French whore’s name. Instead of charging by the hour, apparently she paid by the inch. I hope the well-hung bastard was worth it because she is sleeping on the back stoop and it is supposed to rain, tonight; she will be there until I can buy her a pair of shoes and send her off to her sister, Bangelica. Poor half-wit mite that Bangelica is.   Her and her loud ‘BANG!’ Scares things senseless! When Angelica shows up, I hope that slick bastard is not stalking along and then wanting to BANG!” was yelled, “my middle child as well. That would just be my luck. Grandbabies that would howl at the moon and want pig for breakfast. My momma would not shut the fuck up about that one,” she moaned. “As if she shuts the fuck up about anything now!”

“We need,” the witch motioned to the barkeep, “another bottle.”

“What?” Mrs. Pigg patted E. on the hand. “You are so kind to buy and to sit here and listen to me bitch.”

“Well, in all good conscience, I might be the reason for your daughter’s affair of the heart with the Were. The story unfolds thusly: I am presently without spells. As in, I lost them betting with a dragon. So, the Were approached me about an irresistible spell and he paid me in gold, probably your daughter’s money, which I used as a down payment to the dragon to get my bag of tricks, back. See I was to trade Rumpelstilskin Angelica’s straw from her house for Alcide’s spell.

As of this morning, I am still in debt to the dragon who is sucking the life out of my spells, I am sure. I am without straw, Angelica is without a home, you have gained a daughter who cannot keep her legs closed, Rumpelstilskin will curse me with a million fleas in my crotch and armpits if I don’t produce the straw so that he might spin it to gold and that man whore Alcide seems to be the only winner here, with his big dick and spelled irresistible.”

“That is just not right,” Mrs. Pigg said, wiping the tears from her eyes as she tipped the bottle into their glasses.

“Just not right,” the witch nodded in agreement. “This blue agave is really something,” she sighed and finally had the chaptuz to ask the big question.  “You think the Were really is that big in the manhood department? Biggest I have seen up close and personal is an 8 incher.”

“Bigger,” she sighed. “Angelica said she measured. He’s a foot long hot dog…and not your typical hot dog…more like a sausage…very round, thick, and robust, complete with a nice tight bun.”

“Woof,” the witch threw back another as she got the visual.

“That’s what she said,” as Mrs. Pigg turned up the bottle and emptied it.

“BANG!” Pamela yelled and clapped her hands together as she sat there shaking her head, rolling her eyes and drove an imaginary stake through her heart as her head fell against the back of the chair, her tongue now hanging out, her eyes crossed.

“M-m-m h-m-m, yous La La says. Missy Pam I feels yous pain. I sees a big bad wolf comin’ our ways and at least yous gots a ‘BANG’ goin’s for yous. All I gots is my spread legs and hopefullys new tennies of the shoes to help me run my piggy fastest and jump my little curly tail highest.

La La says he can sees where yous needs to be practice’n with the tales,” he eyed the group. “Lordies…”

Dear Readers,

Thanks for indulging me with today’s writing exercise.