Hell Chicks details the story of a band of girl bikers who terrorize the countryside. The group of them are insatiable nymphomaniacs, each with their own specialty. Hell Chicks marks Wood’s (writing as N. V. Jason) turn to truly hardcore pornography. As far as a story goes, there really isn’t much of one. The gang travels around, has sex and is finally tracked by the police and killed (for the most part). What Hell Chicks does have, though, are the patented quirky characters that only the mind of Ed Wood could devise.
The gang itself is made up of some of the worst sexual deviates in the world and all of them have names based on their particular specialty. Flame, the leader, has red hair—everywhere (wink, wink), Hot Lips is the finisher whose fellatio is beyond comparison, Pisser is a, well, she likes urine, Boobie has big, uuh… boobies, Syph has syphilis, Ankles grabs hers, Fingers uses hers, Sissy is one and Cherry doesn’t have one. That, dear friends, is the roll call of the roughest bunch of nymphos that ever straddled a motorcycle. They lived for sex, drugs and sex…in that order.
The Hell Chicks took over bars, motels (including a delightful scene with a transvestite porno filmmaker, hmmm…), army cadets, hippie clans and male biker gangs. Wood’s strange grammar is firmly in place as the bikers speak eloquently to each other. Here’s a conversation Syph has with Monk:
“You are much too tired now,” she said softly.
“But soon – soon – oh God I must have you soon. I’ve wanted you since first my fingers traced a trail through your brushed valley. It was only out of courtesy that I took on your leader first.” Quite the elegant set of miscreants, no?
Elegant or not, the Hell Chicks are tough customers. Sent out to cut the “manhood” off of one of their enemies, Syph and Cherry get into a little spat.
“Do it… Do it… For God’s sake do it, Syph,” screamed Cherry with all of the blood lust that had been mustering up on her.
Syph let the balls and tool drop and she backhanded Cherry a sharp blow across her cheek. Her angered eyes met that of the younger girl. “You shut up Cherry, or I’ll cut that tit of yours off and shove it up your ass.”
Those damned Hell Chicks hate each other as much as they hate everything else.
Well, after the Hell Chicks destroy much of the county the police are hot on their trail. But they aren’t going down without a fight. The Hell Chicks make their last stand in the desert. Flame leads the attack (or massacre, depending on the winner):
“Bastards!” she screamed again.
“This can do nothing to help you… Words like that.” There was a slight pause. “Are you going to lay still, or are we going to open up on you? It’s all up to you. Easy or hard!”
>Flame knew exactly how she was going to take it. With the suddenness she had always been known for, she was on her feet, an even as she made the move her rifle cracked twice.
Smooth move. Flame is dead and the story ends. Hell Chicks is a pretty tough find in its original form. Copies sell for between $70 and $80. Woodpile Press printed five or six of its unique A6-sized, dust-jacketed paperback copies in 2001 but, as you can imagine, these are very rare. Interestingly enough, the cover of Hell Chicks was made into a refrigerator magnet. It is one of a series spotlighting risqué novel covers from the 50s and 60s. The magnet was created by and available from Ephemera, Inc. at (541) 535-4195.
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