Sticky Buns: Novel by Robert Shroud

By Robert Shroud

Venturing out one evening for a snack, 27 year old Gavin Knight is set upon by a winged succubus. It is the most incredible sensual experience of his young life. The only problem? He is unsure whether it actually happened.

He shares the experience with Ron, an aspiring writer friend, who then crafts a story about it, uploads it onto the internet, and is met with a gruesome death the same night. Before succumbing to the reaper’s hold, Ron phones Gavin with dying breath clues to unravel who is behind his murder.

Enter John Sheridan, the lead investigator in the murder case, who gives Gavin sufficient reason not to trust him. Jack and his crew, who feed him an explanation of what is happening that sounds off the deep end. The B&B boys, who would like nothing more than to settle an old score and find out what he is hiding.

Then there is Teresa, his crazy ex, who still has a key to his apartment. Let’s not forget Trevor, his best friend, whose wife, Charlene, happens to be in love with the deceased. If that isn't enough, old man Wallace shares with Gavin something about his experience that catapults his mind among the stars.

And there is Gavin himself, who in the process of navigating the turmoil in his life, deciphering clues from the grave, and narrowly escaping death, discovers he is not who he has thought his whole life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Shroud
• Release date: Oct 21, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301776641

Robert Shroud

I could regale you with a biography which would include snippets of my life. I could highlight for you over forty years of both accomplishments and failures. Well, maybe not failures. I’ve never read an ‘about the author’ that included falling out of a tree in your youth. I have no grandiose yarns to spin here. I am just a guy who has always wanted to be a writer. I have been writing off and on since the age of twelve. What I want to do more than anything is concentrate on delivering you, the reader, quality works. If I can do that, then I believe over time you will come to know more about me than you ever wanted to. Sincerely, Robert Shroud. [e-mail]

Book preview

Sticky Buns

Novel by Robert Shroud

Also by Robert Shroud:

Irony–The Animal

Irony 2–Gin Soaked Dreams

Irony 3–Fare is Fair

Deep Within

©Copyright 2013-2014 by Robert Shroud

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition

To Betty, Chris, Jennifer,

and Thoughts.com friends.

Contents

Chapter 1-Sticky Buns by Ron McDonald.

Chapter 2-My Name is Gavin Knight and This is Real.

Chapter 3-Stick’s Pool Hall.

Chapter 4-Delayed Reaction.

Chapter 5-Ghoul Face Cop.

Chapter 6-It Wasn’t Me.

Chapter 7-The Night From Hell Begins.

Chapter 8-AAAIIIEEE!

Chapter 9-What Did I Ever Do To You People?

Chapter 10-Jack.

Chapter 11-Not By A Long Shot.

Chapter 12-One Love.

Chapter 13-Blood Fire.

Chapter 14-Really! Freaking! Tired!

Chapter 15-Appreciated Silence.

Chapter 16-Relations.

Chapter 17-The Sight-Say It Again.

Chapter 18-Three’s A Crowd.

Chapter 19-Dubious-at-best.

Chapter 20-Access Denied-Sweet Science.

Chapter 21-You’re Both Right.

Chapter 22-Polo Pony Epiphanies.

Chapter 23-Gavin Knight! That’s Who!

Chapter 24-Beggar’s Chance.

Chapter 25-Once You See.

Chapter 26-Trusting The Force.

Chapter 27-Once Again Into The Belly.

Chapter 28-Can’t Live Forever.

Chapter 29-Horses Don’t Have Pigs.

Chapter 30-Shibosa Lugal.

Chapter 31-Bye Bye Kansas.

Chapter 32-All Hell

Chapter 33-There Could Be A Million Reasons.

Chapter 34-Crazy Bonds.

Chapter 35-Re-Acquaintances.

Chapter 36-I Will Cross That Bridge If I Live.

Chapter 37-In The Wind.

Epilogue.

About the Author

Deep Within Bonus Chaps

Contact

Success is not measured by the heights one attains,

but by the obstacles one overcomes in its attainment.

- Booker T. Washington

1.

Sticky Buns

by Ron McDonald

I wasn’t particularly spooked by the darkness brought on by the setting sun, but there was something about this night which quickened my pace a bit. There were ominous signs about. Damn this sweet tooth of mine! I was settled in, the game was about to start, and I was anxious to see what the kid pitcher, just called up from the minors, had for an arm.

