Ugly Things

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: Yes I need an editor. No, I do not want an editor. Yes, there's too many people to keep track of. Yes, it jumps around too much. Yes, it's too short. Yes, it's too long. Yes, it's in the wrong category. Yes, this is stupid shit. And yes, I suck.

Just scroll down to the bottom, leave comments based on the 'Disclaimers' alone and have a nice day.

For everyone else, I hope you enjoy this little tale.

Prologue.

Arnold Prentiss helped Terri Prentiss, his wife into the low slung 2015 Corvette.

"New models are out," he hinted as he got into the driver's seat.

He pulled out of the parking lot of Dr. Farbacher's medical suite and headed north on Highway 19, toward Elgee, Louisiana. Terrie clutched onto his arm, giggling happily.

"Let's see; you're sixty six now, ooh!" Terrie teased. "That means you'll be eighty four when she graduates high school!"

"He," Arnold smiled.

The twenty nine year old woman suddenly had a thought.

"You are happy, right?" she asked. "You do want the baby, right?"

He had assured her he was thrilled with the idea that she might be pregnant when she'd come to him with her suspicions. He'd reassured her as he made the appointment with Dr. Mark Farbacher. He had re-reassured her as they sat in the young doctor's office, waiting on the results.

But now, the attractive brunette looked doubtful.

The sixty four year old Arnold Prentiss had met the twenty seven year old Terrie Huvall at the St. Ann's Animal Shelter fund raiser. The beauty was one of the volunteers and Arnold was one of the donors. Arnold could not care less if every dog and cat in St. Ann Parish died tomorrow. But the business man knew, one thousand dollars donated meant tens of thousands of dollars' worth of good will, good public relations.

Terrie knew she was attractive; she'd heard it all her life. She had a sweet smile, large brown doe eyes, and large breasts. The few donors that did show up for the wine and cheese function had engaged her in small talk while dropping a few hundred dollars into the bucket. Their eyes did not travel above her low cut top.

Then Arnold had stepped up and dropped a five thousand dollar check into her bucket. Five thousand dollars got him her phone number and a date. He took her to Henri's, an exclusive French restaurant in Elgee. From there, they took a helicopter tour of the Atchafalaya Basin. And then it was to his large home for sex.

Arnold Jerome Prentiss wasn't an unattractive man. He just wasn't a very attractive man either. His features were a little pinched looking, his hair was a dirty gray color, and his brown eyes were mean little slits in his pinched face.

His chest sank in, his belly stuck out, and his legs were withered sticks. If Arnold Prentiss walked into a wall while sporting a boner, his sharp nose would strike the wall first.

Terrie was no virgin when she fell into Arnold's large bed. She'd had four men and two women partners. And the men had done exactly what Arnold Prentiss had done. Grabbed and mauled her breasts, slobbered all over them, jammed their cocks in and pumped twice. The two women had lavished attention to her breasts while rubbing themselves to orgasm. So, Arnold's small penis and lack of stamina was no disappointment to Terrie.

Less than a year after the fun-raiser, Arnold asked Terrie to marry him and she agreed.

Now, traveling north on Highway 19, Terrie again asked Arnold if he was happy about the baby.

The car crossed over Highway 52. Suddenly an eighteen wheeler pulled up behind the powerful automobile. Arnold's blood ran cold as he saw another eighteen wheeler pull into the southbound lane, also travelling north. Up ahead, he could see two dark dots on the two lane blacktop road.

This particular stretch of Highway 19 had almost no shoulder for the seven miles from Highway 52 to Highway 54. Deep drainage ditches ran the length on both sides of the narrow road.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Arnold cursed as the eighteen wheeler directly behind them edged even closer to his bumper.

Terrie looked around, puzzled. She could see that there was a large rig behind them, and a second rig, travelling the wrong way edging nearly abreast of them. Ahead, there were two dark dots travelling toward them.

Arnold punched the blue tooth connection on the dashboard.

"Yes?" a harsh voice cut through Arnold's classical music.

"It's supposed to happen when she's travelling south," Arnold barked out. "We're travelling north; I'm in the car."

"Oh?" the voice asked, sounding amused.

"Call it off," Arnold ordered.

"Call it... Why, Arnold? Why?" Terrie sobbed out, realization hitting her.

"Because, you fucking slut, I have a vasectomy twenty years ago," Arnold shrilled.

"Sorry, Mr. Prentiss, no can do," the man chuckled.

