A Glimpse into Hell

The Complete Series

Updated Version with New Cover

A Glimpse into Hell series consists of 7 books, 2600 pages, 235 chapters, and 744,000 words of sadistic gore, dark humor, and vigilante justice.

The Angel of Vengeance

The Angel of Death

Splatterpunk

Human Cruelty

The Reckoning

Death Certificate

Brutality

Written by,

Wade H. Garrett

Copyright © 2012 - 2024 by Wade H. Garrett.   No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, by any means, without prior written permission of the copyright holder.

V14

744,270

WARNING! Contains GRAPHIC CONTENT, ADULT LANGUAGE

& POLITICAL INCORRECTNESS,

and may be disturbing to sensitive readers.

These books are a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or deceased, is entirely coincidental.

Front cover illustration by, Wade H. Garrett

Special thanks for editing and proofreading:

Alex Bough

Amanda Pickett

Angela Rackard Campbell

Anne Bate

Brenda Yeager

Brenda Yeager (editor)

Cricket Seaberg

D. Verno

Darlene Young

Debra Reed

Heather Reddig

Jacob Mark Henry

JD Coker

Jessicka Cannibal Cameron

John Nicklin

Joseph Ardine

Joseph Elliott

JR Coker

Kesha Teach

Lahna Barratt

Lee Ann Reed

Leslie Evans

Mandi Pickett

Marla “Morbs” Thacker

MaryAnn Ebenstein

Melanie Miller

Missy Mayhem

Ozy Von Schrecken

Paul Voigt

Richard Eckert (editor)

Robyn Mattern

Roseann Bate

Sarah Z.

Shan Saw

Sheralynn Wilson

Stacy Krutilla

Thomas Arnold

Thomas Cox

Tommy Chennington

Tong Chen

Tracy Johnson

Travis Armstrong

V. McMahon

Will Davis

Summary:

The Angel of Vengeance-

In a dimly lit cell, a man has awakened to find himself surrounded by the most unimaginable and barbaric things that not even his worst nightmare could conjure up.  His captor, Seth Coker, takes the man on a journey into his twisted world of vengeance.  A world that runs parallel with the horrors that could only be found in the deepest and darkest parts of hell.  A world that bestows a wrath of chaos upon the wicked of our society who have fallen through the cracks of the judicial system.  Seth wasn’t born a vigilante, nor did he seek out the role—it sought him out.

A portion of our society feels that rapists, molesters, murderers, and abusers should have rights, and anything beyond the normal punishment of confinement would be cruel and inhumane.  Seth knows that the innocent are left without justice, while the wicked are roaming our streets without any remorse about the cruel and inhumane punishment that they bestow upon others.

Offering up heart-pumping tales of revenge, suspense, and horror in all its guises, this book is filled with dark humor, political incorrectness, gruesome and sadistic acts from beginning to end.  Be warned—this one will compel the meek to crawl into the fetal position and suck their thumb.

The Angel of Death-

The main character, Seth Coker, has invited a reporter, Wyatt Carter, to go on a road trip across America.  Seth takes the man on a journey into his twisted world of vengeance filled with the most unimaginable and barbaric things that could only be found in the deepest and darkest parts of hell.

The streets are no longer a safehaven for the wicked with Seth lurking in the shadows of the dark, waiting to bestow the most sadistic and over-the-top inhumane acts of vengeance that will stagger the mind.

Splatterpunk-

Written for the extreme gore lovers.  The story is pure gore for the sake of gore.  The main character, Seth Coker, and his sidekick, Barry Muller, hold nothing back as they inflict the most gruesome and sadistic acts of torture on the criminals and lowlifes of our society.  This book is extremely graphic, but it’s also filled with dark humor.

Splatterpunk gets straight to the gore and has very little storyline compared to the first two books in this series.  It jumps from one gory scene after another without any rhyme or reason.

Human Cruelty-

For all the animals left without justice.

Brad Johnson, a thief and lowlife, tortured and killed Kenneth Evans’ beloved pet, Roxie, during a burglary.  Kenneth wanted to exact revenge against Brad in the most horrific way possible, so he sought out Seth Coker, a notorious vigilante.  Kenneth didn’t realize the door he was opening would unleash a wrath of vengeance like no other.  He was instantly drawn into Seth’s world.  A world of torment and terror equal to the horrors found in the deepest and darkest parts of Hell.  A world filled with violence and agony.  A world of pure chaos.

In this story, Seth Coker and Kenneth Evans, torture lowlifes that have been cruel to animals.  Filled with gruesome and sadistic acts of punishment, this book is not for the meek.  Only the seasoned extreme-horror reader should embark on this journey.

The Reckoning-

Seth brings back Missy, Wyatt, Barry, and Kenneth to help with a special assignment; to travel the State of Texas and inflict the most horrifying and demented acts of vengeance against our society’s most ruthless criminals.  The Reckoning is filled with dark humor, distasteful content, sadistic torture, and nonstop acts of carnage.  It also has a new level of disgustingness that the previous books lacked.  But it’s not all gore—there is also a great deal of interaction between Seth and his friends ranging from comradery, banter, and animosity.

Death Certificate-

This is the sixth installment in the A Glimpse into Hell series.  In this story, Seth is up to his usual antics, punishing the predators of society in the most sadistic way possible.  The fate of Barry Muller is also at hand.  A fate that is unforeseen and shocking.  A fate that is worse than death itself.  Death Certificate is packed with dark humor, sadistic torture, and nonstop acts of carnage.

Brutality-

This is the seventh installment in the A Glimpse into Hell series.  In this story, Seth punishes sexual predators, rapists, and sex traffickers in the most horrific way possible.  And the entire gang is back, including Missy, Kenneth, Wyatt, Kyle, and even Barry.  Brutality is packed with dark humor, sadistic torture, and nonstop acts of carnage.

“Good horror reveals our deepest and darkest fears.  It exposes the horrid reality that lurks in the evilness of society, revealing the true monsters, showing us the hidden truth of human nature.  It takes us on a journey into the sadistic minds of the wicked, interwoven with the fear of the innocent.  Good horror is uncompromising and unforgiving.”

A brief comment from the author:

My subject matter and humor are not for everyone, especially criminals (particularly molesters and rapists), people that believe criminals have rights, or even people that are sensitive to extreme gore.  I know this will occasionally cost me a low rating and BS review, even though I have posted numerous warnings.  In addition, I welcome advice from my readers.  I write because of you, so I listen to criticism and praise.  I’ve tried to create the best quality read possible, but unfortunately, most of us indie authors don't have the means to hire an expensive editing agency like the mainstream authors/ publishers use, and some of us rely on friends, family, fans, and individuals that charge a reasonable fee.  I can read a sentence containing a mistake ten times, and my brain plugs in the correct word, even if it’s missing, so I’m useless as a proofreader.  Even though I used editing software and numerous people have edited/ proofread it, some errors may remain.  If anyone wants to proofread/ edit my book(s), please email me.

If you like this series, please leave a review.  The more positive reviews, the higher it is on Amazon’s search list, resulting in more people finding it.  I truly appreciate the positive reviews, comments, and support that I have been receiving, and will continue writing as long as there are people who appreciate my work.

If you have any questions, comments, or advice, please feel free to contact me at wade.garrett.777@gmail.com.

Table of Contents

Book One - The Angel of Vengeance

Mortal Fear

The Man in the Dark Corner

The Human Punching Bag

Knuckle Sandwich

Deceiving the Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

A Horrific Son of a Bitch

The Indestructible Monster

The Carjackers

Mr. Propane Torch

Judas Cradle

Passing the Buck

La Venganza

Oklahoma Massacre

Richard Head

Wide Road to Destruction

Stuffing Animals Made Easy- Volume One

Dial 1-800-Eat-Shit

Theater of Horror

Gateway to Hell

Lighter Side of Things

The Predator

Mutherfuckin’ Seventies Pimp

Moulding Bloody Play-Doh

The Awakening

Shit Sandwich

The Soulless Bitch

A Thousand Ways to Drown

Grease Monkey

Raped by Royalty

Murphy and his Fuckin’ Laws

Raping the Rapist

Forever Silent

Sideshow Freak—The Human Slug

Seeing Blind Man

Human Shit Factory

The Shattered Reflection of the Crescent Moon

Human Octopus

The Gruesome Torture Device

Doctor of Death

The Many Faces of a Vigilante

Fucking Fuck

Dissecting the Living

Cancer Sticks

Demented Minions

Mask of Horror

Killing a Killer

The Reaper

The Day of Vengeance

Book Two – The Angel of Death

Room 1822

Locked and Loaded

Product of Pain and Suffering

Fucking Buffoons

Fiesta En El Infierno Aqui En La Tierra

Intestinal Noose

Pervert Vending Machine

Pole Smoker

Glory Hole from Hell

Human Gastropod

The Molester’s Teeter Totter

Shit Faced; Literally

Colostomy Bag or Death

12 Gauge Thug-shot

Piss Flavored Lemonade

Fuckin’ Illegal Space Aliens

The Human Music Box

The Key to Unlock Fear

Ghost of Brunswick Avenue

Cruisin’, Thumpin’ & Hangin’ with da Homeboys

Dickin’ Around

Midnight Knob Goblin

Rock Star

Fucking Psychos are People Too

Vigilante Ben Wa Balls

The Dope Show

Serrated Steel Cock Ring

Truth or Fucking Dare, Vigilante Style

The Anarchist Vigilante’s Cookbook

Creepy-Ass Cracker Show

Blackface Does Beat Whitey Night

Pain Before the Cane

Rollin’ Torture Wagon

Nut Stick

Automatic Punk Exterminator

Living Zombie

Scuba Diving in Hell

Tangled Web We Weave

Spin-the-Wheel of Torture Game

A Dickless Child Molester

Musical Extremities

Two Headed Cock

Nuthin’ But a Thang

Mind Rapist

Eye for an Eye

911

Human Skin Condom

Pyromaniac

Revelations

Book 3 – Splatterpunk

The Damned

The Vigilante’s Bitch

A Dickless MF

The Angel of Death

The Suffering

Mind Incarceration

Million-Dollar Baby

Werewolves from Hell

Smokin’ Hot Lube

Muff Divin’

