By Richard Laymon
The hotel of Boleta Bay isn't the carefree position it was once. a sequence of unexplained disappearances, and holiday-makers threatened through a military of leering bums, casts a shadow over summer time pleasures. yet now Boleda Bay is combating again and their crusade leads them to the deserted Funhouse.
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Additional resources for Funland
The sock seemed to gape up at him as if startled by the question. Its wide mouth was no more than a tuck between the old woman’s thumb and fingers. A pretty sorry puppet, he thought. Didn’t even have eyes. The mouth flapped. ” “He asked you a question, lady,” Joan snapped. The sock shuddered. ” Then flipped over as if dead. ” Dave asked. “Gone gone gone,” the sock sang. “Mum’s the word. Where oh where was the pretty copper then? Home in bed. ” The sock darted, nibbled Dave’s thigh, and scooted toward his crotch.
Her head turned slightly toward Jeremy. He felt as if he were melting into warm liquid. “Don’t worry about Duke. He’s a straight-shooter. Fact is, he’d like to come along. I told him I’d have to get your okay. ” Jeremy shrank inside. A lump filled his throat. Should’ve known. Everything had been going too good. I fooled Cowboy, but she sees right through me. Knows I’m a reject. Shit. Shit! Tanya stepped away from the railing. She strode to the top of the stairs and scowled down at Cowboy. A goddess, beautiful but fierce.
She crouched and glared at the eyes of the dangling troll. “Next time, you motherfucker, we’re gonna kill you dead! Understand? ” “Miles away,” Nate added. With a giggle, Heather lunged in, slapped her hands against the troll’s hip, and shoved, sending him high as if he were a kid on a playground swing. Tanya toed the bundle of clothes toward him. With a small canister of lighter fluid from her handbag, she squirted the coat. She struck a match, cupped its flame from the wind, and touched it to the soaked cloth.
Funland by Richard Laymon