ShinePunk: A Beauregard the Monster Hunter Collection

By John G. Hartness

He’s the O.B. – Original Bubba, and he’s here to bust your gut laughing. This collection of steampunk short stories is sure to leave you rolling in the aisles. 

Beauregard Ulysses Brabham is the moonshine-drinking, butt-kicking Great-Grandfather to today’s favorite redneck half-baked almost government agent Bubba the Monster Hunter. These stories explain how the Brabham family got mixed up in monster hunting, where his magical sword came from, and how Bubba got his inhuman tolerance for moonshine. (Hint: genetics)  

ShinePunk is a collection of four short stories guaranteed to make you want to twist the top off a Mason jar and down yourself a slash of that good old Mountain Dew. 

And we ain’t talking about anything you can buy in a convenience store. 

Includes – Fire on the Mountain
White Lightnin’
A Haint in the Holler
County Fairy Tale

• Language: English
• Publisher: Falstaff Books
• Release date: Aug 24, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386430063

Book preview

1

Fire on the Mountain

B eauregard Ulysses Brabham, get your worthless ass down here and help me! The shrill voice rang out over half the valley and Bubba sat bolt upright in his bed. Only he wasn’t in his bed, he was in the hammock out in his back yard, so the motion of sitting up quickly deposited all three hundred pounds of him firmly and swiftly onto the hard-packed earth. Bubba hauled himself up to hands and knees, then crawled out from under the hammock, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs. How did I end up in the hammock? He wondered. And where are my pants ?

The answer to the second question revealed itself a few moments later as Bubba walked around the house to the front porch. His worn overalls were folded carefully over the porch railing, with an empty quart jar sitting next to them. Well, that explains about everything, I reckon. Bubba thought. Apparently Preacher Mason had come by with a sample from his newest batch of ‘shine and they had commenced to tasting. It all made sense to Bubba now. After the better part of a jar of Preacher Mason’s recipe, the wind through a man’s beard felt mighty fine, and the best way Bubba had to generate wind was to swing as quickly as possible in the hammock. That didn’t explain why he felt the need to remove his pants, but perhaps in his state of mind last night he wanted to feel the wind other places than just his beard.

Regardless, he put his pants on then pulled on his battered leather work boots. He had just stepped onto the porch to go inside and fix up some grits and bacon and maybe see if there was a slash or two left in that jar when Octavia’s voice rang out again, this time sounding even more irritated. "Beauregard! Come here, boy! I

need

you

!"

Godawmighty you’d thing she was my wife instead of my little sister the way that woman abuses me. I need to get her married off so she’ll have somebody else to make miserable, Bubba thought. He sighed the sigh of a man who knew he was ruled by a woman, and started off down the hill to see what his sister wanted

this

time

.

Octavia was standing on her own porch peering into the woods when Bubba came stumping down the trail. What in the blue blazes do you want, woman? Don’t you know a body needs his rest? Octavia was dressed for work on the farm, in a plain homespun dress and apron, with her long blonde hair tied back from her strong jawline. She was what the mountain folk called a healthy woman, with child-bearing hips and a shelf of bosom that was impressive on an otherwise slender woman. She wore sensible leather boots and had a shotgun leaning on the porch rail beside her, along with a haversack .

She lit into her brother the second he hove his gigantic form into view. Bubba, it is three hours past the noon meal you worthless layabout, so do not be speaking to me of rest! Now get your fat, lazy carcass down here and aid me in my moment of peril!

"Moment of peril? You’re on your porch, what in the hell could possibly be

periling

you

?"

Don’t you swear in my presence, Bubba, for I am a lady. And it is not just my moment of peril, but the entire valley. We are under attack by sorcery and blackheartedness!

"I told Pap he never should have taught you how to read, Tavvy. Now you ain’t never gone find

a

man

."

"I neither need nor desire a man, brother dear. Not for those purposes, at any rate. Now are you going to help me

or

not

?"

"You got anything

to

eat

?"

"There’s a rasher of bacon on the table with some grits, a half dozen biscuits and some gravy. Take what

you

like

."

If you’ll feed me, Tavvy, I’ll do whatever you need. Bubba pushed past his sister into the neat little kitchen. In complete contrast to his own, Octavia’s kitchen contained a modern icebox, a stove heated by some strange series of pipes from the wood stove out back, and food. There were also clean plates and no insects to be seen anywhere, both remarkable upgrades from Bubba’s house. Bubba piled all the food onto a serving platter and carried it back out to the porch. He sat down on the porch steps and called Octavia’s hound Buster over. After giving Buster a good scratch behind the ears, he slipped the dog a piece of bacon and started in on the biscuits.

