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Thursday, November 17, 2011

Toadie in "Haunted Bordello" (Final Chapter)

If you haven't read the first two installments of this enchanting tale, click here for Part One and here for Part Two.

The spirit of "Bent Joe" Paulson stepped menacingly toward Toadie, Val and the ghost, Annie, interrupting their lovemaking.

Wide-eyed, Toadie stuttered until he could finally say, "Toadie may be frightened to the point of shitting himself silly right now... but Toadie can't help to wonder... Why do they call you "Bent Joe?"

Annie warned, "Don't rile up his tail feathers, Mr. Toadie!"

The cowboy ghost dropped his pants and pointed to his crooked ghostly penis.

"Bent Joe" growled, "This is why, you mush-headed, numb-nutted dimwit! You satisfied now?"

Toadie replied, "Toadie thinks you have a bad case of acute dicklopsidedness."

Snarling, the ghost got up into Toadie's face and said, "You sayin' I have a cute dick?"

The sound of a car pulling up, down below, cut through the dead silence of the night.

"Bent Joe" Paulson pulled up his pants, cocked his head with a curious expression on his face and said, "I sense one of my kinfolk is here."

What the cowboy ghost was sensing was the sudden arrival of his great-great grandson, Henry Paulson. Paulson had, coincidentally, turned into the old west town as a means of escape.

Henry Paulson had made a lot of people angry with his latest televised interview because of his statements concerning why he thought people of the Occupy Movement were so angry. He was completely off the mark with his remarks. An Occupy group had caught sight of Paulson, outside the studio after his interview and wanted to share their opinions with him.

Instead of being bothered further with any more questions or accusations, Paulson had waved them off before saying, "Go get a job instead of complaining. It's your fault that you're poor."

With that said, the group ran towards him, shaking their fists and shouting obscenities. The former CEO of Goldman Sachs got into his limousine, told his driver to start the car and leave the city, immediately.

Wanting to avoid the peasants and miscreants of the area, altogether, Paulson instructed his chauffeur to take him on a few quiet desert roads for a bit of peace and untroubled thinking. While the chauffer drove Paulson on a few mostly desolate roads, the wealthy man poured himself glass after glass of expensive cognac until finally, they arrived at a ghost town.

Looking out the window, the old man nervously searched the area around them. He thought he saw a pair of glowing eyes peering over the saloon doors of an old bordello. Within a few seconds, they disappeared.

Then the limo's engine began sputtering.

"What's wrong with the car?" asked Paulson.

The driver shrugged and said, "I don't know, sir. It was given a tune up not long ago."

That's when the limousine stopped running, completely. The driver and Paulson immediately pulled out their cell phones. Neither of them were working. Suddenly, all the lights and the electronics in the car went out. They were sitting in near darkness with only the moonlight shining dimly around them.

Paulson's chauffeur, Riley, said, "Sir, I'm going to have a look around and see if I can find a phone or something we can use."

Riley got out of the car. Not wanting to be left alone, Paulson opened the car door and joined his driver. "Hold on," said the old man, "Another pair of eyes may help."

After finding out the flashlights in the limousine didn't work, Riley and Paulson started walking. The crunch of their footfalls and their breathing were the only sounds that they heard. And then a voice came from the nearby saloon.

"What are you looking for?"

At first, Paulson thought he might be imagining the voice- until he saw that it was obvious that Riley had heard it, as well.

Riley, unafraid, walked up to the doors of the saloon asked, "Who's in here?"

Receiving no answers, Riley pushed open the swinging doors of the saloon. The chauffeur walked inside. Paulson stayed close behind him. They were at the bar when a fiery orb appeared from nowhere. The orb quickly transformed into a recognizable human form- at least, to Paulson, it was recognizable.

The ghost said, "The word is, is that you've been an ornery, inconsiderate sonabitch, my great-great grandson."

Paulson placed his hand on his head. He was feeling faint. Perspiration, with traces of blood, ran down his face and neck until it soaked into the collar of his once neatly pressed dress shirt.

After gathering the strength and courage to speak, Paulson said, "You're my great-great grandfather. How can this be?"

Before the ghost could reply to his kinfolk's inquiry, Toadie and Valerie came down the steps. Annie floated down and met them. All eyes were fixated on "Bent Joe" until Valerie and her seemingly dim-witted friend, Toadie, recognized the old man in the business suit.

Toadie laughed and felt a thunderous cloud of methane pop out of his anus. The uncomfortable silence had been shattered by the awkward fart and caused everyone to turn toward Toadie. Everyone, including "Bent Joe".

Toadie pointed at Paulson and stated, "Toadie agrees with "Bent Joe". You are a sonafabitch."

Paulson was taken aback by the slightly retarded man and his words.

