DISCLAIMER: I do not in any way own any part of the movies House of 1000 Corpses or The Devil's Rejects. I do not own most of these characters. They are the property of Rob Zombie, Liongate films, and whoever else holds a commercial or property license over them. This is fan fiction, intended for the sole purpose of entertainment. No one has been paid to write or host this story. No one has been paid or will have to pay to read it.
Chapter Three
Knee Deep In the Red Tape
It didn't take long for the three of them to discover the processing center was in truth, more whacked than the DMV. While they were able to find line Q fairly easily, as they were standing there, waiting, they could see people being handed piles of forms and walking away at a fast rate, yet the line barely seemed to move at all.
"This fucking sucks," Baby fumed, getting more and more bored by the minute. "Why do we have to stand in this dumb old line anyway?"
"Like I'm fucking pleased about this?" Otis shot back.
"God, you are such an asshole," Baby complained.
"And you're such a fucking bitch." Otis mimiced her voice.
"Can't you just once cut the kid some slack?" Spaulding snapped. "She don't deserve you climbing down her throat all the goddamned time."
"Fuck off, Clownman."
"Gonna make me, paste face?"
"Maybe I fucking will."
"Better have a fucking army to back you up, or it'll just end with my boot up your ass!"
"Oh, that's right, the two of you fight like a couple of kids." Baby glared at the two of them. "Fuck! you two can't get along for ten goddamned seconds, can you?"
People in the room were starting to look over at the three of them, but they didn't seem to notice. They were family, and families always seemed to find something to argue about, it didn't really mean anything. It also helped to pass the time, which gave them no motivation to stop.
Just as it looked as if Spaulding and Otis were about to stop snapping at each other, and start getting physical, they reached the front of the line. Behind the counter was a ghostly white looking demon who cleared his throat. "Are you three going to fight all day, or do you want your forms?"
"We'll take the forms," Spaulding said.
"A wise choice," the demon said, handing the three of them enormous stacks of paper. "When you're finished filling these out, take them to line A."
"What the hell are all these forms for?" Otis asked as he accepted his stack.
"These forms give you permission to stand in line A."
Otis stared at at him in disbelief. "You wanna repeat that, Casper?"
"No, not really," The demon's expression indicated displeasure. "And my name is not Casper. And don't even ask me what it is, because I'm not telling you. I don't have to tell my name to the likes of you."
Ker-ist, who'da thought demons could be such sensitive bastards, Otis thought. He glared at the white figure, thinking that if Casper the Demon was that sensitive, he, Otis, could probably intimidate him.
"What happens when we get through the A line?" Baby asked, pretending not to notice the "show down" between the demon and Otis.
"You'll ether get form 786.3 B, or 786.3 C, depending on how good your penmanship is on the Q-4760's, which are the forms I just gave you."
"And what happens when we fill out the 786.3 forms?" Spaulding asked.
"You'll have to stand in either the B line or the C line," the demon said. As Otis opened his mouth to speak, he raised his hand, cutting him off. "Don't ask me to explain what happens in line B or C. I'm just a clerk for the Q line, I don't know what the any lines besides this line and the A line are for."
"What happens if we decide not to fill out the goddamned forms?" Otis asked, still attempting to brow beat the demon.
"We send you to Asmodeus and his minions who will anal rape you and your friends for the next thousand years, give or take a hundred or so." The demon smiled slightly, revealing teeth that looked as if moss were growing on them. "Then, you'll have to come back and fill out the forms anyway."
"You're fucking kidding, right?" Spaulding shook his head.
"No, I'm not," The demon said. "But, if you want to call my bluff, please, feel free. We haven't had someone object to the forms since the breathers discovered writing, and Asmodeus and his minions are getting quite tense. He'd love to have three ass slaves to enjoy for a bit."
"Well, I guess Asmodeus is going to be disappointed," Baby said, as she turned from the demon. "C'mon guys, the sooner we fill these forms out, the sooner we'll get to the next batch."
"That's the spirit," The demon said, clearly not a victim of Otis' intimidation attempts. "It was completely not my pleasure to serve you, have a rotten eternity."
They didn't even bother to answer, but went directly to where the counters were. They had to wait quite awhile before they were even able to get up to the counters. They would have started using each other's backs to work on the forms, but the only pens were the ones chained to the counters and they wouldn't reach far enough.