Dirty Dancing

Death Match

Screwed, Blued, and Tattooed

Shit Covered Screwdriver

Finger Dick

Motley Crew

Die MF Die

Circus of Freaks

Monstrosity

Transformation

Sock Monkey

A Sick Bastard

Solitary of Horror

Book four – Human Cruelty

The Sport Hunter

The Dog Fighters

Psychotic Killer

An Evil Piece of Shit

Slūshy

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

Chaos

S & K Lawn Service

Infamously Agonizing

KICK ME—I’M A PSYCHO

Foreplay

Blood Sport

FUBAR

Dirty Sanchez

Triple Hole Threat

Wrecking Ball

Torture Porn

An Abomination

Nimrods

Gothic Bitch

Dunce Hat

Colonoscopy

A Star Is Born

Rag Doll

Home Away From Home

Jackass

Psycho Art

Dicks, Balls and Asses

The Vigilante’s Handbook

Sick Bastard

Frankenstein’s Bitch

Eye for an Eye

Trophy

Book Five – The Reckoning

Hardcore

Fuckin’ Psychic

The Crew

The Village Idiot

Beavis and Butt-Head

Drag Queen

Sick Bastards

Buck Dich

Smokin’ Ass

Fuccboi

Can Pricks Fly?

The Big-Dick Clown

Déjà vu

Idle Hands are the Devil’s Playground

Fuckin’ Retard Hopped up on Ritalin

Burning Man

Ass Vandals

Doggy-Style

Candy Man

Roasted Corpus Cavernosum

Heart Worm

Hide the Snake

Autopsy

FUCKIN’ CUNT

The Return of the Living Dead

Fucking Creep

Jerry-Rig

Gun Smoke

Balloon Scientist

Mama Said Knock You Out

Retarded Smurfs

Sack Full of Heads

Bamboozled

Perverted Shit

Orgy in the Woods

“Fore!”

Death Erection

Shopping Spree

Silicone Sex Toy

Penis Snorkel

Possum Eating Shit

Death Certificate

Berserk

The Reckoning

Book Six – Death Certificate

Scumbags

Sweet Thing

The One-Man Sex Show

Fucked to Death

Spanky

13 Ways to Die

Suicide Watch

Prison Breakout

Lard Cake

Mister Snuffleupagus

The Fuckin’ Pizza Guy

The Three Stooges

Mad Scientist

Freak Show

The Milkman

Filthy Mattress

Bob

Last Man Standing

1,439 Minutes

Shenanigans

Book Seven – Brutality

Minor-Attracted People

Madam Scatophilia

Cat’s in the Cradle

Guilty Pleasures

Man in the Moon

Ass Clown

How to Catch a Predator

Ride the Tin Man

FUBAR

It's Only Make Believe

A Teachable Moment

How Shit is Made

Possessed

Brain Surgery for Dummies

Johnny Load

Potty Mouth

Wagon Train

Snuff Film

Evolution to the Madness

Misery Loves Company

Book One - The Angel of Vengeance

Mortal Fear

The rain was coming down hard as John frantically ran down a dark alley in the middle of the night.  The only light was from distant streetlights and random lightning from the storm.  His heart was pounding violently; it seemed as if his chest could explode at any second.  He was running for his life, for his worst fear was not far behind.  With every exhausting step, his predator was getting closer and closer.

John stumbled out of the dark alley into a dimly lit street lined with tall buildings.  He fell to his knees as he realized the street was deserted.  Street after street and building after building, not one person had been found.  He was doomed to face his fear alone.

An eerie sound, like a knife blade slowly dragging along bricks and mortar, was becoming louder and louder as it was echoing down the alleyway behind him.  The smell of death had begun to fill the air and he was ready to surrender as he sat hunched over on his knees.  He was slightly swaying back and forth, hopelessly staring at the wet asphalt.  He was about to collapse in defeat when a faint light caught the corner of his eye.  When he turned his head toward the light, a feeling of salvation came over him.  In the distance stood a church.  It seemed very tranquil.  Without hesitating, he stumbled to his feet and ran toward it, knowing if he could reach it, he would be safe.  With each step, his legs became heavier and heavier.  The harder he tried to run, the slower he went.  He seemed to be running in slow motion, much like in a dream.

With the beast not far behind him, he reached the steps of the church.  He grabbed the handle of the door and pulled.  It was locked.  In a panic, he began to pull on the door handle with both hands, fearing something worse than death itself was approaching.  He knew death would be welcome compared to the unimaginable and unspeakable horrors that the creature’s madness bestowed on others.  He looked back, and for the first time he could clearly see his predator in the distance.

Somehow, through all the noise of the wind, rain and the pounding of his heart, a faint sound of an organ began to creep through the cracks around the door.  He released the handle and began pounding on the door to gain someone’s attention.  Around the seventh or eighth blow, his heart seemed to stop as he realized the sound of the organ was not something that agreed with his soul—the notes felt like something Satan himself would play.

While he stood staring at the door, which was now something he wasn’t sure if he wanted to open, a sharp chill came over him—he could feel an evil presence was overshadowing him.  His body went limp and he fell to his knees.  He rolled over onto his backside and rested his back against the door.  His body was frozen with fear as he stared up at a cloaked being.  Its face was hidden in the darkness of a hood, but John could sense it was not human.  He could feel something from the deepest and darkest parts of hell was standing over him.

He watched in terror as the being pulled a sickle-type weapon from its clothing.  Even though he was frightened, something caught his eye on the blade of the weapon; a strange looking symbol formed from dried blood.  To his horror, he watched as his attacker slowly raised up the blood-covered blade into the air, but his fright turned to a revelation when he noticed the symbol in an upside-down position—it was something he had been searching for.  He screamed as the blade fell toward him.

What a horrifying dream, John thought, as he leaned forward in his office chair, resting his arms on his desk.  He had fallen asleep while doing paperwork late into the night.  Covered in sweat and still disturbed from the dream, he pulled a folder out of his desk drawer and began flipping through it.  When he came to a photo of a murder victim, he stopped and stared at it—he had possibly found an answer that he had been looking for.

A few minutes later, the phone rang.  He answered, “Detective Davis.”

“Hey, John, we’ve got another one down here on River Bend Road in the old Iron Works warehouse.”

“I’m on my way.”  He hung up the phone and holstered his gun that was lying on the desk.  He grabbed his jacket and took off in a hurry.

When he arrived on the crime scene a mob of reporters ran up to his car.  Before he had a chance to get out, a woman blurted out, “Detective Davis, this seems to be another victim of the Angel of Vengeance.  Are you any closer to catching him?”

He was irritated as he motioned for them to step away.  “It’s two in the morning!  Don’t you people ever get any sleep?”

When he approached the crime scene, his partner J.T. stopped him.  “You better prepare yourself for this one…  It’s gruesome.”

John remained silent and thought to himself, it can’t be worse than the other ones.  Before he went inside an old, abandoned warehouse, J.T. handed him a rag to hold over his mouth to help with the putrid odor that filled the air.  The inside of the building was damp and cold, and as J.T. led him through the dark with his flashlight, he told him they had found the victim’s wallet and the body had been identified.  He was a local thug and a paroled child molester.

Across the open building, he could see a lighted section where police and crime scene investigators were searching the area.  With each step the air became more and more putrefied, and the swarms of flies were getting thicker.  When he approached the crime scene, he stopped and started gagging.  The horrifying sight of a maggot covered, decomposing and ravaged body combined with the rancid smell of rotting flesh was overwhelming and made him instantly nauseous.

J.T. grabbed John’s shoulder.  “You, okay?”

John was holding the rag over his mouth.  “This is one sick son of a bitch we’re dealing with.”

“I know.  Take your time.  I’ll catch up with you in a bit.”

