The Sick Stuff
Authors: Ronald Kelly
Tags: #Horror, #Short Stories, #+IPAD, #+UNCHECKED, #+AA
By Ronald Kelly
Smashwords Edition published at Smashwords by
Crossroad Press
Copyright 2010 by Ronald Kelly
Foreword © 2009 by James Newman.
The Sick Stuff © 2009 by Ronald Kelly.
Diary © 1990 by Ronald Kelly First appeared
in Cemetery Dance Magazine #3.
House Warming © 1991 by Ronald Kelly First
appeared in Eldritch Tales#25.
Mass Appeal © 2009 by Ronald Kelly
Original to this collection
.
Pins and Needles © 2008 by Ronald Kelly
First
appeared online at
ronaldkelly.com
.
Old Hacker © 1990 by Ronald Kelly First
appeared in New Blood Magazine #7.
The Abduction © 2009 by Ronald Kelly
Original to this collection
.
Mojo Mama © 2009 by Ronald Kelly
Original
to this collection.
Afterword © 2009 by Ronald Kelly.
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Gonna get right to it, tell y'all about my
first encounter with Ron Kelly's fiction. An encounter that
almost never happened
(cue melodramatic music here:
dum-dumm-dummmmmm!
)....
Back in the early- to mid-nineties, I used to
frequent the horror section of my local Books-A-Million. This was
when the big franchise bookstores still
had
a horror
section, if anyone can remember
that
bygone era. Those were
the good ole' days -- as if I have to tell you -- for a kid like
myself, who devoured any and all horror literature, while
simultaneously harboring dreams of one day seeing his own name on a
few of those mass-market paperbacks.
Around that time, I remember seeing one title
that sat smack-dab in the middle of the horror section every time I
visited Books-A-Million. Like an old, friendly, familiar face, it
was
always
there. That book was Ronald Kelly's
Fear
.
I must have picked it up a hundred times, skimmed the synopsis on
the back. It sounded pretty cool. The picture on its cover depicted
the ominous black mouth of a cave; inside that rocky maw a
human-shaped figure hung upside down, wrapped tightly in a cocoon
of spider webs.
Problem was, I refused to buy this particular
book. I put it back on the shelf
every single time.
Why? Well, for one thing, my book-buying
budget was a meager one back then. It's not exactly a gargantuan
fund today. Since I had no choice but to be picky, it was
Fear
that went unread for the longest time by me, and I'm
here to tell you now what a fool I was.
I'm ashamed to say my reasons for returning
that novel to its place on the shelf again and again and again was
due to nothing more than a classic case of (literally)
judging a
book by its cover.
I'm a walkin', talkin' cliché, folks.
You see, because of that cover of Zebra
Books' 1994 paperback edition of
Fear
, I assumed for years
that this Ronald Kelly fellow's novel... was nothing more than a
blatant, second-rate rip-off of Stephen King's
It
.
No kidding. Simple as that. Pretty stupid,
huh?
Obviously, however, this story has a happy
ending. I wouldn't be here, writing this lil' intro, if it
didn't...
Eventually, I came to my senses. I had read
just about everything in Books-A- Million's horror section (except
the Anne Rice novels), and I needed something new. So, better late
than never, I finally plopped down my hard-earned $4.50 (I know, it
sounds like crazy talk, but paperbacks really
did
cost less
than a five-spot once upon a time!). And, whaddaya know?
Fear
turned out to be not only anything
but
a rip-off
of King's massive tome about a
child-killing-spider-from-outer-space (in fact, the two had very
little in common, save for a bloodthirsty creature in a cave); it
proved to be one of my favorite horror novels of the 'nineties.
More importantly, it turned me on to a phenomenal writer of
Southern-fried horror who has since become not only one of my
greatest influences as a fellow storyteller of the macabre, but
also -- I am proud to say -- a damn fine friend.
Who woulda thunk it?
My rambling tale does have a point. I
promise. And that point is...
history does repeat itself (
yep,
I'm full of clichés tonight).
What do I mean by that?
Once again, I have misjudged. I've made
unfair assumptions, and I should have known better!
When Ron asked me to write a foreword to the
book you now hold in your hands, I balked a little, at first. Only
a little, mind you. And don't get me wrong -- I was very, very
honored. Yet... I couldn't help feeling a tad hesitant. Of course, I
didn't tell my good buddy Ron that I wasn't 100% keen on the idea
(although, I suppose he knows now!)