I had my beverage and my chips, and I thought there was at least one sticky bun left from the box I purchased the week before. There was, but then I remembered stuffing it in my face this morning, before leaving for work. The empty box stared at me. In no time, my sweet tooth shoved me out the door.

You still have ten minutes, it said, The pregame is all talk. You hardly ever watch that anyway. If you hurry, you won’t even miss the first pitch.

***

Dark creatures in the night, dispensing mischievous deeds.

Hell's angels set free, wreaking havoc as is their want.

Winged, night-spawned shadows, lurking in the folds of blackness.

Nefarious specters looming at every peripheral sector.

***

And that is when I saw her. She appeared out of nowhere. I stopped in my tracks through the back alley shortcut I was taking. It was a winged demon fantasy right before my eyes. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Where had she come from?

The night felt heavier than usual with a draping cloak of darkness, like someone painted liquid black over the night sky. But, what I was seeing was surely some sort of mirage. Didn’t mirages only happen in the desert? If that was the case, then the chicken sandwich I ate for lunch contained a significant dose of salmonella.

There was something else I noticed; she was naked! I didn’t know if in the world she came from, she would be considered fully clothed or not. All I know is that in this one, other than the wings and steer horns atop her head, she was a voluptuous knockout. Just think Beyonce`, with black gothic eagle feathers and devilish horns.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t do anything, but stare at her mischievous grin, and since I was a guy, everything else. Man, if she wasn’t some sort of bat out of hell, and at that moment scaring the crap out of me, I would have at least asked her for her number. I had a feeling, though, that it would not be covered in my Verizon plan.

Sir, we did not make a mistake. You made ten calls to Hades last week. Tax and surcharges were calculated correctly on your zillion dollar billing statement.

In the middle of me talking to the phone company in my head, she descended on me. In a whoosh of night air, she was atop me. My plastic bag of sticky buns went flying, without me being conscious of its landing place. I went from frozen upright, to staring up at the night sky on my back. I didn’t hit the ground so much as I was placed there.

She straddled me and my world went light. I know what you are thinking. Usually, that sentence reads, My world went dark. Well, to hell with how the sentence is supposed to read. I am telling you what happened. My world went literally light. And not just any light, the full spectrum of colors!

I saw greens, blues, violets, and colors I could not recognize nor pronounce. They swirled, danced, and caressed each other. It looked like a whole of a box of Crayola crayons having an orgy, and a hoe down, at the same time.

It was beyond describable, and the feeling, down there, and all over my body? If bliss and ecstasy had a kid, his name would be what I was feeling while she rode me. My entire being felt it, but the concentration of it was between my legs.

As suddenly as the light had come, it was away. Cascades of darkness enveloped my being. It threw me at first. Then, the feeling of it hit. My god! If the light was the child of bliss and ecstasy, then the dark wave was the offspring of ‘gotta have it’ and ‘can’t live without it.’

Crests of heat, then cool, then warm, then waterfall, then earthquake, then geyser, then eclipse, then fire, then the moon and flippin’ stars, hit me one after the other. My body writhed in the consumption of her rhythms and the ripples of her emanations.

If this was death, and she was sucking the life out of me through my manhood, then the living were all suckers for trying to hold out so long. It felt so good I didn’t want it to stop, but I wondered how long I could endure the massive pleasure hits, without exploding like a piñata. The wait to discover the answer would be a short one. My release was imminent.

That is when she started to moan.

Everything shifted! The light and dark blended in a kaleidoscope swirl. I gasped at the sight of it. I don’t think I could describe to you the feeling. It just would not be possible. Suffice it to say, ‘gotta have it’ and ‘can’t live without it’ had a swinger’s party, and bliss and ecstasy showed up ready to rock and roll. And let me tell you, they were jamming to a beat not presently heard on this earth.

The more she moaned, the more intense the sensation. The more intense the sensation, the more she moaned.

She was riding, I was hopefully not dying – although, if I was at that point, to hell with it – and both of us were caught up in what seemed like a mini-tornado. It was then I realized it wasn’t a tornado. In the heat of her passion, her wings had begun to move.

I don’t mean just move to her rocking of me, I mean flap as in flying. We were joined at the hips, and her wings were creating a vortex effect all around us. I would tell you it was out of this world, but if you have not figured that out by now, then you are probably dead yourself.