When John regained his composure, he walked up to the body, and in a state of shock, just stood, staring in disbelief.  The image he was taking in would haunt him for the rest of his life.  He could not take his eyes off the gruesome sight, and they would not blink as he stared in horror at a nude man who was bound to a halite block wall.  The man had been tortured and his body had been mutilated in ways that not even his worst thoughts could conjure up.  His body was being secured to the wall by large spikes that had been driven through his shoulders and thighs, and his arms were stretched upwards from his body, bound to the wall with rusted nails that had been driven through his flesh and bones, from his palms to his elbows.  There were hundreds of these nails.  It appeared he had been beaten with some type of whip with sharp barbs on the end.  His flesh had been ripped off piece by piece from each blow as he was being scourged.  It was obvious he endured a horrendous and barbaric beating because there was blood and flesh stuck to the ceiling, which was about thirty-five feet high.  So much of his flesh had been ripped from his body his ribs were showing and his organs were protruding through the huge gashes left by the sharp tips of the whip.  His intestines had fallen out of a large wound in the lower part of his abdominal area and piled around his feet.  The floor around the man was covered with all kinds of indescribable and disgusting body fluids, and the wall behind him was covered with blood, flesh, urine, and feces.  Above him hung four intravenous bags that were partially filled with blood, and each bag had a plastic tube running down to a butterfly needle inserted into his neck.  He had been beaten so brutally with some type of rigid weapon his bones were shattered like glass, and some of the broken pieces were protruding through the skin on his arms and legs.  An old, rusted railroad spike was sticking out of his right knee, and because of the square shaped wound it left, it was obvious it had been used over and over to puncture holes into the bones of his feet, legs, hips, shoulders, and arms.  The man’s penis had been cut off and was sewn tightly to his lips with thick, black thread.  A large hole had been cut in his left cheek, and his upper and lower molars had been pulled out.  Vomit covered the side of his face and head where it had spewed out.  During the grueling torture, he must have started choking on his vomit, so his merciless and twisted attacker made a hole in his face instead of cutting the penis from his lips.  His tongue was stretched through the hole and sewn tightly to his lower jaw.  His eyelids had been stretched upwards and they were sewn to his eyebrows, forcing him to watch his attacker’s taunting.  This was the same type of sick and barbaric behavior this killer had shown in the past with his other victims.

A crime scene investigator noticed John was staring at a strange device that was tied to the victim’s neck.  He walked over and stood next to him.  “I’ve read about that in college.  It’s called a Heretic Fork.”

John wanted to look at the agent, but his eyes couldn’t pull away from the horrific sight.  “It’s barbaric.”

“In fact, it is.  It was designed and used in the medieval days.”

“For what?”

“Exactly for this.  To prevent a person from moving their head and jaw so they can’t scream while being tortured.”

John noticed the device had two sharp points on each end and it was rammed between the victim’s sternum bone and bottom side of his chin.  The device was held in place by a leather strap that was tied around his neck.  John turned and looked at the agent.  “This man must have endured the most horrendous amount of pain that a person could endure.”

“Yeah, I would say so.”

John examined the corpse.  “Check out the ends of the Heretic fork.  You can tell he screamed even though the device caused more pain.”

The investigator noticed one end of the Heretic fork had dug into the man’s chin bone and the other end was lodged deep into his chest.  “You’re right.  He must have endured a massive amount of pain to do that.”

John remained silent as he rubbed his neck.  The C.S.I. agent kneeled and pointed to a wound.  “He took his time and cauterized the wounds.”

John kneeled beside the agent.  “I’ve seen this before with some of his other victims.  It’s done to increase their survival time so he can inflict as much pain and agony as possible.”

“This man must have been tortured for hours, or maybe even days, before he bled out.”

J.T. walked up to John.  “It’s no doubt it’s the same sick bastard that did this.”

John stood up.  “I agree, but I haven’t found a mark on the victim.”

J.T. shined his light on the wall a little way down from the man.  “It’s right there.”

John shook his head as he studied the attacker’s signature mark that had been painted on the wall with blood.  John knew he had possibly found a clue from his dream.  “I might have a lead.”

His eyes grew big.  “What did you find?  Did he slip up this time?”

“No, that’s not it.  I think I’ve seen this mark in an old case file from many years ago.”

“Really?  And you’re just now bringing it up, after how many….”

John interrupted.  “Listen, I just had to look at the symbol from a different perspective.”

A confused expression came over J.T.  “Enlighten me.”

“I’ll tell you about it later.  I also think some of the cut marks on this victim and on some of the other ones could have been from a sickle.”

“A sickle?”

“It’s an old tool used to harvest grain crops.”

“I know what it is.  I was being sarcastic.  And how did you come up with that?”

“It’s just a hunch.”

“Hunch?  More like the foul air is getting to you.”

“Whatever, but it’s all we have to go on for now.  I’m going back to the station to do some research.”  John turned and walked away.

J.T. shook his head, and as John disappeared into the dark, J.T. yelled out, “Thanks, pal.  I’ll stay here and clean up this mess.”

The Man in the Dark Corner

Across town, Seth awoke from a peaceful nighttime sleep, and as he got out of bed, he stretched and yawned with a bit of joy, for it was a day he had been looking forward to for a long time.  After he stood up and stretched again, he walked into the bathroom and washed his face.  He was getting old, he thought, as he looked at his reflection in the mirror while drying himself with a towel.  He ran his fingers through his short, brown and gray hair, then he grabbed his flabby belly and thought how getting old sucks.  Even his goatee was getting gray, but he was just like any other normal forty-something year old man, except for his eyes, which seemed to have a distant glare.  He smiled as he flexed his muscles—it was satisfying that all his weightlifting had paid off—then frowned when he grabbed his belly again.

A few minutes later, he went downstairs in his pajamas to read the newspaper and drink a cup of coffee as he did every morning.  A frown came over his face as he read the headline news that read Another Victim Found Gruesomely Murdered by the Angel of Vengeance.  He read the victim was number fourteen and the police still had no leads.  He flipped over the paper as he lost interest in the article, and as he read the funnies, he smiled as if it was a perfect world.

When he finished, he got up from the table and went upstairs to get dressed.  It was going to be a busy day and he did not want to waste a second of it.  Several minutes later, he came downstairs wearing a roughly worn pair of black leather pants.  The pants had leather straps with buckles that wrapped around his legs, four above his knees and three below them.  His belt was thick and wide, and the buckle was a pewter skeleton with a large set of bronze wings.  Bulky chains hung from his belt and ran to different pockets.  A smaller chain hung from his belt and dangled a large cross by his right thigh.  He wore a black, short sleeved tee shirt tucked in, and a large medallion hung from a thick chain around his neck.  The medallion was a large, bronze skull with the letters S.C. inscribed on the forehead.  His pant bottoms were tucked inside of black, heavy looking boots, and the boots had several straps with buckles that were secured around the top.  His arms were covered with black and gray tattoos from his wrists to where they disappeared under his sleeves.  His facial expression was different from earlier.  It was now serious.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he strolled across the room and over to an ordinary looking security system keypad, then pressed a series of numbers.  Within seconds, a portion of the wall extended out, then slid to the right, revealing a staircase that went to a lower level.  When he slipped through the opening, heading downstairs, the wall closed behind him.  It was dark, and as he slowly walked down the steps, he could smell a musty odor and a slight scent of death.  When he reached the bottom, the lights came on automatically, revealing a small room filled with usual items that most people would store in a basement.  He went over and sat down at an old desk with a mirror, and as he stared at his reflection, he slowly began painting his entire face and neck with dull white paint.  After his skin was covered with a thin layer of white, he painted his lips and around his eyes with black paint.  For the final touch, he artistically shadowed his face with different shades of black and gray.  When he was finished, his face had the illusion of being the undead.

For this special day, he took out a razor blade and slowly carved the word vengeance into his forehead.  Thin trails of blood ran down his face as he stood up and grabbed a black trench coat off the back of the chair.  He put it on, threw a leather hood over his head, then walked across the room to a large mirror leaning up against the wall.  He stared into it with a solemn expression.  His reflection looked like something from the depths of hell.  His black and roughly worn leather trench coat almost hung to the floor.  The coat had been sewn together with thick, black thread, giving it a heavy look.  The leather hood hung out from his head and shadowed his face, which only revealed the dark stare of his eyes and his long black and gray goatee.  His leather gloves were stained with blood and sewn together with the same thick, black thread.

He pulled a large weapon out of a leather sheath that was attached to the inside of his trench coat.  When he pressed a button, a large blade automatically flipped open.  The weapon now resembled a barbaric looking sickle.  The handle was about ten inches long and made of human bone.  A metal end cap shaped like a skull with jagged points was secured to the end of the bone handle.  As the shiny steel blade left the handle it widened out as it curved to the right, and after it curved out to around seven or eight inches it began to narrow before it came to a sharp point, and then it curved in the opposite direction that formed the main blade.  The main blade was a long crescent shape, razor sharp on the inside and serrated on the outside.  He turned and walked over to a large antique furnace, and after he opened the steel door, exposing the dirty interior, he pressed a button that was hidden on the inside.  The back of the furnace slowly opened, and as a putrefied odor filled the air, a secret passageway was revealed.  He slipped through the furnace and into a dark and eerie corridor.  He paused for a moment until the door automatically closed behind him.  It was almost pitch dark, but he could see a faint amount of light coming from the end of the stone passage; it seemed far away.  As he crept toward the light, he could hear the agony and moans of people becoming louder and louder with every step. The temperature was slowly dropping as the passageway gradually sloped deeper into the earth.

Suddenly, the deafening sounds of pain echoed out when the dim light of a wall-mounted lantern struck his face.  He stood motionless, and as he stared into a stone chamber filled with rusted cages and gruesome torture devices, he could hear tormented souls as they moaned in agony and begged for death.  He just stood and stared at the most unimaginable and horrifying things that not even the worst possible nightmare could conjure up.  The walls of the room had decaying corpses of people hanging by shackles, spikes and rusted barbed wire.  Their bodies were grossly torn and ravaged from barbarous torture.

Throughout the chamber, skeletal remains of people laid rotting in horrifying torture devices.  Some of the corpses had their mouths still open from when they had died screaming out the last bit of air in their lungs.  Grossly rotten and discolored bodies were suspended from the ceiling by barbwire, and some were nailed directly to the ceiling with large spikes.  There were hideous sights of corpses that had been sewn to each other with thick, black thread, and their flesh was torn where they had tried to tear themselves apart from one another.