Standing next to Spaulding was short, skinny, older man, struggling to fill out his paperwork. There was something familiar about the guy, something he couldn't place for a moment, then it hit him. "Albert Fish?"
The man turned and looked at him. "Yes? Do we know each other?"
"No," Spaulding said. "We've never met, but I've heard all about you. Hell, one of the exibits in my museum of 'mayhem is all 'bout you, you're famous!"
"I am?" The man looked puzzled as if he couldn't understand at all, why he would be remembered after he was gone.
"Shit, yeah," Cutter said. "But hell, you died in 1936, didn't you?"
Mr. Fish nodded, as he began gathering up the forms he'd been filling out. "What year did you die?" he asked.
"1978."
The old man sighed. "These forms and these lines are so difficult." He started jabbing at his palm with one of the chained pens, frowning when he realized the pens weren't able to cause any real damage. "I'm about to get into line DDDD, so I'm almost to the end. Uhm, would you happen to have any pins on you?" He looked up at Spaulding, with a hopeful expression on his face.
"Huh?" Spaulding looked puzzled for a moment, then shot the old man a disgusted look. "Fuck no, I don't have any pins, needles or any other shit for you to go sticking in your groin or anywhere else on your damned body Sweet Baby Jesus on a painted pony, it's one thing to kill people and eat 'em, that's just fine, but that needle poking shit is just fucking sick."
"I know," Albert Fish said with a sigh. "But it hurts so good." Hugging his forms to his frail chest, he shuffled off.
"You'd think bein' dead would fix the man's head a bit," Spaulding muttered as he turned his attention to the forms.
"Well, as Mama always said, there are a lot of sick, twisted, fucks out there," Baby murmered as she studied her forms.
Otis had completely ignored the whole Albert Fish exchange in favorof working on the forms. There was a space up at the top to write your name, which Otis did, but the rest of the form was different. It wasn't really a form, it was more like one of those mumbo-jumbo, head shrinker, "theres no right or wrong answer, just tell us how you feel" tests.
Section One.
Circle the most appropriate answer to the questions below.
1: Children are
a: The only hope for the future of mankind
b: Innocent little dears
c: Annoying at best
d: Delicious with hot sauce.
2: Cake is to frosting, as sex is to
a: Love
b: Body fluids
c: Reproduction
d: Killing
Don't tell me this is gonna be one of those trick quizzes where ever answer is D, Otis wondered.
Baby had made it through the first page, but on the second page, she started tapping her pen. "This makes no sense!"
"What?" Otis asked.
"Listen to this: 'The human subject, as processed through a vehicle must first be turned into an image by means of it's own ' How do I pick an anwer to that? It's just nonsense."
"Does one of those letters below have 'serial logic' next to it?" Otis asked.
Baby looked. "Yeah, it's here. That's the answer?"
Otis nodded. "Use your head, Baby, that's an easy one."
"Shit, I never would have figure that out," Spaulding said. "Okay, if you're so good at this, maybe you can answer this one for me. 'The effort to escape the mapping of form and beauty into a representation of exercised ghosts, by way of fluid visibility of boundries, eroded into direct participation of a work of art, is in fact a substitite for ' Got a snappy answer to that one?"
Otis shook his head and rolled his eyes. "The revolution, you jackass."
Spaulding looked at the paper. "Sonofabitch, that's one of the answers! I'm starting to wonder if you wrote this test."
Otis alternated his gaze between one than the other for a few second, wondering how come they could be so thick at times. Sure, most people often didn't understand the true ways of the world as he did, which was why he had learned to speak and even act, more like the cattle when he had to. But for his sister and stepfather? People who he knew weren't rabbits or cattle, not able to understand these simple things? He shook his head and went back to his test.
Not all the questions on the form were multiple choice. There were 50 pages or so of "Yes or No" questions too. And after that, were some math problems and after that were essay questions. By the time Otis came to the essay questions, he was getting really tired of this. He started answering the essay questions with the same answer, "Wouldn't you like to know, fuckhead." What are they going to do, he thought, not like they can kill me, right?