Her wings flapped, the vortex swirled, the colors of heaven and hell clashed, and her moaning turned into mini-screeches. Hey, I was no virgin. I was no playboy, but I was no virgin. I certainly knew what that meant. And from the way I was feeling, we were about to do it together. Her mini-screeches turned into mini-screams.

I wondered if my cat would miss me. I wondered if my team would win the game. I wondered if that bitch Teresa, who still possessed a key to my apartment, would come by and steal my stuff when I was gone.

In an explosion, that if it wasn’t heard in the cosmos certainly felt like it, we blasted into each other. Right there, right in the back alley, right beside my sticky buns - whose location I was still clueless about - right in the middle of the night, I died. I just freaking died. And then I woke up.

Oh, man, it is good to see you awake, bro. For a while there, it was touch and go.

What? What are you talking about? Gavin? I asked the voice that had just spoken to me in my groggy state. It sounded like my best friend Gavin.

Yeah, man, it’s me, Gavin, and you are in the hospital.

He was right. I was in a standard care room There were tubes in my arm and I was hooked to medical equipment. My head felt like it was splitting.

I don’t understand. What happ--.

Aw, man, it was a trip. Somebody found you passed out in the alley and called 911. They called me because you put me down as emergency contact on your insurance. You remember, after you and Teresa broke up?

Passed out in the alley? Then it all came back to me – the ballgame, the sticky buns, Beyonce`-winged-demon-hell-bliss-creature-woman. I lurched forward, looking around for any sign of her. My insides hurt. I was still groggy.

What are you doing? Who are you looking for? He asked.

I ignored him, continuing to search around suspiciously. Hey, man, did you see-- I began, and then realized what I was about to say. The puzzled expression on his face would have turned to a disagreeable frown, as he quietly excused himself from the room to call in the doctor. I thought it best to keep it to myself.

Oh, man, you are trippin’. Look, they said it would be a few days before you are feeling yourself again. Salmonella is no joke.

Salmonella? I asked, releasing my head back down to the pillow when the dizzy spell hit.

Yeah, man, I think they said it must have been something you ate earlier in the day.

My chicken sandwich for lunch sprung to mind. I raised my hand over my forehead in despaired embarrassment. It was all a hallucination. Apparently, I was returning from the store, when the effects of the tainted meat hit me. Screw me, I thought. My boy was right. That salmonella is no joke. But, it seemed so real. I felt every bit of it for real, didn’t I?

Are you okay? I know you are recovering, but do you need me to get a doctor?

No, I will be okay. I probably just need to sleep it off.

My words proved prophetic. I slept straight through, pretty much for the next twenty four hours. They released me a day later. I still couldn’t believe what happened. I vividly remembered my dark angel woman, and every feeling she gave me. Although, I had to admit, if someone told me a story like the one I had for the alley that night, I would think they were sniffing bath salts, or whatever the latest cheap high was.

Entering my apartment, immediately, Slippers, my cat, was on me.

Alright, Slip buddy, I know you are hungry, I told him, I got you covered.

He followed me into the kitchen, rubbing against me and going through my legs. His zeal nearly tripped me. I saw the television remote on the kitchen counter where I left it. I pointed it at the set in the living room and clicked it on. That is when I saw it. My eyes bulged. No way! I ran over to the sofa, opposite the T.V.

There it was as big as day. What I saw next to it made my head turn, as if possessed, all around the room. It shouldn’t be there, much less what else I saw. My heart raced. I darted to the only other two rooms in my apartment, the bathroom and the bedroom. Slippers was in tow every step, but he would have to wait.

I saw nothing.

The place was empty except for me and Slippers. I made my way carefully, almost tiptoeing, back to the living room. I stared down at the two items. One might be explained away. Gavin, who besides Teresa, also had a key to my apartment, could have walked through the alley that night after leaving the hospital.

He could have seen it, figured it was mine because he knew me, and dropped it off the same night. Yeah, all that could have happened. It was the other item, lying on top of the sticky bun plastic bag, which stood the back of my neck hair on end.

Right on top of my sticky buns was a single black feather. It was too big to be a bird feather. If it was a bird feather, then we all were in trouble. The bird which produced that would be dropping turds two feet long over the city soon. I stood there, and just like in the alley, I couldn’t move. It had been a hallucination, right? Right?

