/lit/ - Literature

“Why’s, you’re Travis Clyde Tuckton, ain;t ya!”she drawled her verbal celebration once she slid her purdy cut-offed jeaned backside inta the truck. “Why’s I remember ya from way back when.”Her purdy freckly face blushed a bit. “Don’t mind tellin’ya now, I kinda had a fixin’for ya.”“Well I gots ta be honest, Iree,”Travis admitted, “Fore I got my butt throwed inta the county poky, I hadda mighty fixin’on you too!”“Ya did!”Travis slammed his big knuckly fist fight smack-dab inta her forehead, and her little lights went right out. then, pickup still rumblin’, he tied her up but good, gagged her, and stuffed her curvy skinny body down inta the footwell. Next thing he knowed, he was carryin’her in like a sack of farm feed inta Grandpap’s work room, and took ta settin’her down on the big cherrywood table Grandpap made boots on. “One of them dirt-eatin’blondie Reids!”Grandpap exalted. “Good job, Travis! Now tie her down on the table and git them silly, whory clothes off her.”Travis saw and didn’t even have ta be tolt, ‘cos there was eye-hooks screwed inta each corner’a the table. Little Iree was still out fer the count, so Travis cut her ropes and tied her right back down to the table, on her back, and her head hangin’over the table edge. “What I do next, Grandpap?”Grandpap tittered, stroked his whiskers, and wheeled right up ta the table. In one crabbed hand, though, he gripped the power drill, which were fitted with a 3-inch hole saw. “Travis, it’s sorta like anything, anything takes practice, ya know. Like Thomas down the roadside bar? that ol’coot kin play the washboard just as pretty as you please, and Conga Powers, boy, he kin git ta pickin’the banja like nobody’s business. Know why, son?”The calculative powerhouse that was Travis’mind ticked right away. “Practice?”he guessed. “S’right, boy. Practice. And as far as cuttin’open a splittail’s coconut goes, I gots a lotta practice, I kin tell ya. Me an’yer daddy, see —and God rest his soul —we’se got ta be the best head-humpers from here ta New Orleens.”And with that fine testimony Grandpap squeezed the drill’s trigger, paused, then applied it to the top of Iree Reid’s purdy blond head. Made quite a racket, it did, an’travis’nose twitched at the smell’a burnin’hair’n bone, but it weren’t another few more seconds ‘fore Grandpap set down the drill.

I need a book with this feeling. Pic related.