The chamber was filled with every type of torture device imaginable and unimaginable, from the smallest to the largest, from the oldest to the newest.  Living and deceased people lined every wall, filled every torture device, and covered every part of the ceiling.  All of them were nude.  In the back of the chamber were seven medium sized cells divided by stone walls.  The front of the cells were made of vertical steel bars spaced six inches apart with a horizontal steel bar at the top, bottom, and center.  Each cell had a door made of steel bars with large hinges and a beefed-up locking mechanism.  There were several smaller, solid steel doors mounted in the adjacent stone wall from the cells, and it appeared they hadn’t been opened in a long time.

The air was filled with a putrid odor from decomposing flesh and human waste.  Splatter marks of dried blood and other human fluids stained the walls, floor, and wooden ceiling of the chamber.  Feces, urine, flesh, and blood slowly flowed through shallow channels that were in the stone floor, and the channels ran to a large cesspool in the center of the chamber.  It seemed as if he had walked through a time warp and into a dungeon from the darkest and deepest parts of hell.  Seth began to walk through the chamber, and as he focused straight ahead, pleas for mercy begged for death, but he ignored them.  When he came to one of the cells in the back, he grabbed the rusted bars and leaned in until his forehead rested on them.  “I’ve waited a long time for you.”

A man’s face moved in the dark corner of the cell.  “Why am I here?”

Seth glared at him.  “To pay for your past transgressions.”

The man stood to his feet, remaining hidden in the dark corner.  “What are you going to do to me?”

“Nothing more than you deserve.”

He sat back on the floor and covered his face with his hands as he began to cry.  He was around sixty years old.  His gray and white striped shirt and pants resembled prisoner style clothing.  He was barefoot and his feet were filthy.  The top of his head was bald, and his remaining hair was gray.  His cell was around ten feet wide by eight feet deep and extremely dirty.  The floor was covered in old stains, which appeared to be blood, feces, and urine.  The ceiling was made of wood, and it was around eight feet tall, lower than the twelve-foot high ceiling of the main chamber.  The bars were rusted and covered with spattered blood and feces.  The stone walls and wooden ceiling were covered with old drawings.  They were unusual and made no sense.  The drawings seemed to have been done by an incoherent person, and they appeared to be made of feces.

While the man in the dark corner looked at Seth and all the gruesome things around him, he mumbled in a scared voice, “I must have died and gone to hell.”

“Not yet.  That’s something you can look forward to after I’m done with you.”

A long silence fell over the chamber.  The man looked around for a moment, then lowered his head.  “How could you do such horrible things?”

Seth closed his eyes and thought back to when he was just a young boy.  He remembered the last day he was with his family.  It was on his fifth birthday.  His mom and dad had saved up enough money to buy him the bicycle he had wanted.  It was wintertime and the days were short.  It was close to sunset and his dad wanted him to ride his bike on his birthday.  Seth could still remember his dad’s voice like it was yesterday.  “Come on, Sethy boy.  Let’s take your new bike out for a spin before it gets too dark.”

Seth rode his bike up and down the sidewalk with excitement while his parents watched proudly.  A few minutes later, his parents noticed there was a car speeding toward them.  The car was swerving all over the street and sideswiping parked vehicles, so without hesitation they ran in fear toward Seth, screaming for him to get out of the way.  The car swerved, missing Seth, and crashed into a nearby tree.

Seth got off his bike, and as he stood in uncertainty, he watched the driver as he was frantically trying to restart his car.  When the man turned his head, Seth saw he had a large gash across his forehead and around his left eye that resembled the shape of a backwards question mark.  Seth pushed his bike to the ground and quickly ran toward his house.  Before he made it to his driveway, he found his parents lying on the grass, and when he approached them, his dad reached out to him.  Seth knelt and grasped his dad’s hand as tears ran down his cheeks.  “Are you and mommy okay?”

His dad reached over with his other hand and held Seth’s face as he looked into his eyes.  “It’s going to be all right, Sethy boy.”

Seconds later his dad died.  The car sped away as he was sitting on the ground still holding his dad’s hand.

Seth opened his eyes and stared at a scar in the palm of his hand, and he thought to himself how his parent’s death was just the beginning of the horror to come in his life.

“What are you going to do to me?”

Seth didn’t answer.

“Are you going to kill me?”

Seth caught his composure and looked up.  “We’ll see, but for now I want to introduce you to some of the others in the chamber.  And when I tell their story I want you to pay attention and listen carefully.  You might have a hard time comprehending what your ears are actually hearing.  You will have doubts as your mind tells you some of the stories cannot be possible, but I assure you that the unimaginable and unthinkable things I will tell are a reality fueled by the raging passion for vengeance combined with all the earth’s fury.”

The Human Punching Bag

The man in the dark corner stood to his feet.  “I don’t understand why I am here.”

“All will be revealed.  Be patient.”  Seth walked over to and leaned up against a corpse that was standing in a drum filled with dried concrete.  “This is Larry.”

The man in the dark corner could see that Larry had been concreted up to his waist in the barrel.  He had several metal objects sticking out of the top of his head.  A rope was tied to one of the metal objects and the other end was secured to the ceiling, holding the corpse upright.  His body was massively deformed and bruised from some type of barbaric torture.  His body, the metal barrel and the floor were covered in dried blood and other disgusting fluids.  The man in the dark corner was extremely concerned with his situation.  He was scared, but also had a lot of anxiety from being confined against his will in a room filled with such atrocities.  “I don’t care about who or what that thing is, or what you have to say.  I just want to go home.”

Seth struck a match off the side of a metal eyebolt that was sticking out the top of the corpse’s head, then lit a cigarette.  “You better learn to care, pal—I have quite a few stories to tell.”

He lowered his head and softly spoke.  “My name isn’t pal.”

Seth stared at him for a moment.  “You remind me of this weird fucker named Richard that I ran across a few years back.”  Seth pointed at him.  “I’m going to call you Dicky.  That’s your new name from here on out.”

He took a deep breath.  “Whatever makes you happy.”

Seth nodded toward the corpse.  “Now back to this fucker.  He was a very cruel and abusive piece of shit that liked to beat on women and kids.  It was many years ago when I first read about him in the paper.  The article stated he had beaten his wife and daughter to death with his fists and he had gotten off on a technicality.  The paper said the officers that arrested him didn’t use proper procedures and the evidence they had obtained couldn’t be used in the trial because it had been collected without a search warrant.  Our justice system let a ruthless killer go free even though the evidence was overwhelming.”

Seth strolled over to Dicky and grabbed the bars.  “I knew someone was going to have to step forward to make this guy pay for the vicious crime he had committed.  My whole life I’ve witnessed how cruel the human race can be and it was time to give a little justice back to all the decent people of the world.  Our judicial system is worthless as it fails to punish murderers, rapists, child molesters and all the other scum of the earth, and after they receive a slap on the hand, they are released to create more havoc for law abiding and decent people.  Our system does not make the criminal take responsibility for their actions.  They say a rapist has rights.  How can this be?  What about his victim’s rights?  Human activists protest and fight for a murderer on death row, but where were they when the lowlife was killing their victim?  Parole committees decide if a child molester can be set free, but are they going to guard and protect everyone’s children?  Prison is too easy for criminals.  Their televisions, books, radios, weights, sports, and any other type of luxuries should be stripped from them, but a portion of society feels that would be cruel and unusual punishment.  What about how the criminal didn’t care about their victim’s cruel and unusual punishment they bestowed upon them.”

Dicky looked up.  “Why are you telling me all this?  I want to know…”

Seth interrupted.  “All you need to do for now is, shut the fuck up and listen.”

He lowered his head.  Seth paused for a moment to see if he had anything else to say, but he just sat quietly while looking down.  He ambled back over to Larry and sat on the edge of the drum.  “I needed to investigate Larry closer, so I drove to Mesa, Arizona where he lived in a mobile home on the outskirts of town.  After a short while, I realized he was more of a piece of shit than what I had originally thought.  He had just been released from jail and was already beating up his new girlfriend.  The bastard’s wife and daughter had only been in the ground for six months.  His criminal record showed he had been in and out of prison most of his life for all sorts of crimes.  Most were abuse or assault related.  Some of the others I went after took extensive surveillance, months of planning and extreme patience, but Larry was one of the easy ones.  Over the course of several days, I followed him around and studied his moves.  On the fourth night, I followed him to a run-down motel where he had met some lady.  I figured she was a prostitute because of the clothes she wore and the way she handled herself, but I never judge a book by its cover.  She could have been an undercover cop, so I asked around and found out she was a hooker and had been in the area for several years.  While I waited in the parking lot, I noticed the area was dark, no visible cameras and no one was around.  About an hour later, Larry came out of the motel room, and as he walked over to his car, I met him with a club.  He quickly noticed me while smoking a cigarette.  “What the fuck do you want, jerk off?”

“Redemption.”

“What the…”

Before he could finish his sentence, I swung the club and beat him unconscious.  Without hesitating I dragged him over to my car and threw him into a hidden compartment under the floor of my trunk, then I hightailed it out of there.  A little way out of town I stopped and injected him with a tranquilizer so he would sleep for the rest of the trip.  The last thing I needed was to get pulled over by the police for a taillight being out while the jackass was banging around and yelling for help.  Six hours later I arrived at home, and after I dragged his unconscious body into the chamber, I threw him into a cell until I could figure out what I was going to do with him.  Before I left the room, I injected him again with another tranquilizer shot so he would sleep through the night.”

