Happy Gore



Granny Smith – A New Necklace Short Story

Stitch…stabbing. Car death. Violent Death. Gunshot wound. A stitch in time saves nine. Cross stitch mutilation and torture. Embroidery. Incest familicide. Damn its hot in here!

Take off some clothes. When you are comfortable I will begin.

Once upon a time, there was a grandmother who was tired of cross-stitch and embroidery. One day a Remington salesman was passing her home and soon after biscuits and lemonade, she was the proud owner of a 12 Guage Remington Pump Action Repeater.

All she needed now were a horde of zombies or pedophiles or outlaws and with the strong hand of God up her Skirts…Ahem…on her shoulder. She would soon put the world to rights.

It just so happened that a child fiddling, granny killing father of four was being transferred from the local town gaol to a State Troopers motor car on the other side of town. A terrified young boy recounts his story. The MAN did it! The MAN.

Slowly the ‘MAN’ who being handcuffed from behind could only really move the tips of his fingers, slipped from his shorts a modified USB pen and worked it into the lock of his handcuffs which soon quietly fell away behind him.  All that it now took was to carefully remove the pistol from the talking state troopers holster in front of him. Easily does it. Now press firmly behind his ear and squeeze don’t pull. BANG! Brains and pieces of skull splattered everywhere. The other state trooper reached across the dashboard for the mounted shotgun but before he could reach it his head was filled full of lead too. The local sheriff was struggling with his holster when the hijacked state troopers station wagon ran him over breaking his spine.

He grabbed spare ammunition and rifles and backed  the car into the yard opposite and waited for reinforcements to arrive.

Granny Smith was polishing the family silver when she heard shots coming from the other side of town. She put down the Silvex and cloth and reached for a belt of shotgun shells and her El Rancho hat and Sons army Boots. The archers were playing on a radio in the back porch. With eyes of steel, Granny Smith kissed each shell as she loaded the shotgun full. She then went into the kitchen and grabbed a stiletto knife and a chopping knife. Just in case. She licked the blade and ran it across her thimble finger where it drew blood. ‘Excellent!’ she whispered.


She packed herself into the families Honda Goldwing with a spare pack of shells and drove off in the direction from where the gunshots came. ACDC was blaring through the speakers. Dust and smoke followed the woman down street after street until she reached the scene of a shootout.

Two state troopers cars have deployed either side of the road where the gunman had barricaded himself in. The bodies of unsuccessful attempts to retake the situation littered the ground along with smoking shell cases. Granny Smith climbed down from the Honda and surveyed the situation from behind the cover of a policeman’s bulletproof perspex shield. A quick glance at her Kevlar watch confirmed what she already knew. There was about an hour of daylight left. She reloaded her shotgun from the contents of the state troopers car boot and then walked calmly across the road to the cigar store. Two minutes later she re-emerged with a cigar between her lips glowing red in the twilight. Eyes turned towards granny who said quietly.

‘Scum. We are coming in to get you.’

Ignoring the senior officer on the scene Granny Smith went down onto one knee and quickly pumped two incendiary rounds into the gas tanks of the two cars blocking the road. Flames and huge explosions of smoke and fire filled the glowing night sky.

‘Now we can see ya’ Said Granny Smith.

On her belly Granny Smith crawled up closing in on the position of the murderer pedophile. Shots hit the ground all around her but it was like she was protected from harm by a supernatural force. As soon as she got close enough she pumped two more rounds into the chamber of her shotgun and shot out the gas tank of the car the pedophile gunman was hiding behind. He retreated inside the building.

Meanwhile, the state and local police were following granny who sent a column left and right of her with tactical hand signals.

A local news crew and camera were now in the same area as granny. She beckoned them over with a flick of her cigar.

‘I saw what you did with the shots and the gas tanks…you were amazing!’ said a breathless female reporter.

‘S’nothing said granny Smith grinning widely.

Now the grunts can clean up,’ said Granny Smith blowing smoke rings from her cigar.

‘hey film this,’ said granny pulling up her dress to reveal stocking tops and garters.

The sound of a huge explosion made them turn around. Then another quickly followed and the bodies of ten state troopers came flying out onto the street followed by a resurgent pedophile gunman now toting two machine guns and a grenade launcher.

The crowd that had gathered cowered on the ground as the escapee looked for a way out.

‘I want a helicopter’ He shouted grabbing a hostage ‘ or people start dying again’

Granny crouched down out fo sight in the shadow of a burning car,

She left the shotgun where it lay and removed herself from the scene unnoticed.

The scene was silent except for the crackle of the burning cars and buildings. The gunman had been promised his helicopter. Crowds of people lay faced down into the tarmac as the gunman prowled around them like a cougar.

Suddenly the shop front of the souvenir shop across the road burst open in a spray of glass and silver and a 5-ton gas powered forklift truck driven by Granny Smith  came storming towards the hapless pedophile.

Blinded by the shower of silver and glass the paedo put up his arms reflexively in front of his face only to find granny leaping from the CAB of the forklift legs akimbo heading straight for his throat. He had just enough time to mutter the word ‘Mom’ before granny was straddling his shoulders with her legs and breaking his neck with a sharp twist of her wrists…

‘Don’t mess with Granny Smith scum’ said granny with the dead man posing for the camera, before laughing. Everyone started laughing and as fire crews arrived on the scene and the heroic dead were carried away to their grieving families granny found a chair and took out her knitting where she knitted one pearled two before winking at the film crew.

‘ I still sleep with the light on kids’ said granny laughing as the media swarmed around her. ‘An apple a day keeps the doctor away kids’ she said laughing as the moon shone above.

Now it was grannies time to laugh as her family crowded around her with hugs and kisses for the hero.

As she got into the families station wagon she said I forgot something and walked off into the night. A minute later she returned with the ears of the dead gunman in her hands.

‘What do you have there granny?’ asked her granddaughter.

‘I think granny’s gonna have a new necklace!’ said Granny. Her son in law closed the door and then got into the drivers seat and the stations wagon with its heroic granny inside drove off into the dark night.

So, blood guts and gore are OK..Hmmm

Sheila looked up from inside the chest cavity  of her victim. Her feline teeth stained red, her whole face blood red only the whites of her eyes like ice lightning flecked with green.

Her stance was that of a cat also and she used her legs to gain leverage when she tore with her teeth into her victim just like a jungle cat does. If she had a tail it would have been swishing lightly with pleasure.

Sheila was a clinical lycanthrope, one who rather than seeking treatment for her condition lived out its fantasies.  She growled like a big cat, tattooed her face with fur and even had her teeth filed to resemble that of a feline beast she imagined she turns into periodically. After a number of escalating ‘incidents’ compulsory, court-ordered treatment lead to today’s CBT session at the hospital.

Today Sheila was in full blown psychosis and after breaking her victims neck was now imagining she was a jungle cat feeding on her victims body. Her victim was her counselor from the regional mental health team. Well, she had wanted to explore ‘feelings of animality’ thought Sheila begrudgingly. She got the real thing today didn’t she Sheila ripping out her victims heart then taking a bite while winking at the CCTV.

Recovered CCTV footage then shows her marking the corpse and the ‘territory’ with her own scent by urinating over her victim and the table, floor and walls.

Forensic Psychiatry reports indicate ‘severe psychotic breakdown’, ‘grossly disorganised behavior’ and recommended indefinite secure incarceration. Prognosis: incurable.