B666 Bingo!

B666 BINGO!

  By

  Mark Trimeloni

  * * * * *

  PUBLISHED BY:

  B666 Bingo!

  Copyright © 2013 by Mark Trimeloni

  Thank you for downloading this eBook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed for any commercial or non-commercial use without permission from the author. Quotes used in reviews are the exception. No alteration of content is allowed. If you enjoyed this book, then encourage your friends to download their own copy.

  Your support and respect for the property of this author is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

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  Thank you to my mom and dad. There would be no me without you.

  I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

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  B666 BINGO!

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  Chapter 1

  Jacob Goes To Church

  Jacob stood in front of the S. King United Methodist Baptist Church of the Ever Loving Christ. Ok, so it was just the United Methodist Church. But in his nine years Jacob had seen many religions play in his small town only to find they had no foothold in Copper Bend. Why he was in front of this church on a Saturday bothered him. Hell, Sunday's were meant to be ruined by religion. Not a potentially fun filled Saturday. Turn around. He thought. Go home, make yourself a PB&J, and watch that video you picked out last night. The one where a hitchhiker, almost certainly a demon spawned from hell, takes an unsuspecting kid for the ride of his life. Good stuff. But first, for some reason, I need to go into this damn church.

  The sign in front appeared ancient. The lettering bold, black, and beautiful. Beautiful, Jesus, did I think that? Jacob pulled his jacket tighter, feeling a slight chill go up his spine. He kicked a clump of grass onto the words "Heaven or Hell: the Choice is Yours". The word "Heaven" disappeared in a smear of mud. Jacob moved closer, placing his sneaker against the block letters. "Fuck you, Heaven," he said. "No one takes my dad away and expects me to come visit."

  After applying some pressure to the word, he kicked until nothing was left. "To hell with you," Jacob hissed. "To hell with God, Jesus, and the Holy Fucking Ghost." Damn it feels good to let everything out in a burst of destruction. No one would blame him. He had the face of an angel. His mother told him so. These cute features are killing me. Jacob thought. At nine-years-old, he still looked like he was 6. If one more old woman pinches my cheeks and says, "Oh, aren't you a cutie pie." Jacob would grab her by the tits and run in the opposite direction. "Yeah, how much of a sweetie pie am I now?" Jacob whispered to the damaged sign.

  "Get a move on boy." A voice in his head demanded. "Time to get your freak on."

  Jacob gave a small smile at the sign and turned to the door. A few steps brought him face to face with the strangest entryway of his life. Ornate carvings of, is that a slaughtered lamb? He thought. No couldn't be. But Hell, there it was. A creature with scales bearing a sickle-Harvest that damn wheat you dirty bastard. Jacob thought. Appeared to be moving among several baby lambs-swinging for the fences and sending heads rolling like demented bowling balls looking for a set of pins. "That is a nasty vision," the voice in his head was appalled. Well, bite me. Jacob thought back. And don't forget the mustard.

  Enough with the door. Jacob reached for the handle and discovered surprising warmth. Not just a little heat either like you get when you sit on the toilet after your mother has been in there for an hour trying to force out last night's surprise casserole. That kind of heat was comforting. The feel of your ass in the same spot as someone else just moments before. Sometimes Jacob waited until his mother left just so he could get on the toilet in time to feel her remaining presence on the seat. "God you're nasty," the voice chimed in. "I told you with mustard!" Jacob screamed.

  Jacob pulled the handle, opening the door smoothly. Almost too smoothly. Like this building wanted him to come in. Was expecting him. But that's a little too strange. Jacob thought. Or is it? Regardless, I need to get this done. Need to finish up whatever chore I've been brought here to do and get back to more important things like that demented hitchhiker.

  The air inside the church was equally warm. Jacob felt sweat forming under the armpits of his favorite shirt-a lone wolf barking at a full moon. God, this shirt is cool. He thought. Plus, my mom hates it. Bonus. A thin smile played across his lips only to fade a few moments later when he saw the huge man standing inside the door staring at him. And could it be possible this man had no clothes on? Jacob watched the biggest penis he had ever seen swing slowly back and forth. Big, black, and bold like the lettering on the sign outside.

