Plastic Jesus

📅 Published on September 23, 2020

“Plastic Jesus”

Written by Drew Blood
Edited by Craig Groshek
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).

🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available

ESTIMATED READING TIME — 9 minutes

Rating: 9.33/10. From 3 votes.
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Stretching through one of the United States’ largest deserts is highway 50.  Aptly nicknamed “the loneliest road in America”, it is indeed as secluded and desolate as one might imagine.  On this particular night, the western horizon was lit up again and again in spectacular fashion.  Distant thunderstorms illuminated the sky with countless bolts of lightning.  On occasion, the low rumble of thunder could be detected even from that unbelievable distance, which gave any spectator a true measure of just how powerful those distant leviathans in the sky truly were.  There was no moon to be seen on this night, but the stars were clear and bright, giving the surrounding desert on either side of the lonely highway and eerie glow.  The constant stabs of lightning only served to add to that eeriness.  In truth, however, it was a tranquil setting. Peaceful, with only the gentle desert breeze and chirping insects to break the near silence.  In contrast to the brutally hot days, the nights here could become downright cold and it wasn’t an uncommon sight to find desert rattlers coiled up on the edges of the highway, taking full advantage of the heat that the asphalt absorbed while being scorched by the merciless sun.

It was on a sudden and without warning that the tranquility of this peaceful stretch of deserted highway was shot all to hell when over the paved horizon roared a 1969 Oldsmobile 442.  A beast of a car.  With just one headlight, the massive metal beast came hauling ass, the driver’s foot pressed firmly to the floor.  The big block engine was wide open and the duel pipes were blasting a low rough baritone that gave the distant storm’s rumbling thunder a run for its money.  The old solid beast rocked to and fro with the slightest change in the road’s terrain.  The car’s shot suspension became very evident when, just after topping the horizon, there came suddenly an absolute explosion of bright orange sparks from under the beast as it bottomed out on the asphalt.

Inside the car were two brothers and they were not having a very pleasant night.  The driver, Chris, was the older of the pair, and he was on the brink of sheer panic.  His little brother, Doobie, was in the passenger’s seat weakly holding an old red mechanic’s rag to the side of his neck.  The idea was to staunch the loss of blood from the gaping mangled wound that had been put there only minutes earlier.  In spite of his weakening effort, bright red blood pulsed down his shirt and was pooling in the leather seat around him.

“Son of a bitch!” Chris bellowed. “Hang on, little brother.  Just hang on…we’re gonna find you some help!”  In between groans of pain, Doobie rasped, “Come on, man, who you think you trying to kid?”  He coughed up blood and let it run down his chin.  He was too weak to spit.  “We’re in the middle of nowhere, big brother…and you damn well know that I’m d–” Chris cut him off.

“Don’t even think about saying it, asshole!  I promised Mama I’d look after your crazy ass.  If you die on me, man, I swear I’ll fucking kill ya!” These last words were spoken with an ironic laughter.

“Well…who was the old bastard, do ya think?” Doobie asked.

“Don’t know,” Chris answered while bracing for another bottom out on the road.  Chris winced as he saw the bright sparks in the rearview mirror.  The beast rumbled on.  He continued, “Some psychotic asshole cannibal I reckon…I don’t know man…I don’t know, but there was something wrong with him.  Something wrong with his eyes.”

“Didn’t see his eyes but…he damn sure…took a big chunk outta my neck, bro.”  Doobie’s voice was weakening fast. “Hey, Chris…I ain’t feeling too spry here son…”  Chris interrupted, “Just lay back Doob…just keep holding pressure, okay…don’t let off!  Save your energy, okay…I got this…I got this.”

Chris’s eyes were stinging now, and he smashed his fist into the steering wheel out of rage and desperation.  “Dammit!”

Chris and Doobie were brothers in crime, as well as blood.  And as pertains to brothers, strangely enough, they were pretty good friends.  They had stuck together after their Mama had died two years earlier.  Chris felt the need to keep an eye on his baby brother.  Doobie has always been full of piss and vinegar.  A real hellraiser.  Chris for his part hadn’t necessarily been an angel, but Doobie…  Well, let’s just say that when it comes to the Ten Commandments, Doobie gives exactly zero fucks.  Come to think on it, as far back as Chris could remember, Doobie’s give a damn tank had always been empty.  Doobie cared only about his big brother and maybe about money. But that was probably more of a lust thing.  In fact, it was Doobie’s lust for dollars that got them where they were now…Up shit’s creek without a paddle.

Two days earlier, while sitting in his favorite pub, Chris had been finishing off a beer when his phone began buzzing on the bar top.  He looked at his phone and sighed with a resigned smile on his face.  Before answering, Chris mumbled to himself, “oh Christ, here we go.”  He hit the talk button.  “Hey Doob,” said Chris. “Whatcha got going on, man?”  Doob responded with a little ball-breaking.  “Let me guess.  You’re at ummm…the pub?”