"Look, God damn it, I'll pay double," Arnold screamed.

"It's not about the money, Mr. Prentiss," the man said, voice now hard. "It's about my sister. Remember Gloria?"

"She drowned," Arnold sobbed. "It was an accident! She drowned, God damn it!"

But there was only a metallic click.

Arnold would have appreciated the choreography. When the four tractor trailers came to a stop, there was less than a foot between their front bumpers. Then tractor number one, the one heading south in the wrong lane backed up. He rolled over the wreckage of the 2015 Corvette that had slid underneath him. The driver kept the trailer straight. Then he pulled behind the other southbound tractor. The northbound tractor pulled forward, further crushing the remains. Then the northbound tractor in the wrong lane backed up, swerved into the correct lane, and also ran over the remains of the unfortunate vehicle.

Then the driver of the second, now northbound tractor stopped again, just past the scattered pieces.

Darren Ladeaux had been fighting a losing battle with heroin addiction. He now slept soundly against the passenger window of the tractor. The driver reached over, jerked Darren into the driver's seat, and climbed down.

"Huh?" Darren mumbled.

The driver got into the second southbound tractor, nodded to his partner and the partner blew his horn. The first southbound tractor trailer started and the second one followed.

The entire ballet took less than four minutes from the time that Arnold and Terrie had crossed Highway 52 to the time that Eric Rodriguez, Gloria's brother radioed in about witnessing a tractor trailer running over a sports car.

Darren Ladeaux would be charged with vehicular homicide but would die from untreated Hepatitis before the start of the trial.

Chapter One.

Barbara Hinton drove her 1978 Z28 to the Hinton Chevrolet dealership. Once again, her Boston 8-track tape had become stuck. Daddy said she shoved it in too hard, but Barbara knew she did not.

"God stuck again?" Zeke, the head mechanic asked as Barbra eased her two hundred and forty seven pounds out of the car.

"Yeah and I didn't do nothing," Barbara said before Zeke could accuse her of somehow getting the tape stuck.

"Hey, it happens, Zeke shrugged.

Arnold Prentiss was a new salesman at the dealership. But the twenty eight year old was already making a name for himself. He was an aggressive salesman and knew how to get the customer to agree to those added little options that pushed the cost of their new automobile upward.

"Hey there; while Zeke is working on your car, want to take a look at some of our other automobiles?" Arnold asked the obese eighteen year old girl.

She smirked at the man.

"Uh, I'm Barbara, my daddy owns this place," she smugly said.

"I know," Arnold smiled. "Saw your picture on his desk."

He took her pudgy hand and put it on his arm as he led her away from the service bay.

"Was just using that as an excuse to talk to you," Arnold admitted.

By the time Arnold and Barbara had looked at some of the gaudy conversion vans, the 'love vans' on their lot, Zeke had her Boston tape out and sitting on her passenger seat.

"Oh, hey, Boston, huh? They're playing next Thursday at the Biloxi Amphitheater," Arnold said. "Want to go?"

Glen and Peggy Hinton absolutely forbade their eighteen year old daughter from going to the concert with a twenty eight year old man. It was a school night. She was only eighteen, he was too old for her.

So she snuck out of the house and met Arnold at the corner. He'd borrowed his neighbor's love van, and had also bought three marijuana joints.

The concert was loud and raucous. Barbara drank beer for the first time, she smoked weed for the first time. And behind a gas station on I-10, at three forty one in the morning, she fucked for the first time.

Barbara was grounded for a month and Glen was sorely tempted to fire the brash salesman. But Arnold's numbers were good, too good to justify letting him go.

And two months after the Boston concert, Barbara confessed that she was pregnant.

The wedding was a hurried one and Glen gave them a honeymoon in Hawaii. Arnold was sure that the Hawaiian honeymoon was meant as a punishment. Fucking a two hundred and fifty pound girl in the back of a dark van while drunk and stoned had been hard enough. But seeing a five foot, two inch two hundred and fifty pound girl in a bikini, then having to fuck her was the very definition of excruciating.

Barbara learned how to suck cock on their honeymoon. She also learned that she liked alcohol; Arnold plied her with numerous drinks. If she passed out from drinking too much, perhaps he could avoid having sex with her.

Fat, drunk sunburned, and happy, Barbara set up house in the small apartment Arnold was renting. Within a month of their marriage, Barbara had whined, cajoled, and wheedled her father into cosigning on a home loan.