That’s when I heard it. It rose every hair on my body, not just the ones on the back of my neck. Again, I looked all around and saw nothing. There was no one there. There was only a woman laughing, but not just any woman, a Beyonce`-winged-demon-hell-bliss-creature-woman.

The laughter ceased as mysteriously as it started. I plopped on the sofa next to the items. I picked up the feather, turning it in my fingers curiously. For several minutes, I examined every corner of it, reliving the encounter with my dark angel. Then, I smiled.

Carrying the feather with me to the kitchen, I fixed Slippers something to eat. I didn’t care anymore. I was done trying to explain it. I could rack my brain until I died, and still wouldn’t be able to. What did it matter? I had the night of my life.

I placed Slippers’ food in his dish and set it on the floor. On my way to the shower I thought about the game the next night and who my team was playing. I determined that didn’t matter either, because whoever it was, and whoever they played for the rest of the season, I knew I would always need sticky buns right before the first pitch.

2.

My Name is Gavin Knight

and This is Real

My name is Gavin, Gavin Knight. If you are reading this then there is something you need to do immediately, and that is keep reading. Whatever you do, read this until the end. Read every paragraph, every sentence, and every word. If there are missing punctuations, you can sue me afterward, if you can find me.

If I misspell a word and you get all bent out of shape and stop reading, you can’t say I didn’t warn you. First, let me say I don’t necessarily believe in ghosts, goblins, boogie men, or things that go bump in the night.

I think God is who he is and like everyone else I try to stay on his good side. I think the devil is a bastard and I avoid him if I can. When have I ever seen God or the Devil? Never, but if you keep reading you will know why I said that up front. Just by what you have read already, you may be thinking that this guy is off his rocker. That would be a mistake.

Although, I can understand why you would think that. Everything I am about to tell you is real. Not only is it real, but it happened, and it happened to me. Even now, as I write this, I don’t know if in the next several hours I will be alive or dead. If they find me, you can bet the answer to my not knowing will be dead. If they don’t? Well, you get the picture.

I have made several references to them and by now you must be wondering who they are. Hold on a second!

***

Okay, I am back. I heard a noise outside of the cabin I am in. It was a raccoon looking for his next meal. I shooed him away. It was nothing this time. It could be death the next. I should get to it then. Shoot, where do I begin? I guess the only place to start is at the beginning.

Several weeks ago in a dark alley, I had an unusual encounter. So unusual, I chalked it up to a hallucination. It wasn’t all that difficult. I was suffering from Salmonella poisoning at the time. Days after my experience, me and a friend named Ron were having snacks and watching the ballgame.

Until then, I hadn’t told anyone what really happened. How could I? It sounded so absurd. The only person who even knew I was in the hospital was another buddy named Trevor. If not for him being on my insurance as an emergency contact, he wouldn’t even have known.

Ron happens to be a wannabe writer. He is always bouncing story ideas off of me to gauge their applicability. That night, I bounced mine off of him. I confided in him what happened to me, several days before in an alley, a block or so from my city apartment. I explained it to him in a, what do you think of this for a story, kind of way.

During the telling of my tale, he salivated. Immediately, he was taken by it. He asked if he could use it. I told him I had no problem with that, and actually felt pretty good about him liking it. I did not, however, let on that it was something I thought actually happened.

He left soon afterward, remarking sarcastically on my curious absence for the better part of two days. That was the last time I saw my friend Ron alive. The last time I heard his voice was later that same night, when he called me. Actually, it was later that same night in the wee hours of the morning, and I was half asleep.

G … G … Gavin? The whispered, harrowed voice said in my ear.

Who is this? I asked, not picking up on his tone right away. He coughed several times before continuing.

It’s … It’s … It’s me … Ron.

Ron? Is that you? It sort of sounded like him, but if it was, he was even more half asleep than I was. He said a couple of more sentences. I found out later they were his last on this earth.

The ... the … name is dubious-at-best. The…{cough, cough}…password is … is … backward name.

What? What password? Dubious-at-best? What is that? Backward name? What are you talking about? Ron? I continued to call his name. When he didn’t answer, I chalked it up to him pranking me and went back to sleep.

I discovered the next day from Trevor that I was the last person he spoke to before he died. It was crazy. Apparently, he used the last moments of his life to deliver some sort of message to me. I felt like crap because I had no idea what the message meant. What the hell was a dubious-at-best? And what did ‘password is backward name’ mean? Was dubious-at-best an email, or an account somewhere? And the password was best-at-dubious?