Seth extinguished his cigarette butt on Larry’s face, then walked over to Dicky’s cell.  “It took me four years to dig and build this room, and for the record it’s soundproof.  There is dirt all the way around it and we’re around twenty feet deep, so no one will be able to hear your screams.”

Dicky stood to his feet as he continued to hide in the shadowed corner.  “I don’t know why you have brought me into this hellish place, and I don’t know what I’ve done to you, but I beg you to tell me anything.”

“Everything will be revealed in good time, but for now all I can tell you is that you will never leave this chamber alive.”

He exhibited a solemn expression as Seth sat on a wooden table next to Larry’s corpse.  “Death is too easy of a way out for guys like Larry.  I wanted to do something special for him.  I wanted him to suffer and feel belittled like his wife and daughter and all the other people he had abused.  The next morning, I went into town and picked up a fifty-five-gallon barrel and some bags of Quikrete.  When I got back, I dragged his unconscious body out of the cell to where I had set up the materials.  After I catheterized him, I stood him up inside the barrel, then filled it with concrete up to his waist.  Several hours later he finally awoke, and the last thing he would remember would be standing next to his car back at the motel.  For the first few minutes he didn’t say a word as he looked at me and all the monstrosities that surrounded him.  I will never forget his facial expression; it looked as if he had awoken in hell and was staring at the devil himself.”  Seth noticed Dicky was staring at the floor.  “Look at me when I’m talking!”

He didn’t say anything as he raised his head and glared at Seth.

“The makeup does make an impression, don’t you think?  Most people don’t really know what to think the first time they see me and all the gruesome shit around them.  They don’t know if I am a psycho or if they have actually died and gone to hell.  Some think it’s a nightmare they will finally awaken from.  Torture and confusion of the mind is sometimes more painful than the torture of the flesh.  I always mix the two—fear after the adrenaline rush is over creates more pain.”

Dicky raised his knees up to his chest, and after he rested his arms on them, he mumbled, “You are psycho.”

“Being psychotic or sane is irrelevant in the outcome of your destiny.  And I can also tell you that listening to what I have to say without your mouth being sewn shut would be less agonizing.”

He rest his chin on his arms, and as he sat quietly with the facial expression of a pouting kid, Seth continued, “After Larry had a good look around, he realized what kind of predicament he was in and started begging.  He really began to beg and plead as I put a pair of brass knuckles on each hand.  He screamed like a bitch as I began to beat on him like he was a human punching bag.  I knocked out all his front teeth in the first few blows.  At first, he tried to fight back and block the punches with his arms, but when I began to beat them into tenderized meat, he quickly decided to cover his face with his hands to protect himself.  I didn’t miss a beat as I began pounding on the back of his hands, and with each blow I could hear the bones in his fingers snapping like twigs.  I finally stopped when I was exhausted and his face, hands and body were a bloody pulp.  I had some other things to do, so I left him sniveling in the dark as I walked out of the chamber.

The next evening when I came back, I found Larry slumped over like a limp noodle.  He was so exhausted and weak from the loss of blood that he didn’t even have the energy to hold himself up.  He was hideous looking.  His face looked like one big bruise and his entire head and body were severely swollen and stained with dry blood.  His front teeth were missing, and the broken pieces were scattered all over the blood and vomit covered floor.  His lips were busted open and swollen about four times their normal size and I could see his gums through the large open gashes.  His arms and hands were so busted up and swollen they were unnatural looking.  One of his eyes had ruptured and the massive amount of swelling had caused it to grotesquely protrude from its socket to the point it looked as if it was going to fall out.  His other one was almost swollen shut, but he could still see.  I was actually amazed he was still alive.

When he saw me, he became infuriated.  He bowed up like he wanted to fight.  He could barely move his mouth.  “You motherfucker!  I’m going to fucking kill you!”

While he cursed and threatened me, I grabbed him by his hair and pulled his head back and glared directly into his good eye, or somewhat of a good eye.  “I’m not your wife or daughter you’re talking to, fuck wad!”

To my surprise, he grabbed my throat with both of his swollen hands.  “I’m going to rip your fucking heart out you motherfu…”

I backhanded him so hard that when his exhausted body sprung backwards, the vertebrae in his back cracked and popped and I thought I had broken it.  He screamed at the top of his lungs as his body helplessly hung backwards, then a short moment later he began to shake violently—possibly due to all his nerves feeling like they were on fire.  He trembled and screamed as he desperately tried to pull himself forward by gripping the top of the barrel with his swollen hands, but he didn’t have the strength.  And the slipperiness of his bloody hands didn’t help either.  The pain was causing him to scream out louder and louder with each passing second.”

Knuckle Sandwich

Seth walked over and stood by the rusted bars.  He noticed Dicky had a strange look as he sat on the floor.  “Everyone I bring in here reacts differently, and as time passes each person will eventually change his or her personality and mindset.  Some will go from being weak and timid, to angry and violent, weak to strong, or from being an extremely aggressive and mouthy jerk to a sniveling wimp, and then sometimes they change to another mindset.  I’ve learned to give up on understanding the human mind, but what I’ve learned is when a human is pushed to their limits physically, and/or emotionally, and when they realize they have no control over their destiny, they will react in an unpredictable and sometimes surprising way.  Sometimes there is more fear and pain in psychological torture than in actual torture of the flesh itself, but I like to think of the mind games as foreplay.”

Seth noticed a tear running down Dicky’s face.  “See, right now you’re acting like a little bitch.  Later you will be cursing me and fighting back like a wild, crazed maniac.”

“I’m not that kind of person.”

“Sure, you are.  You just haven’t had the proper motivation yet.”

He stood up.  “I need to know why I am here.”

“Apparently not for your fucking company.”

A solemn look came over his face.

Seth sat on the wooden table next to Larry’s corpse. “Like I said earlier, everything will be revealed.  For now, you just need to listen and keep your mouth shut.  Now where was I?  Oh yeah, this asshole here was screaming as he was frantically twisting his body and grabbing at the barrel to pull himself forward.  His fingers were grotesquely bending backwards because of his broken phalanges, and his thumbs were slipping from all the blood and mucus that covered the top of the barrel.  Finally, he used his arms to push downward on the top of the barrel, and after twisting around and struggling for a few seconds he was able to straighten himself up.  He had to struggle to balance himself in the upright position, and when he caught his composure, he glared at me through his swollen eye.  “You’re a fucking coward,” and then with a cocky grin he said, “You’re a real tough guy, aren’t you?  A real chicken shit!  Going to beat a bound man to death.  What a tough guy.  What a fucking worm!”

I looked him in the eye.  “You must think you’re tough because you can beat the shit out of women and children.”

He smiled with a chicken-shit grin.  “Tougher than anything you can dish out, you fucking freak!”

He tried to spit at me through his swollen lips, but the slobber and blood mixture only ran down his chin.  I let him continue with his threats as I slid a wooden table right in front of him.  He wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing because he was too busy running his mouth while trying to maintain his balance.  Before he knew what happened, I had grabbed him by the hair and slammed his face onto the top of the table.  He became really pissed and was violently fighting back as I was tying his arms behind his back with wire.  By the time I finished, he was pretty much hysterical, slamming his head onto the tabletop—kind of like one of those drunk jocks in a bar trying to show how tough they are.  He didn’t miss a beat as he continued to curse me while slamming his head, shouting, “Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you.”

Even with all his injuries he would not submit.  He jerked his head and shoulders around violently as I forced the bottom of his chin to the tabletop.  To keep his head from slipping away, I used the left side of my chest and my left armpit to hold his head tightly to the tabletop, which allowed both of my hands to remain free.  As I held his chin to the tabletop, I forced an eight-inch-long galvanized nail into his mouth and pointed it downwards.  He jerked viciously and screamed as I drove the nail through the bottom of his mouth just behind his bottom teeth.  When the nail penetrated the tabletop a few inches, I bent the remaining top portion of it over his bottom gum where his teeth had been knocked out, then continued to wrap it over his busted lip and chin.  I completed the task by beating the head of the nail into the tabletop to make sure he couldn’t slip out.  By this time his good eye was almost popping out of his head from the excruciating pain, and his screaming and jerking around was causing the nail to dig down deeper into his gums and broken teeth, causing even more pain.  Mr. Loudmouth had to hold himself very still in an awkward position to reduce the pain, but unfortunately for him, he was still able to mumble a fuck you.  I would have stopped at this point and continued later, but this guy was a hardheaded individual, and his mouthiness only fueled the fire even more.  Instead of leaving for the evening so I could watch The Tonight Show, I gathered up some items from my storage room that would hopefully shut him up for the night.

When I came back, he was still eye-fucking me and mumbling threats and curse words.  But that ended quickly when I drove a large hook through the end of his tongue.  He screamed out loud as I stood on the other end of the table and pulled on the wire that was connected to it.  Sweat was pouring off his body and he was screaming at the top of his lungs as I stretched his tongue as far as it could be stretched without ripping it in two down the center, and as I held the tension, I tied it off to the end of the table.  He was miserable and in a horrendous amount of pain as he was being bound in the barbaric position.  He was covered with blood, sweat, and spit, and as he looked up at me, the idiot still tried to speak, but the pain was so overwhelming he just gave up, closed his eye and began making weak sounding moans.