Barbara liked sucking cock, she liked fucking, and she liked these things almost as much as she liked eating and drinking. Her weight ballooned from two forty seven to three ten by the time she gave birth to Edward Jerome Prentiss.

From the moment Eddie gave his first cry, Arnold felt love, felt a connection to another human being. The child was perfect, with a mop of dark curly hair, long eyelashes, cherubic plump face.

Glen and Peggy doted on their first grandchild as well.

Suddenly, Barbara felt resentment, anger. She was Glen and Peggy's only child. All of her life, she'd had their undivided attention. All of her life, she had been the one doted upon, the one coddled and spoiled.

So she drank, and she ate. By Eddie's first birthday, Barbara tipped the scales at three hundred and thirty eight pounds.

Arnold continued to hold high numbers, consistently outselling the others at Hinton Chevrolet by several automobiles each month.

"So, Prentiss, what's your secret?" an older, more experienced salesman asked.

"Easy, I don't give a fuck," Arnold said. "I don't give a fuck about their shit ass little problems, about their mortgage, their high interest loans, how many kids they got. Only thing I give a fuck about is they're driving out of here in one of my cars."

Glen suffered his first heart attack two days after Eddie's fourth birthday. His second heart attack reduced the big, burly, gregarious man to a mumbling, drooling, shuffling man. Arnold approached Glen and Peggy with an offer to buy Hinton Chevrolet from them.

By now, Glen and Peggy had not warmed up to the brash man, even if he was the father of their precious grandson. But the sale of the dealership would give them the freedom to do some of those things they'd been putting off.

Two months after Hinton Chevrolet became Prentiss Chevrolet, Glen suffered his third and final heart attack. Arnold held his wife's flabby hand as she sobbed bitter tears. Arnold held her, comforted her, even made love to her the evening after her father's funeral.

Peggy did not cope well with the loss of her husband, her first and only love. Less than a month after his death, Peggy poured herself a glass of white wine and washed down a few sleeping pills. By the time the bottle was empty, Peggy had consumed all of the sleeping pills.

The housekeeper found Peggy the next morning, laying on her bed, a photograph of Glen Hinton in her hand.

It was the photograph of Glen Hinton in his high school football uniform. He had been a handsome, rugged young man then.

Arnold arranged for Peggy to be buried with that photograph. Again, he held his wife's hammy hand. Arnold comforted his wife while she sobbed bitterly. And he again climbed on top of her and made love to her.

Three weeks after Eddie's fifth birthday, the three hundred and ninety one pound Barbara was in the kitchen of their home, gorging herself on a gallon of Blue Bell Strawberries and Cream ice cream while the curly headed Eddie was outside playing in his front yard.

"Hi!" The smiling man said. "You haven't seen my puppy, have you?"

Arnold did not hold his wife's hand at the funeral of his beloved child. He did not comfort her. He did not climb on top of her and make love to her.

At four hundred and twelve pounds, Barbara Margaret Hinton Prentis decided to go on a diet. She stocked up on diet pills and fresh fruits and vegetables.

By the end of a month, four weeks into her near-starvation diet, she'd only whittled seventeen pounds from her frame. She doubled up on her intake of water, doubled up on her intake of diuretics and diet pills and cut out nearly all food.

By the end of the next month, she'd managed to lose fifty three pounds. She could not enjoy how she looked, though; her eyesight was beginning to fail. Her hair was coming out in patches and there was a hideous rash beginning to form on her neck and chest.

Someone suggested laxatives and sea salt enemas

Arnold Prentiss came home after working from nine in the morning until ten at night, his normal work day. It occurred to him that he had not seen or heard Barbara in a few days. Prentiss Chevrolet was closed on Sundays and Arnold could not remember if he'd even seen her the previous Sunday.

"Barbara?" he called out.

He walked into her bedroom and looked at the unmade bed. He pursed his lips; an unmade bed was one of his many pet peeves. It just looked slovenly.

"Barbara?" he called out.

He steeled himself and opened the door to her bathroom. Another persons' bathroom habits was something that Arnold found very unpleasant. One of his first acts upon purchasing Hinton Chevrolet was to have a private bathroom installed in his office.

"Barbara," he called out, unwilling to set foot into her bathroom.

"Aaarrhhnuld," Barbara gurgled as she slumped against the wall, perched on her commode.

Arnold called for an ambulance. University Medical Center in Lafayette, Louisiana sent out an ambulance, the two paramedics grunted and groaned and managed to get the severely dehydrated Barbara onto the gurney. But in the struggle and strain, her heart gave out and she died of heart failure before the paramedics could even wheel her out of the bathroom.