While time seemed to move weirdly in the processing center, as it had in the hall, by the time all three of them were done with their first batch of forms, they knew more than a few minutes had passed. Otis finished his forms first and told them he'd go and stand in line. When Spaulding and Baby finished, the joined him. This really seemed to annoy the people who'd come to stand in line behind Otis and there was some griping about that. Otis turned around and stared that the cronic whiners. They looked at Otis and decided it was time to stop whining. This pleased Otis, but didn't surprise him. I fear no one in the valley of the shadow of death, because there's no meaner motherfucker in the valley than me.
To amuse themselves while waiting in yet another ridiculously long line, they started pointing to people in other lines and guessing how they died. "That guy?" Baby said, pointing to a tall, skinny guy with a horrible case of acne. "Paid some hooker to blow him. When he came, he went. Heart exploded."
Otis sniggered, imagining that, but shook his head. "Nah, he looks like the type of idiot who got too curious. Probably tried to stick his dick in the toaster or something."
"Heard about a guy who electrocuted himself at the Pussy Liquors," Spaulding said. "He tried to jerk off into the coin slot on those peep show movies and electrocuted himself."
"Yeah, heard about that," Otis said. "That's why they got them signs now that warn you not to do that."
"That's just sick!" Baby's nose wrinkled in disgust.
Spaulding laughed. "I seen those signs. 'Do Not Ejaculate Into Coin Slots For Fear Of Electrocution.' Crack me up, what motherfucker can fit it in a slot meant for a quarter?"
"Some bugfucker," Baby said.
"Not me," Otis said. He pointed to a girl wearing a leather dominatrix outfit and holding a whip. "She died at a Tupperware party."
Baby burst into her high pitched, cackling laughter. "What do you suppose killed her, Otis?"
Otis thought. "The hostess poisoned the jello salad."
Spaulding snorted. "She didn't have to poison it. That jello shit is poison in the box anyway. They make that shit outa horses hooves. Don't wash 'em either before they use 'em."
Again, Baby's nose wrinkled in disgust and added a shudder to it. Baby liked horses. "That's not true!"
"Swear to God!" Spaulding said.
A sudden silence went over the entire room and every clerk behind the counter stared at them coldly.
"I get the feelin' God ain't the person to talk 'bout here," Otis said.
"Fuck 'em, they can't deal," Spaulding said. "Dumbasses."
As expected, the line moved extremely slowly. The only advantage is that being dead, they didn't get hungry or tired. The continued to amuse themselves by insulting everyone else who was waiting too, until they finally got up front. This time the demon behind the counter was a yellow green color that reminded Otis of snot.
"Do you have your forms?" the demon asked.
Great, the fucker has to have a nasily voice too. Otis thought as the three of them handed over their forms.
The demon took them and started to automatically hand them another stack of forms, then stopped abruptly. Otis's form was on the top. He read the name. Then he thumbed through and read the other two names. He looked at them, then back at the papers. Back to them, back to the papers. Them, papers, them, papers, over and over again.
"Uh, is somethin' wrong?" Spaulding finally asked.
"Are these..." the Demon started to ask, then his voice trailed off. He frowned at the papers and tried again. "These are yours, and these are your names?" He pointed to the tops of the forms, where the names were written.
"Well, duh!" Spaulding rolled his eyes. "Of course it's us. Why would we lie?"
"Because this is Hell," the demon said, also rolling his eyes. "People who come here aren't known for their honesty."
"You wouldn't know sarcasm if it bit you on your slimy snot colored ass," Otis snapped. "Yes, it's us."
"So, you're Otis B. Driftwood, you're Captain Spaulding, and you're Baby Firefly?" The demon pointed to each one of them in turn.
"Yyyyeeeessss," Otis dragged out the word for several seconds. "Is there a point to this, or are you just tryin' t'piss me off? Cause if it's the second, you're really doing a good job."
"Oh dear. It's finally happened." The demon studied the forms shaking his head.
"What finally happened?" Baby asked.
The Demon ignored them for a few seconds, looking at the tops of all the forms as if they would change at his stare. "Okay, you three are going to have to go sit on the bench." He pointed behind them.
The three of them looked in the direction his finger was pointing. All they saw for a moment, were the lines and the souls waiting. No bench. Then, there was a brief shimmer and suddenly there was an uncomfortable looking wooden bench. "Uh, why?" Spaulding asked.
"You'll find out soon enough," the demon said. "Just, please, go sit on the bench and wait."
"For what?" Otis asked.
"Again," the demon said, "you'll find out soon enough."