“You know where I am, dickhead,” Chris said bluntly.  He wasn’t in the mood for his brother’s shit.  He was never in the mood for his brother’s shit come to think on it.  Of course, that only fueled Doobie’s ball-breaking agenda.  “Weeeell…..top ‘o the morning to ye…fucker!”  Chris thought to himself, “Jesus, he’s losing his damn mind,” then said aloud, “What do ya want, Doobie?”  Doobie, still enjoying himself said, “Awe, don’t feel bad big brother…I ain’t been sober for days myself!”  Chris had finally had enough, and said bluntly, “Why did you call me, Doobie?”

Doobie replied, “oh yeah! Guess who got ahold of the GPS coordinates for “you know who’s” cache of money and guns? Just guess!”

Right to the point, Chris asked “How much are we talking here, Doobie?”

Doobie replied, very seriously now “We’re talking full retirement here big brother…I ain’t shitting ya.  Full retirement.”  Silence.  Chris was stunned for a few seconds.  See, Doobie was a lot of things, but one thing he was not, was a liar.  If Doobie said something was, then it was and Chris knew it.  His pulse quickened as he asked, “Alright, when?”

“Two days, big brother.  I gotta get a couple of things in order first and then we’ll head out.  It’s buried outside of Eureka somewhere out there in the desert.  Eureka! Can you believe that?  That’s what they call poetical.”

“On…on highway 50?”

“Uhh…Yessir.”

“Jesus, Doobie…that’s out in the middle of nowhere!”

“Well, where in the hell would you bury such a cache, Chris huh?  In your back yard?  Yeah…I can see you doing that! …No! No, no, no…  You’d probably put it in your mattress!”  Doobie probably would have continued guffawing for another five minutes if Chris hadn’t finally rolled his eyes and told him, “I’ll be ready Doobie.  Just pick me up on your way out of town.”  Doobie replied, “Yeah about that, Chris, uhh….we’re gonna have to use your car…see my truck…well my truck blew up on me last week.  I dunno, I didn’t check the oil or the blinker fluid or something…I don’t know…hell, you know I don’t know jack shit about vehicles.”  Chris just groaned, “Goddammit, Doobie!”

Two days later and 30 miles outside the abandoned ghost town of Eureka, Chris and Doobie found themselves digging under the stars.  Chuckling to himself, Doobie said to his brother, “Man, I can’t believe that drunk fool actually handed me the key to his desk…wanted me to fetch his pint of Turkey…told me it was in his bottom drawer he did!” Doobie chuckled and continued, “So while I was there, I just reached on over and opened up that top drawer, ya know…for a little look-see…I shit you not big brother, right there on a little yeller piece of paper were the coordinates to his legendary cash…dipshit!”  Chris was laughing along with Doobie now.  They were both in good spirits…a rare thing.  The laughter stopped abruptly when Doobie’s shovel struck metal.  They looked at each other and began laughing.  Doobie yelled, “Yeah, son, hahaaaaa!”  Then they began to howl and laugh and celebrate together right there in the hole.

The brothers were still laughing and celebrating and were too excited to see or hear what was approaching them until it was right up behind Doobie.  The brothers had both stood in the massive hole so they could stretch their backs.  In doing so, their heads and shoulders were all that shone above the surface of the ground.  That’s when Chris saw it.  At ground level, and right behind Doobie’s shoulder, was the pale, gaunt and grime-covered face of an extremely old man.  He had crawled right up to Doobie in a nightmarish manner, moving faster than he had any right to move.  It was horrifying to see and it sent a thrill of terror through Chris’ entire being.  He wanted so bad to warn Doobie but could only manage to bring his hand up in fitful jerks to point.  Doobie, seeing his brother said as he turned to look, “The fuck are you point–”

The old man pounced.  Before Doobie knew what was happening, it had sunk its rotted jagged teeth into the side of his neck…tearing away a mouthful of flesh.  Doobie screamed in exquisite agony as the old creature chewed and swallowed with relish, its limbs shaking in extreme ecstasy.  Doobie’s scream pulled Chris out of his shock.  With no more hesitation, he pulled his 45 from the waist of his jeans and put two rounds in the thing’s chest just as it leapt into the hole with them.  It collapsed into the bottom…unmoving.

