“God damnit Boy! It’s almost sunset… More white wash! Get me more white wash! Go! Go! Go!” Uncle Chucky screamed at his nephew Jojo from atop the ladder.
Jojo ran back to the house and into the garage to grab two more ten gallon pails of white paint. His aunt Becky came in from the kitchen and frowned.
“What does he want with all that paint?” she asked.
“He’s pissed at them again,” Jojo grunted. He ran back out, his back straining from the twenty gallons of paint.
When he came to the base of the ladder he dropped both buckets onto the dusty ground with a double thunk. Sweating and panting he fell to his knees opening and closing his hands to slowly get the circulation going again.
When Uncle Chucky’s paint sprayer ran dry he looked down at the boy.
“Well what the fuck are you waiting for?” Uncle Chucky yelled.
Jojo glanced up, exhausted, then looked around for the screwdriver. He popped off the first lid, unscrewed the electric paint pressurizer top, and began to pour it in. The second can followed.
“Faster boy! Faster!” Uncle Chucky screamed, as the valley grew darker.
Jojo screwed the pressurizer’s lid back on and locked it down.
“Go!” Jojo yelled back up.
Uncle Chucky began to spray again. He hopped his way down the ladder rung by rung until the job was finally done.
He jumped off, threw the sprayer on the ground, and smiled up at his work with pride. Aunt Becky walked out onto the front porch and frowned at the now white side of the barn.
“Why’d you do that?” she yelled at him.
“I’m gonna fuck with those goddamn Butter Churners!” he yelled back.
“You’re going to what?”
“Get back in the fucking house, Becky!”
“Don’t you dare dispute me, Becky. Not now! Not in front of the boy, or the Butter Churners! Not when I’m this close!”
“Silence, ye wench, or I shall have my way with your ass tonight!” he screamed at her.
“Damnit Chucky!” Aunt Becky yelled.
“One more word, woman, and I’ll fist it!”
Aunt Becky glared at him for a second and then went back into the house. She stood behind the screen door with crossed arms.
Uncle Chucky looked over at Jojo, who had begun to collapse the ladder.
“Leave that shit there. Go get the chairs and the projector,” Uncle Chucky said.
“Well, what are you gonna do?” Jojo asked.
“Now Boy, run! Go! Go! Go!”
Jojo sighed and ran off to the house to get the chairs. Uncle Chucky went into the barn and took out two flare guns from an old boat and checked the tubes. He took out the old flare cartridges and replaced them with new ones.
He put the flare guns in his back pockets, grabbed a pump action shotgun from a rack of guns and loaded it with armor piercing slugs. He pumped it a few times with a twitching, quivering smile and closed his eyes. With a sweaty right hand he slowly reached down and rubbed the crotch of his pants massaging his penis underneath.
“Milky whores,” he whispered licking his lips.
He heard a noise outside and his eyes snapped open. He took his hand away from his crotch, walked out of the barn and saw Jojo setting up the projector with its two speakers.
Uncle Chucky looked out across the little creek that ran between his barn and the Butter Churner’s property. He giggled a little schoolgirl’s giggle. The wrath of Uncle Chucky was almost at hand.
“Get the tape Boy…” Uncle Chucky demanded.
“Which one?” Jojo asked.
“Which one? The one with the whores, God damnit! That’s which one.”
“You mean the one under your bed?”
“That’s the one. Now go get it!”
Jojo ran off to the house muttering curses. A minute later he came back with the tape and stuck it in the projector.
Uncle Chucky gestured toward the speakers with the shotgun.
“Get ready to play it Boy, and turn that music all the way up. And give it bass! So much bass the fucking ground will shake and the Butter Churners will think it’s a goddamn earthquake!”
Jojo turned up the volume and bass as high as it could go, making sure to point the speakers at The Butter House.
Uncle Chucky went back into the barn, up to the hayloft, and pulled himself onto the roof by way of a small hatch. He almost dropped a flare gun in the process, but his quick reflexes caught it in midair. He stood up on the roof of the barn and looked out across the valley as the sun died. He was breathing heavily and red in the face.
It was time.
Uncle Chucky pointed the shotgun right at the Butter Churner’s house. He braced himself and then pulled the trigger. The window exploded as the blast echoed over the valley. Birds scattered, dogs barked, but the Butter Churners stayed inside. He cocked the shotgun, aimed for their front door and fired. It blasted inward as the slug hit the handle. He targeted one of the windows on the second floor. When it shattered he heard screams coming from inside.
Aunt Becky flung open the screen door, ran over to the barn and screamed up at him. “What the hell are you doing?”
He continued to shoot slug after slug into the house of creamy sin. When the shotgun ran dry he threw it back into the hayloft and grabbed the two flare guns from his back pockets.
“Charles Francis Boon, you will put down those guns!” she yelled at him.
“Shut the fuck up!” He snarled.
“But Chucky…” she pleaded.
“What the fuck did I tell you?”
“Get back to the house, Becky! Right now!”
“I fucking mean it, Becky! Now!”
“God damnit!” Chucky took one of the flare guns and shot at her. She screamed and ran from the red ball of fire, which bounced off the ground and landed next to the projector. Jojo ran over and kicked it into the stream then stomped out some of the burning, smoking grass.
Becky ran back to the house sobbing. “The Baby Jesus! The Baby Jesus!”
Chucky barked out at her. “Back to your Baby Jesus! Back to your sacred hermaphroditic womb, you stupid bitch!”
He looked down at Jojo who was watching him in amazement.
“You marry a Christian, and you marry Jesus… And that fucker always wins.”
Jojo looked over at The Butter Churners house and then back at Uncle Chucky.
“Aren’t you afraid they’ll call the police?” Jojo asked.
“They’re fucking savages… They don’t even have phones, and they sure as shit wouldn’t call on Outsiders for help. Hell, they think all Outsiders are like me. They won’t even attack, so they say. For they are The Butter Churners.”
Chucky giggled, pointed the other flare gun at the house and fired. The incinerating projectile flew across the stream and went through one of the broken windows. Within a minute the house caught fire and soon it was blazing. Finally the Butter Churners stumbled out the front door half blinded by smoke and coughing their creamy lungs out as they sank down on the front lawn. Wiping their eyes they looked over at Uncle Chucky as he danced atop his barn.
“Now boy! Play the fucking tape. Now!”
Jojo pressed the play button. At first nothing, but then a deep rumble, much like the enraged stomping of a dinosaur, filled the valley. They cleared their eyes of the smoke and looked up at the side of the barn, mouths open in horror. The children began to weep into their mother’s dresses and the men stood still.
The end of times, as was predicted in the Bible, had descended upon the valley.
Displayed on the white wall of the barn was a young woman engaged in acts of sexual indecency with three men at once.
Because of all the bass distortion coming from the speakers the woman’s screams of sweaty ecstasy sounded more like the strained grunts of a fat man taking a ten-pound shit than an act of lust.
Chucky smiled demonically as he savored the wrath in the form of his outdoor porno theater. This was his moment. This was Armageddon.
And the Amish knew porn.