  "Dude, you're naked," Jacob said, unable to take his eyes off the swaying mass.

  "It's clothing optional son," the black man said. "Now move along."

  The guy gave him a friendly push. Jacob stumbled into the room, feeling eyes on him at once.

  "Please take a seat young man," this came from an old woman sitting behind a plastic box full of numbered balls. "The next game is about to begin."

  Jacob took inventory of the room, noticing about half the people wore clothes. He moved mechanically to a seat behind a long, scarred, wooden table. A set of numbered cards were placed neatly in front of the chair. Beside the cards was a blood red dabber-the cap already off. Oh damn. Jacob thought. This is bingo. I freakin' hate this game. No sooner did the idea enter his head, Jacob felt propelled into the seat. His ass felt warm like someone had just gotten up from this very spot. "Could be your mother?" That inner voice was having a field day. "She may have just taken a shit."

  "Stop it," Jacob hissed. "Or I'll add relish."

  The voice went silent. Jacob removed his jacket. Boy, it was really getting hot in here. He noticed several people had beads of sweat pouring off their foreheads. Only the clothed ones though. The naked people seemed very comfortable-too comfortable. Jacob shook his arms free of the confining fabric and placed his hands beside his cards. The wood shot waves of heat into his fingers. With a shaking hand, Jacob grabbed the red dabber. He lifted it above his cards and waited.

  "Fucking finally," a man off to his left said. "I ain't got all year."

  The man stared at him, taking in the length of the boy. Jacob mouthed the words "Fuck you" at him. The man smiled, mouthing a reply of, "Anytime". Jacob's body stiffened. What kind of place is this? He thought, forcing himself to concentrate on the cards instead. Movement caught his attention from the left and Jacob turned his head in time to see, Mr. Anytime, get up and start removing his clothes. Jacob wished he wouldn't. "When in Rome," the man said, skating out of his shirt in seconds. When he reached for his jeans, a big-black hand stopped him.

  "I don't think so, Mr. Thunder," the grey haired woman at the ball box said. "We don't encourage your kind here."

  "That's Big Johnny Thunder to you," the man said, replacing his shirt. "And I thought this place was clothing optional."

  "It is," the woman began. "Just not for you."

  Mr. Thunder brushed away the black hand and sat back down. He kept staring at the ball lady with undisguised contempt. Jacob heard him whisper, "You're no better than me." in the direction of the woman.

  "Ok, let's get started," the elderly caller began. With a flick of some hidden button, the balls came to life. Numbers bounced within the confines of their cage. Jacob felt his heart race-the beating surely loud enough to wake the dead. He moved the dabber over the cards in the form of infinity. I'm losing it, Jaco
b thought. And on that happy note, he heard a slurping sound as the first ball went up the plastic tube.

  ROUND 2

  Jacob's hand shook badly, spraying little dots of red across his cards. Something really bad is happening here and I can't stop it. How the hell can someone like me put an end to anything? Jacob's thoughts roamed even as the first number was called.

  "All in all, here comes the ball," the grey-haired lady said in a powerful voice that didn't quite fit her stature. "Grab a thrill. If you will, with O61."

  Oh man, that doesn't even rhyme. Jacob thought. Obviously, she must be new to the game.

  As if reading his mind, Mr. Thunder (aka. Mr. Anytime) chimed in.

  "Rhyme the numbers, you stupid bitch."

  The black man was on him in a heartbeat.

  "I think it's time you take your clothes off now." The man's rough voice sent chills up Jacob's spine.

  "God damn right it's time," Johnny said, slipping out of his shirt so fast the material flew into Jacob's face.

  Jacob recoiled as if slapped by Satan himself. He toppled over, landing on his back, the shirt wrapped around his head like a demented turban.

  "Oh God...Oh God...Oh God," he gasped as