Chris kept the pistol trained on the ancient one for a heartbeat longer and then realized he needed to see to his little brother.  Doobie had also collapsed into the bottom and was sitting on the box with his back against the dirt wall, holding his mangled neck.  Then Chris saw it.  Blood.  Lots of blood soaking Doobie’s shirt and jeans.  “Oh Jesus, Doob…C’mon….c’mon…I’ll get ya to the car little brother.”  No longer caring about anything but his baby brother, Chris managed to get Doobie out of the hole and into the car.  The cache lay untouched.  The only thing down there now was the lifeless thing.  After he put Doobie into the car, Chris looked back at the excavation.  In that moment, a pale boney hand and forearm suddenly reached above the edge of the hole.  “What the hell?” Chris didn’t waste any time now.  He sprinted to the driver’s side and jumped in the seat, slamming the door.  By the time he cranked the engine and put it in drive, the old man was at his door and reaching for Chris’s face through the open window.  “Oh shit!” Chris screamed and slammed his foot on the gas.  The beast roared out onto the road, throwing rocks and dust into a giant rooster tail.  Chris looked back to see the old man gnashing its teeth and howling with rage.  Good riddance.

That had been only ten minutes ago.  Chris now sped down the vacant highway at top speed, knowing not what to do nor where to go.  Doobie interrupted his sporadic thoughts.

“Hey Chris,” His voice was very weak.  “Do you recall…that little song…Mama…used to sing for us?”  Chris thought Doobie’s tone sounded like resignation, and he rebelled against it saying, “Don’t talk like that Doobie! I don’t remember anything about no damn song…you’re gonna be fine Doob…you’re gonna be just fine…damn boy”

“…Sh-she’d sing it…to us…w-when we….were…li-little…k-kids…..”  Doobie’s voice faded to silence and his hand dropped limply to his leg.  Chris whipped his head over to look at his brother.  “Doob?” Chris said, reaching over to shake Doobie by his shoulder.  Doobie’s head only lolled to the movement.  Chris hit the brakes and whipped the car over to the side of the highway.  “Doobie?” he called again.  Absolute despair clutched his soul and held fast.

“Oh….no….  No, no, no, no! Doobie!” Chris wailed.  Then he began to plead.  “I remember the song Doobie….What about it?  What about the song Doobie?  Talk to me….Just talk to me little brother!”  The man was inconsolable.  Chris then reached over and pulled Doobie to him, placing his little brother’s head on his shoulder.  Tears rolled freely down his dirt-caked face.

“I’m sorry little brother…..I’m so damn s…”  I was at that moment that Doobie, with one fluid movement, lifted up his head and with a snarl, sank his teeth deep into Chris’ neck…ripping out a mouthful of flesh.  Chris screamed.  He screamed so loud that his voice cracked and went falsetto.  In the heartbeat it took Chris to reach down and grab his pistol, the thing that used to be Doobie had swallowed and was lunging at Chris’ throat.  In half a heartbeat before he pulled the trigger, he had seen Doobie’s eyes.  Just like the old man’s eyes.  Lifeless.  Not his baby brother.  The pistol cracked sending a lead bullet into Doobie’s forehead.

Chris now drove on down the lonely highway in silence.  He felt numb.  He knew he was losing too much blood.  He knew he was losing consciousness.  He knew he was dying.

* * * * * *

Doobie’s corpse sat in the passenger’s seat with its head blown wide open.  It’s mouth agape with the snarl still frozen on it.  The lifeless corpse rocking back and forth with every bump and swerve on the highway.  The Car’s engine droned on.  Then…Chris started half singing and half rasping out words to a long-forgotten song.

“I don’t care if it rains or freezes…’long as I got my plastic Jesus…sitting on, the dashboard of my car.” A single tear rolled down Chris’ cheek as the road noise seemingly kept time for him.

“Comes in colors pink and pleasant, glows in the dark ‘cause it’s iridescent.  Take it with you, when you travel far.”  The tears rolled freely down Chris’s face now.  Words to a long-forgotten song coming to him out of the darkness.  He could recall now how their Mama would sing it to them whenever a bad storm would blow in at night.  It always calmed the two little boys.  He sang on:

“Get yourself a sweet Madonna, dressed in rhinestones sitting on a… pedestal of abalone shell.”  His vision was going now, and yet he kept the car on the road, though he was swerving a good deal now.  He had to finish the song.  It seemed all-important to him.

“Going 90, I ain’t scary, ’cause I got the Virgin Mary… assuring me that I won’t go…to hell.”

* * * * * *

Down that dark, lonesome highway, the old car rumbled on.  It was swerving much more now, yet travel on it did, into the distance of that quiet desert.  And just after the old beast topped that far paved horizon, the old dim taillights… blinked out.

Rating: 9.33/10. From 3 votes.
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🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available


Written by Drew Blood
Edited by Craig Groshek
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

🔔 More stories from author: Drew Blood


Publisher's Notes: N/A

Author's Notes: N/A

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Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).

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