After Trevor stopped by my job to inform me of Ron’s death, I returned home from work later that evening. I clicked on the television as a distraction more than anything else. The words ‘dubious-at-best’ and ‘password is backward name’ had been pinging around in my head since Trevor delivered the awful news.

I couldn’t take it anymore. Anything would have been better than those words at that moment, even a PBS special on the mating rituals of fruit flies. I was just in time for the 6:30PM evening update.

In what police are calling the most gruesome murder they have seen in the city in years, twenty six year old Ron McDonald was killed yesterday in his East Side apartment. Authorities thus far have been reluctant to release details, saying they do not want to compromise the ongoing investigation. A source close to the situation speaking in anonymity was quoted by one of our sideline reporters. He said: It looked like the guy had been ripped to shreds with claws or something. There was blood everywhere. We will keep you updated on this story as the investigation progresses. Chuck?

Disturbing, Nancy, is all I can say, disturbing. In other news, we have a Wolf-News exclusive from campaign headquarters.

What the hell? I stared at the screen. Ripped to shreds? What did that mean? Newsman Chuck’s mouth continued to move. I assumed words were coming out of it but I heard none of them. Images of Obama and Romney appeared on my flat screen. They might as well have been leprechauns for all I was seeing.

The only thing in my head, which was accompanied by its image, was ‘ripped to shreds with claws!’ I leapt from my living room couch, scrambled to the kitchen not fifteen feet away, and snatched the cordless phone out of its receiver. It rang four times before he picked up.

Hello?

What the hell, Trey? Ripped to shreds? I blared into the phone.

You saw the news, huh? He said.

What do you mean I saw the news? You didn’t think I would want to know that? Why didn’t you tell me when you came to the job?

Aw, come on man. Look how you are acting. If I had told you, you would have freaked all out like you are doing now. I freaked out a little when I heard it and I didn’t even like the guy.

We used to be a threesome. I knew Trey longer than I knew Ron. Trey and I went back to High School. Ron, I met in a pool hall a couple of years ago. We used to all hang together until Ron slept with Trey’s ex. It wouldn’t have been a problem, except that Trey was still in love with her.

Now, they are married. In Ron’s defense, we used to all get drunk and Trevor would bad mouth her all the time. He was constantly calling her a hoe and saying how much he hated ‘the bitch.’ Then, one night as a joke, Ron asked him if he hated her so much, then he wouldn’t mind if he gave her a call.

In Trey’s eyes she may have been a hoe, but even he couldn’t deny that she was a fine hoe. Trey, drunk as hell, said he didn’t care. I knew he was lying because I’d know him longer. Ron took it as an invitation.

After that, our threesome became two separate two-somes. They didn’t come to blows or anything, but when Trevor stopped showing up at our hangout spots whenever Ron was around, we both got the hint. Ron tried to apologize. Trey wouldn’t hear of it. As far as he was concerned, Ron had broken the homeboy code.

It didn’t mean anything if you slept with your boy’s ex, but you had to at least wait until he moved on and found someone else. Trey hadn’t moved on, and now Ron was dead - ripped to shreds in his East Side apartment.

Damn, Trey, I began in on him, pissed that he would talk about not liking my dead friend. Okay, man, he slept with Charlene. That doesn’t mean anything now because he is dead. Are you still holding grudges on a dead man? I didn’t really expect a credible answer.

Look, Gav, I was going to call and tell you what I knew. You just got home first and saw the news. I know you guys were tight. I didn’t play it against you, did I? As for me holding grudges, I don’t have to anymore. The brother is dead. My beef died with him.

I didn’t know what to say. The shock of Ron’s death was one thing, but the way he died was a mystery bombarding my brain like Hurricane Katrina. I said the only thing that came to my mind. Damn.

Yeah, man, I know, it’s messed up for sure, he said.

I still didn’t know what to say. My mind was flipping in all directions. First, I have some weird experience in an alley, which I could not tell you if it was real or not. Then, a day after telling a friend about it, he turns up dead.

Were the two related? Was my dark angel somehow real? Did I violate some kind of demonic precept by blabbing about it? I was having trouble getting a handle on what was real. Was Ron even really dead? Maybe I was still in the hospital. Maybe I was in a coma and living my life only in my mind.

Is that what happens to coma victims? While everyone else sees them just lying there, they are living an active full life within the confines of their dream state? How could I