I slapped him across the face as tears ran down his cheek from his good eye.  “Tomorrow is only going to get worse, especially if I’ve missed Leno’s monologue.”  I could hear him crying clear across the chamber as I walked out for the night.

The next morning Larry was in extreme misery, and he had thrown up all over the tabletop.  His face, mouth, and back were extremely swollen, and his skin had turned a darker shade of black and blue from all the bruising.  The wire around his wrists had cut deep into his flesh, apparently from fighting to get free all night.  Surprisingly, he still had a little pep in him.  He tried to speak, but I couldn’t understand what he was trying to say, but whatever it was, I’m sure it was rude.  Over the next few minutes, I stood silently as he tried to speak.  He was desperately trying to tell me something, and finally he was able to mumble something about his nuts and legs.  I could tell he was in agony and really wanted me to know something.  By now the concrete was most likely burning his lower body.  This would be very painful; same as if acid was eating away your skin.  He kept on and on about his nuts burning, so I leaned down and made eye contact.  “You’re not going to need your balls anymore, pal...  But if you really want me to make it where you don’t notice the pain as much, just ask.”

Without hesitating he mumbled, “Oh yes, please.”

To grant his wish, I moved to the opposite end of the table and stretched his tongue another inch or so.  He quickly forgot about the pain in his lower torso as he screamed.  His swollen and sore tongue was beginning to tear as I re-tied the wire.  Over the next few minutes, he stared in fear while I gathered tools and laid them in front of him on the table.  He was being fairly calm, until I started cutting into the top of his head with a scalpel.

“Please stop!  You’re fucking killing me!”  He shouted as he violently jerked around.

“I’m not killing you.  I’m just cutting a hole into your scalp.”  I leaned over and looked into his eye.  “Do you want me to fix it so you won’t notice the pain?”  The stupid ass replied yes again, so I poured PVC glue all over his back and lit it on fire.  The flames were severely burning the shit out of him, and he was screaming and foaming at the mouth as he was bound to the tabletop.  Before the flames went out, I quickly cut into his scalp.

He cut his eye toward me and shouted in a muffled voice.  “You lying son of a bitch!”

I leaned down in front of him and made eye contact again.  “Now, how do you figure that?  Did you feel me cutting your flesh, or was it overshadowed by the horrendous amount of pain from the fire?”

He glared at me through his one eye.  “You fuc….”

Before he could finish his comment, I ripped the two-inch square piece of hair-covered flesh from his scalp.  He wanted to scream, but the nail in his mouth and his stretched tongue only allowed him to moan loudly, until I drilled a five-sixteenths hole into his skull.  By this time, he was in so much agony the pain of trying to scream was less painful than the hole I had drilled into his head.  Even though his screams were muffled, he continued to belt them out as I tapped the hole with a three-eighths-tap bit.  When I was done with that part, I cleaned out the hole, then screwed a three-eighths eyebolt into the top of his head.  He was almost unconscious from the horrific pain, so I went ahead and began installing three more eye bolts, which weren’t going to be needed and were installed just for the fun of it.  He had passed out when I was screwing in the last eyebolt, so I waited a few hours for him to awake and be fully consciousness before I attempted to pull the nail out of his mouth—I didn’t want him to miss out on the fun we were going to have.  When he was finally bright-eyed and bushytailed, I cut the wire to the hook so I could gain access to the nail, but instead of his tongue retracting back into his mouth, it just continued to hang out.

“I think your tongue has been severely traumatized.  I’m going to have to cut it out so I can get to the nail.”

After that comment, he began working his tongue around to pull it back into his mouth, and as it wiggled around like a slug, I poked at it with a knife.  In a short period of time, he was able to get most of it back into his mouth, and when the nail finally became accessible, I went after it with a claw hammer.  He cried and screamed at the same time.  He screamed in horror as I worked the nail around as I tried to pull it out of the wooden tabletop.  I was able to straighten it out, which lifted it off his chin and lip, but I couldn’t pull it out of the table.  I finally got frustrated and went and grabbed a large crowbar.  Instead of trying to remove the nail, I simply shoved the bar under his chin and pulled his head off it, which tore meat and cartilage from the bottom of his mouth.  Blood and saliva were gushing out of the hole as he screamed at the top of his lungs.

A few minutes later he had calmed down, so I tied a rope to one of the eyehooks in his head, then fed the rope through a pulley mounted above him on a ceiling support beam.  He screamed out loudly when I pulled on the rope and stretched him upright.  His body started shaking from all the pain and he looked as if he was suffocating.  His body was severely bruised and swollen and the skin on his back was charred.  Also, his new position added a great deal of stress and pain to his back because it had been adjusted to the original hunched over position.  After I tied off the other end of the rope, I left so I could do some other things around the chamber.

Later that evening, I walked up to Larry.  He was still sobbing, and as he gazed at me with surrender in his eye, I backhanded him with a closed fist so hard, I broke his jaw.  When he screamed out from the pain his mouth opened cockeyed, then locked into that position.  Blood began to pour out of the hole where the nail had torn through.  When I examined him closer to see why, I noticed his jawbone had ruptured through his skin on the inside of his mouth.  It was getting late and time to go in for the night, but I needed to stop the bleeding.  He was incoherent, so I slapped him across the face to get his attention.  “Hey, pal, if I don’t stop the bleeding in your mouth you’re going to bleed to death.”

A tear ran down his cheek.  “Let me die.”

“Nope, that’s not the way it works around here.”

He closed his eye and began mumbling to himself.

I knew I had a couple of options, pressure or cauterizing.  I decided to go with cauterizing because it was more painful.”

Seth strolled over to Dicky and stood by the bars.  “Larry was one of the first scumbags I brought into the chamber.  I was new to the whole torture thing back then and didn’t have the knowledge I do now.”

Dicky leaned out a little where some light lit up his face.  “Knowledge?  To do what you’re doing?  Savagery is more like it.”

Seth walked off and came back rolling a large toolbox.  “You wish it was savagery.  A fucking savage would let you die.  This toolbox contains every piece of medical technology available to keep assholes like you alive.  And if that’s not enough, I have a sterile surgical room where I can disassemble your ass and put you back together in a real fucked up way while ensuring you feel every step.”

Dicky just glared.

Seth grabbed the bars.  “No response?

He moved his head back into the dark.

“Well then, let’s get back to story time.”  Seth walked back over and sat on the table.  “After I got Larry’s bleeding under control, I left for the night, leaving him sobbing in the dark.

The next morning, I was surprised again to find him alive.  This guy could take some punishment, but I could tell he was to the breaking point.  He had lost a lot of blood and the trauma to his body was horrifying to look at.  His skin tone was almost white, which made his bruising look alien-like.  During the night, he had forced the wire off his wrists, which had torn quite a bit of skin and meat off his hands.  His eye pleaded for me to not hurt him anymore as I stood in front of him putting on the brass knuckles.  “I will show you the same mercy that you showed your family.  Do you think that’s fair?”

He gazed at me with tears in his eye as he faintly mumbled, “Please just kill me.”

There was no un-bruised part of his body left to beat on, and I didn’t think his face could take any additional trauma, so I began punching him in the ribs to see how many I could break.  To my surprise, he still had enough willpower left in him to block the blows with his arms.  I was amazed how this guy could take such punishment and continue to fight back.  He had a slight smile, kind of cocky looking, when I tossed the brass knuckles on the table.”

Seth slid a chair over to Dicky.  He sat down and propped his feet up on the bars.  “Larry was real hardheaded and…”

“I don’t care about your sick stories and don’t want to hear them.”

Seth stood up and grabbed the bars.  “If you interrupt me again, I will remove your fuckin’ tongue!”

He lowered his head.

Seth sat down and propped his feet back up on the bars.  “I knocked Larry’s cocky grin right off his face with a club.  Literally.  I hit the bastard so hard I shattered his jaw.  His chin and the skin around it was nothing more than a sagging bag full of broken bones.  It was pretty damn gross.  His upper jaw and teeth stuck way out compared to his lower jaw, or bag of sagging skin I should say.  He kind of resembled Mr. Burns from the Simpsons.  The blow had knocked him out.  So, I went and did some stuff around the chamber.

A few hours later when I came back, I was surprised to find Larry awake.  I didn’t even say anything to him as I walked up and slammed a baseball bat across his left shoulder.  The sound of his clavicle bone shattering echoed in the chamber.  His body immediately went into convulsions while he spewed vomit all over the place.  I didn’t wait for his convulsions to stop as I went ahead and shattered his right shoulder.  He passed out within seconds of that last blow.  I didn’t want to wait around, so I injected him with adrenaline, and within minutes he was staring at me in horror as I stood in front of him twirling a pair of brass knuckles on my finger.  “You ready for some more knuckle sandwiches?”

He grunted.

I put a pair on each hand.  “Yeah, you’re right, pal.  There’s not much left of your face.”