Toadie continued, "Don't act confused or startled, you fucking turd! You, Ben Bernanke, Alan Greenspan and the rest of the major guilty players in the great debacle that is our current Great Recession, allowed the housing bubble to expand to the point of exploding in everyone's faces. And instead of bailing out homeowners, they bailed out greedy bankers, causing events to be triggered that very quickly caused our economy to go into a horrible downward spiral. Because of people like you, who had a major part in keeping up the deregulation of the financial industry, we are experiencing the residual effects of not only your greed but your inconsideration of the people in this country. Meanwhile, you stay wealthy, get wealthier, manipulate the media, the government and generally tell the vast majority of the public to go fuck themselves and make out like they are the ones who are the criminals. All you care about is money, power and manipulation. The majority of people in this country, who are the neglected... who are protesting, meanwhile, are arrested... or worse."

"Bent Joe" pushed at Paulson's chest, crying out, "You're nothin' but a piece of snobby, arrogant, thievin' shit!"

Henry Paulson stumbled back and stuck his foot into an old spittoon. Panicking, Paulson felt the spittoon latch onto his foot, pressing the leather of his shoe against flesh and bone. Unbeknownst to the living folks inside the saloon, the spittoon was possessed by the spirit of Toadie's great-great grandfather, Gregory McKelly.

The spittoon laughed when Paulson fell on his ass. A sharp pain followed, causing the old man to scream in agony. It felt like something had abruptly fractured or broke near his ass. Riley pulled the spittoon off of his employer's foot and tossed it to the side. A face appeared on the spittoon as it shook and rattled across the room. The spittoon emitted an eerie bale of laughter as it skittered and rolled back and forth across the old wooden floor.

Riley freaked out and ran out of the saloon, leaving the old man to fend for himself. Paulson crawled out the door like an injured cockroach. His chauffeur got into the car and tried starting the car. Fortunately, it started. Riley looked over at Henry Paulson, saluted him and promptly left the haunted ghost town, spinning his wheels and leaving his employer in a cloud of dust and exhaust fumes.

"Wait for me!" commanded the old man, as he writhed in pain, finally making it out of the saloon.

Toadie, Val and Annie laughed at the old man, turned their backs and headed upstairs for a sprightly human/ghost orgy. As far as they were concerned, the show was over and there was nothing more to say. They opened the door to the room upstairs and very quickly got busy.

The spirit of Paulson's great-great grandfather remained for a few moments, staring at Paulson's quivering form and then shook his head before stating, "You only have yourself to blame, son."

And then he vanished, entirely.

The next day, Toadie and Valerie thanked Annie for the great time. When they left the saloon, the engaged couple stepped over Paulson, who was still moaning and continued to walk out of the old western town, hoping that someone would eventually come down the highway and offer them a ride. Luckily, they were found and taken back to a town where they could rent a car and continue their travels westward.

And this concludes our story, folks. Have a dandy weekend!

For more Tales of the Toadie, click on any or all of these fine links:


klahanie said...

Hey Kelly,
It's very sad to know that the adventures of Toadie, Valerie and a cast of weird and wacky characters has drawn to a conclusion.
I think this could be turned into a cockbuster, I mean blockbuster movie and even have things like souvenir mugs and t-shirts with Toadie and friends emblazoned on the various items.
Although, somehow, your story ends in such a way that there might just be a sequel to the series. Thanks for a bit of surreal fun, Kelly.
I hope you and your loved ones had a peaceful Thanksgiving Day.
With respect and kind wishes, your way, Gary

Kim said...

Just getting to this - oh, my, so late...but boy, did I enjoy the virtual revenge on the likes of Paulson!

Kelly said...

klahanie/Gary- Hey. Looky here. A miracle. I'm finally responding to your comment. It must be a sign of the second coming... of Spongebob. And no... it's not necessarily the end of Toadie's adventures. Just the end of this one particular adventure. But I have to agree, this would make one heck of a cockbuster blockbuster.

I hope things are going decently for you and I plan on visiting your blog soon. These false starts with getting back in the blogging game are getting tiring. Somebody needs to motivate me by slapping me upside the noggin' with a big ol' candy cane.

Take care, Gary.

Kelly said...

Kim- Yeah, the revenge part was pretty sweet. It's too bad we can't do something like that with all those responsible for the financial crisis we're in. No problem with being late in commenting. As you can see, I'm extraordinarily late in responding.

I'll be sure to stop by your blog for a visit and to comment. Thanks, Kim.

klahanie said...

Candy cane is on its way! You just take care of yourself, buddy. Good to see you get round to commenting on your Toadie posting.
Have fun with Spunkbob or whatever the hell his name is.....:)

Kelly said...


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