A few minutes later the bacon and biscuits had all vanished, and Buster was licking the last remnants of the grits from the platter. Bubba leaned back on his elbows, let out a mighty belch that rattled the windows in Octavia’s cabin, and lookedup at his sister.

Alright, Tavvy. What’s periling you today?

The children are missing, Bubba.

You ain’t got no children, Tavvy.

Not my children, you great lummox! The children from the congregation! Octavia swatted him on one giant shoulder.

What children?

If you would darken the door of our house of worship more than twice a year, you would know these things, Bubba. There are six children missing from nearby farms and homes.

I darken the door, Tavvy, I just can’t seem to find my way through it. Maybe if the door was taller I’d have an easier time of it. Where’d them young’uns go? Bubba asked, sitting up and picking a tick from one of

Buster’s

ears

.

Nobody knows, Bubba! That’s why they’re missing.

Oh. Okay, what do you want me to do about it? You want me to go look for ‘em? I know the woods and these hills pretty good I reckon, but I don’t know where I’d start looking for kids… He trailed off as he caught the black stare Octavia was

giving

him

.

"You don’t want me to go looking for the kids,

do

you

?"

"No, Bubba. I do not need you to go looking for them. I know where they are, I need your help to go get

them

back

."

Bubba stood up and snapped his fingers for Buster. The dog crouched beside Bubba’s feet but stayed alert. "Well, let’s go get ‘em! Are we gonna have to carry ‘em, Tavvy? ‘Cause half a dozen young ‘uns is gonna be hard to haul in

one

load

."

"Bubba, are you the stupidest human being in six counties? I don’t need you to carry the babies, I need you to shoot whatever

took

‘

em

!"

Oh. Well I can do that. Lemme go get my gun. He stood and started back up the hill to his cabin, but stopped at Octavia’s

exasperated

sigh

.

Get in here, Bubba. You don’t need to go get that stupid double-barrel. I got something better. She turned and went into her house, and Bubba followed. She led him through the kitchen into the rest of the cabin where they had grown up. Bubba took a moment to observe the changes Octavia had wrought upon the old home place since their Pap died just two short years ago. Gone were the spittoons that once nestled in a corner of every room. Gone were the ashtrays on the arm of every chair. Instead the floors practically gleamed, they were so clean, and the windows had been scrubbed spotless and new curtains hung in every one. Bubba thought fleetingly of asking Octavia up to clean his cabin, but decided against it for fear he’d never find anything again.

Bubba clumped down the hall to what had once been his bedroom where Octavia waited. She stood in front of a workbench with her arms folded across her chest. When Bubba entered the room, she stepped to one side of the table and gestured grandly to the contraption sitting there. It was a bizarre apparatus, a pair of tanks sitting underneath a metal box, with straps coming off the tanks and making an X in the front of the machine. A hose stretched from the tanks to a set of three long tubes linked together with a small cross on one end. A handle came down on one side of the tubes, with what looked like a trigger mechanism

on

it

.

"What in the world is that, Tavvy? And where the hell did you

get

it

?"

I made it, Bubba. I call it the Dervish! She smiled, and suddenly Bubba was reminded of the girl she’d been before them Mam died and Pap fell to drink. She looked like his baby sister again, not the stern woman she’d

turned

into

.

"What does

it

do

?"

It’s a gun, Bubba. I thought you’d recognize that right off. Come here. Bubba stepped closer, and Octavia hefted the tanks. Turn around and put your arms through the straps. Bubba did as he was told, then fastened the straps across the center of his chest. He staggered a little under the weight, then got it settled onto his shoulders properly and quickly grew accustomed to the weight. Octavia handed him the set of tubes, and Bubba recognized them as shotgun barrels.

How does it work? Bubba asked, waving the barrel assembly around.

It runs on moonshine. The ‘shine pumps into the converter, here. She tapped the metal box that now sat right behind Bubba’s head. The ‘shine burns, producing high-powered steam, which flows down this tube to force the barrels to rotate. As the barrels rotate, this gear pulls the hammer back on each barrel in turn. You hold the trigger down, and the hammer will drop as quickly as it was cocked. The gear turns a loading gear on the side of the barrel housing, which releases the loading spring, sending another shell into the barrel. So you can rain lead upon your enemies at the speed of steam! Octavia was positively giddy, her cheeks were flushed and a slight sheen of sweat glowed on

her

brow

.

So it lets me shoot faster?

Faster than anyone has every shot before!