He moaned loudly as I began beating every portion of his upper body, and with each blow he desperately tried to move his arms, causing the bones in his shoulders to crack and pop.  During his beating, I noticed his lower body had become loose in the dried concrete and he was trying to push himself out, so I stopped and went and rounded up some things.  Tears and blood were forming a pool around the bottom of the barrel as I laid the tools out on the floor.  His body had become loose, most likely due to him shrinking a little from dehydration, so to make sure he couldn’t get free, I came up with a solution he probably wouldn’t like.  First, I used a torch to cut a one-inch hole on each side of the barrel at the height of his thighs so I could have access to the concrete.  He was screaming at the top of his lungs as the heated concrete burned his legs, and as he jerked around, his movement was forcing putrid flesh smelling smoke to puff out of the gap between his body and the concrete; they kind of resembled smoke signals.  He became really excited and began crying and begging as I began to drill into the side of the concrete with a hammer drill with a long bit, and as soon as the tip busted through the concrete and into the flesh of his right thigh, his body went into convulsions again.  It was a gross sight as he spewed saliva out of his mouth like a rabid animal while making odd gurgling sounds, but I didn’t hesitate as I drilled straight through his leg, including the bone.  When the hammer drill bottomed out, I worked the bit back and forth a few times, and when I pulled it out it was covered with concrete dust, shredded muscle, bone fragments and flesh.  He was breathing erratically and foaming at the mouth as I drilled the left side of the concrete the same way.  I drilled through his left leg until I hit the hole that I had drilled on the other side.  By this time, he was pretty much in shock, but he did feel the rebar I drove through the hole in the concrete and his legs.  When the rebar had exited the opposite side, there was meat, blood and pieces of bone on the end of it.  Just for kicks, I drove sixteen-penny nails spaced two inches apart all the way around the top of the drum into his hips.  He had fluids flowing from all parts of his body: tears, slobber, snot, sweat and blood, creating a big mess on the floor.

Larry just hung motionless as I looked into his teary eye. “Beat a bound man to death.  You just thought you were going to get off that easy.”

He was in so much agony, and he knew begging wouldn’t help; he simply looked away as he cried.

For the next few days, I kept him alive by making him drink blood from raw meat.  I would give him a beating several times a day, and toward the end he became unrecognizable as a human due to the massive trauma to his face and body.  The concrete had burned his flesh so severely that his lower torso wasn’t anything more than bloody pus covered meat.  He eventually died from an infection.”

Seth stood up and grabbed the bars.  “It’s a shame he died so soon, but I found out with the other scumbags that antibiotics, steroids, blood transfusions, oxygen therapy, sterilization, resting periods and implanted heart defibrillators would prolong death for years, in some cases even decades.  Larry got off a lot easier than the ones that followed him.  In fact, his punishment was a picnic compared to theirs.  That’s something you can look forward to.”

Dicky started talking to himself while pacing back and forth.

“Hey!  Stay with me, pal.”

He paused as he glared at Seth with a look of bewilderment.

“Believe it or not, the stories are going to get a lot worse.”

Dicky leaned back against the wall, then slid down to the floor, and as he sat with his knees bent upwards, he gazed at Seth with sadness.  “You have to tell me something…  Anything.”

Seth frowned.  “I have been.  I fact, I’ve been talking your ear off, pal.”

“Not what I meant.  I want to know why I’m here.”

Seth moved his index finger side to side, indicating no.  “Like I’ve said several times, all will be revealed in due time.”  He walked over to a man hanging naked on a wall with a cloth sack over his head, and as he stood next to him, he said, “I like to call this one the Reaper.”  The man’s body was hung against the wall by rusted chains that went across his chest, under his armpits, and between his legs.  His feet were secured to the floor with shackles and chains.  He had an intravenous bag hanging from a rusted light fixture mounted to the wall beside him.  He was covered from head to toe with scars, punctures, and gashes, and his entire body was black and blue from massive bruising.  His right arm had been cut off just below the shoulder and the remaining section had been cauterized into a scarred stub.  His other arm was sewn to his thigh with thick, black thread.  His legs were deformed; it appeared as if he had to endure years of standing.  The skin on his chest where the chain ran across it was nothing more than thick scar tissue.  There was something strange under the cloth sack that was over the man’s head; it seemed to be hiding some type of deformity or contraption.  The stone wall behind him was covered in dried splattered blood, and the floor and wall below him were stained with blood and feces.  It appeared the man had been hanging there for a very, very long time.

Seth strolled over to an old wooden table covered with an assortment of tools and torture devices and picked up a rotted arm.  He walked back over to the man and began beating his naked body.  Dicky jumped to his feet and stared in horror as he watched Seth violently beat the man, and with each strike, the man let out a weird, zombie-like howl.  The blows to his already bruised and sore body were so excruciating the man shit on himself.  Seth had a look of disgust on his face as he stared at the man.  “You nasty bastard!  I’m going to make that your supper.”  He tossed the arm back on the table and turned toward Dicky.  “When the time is right, I will introduce you to that fucker and tell his story.”

Deceiving the Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

Dicky fell to his knees and began weeping as he witnessed the beating.  A few minutes later, Seth walked over to him and grabbed the bars. “Before you waste all your tears on him, I want you to meet Brian.”

Dicky wiped his face with the back of his hand. “Do you not have any mercy?”

“Mercy!  These lowlifes in here didn’t care about giving their victims mercy.  I am simply a creation of all their combined wickedness.  Without the wickedness of this world, I would not exist.  My destiny began when a man drastically changed my childhood when he killed my parents while driving intoxicated.  That was just the beginning of the horror to come into my life by the wicked, and I learned very quickly at a young age how cruel our world can be to the innocent.”

Dicky wasn’t sure about speaking, but he had to ask.  “Is the man who took your parents’ life in this chamber?”

“He is not.  But one day our paths might cross, and if he has not redeemed himself through salvation, his fate at that point will be destined with horror.”

“Salvation?”

“If you choose to live wickedly, I might be hiding in the dark waiting for you.”

He sat quietly as he watched Seth walk across the chamber and over to a corpse of a black man who was still bound in a wooden medieval stockade.  The body of the corpse had been gruesomely tortured and a knife was sticking out of its left eye socket.  Seth laid his hand on the torture device, and in a joking manner said, “You can get anything on the Internet.”

Dicky just sat emotionless.

“And it’s also one of my favorite torture devices because it binds a person’s head and arms so they can’t move during torture.  The stockade is torture in itself.  It forces its victim to stand hunched over in an uncomfortable position, and after long periods of time it becomes excruciating.  After longer periods of time, such as years, a person’s body becomes deformed.”

Seth pulled the knife out of the corpse’s eye and began trimming a hangnail.  “This is Brian.  Years ago, he worked in a nursing home until he was caught raping, robbing, abusing, and murdering the elderly people that were under his care.”

Dicky spoke out.  “Did he do something to one of your relatives?”

Seth stabbed the knife in the top of Brian’s head. “No!”

“Then why do you feel it’s your responsibility to get involved?”

Seth became a little agitated.  “In due time, all will be revealed.  If you keep on interrupting me, I will see how far I can stretch your tongue.  Andrew the molester over there currently holds the record of twelve inches, but I’ll do my best in making sure you beat him.”

A man who was being grotesquely suspended by fishing string inside of a large cage moaned loudly as he stared at Seth.  Seth nodded toward him. “Yeah, that’s right.  I haven’t forgotten about ya.”

The man looked down.

Seth glanced back at Dicky.  “Most of the lowlifes that I bring in here are the ones where our judicial system failed to punish them because they were either let off from a technicality or some other bullshit reason.”

Seth looked back over at the man being suspended.  “Or by a crooked judge.”

The man cut his eyes toward Seth for a few seconds, then looked down again.

Seth changed his focus back to Dicky.  “Politics, fame, wealth, and family influence play a large role as well.  In some cases, a jury will be led to believe the criminal is mentally ill.  And don’t even get me started on lawyers.  If I had my way, all the murderers, abusers, rapists, and child molesters that were in prison would be in this chamber, but all I get is the table scraps that have fallen through the cracks.”

Seth was getting a little tired, so he sat in a chair next to the stockade and propped his feet up on Brian’s back.  “I learned about this scumbag from an online news site.  He lived in California, which was a twenty-nine-hour drive, so my initial research was done over the Internet.  Once I decided to move forward, I used a private detective to get me copies of Brian’s case file and court records.  The evidence was overwhelmingly against him.  Forensic science had proved he had suffocated four elderly people, and DNA testing linked him to a rape.

During his trial, some of the folks that had been living at the Country Trail Retirement Home had come forward and testified against him.  Their testimony basically showed Brian was very good at being a wolf in sheep’s clothes.  Most of the residents at the home felt he was the most giving and trusting man they had ever met.  But he had a hidden agenda and dark side.  The residents that trusted him were treated well, but they were also taken advantage of.  Brian would spend hours listening to stories about their life.  He would bring them gifts, which of course were stolen from the ones that didn’t trust him.  He was simply preying on lonely elderly people who had no family, or the ones who did but were left there to rot, befriending them in hopes they would add him to their will, or where he could get close enough to find out personal information about them, like credit card and savings account pin numbers.  In some cases, they would let him use their ATM card so he could run errands for them.  The con artist was smart—he wouldn’t touch a cent of their money until they passed away, then he would steal their ATM card and withdraw the maximum daily amount from their savings until it was depleted, or until their family closed the account.

Over the ten-year period that he worked at the nursing home he had been willed two houses, a vacant lot, three vehicles and about fifteen-thousand dollars, and it was estimated he stole approximately twenty-five thousand from ATM accounts.  He had used false information on his employment application so he wouldn’t be linked back to working in the home when he was willed something, which in most cases would be considered a conflict of interest and possibly investigated.