Chapter 2

Arnold J. Prentiss played the part of grieving widower well. And, as spouse to the only child of Glen and Peggy Hinton, Arnold profited well from being a grieving widower.

He stayed single for four years. That is not to say that he stayed celibate, but none of his guests stayed longer than a few nights.

In 1988, Arnold met Gloria Rodriguez as the twenty two year old woman was looking for a cheap, reliable car. Her long black hair hung down to her ankles, but even the curtain of hair could not hide her delectable rear end as she bent over to peer at the sticker price of the small automobile.

When she stood up, a disgusted frown on her pretty face, her large chest was visible to the salesperson that strolled toward the potential customer. Arnold had seen Gloria first, though, and cut Dale Greene off before Dale could greet Gloria.

Though he had not been on the sales floor in years, Arnold switched into sales mode. While Dale contented himself with showing a pickup truck to a young couple, Arnold laid on the full sales pitch.

They were married six months after Gloria Rodriguez stepped onto his car lot and Arnold actually took off of work for a week long honeymoon.

Hawaii with a morbidly obese woman was torture. Hawaii with a twenty two year old woman with a deeply tanned body that was made for a bright yellow bikini, and an obscene red monokini was bliss.

If Gloria noticed that her husband simply did not belong on a beach, did not belong out in public in anything but a full suit, she did not let on. She played the loving, attentive, flirtatious bride to her much older spindly legged, sunken chest husband.

Alone in their hotel room, Gloria showed Arnold her skills at cock sucking. She also showed him her skills at faking orgasm. He didn't realize she was showing her skills as an actress; he honestly believed she was having screaming, monumental orgasms every time he shoved his cock into her dry pussy.

Seven months after their wedding, Gloria was sitting at the breakfast table, eating her usual waffles with strawberry preserves. Suddenly, she bolted from the table. She barely managed to reach the bathroom before her coffee and three bites of waffle came rushing out. Arnold was disgusted and shoved his own breakfast away. He hurriedly left for work. At lunchtime, he did call Gloria and she assured him that she now felt fine.

The second morning she again managed a few bites before becoming ill. This time, Arnold made the connection and happily called Dr. Morris, the Ob/Gyn that had helped Barbara with the birth of Eddie.

"But I'm on the pill," Gloria whined.

"Accidents happen," Arnold gleefully stated.

At Dr. Morris's office, the old doctor performed a routine physical, took blood, and promised they'd have the results the following day. While in his office, Gloria began coughing, a dry hacking cough.

"Sweetheart," she croaked to Arnold, "Could you get me some water?"

Arnold got to his feet and left the office. Then he put his ear to the door.

"Doctor, there any way tell the race of this baby?" Arnold heard.

He got a cone cup of water from the water dispenser and brought it into the office.

"Thank you, Sweetheart," Gloria smiled.

Arnold took his seat and looked at Dr. Morris. He noticed that the older man had trouble meeting his eyes.

Arnold also noticed that Gloria had no difficulty meeting his eyes.

"Like I said, we should have the results, call me in the morning, all righty?" Dr. Morris said, clearing his throat.

Four days later, Arnold held a sobbing Gloria as she told him of the 'miscarriage' she'd suffered.

Her tears were real; Gloria was Catholic and believed that abortion was a grievous sin. But she was more than just a little afraid of Arnold; he had money, he had power. And he was truly sociopathic. She'd observed, Arnold Prentiss had absolutely no empathetic skills.

Arnold held his wife as she sobbed for the loss of her child, but shed no tears of his own. Then he fixed her a cup of chamomile tea. Into the hot liquid, he stirred in four of Barbara's valium tablets, after crushing them.

"Here, Sweetheart," he crooned. "Help you sleep."

His crooning tone of voice should have been a warning to Gloria. She took the tea and sipped it, smiling at the teaspoon of honey he'd stirred into the hot liquid.

She finished the cup, refused a second cup, then attempted to get up from the couch. Her legs would not support her and she stumbled.

"Come on, Sweetheart," he cheerfully said. "Maybe a little fresh air."

Arnie, it's cold out here," she mumbled as the early March air whipped around them.

She struggled with him as he undressed her.

"Arnie, there's, we're outside," she mumbled. "Come on, I just had a miscarriage, I don't want to make love. I'll blow you, all right?"