Thing is, I was
worried
. Ron explained
to me that
The Sick Stuff
was a collection of "seven
disgusting tales... sorta (his) own personal
People Are
Strange.
"
Sounds cool, right?
But I didn't
want
that.
I didn't want
splatterpunk
from Ronald
Kelly. Or
extreme horror
. Or hardcore
siction.
Whatever the kids are calling it these days.
Because that wasn't
my
Ron Kelly. It
wasn't what I knew. This didn't sound like the wonderfully moody,
dripping-with-Southern-atmosphere Ron Kelly fiction that I had
adored for the last fifteen years. I mean this is
Ron Kelly
we're talking about here, not Edward Lee (not that there's a damn
thing wrong with Lee -- I'm a huge fan).
You get the picture.
Once again, though, Ron proved me wrong.
Surprise! I read these stories -- tore through them in record time,
in fact, and found myself unable to turn the pages fast enough to
find out what atrocities would occur next -- and I wanted
more
. More!
And that's the mark of a truly great writer,
isn't it? When said writer can work outside of his "comfort zone",
if you will (I'd be willing to bet that the kind, soft-spoken,
church-going gent we're talking about now went
farrrrr
beyond his "comfort zone" with the stories contained herein), and
the results are still undeniably
his
. And they still
kick
ass
.
Which these stories are. And they most
certainly do.
Enjoy, folks. You're in for a treat. Of
course, that's a guarantee with
anything
Ron Kelly
writes.
Meanwhile... Ron, old pal, I owe you an
apology. Again.
I
assumed
... and you know what they
say about ASSUMING.
Now I find myself wondering what else Ron
might have up his sleeve. Lord knows my days of "judging a book by
its cover" are over and done with.
Hey, Ron... you've done Southern horror, "the
sick stuff", and even a bit o' sci-fi (
Flesh-Welder).
How
about a
children's book
next? I'd sure love to see it. I'm
sure my nine-year-old would too. And if anybody could pull it off,
I'm sure you could...
Keep 'em coming. Meanwhile, I'll keep
reading. Anything and everything you write.
And when there's no new Ron Kelly to read,
while you're hard at work on your next one, I'll just crack open my
old, dog-eared copy of
Fear
for the two- or three-hundredth
time. And smile when I see your heartfelt, personalized inscription
inside that book I almost
never bought
.
James Newman
Hendersonville, North Carolina
December 2008
August 21
They want to know why I killed those people
in Tennessee. They want to know why a no-account bum like Jerry
Weller crossed paths with the All-American family and
systematically tortured, raped, and slaughtered them, one by
one.
They seem very insistent for answers. But I
give them none. I only counter their questions with questions of my
own.
Why did Satan drive me to commit such
atrocities?
Why did God allow such atrocities to take
place?
They think they have me pegged. They brand me
a violent psychopath and spout their psychiatric crap, but they're
still missing the point. If they weren't so damned stupid, they
would be able to look into my eyes and see the squirming,
maggot-infested soul that lies decaying within.
You see, perversity is my forte.
It is normality that drives me insane.
August 29
My parents didn't tell me for a very long
time that I once had a twin brother. When they did, they only said
that he had died shortly after birth. I knew they were concealing
all the gory details. Eventually, they told me the whole story...
and, boy, was it a doozy!
It seems that there were once twin brothers
named Jerry and Jamie. Shortly after their arrival home from the
hospital, Mom and Dad went out for a night on the town, leaving the
little ones in the care of teenaged babysitter Caroline. An hour
later, Caroline's beatnik boyfriend, Rodney, showed up with a big
bag of goodies. There was much drinking and pot smoking and
airplane glue sniffing. Soon, Caroline and Rodney had gotten wildly
high and thought it would be incredibly funny to put little Jamie
in the kitchen oven. They chug-a-lugged vodka and reds as they
turned the flame to the max and cooked the squalling infant like a
meatloaf.
Supposedly, I witnessed the whole thing, but
I don't remember. Hell, I was only three months old at the
time.
Those freaking junkheads had the right idea,
but they made one mistake.
They baked the wrong gingerbread boy.
September 5
How about a nice bedtime story?
Once upon a time there was a clean-cut,
All-American family. They never fought with one another, they
attended church regularly, and lived by the Golden Rule. They lived
in a cozy, suburban home, drove a Volvo, and sent their children to
public school... just like