Taking advantage of the ones who trusted him was bad enough, but he was extremely abusive and cruel to the elderly folks that weren’t deceived by him.  It was common for him to steal or destroy their personal belongings.  He would do real mischievous and ruthless things like modify a walker so it would break or come apart, causing the person to fall, or purposely applying a slippery substance on the floor to create a slip hazard.  On some occasions, he would push them out of their bed when they were asleep, causing injuries.  He also did sneaky things like catch wasps and hornets and stick them under their bed sheets so they would get stung.

Durning the last few years of his employment, some of the elderly people had caught onto what he was doing, and that’s why he suffocated them.  Three of the deaths were originally considered death due to natural causes and weren’t investigated, but the family of the last one ordered an autopsy, which revealed signs of asphyxiation.  After the police exhumed a dozen bodies, the medical examiner found three more that had signs of asphyxiation.  The medical examiner also found bruising on their faces and necks that took the shape and size of Brian’s fingers.  His index finger on his right hand had been cut in half and his pinky was bent from an old injury.  One of the victims had the same bruising on her legs and arms, and she also had evidence of being raped.  Brian’s DNA had been found on her body as well.  The police found two of the victim’s personal belongings, such as pin numbers and ATM cards, in his locker, and when they dug in deeper, that’s when they learned about his false employment information.

Two of the witnesses testified they had seen Brian murder someone.  Another confessed she had been raped by him.  They all stated they had been too terrified of him to come forward.  Brian’s defense knew the evidence was overwhelming and they didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell, so they claimed he was mentally retarded, and his IQ was that of a child.  The defense showed he had failed the sixth grade twice, then he dropped out of school because of his learning disability.  His defense also said he had been influenced by video games, music, and television.  His lawyer had a box filled with such items that came from Brian’s house, and he showed in detail which of them had influenced him to behave the way he did.  His lawyer swayed the jury into feeling sympathy toward Brian when they were shown pictures of his living conditions, which was a condemned shack with no utilities.  The jury bought into the defense’s strategy and sentenced him to be placed into a home for the mentally ill.

Eleven years later he was released from the institution.  It was a couple of years later when I finally had the time to drive to California.  He was living in Glendale, but I went to Highland Park first, which is where he grew up, to dig into his past.  During my investigation, I found out a lot of interesting stuff his attorneys failed to mention, and the prosecuting team was too incompetent to find out.  His school records indicated the reason he had failed the sixth grade twice was because he never showed up at school, and when he did, he was in detention for various things.  His criminal background, which wasn’t mentioned during his trial either, showed he had been continually in trouble since he was a young teenager for numerous reasons such as shoplifting, drugs, auto theft, burglary, robbery, and assault.

I needed to get even closer to his past, so I disguised myself as a thug and over the next couple of days I snooped around his old neighborhood and hangouts.  During this time, I found out even more information about him from some of his old running buddies who were living in his old neighborhood.  Brian apparently dropped out of school because he had been hanging out with a local gang, and often he was quoted saying, ‘an education is for suckas’.  Most who knew him said he was a thug who caused a lot of trouble.  His permanent address was listed at a run-down shack on the ghetto side of town, which was where he grew up, but he hadn’t lived there for years.  His mother had died a long time ago and the house was left to rot.  Over the course of two decades with a leaking roof, the house became uninhabitable and was eventually condemned by the city.  Brian had been too lazy to change his address after he had left home back when he was a teenager, which was a big score for his sorry lawyer.  After my research, I concluded Brian was a lowlife piece of shit and his defense lawyers were as sorry as he was.  The prosecuting team was so incompetent they should have been flipping patties instead of trying a murder case.

A couple of years had passed since he had been released, and when I found him, he was living with some elderly woman in Glendale.  I needed to get an understanding of the situation, so I cased the house for a short period of time.  He didn’t have a job, so his routine was sporadic.  He would either leave with his friends or take the old woman’s car at any given time, usually after 2 PM when he got his ass out of bed, and he usually didn’t come back until midnight or later.  I never saw him in the morning.  In fact, the whole damn neighborhood was a ghost town in the morning—everyone slept their lazy asses in until noon or later.

Over the next week or so I followed him on a few occasions to see what he was up to, and most of the time he would just hang out at different friends’ cribs, or just cruise around with them and smoke weed and drink Mad Dog.  Now that I knew his routine, I parked down the street a little after noon and waited for him to leave.  Around 3 PM he was picked up by some thugs in an old raggedy, eight-hundred-dollar Cadillac with five-thousand-dollar rims.  I had disguised myself as a social security worker, so I drove up to the woman’s house and walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell as if it was a routine task.  When she opened the door and asked what I needed, I identified myself and told her I would like to ask her some questions.  She invited me in, and after we sat on a couch, she looked at me and laughed.  “Lordy, Lordy….  In all my years, no government worker has given me the time of day.”

“Yes ma’am, I agree.  The government is pretty worthless.  Fortunately, I am doing a survey for them as a third-party contractor.”

She laughed.  “Call me Cootie.”

The first thing I noticed was she had a lot of bruising on her arms, and some faded ones on her neck.  She was around eighty-five years old, and at that age people bruise easily, but the bruising went around her arms and neck, which indicated they weren’t from bumping into things but more likely from being tightly grabbed.  I could sense she was uncomfortable with me being there, so I had a chat about her life.  Like most people of her age, they lived in a time that is very different from the younger generation, and I always enjoy hearing their stories, which she had quite a few to tell.  When she started feeling comfortable, I asked some general questions I felt would be the norm, and when I finally inquired about the person living with her, she froze up.  I could sense she had some fear discussing it, but she finally came around and said, “Brian was a friend of my deceased son…  He died around eight years ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that ma’am.”

“Yeah, it’s been hard.”

“Has Brian been helping you?”

“I…  He just showed up out of the blue one day and moved in.  I never really had a say so in the matter.”

“It must be nice to have someone here to take care of you.”

She began crying.  “I’ve been taking care of him.”

I knew he didn’t just come from out of the blue.  This was the same timeframe he had been released from the mental institution.  Suddenly, I heard a car door slam shut, then the woman quickly wiped her tears and went to the front door.  I heard some laughing coming from the outside, then shortly after Brian walked in.  He was a big bastard.  I had seen him come and go, but I didn’t realize how big he was until he was standing across from me.  I knew I was probably going to have my hands full when it was time to take him down.

He quickly noticed me staring at him.  “Who da fuck is dis?”

I could see the woman was trembling a little, and when she started to speak, I blurted out, “I’m Richard Head.  Just doing a survey for the Social Security Service.”

He sat in a recliner across from me, then glared at the woman with a hateful expression.  “You can sit yo ass down.  You actin’ all paranoid and shit.”  He glared at me with a death stare. “What kinda shit you been axin?”

I stood up. “Just making sure that her checks are large enough to cover the both of you.  I am planning on making her living arrangements a lot more comfortable.”

When I started to walk toward the door he blurted out in a cheerful voice as he smiled like a possum eating shit, “That’s what I’m talkin’ about…  ‘Bout time!”

She opened the door for me.  “Come see me again.  I enjoyed the visit.”

The woman seemed a little relieved now that the asshole was excited, so I grabbed her shoulder. “Yes, Ma’am, I will. …  And the both of you are going to get what’s deserving.”

Brian yelled out as I walked out, “Big ass flat screen!  That’s what’s deserving!  Shit, that’s what I’m talkin’ about!  Heeeeell, yeahhhh!”

Before I drove off, I could hear him through the screen door yelling out to the old woman to go get him a fuckin’ sandwich and a beer.  My original thoughts were accurate.  The lowlife was staying in her house and living off her social security checks, and I could sense he was knocking her around and threatening her if she didn’t do what he said.  This piece of shit was still abusing and taking advantage of helpless people.

Several days later, I sent a letter to the old woman’s house.  The letter said I had found her purse and I didn’t want to mail it because there was a lot of money in it.  I told her I was up in age and didn’t drive, so she would have to pick it up herself.  I left my number so she could schedule a time to come by and pick it up.

Sure enough, two days later I received a call from some guy, which I recognized as Brian.  He claimed he was the lady’s son, and he would come pick it up for her.  I gave him an address of a house in Eagle Rock I had been casing out and knew would be vacant.  I told him he needed to come by at 10 AM sharp the next morning because I was leaving town for a bingo tournament.  The house was on a dead-end street with a lot of vacant and condemned structures, which was perfect because there wouldn’t be many witnesses around, especially at 10 AM in that neighborhood.  I wanted him to come alone, so I told him to bring a friend because I had some heavy appliances that needed to be moved.

Around 7 AM I got ready as I waited in my hotel room.  I disguised my face using prosthetics, foundations, texturing, shadowing, and highlighting to create wrinkles, sagging skin and aging.  I wore a thinned out, gray wig, thick bifocals, and outdated clothes to give myself the appearance of being a 90-year-old man.  I went to the house a little early so I would be prepared in case Brian showed up.  As I waited, I practiced walking, standing, and talking like a weak, fragile elderly person.

A few minutes after 10 AM, a man pulled up into the driveway in the old lady’s car.  When he was standing at the front door knocking, I recognized it was Brian.  I made him stand on the porch for a minute or so just to mess with him.  When I finally opened the door, I could tell he was agitated.

Before I had a chance to speak, he hatefully blurted out, “About time you answered, old timer.”

“Can I help you, young’un?”  I replied in a fragile and weak sounding voice.

He didn’t wait for an invitation, he just walked on in.  “You gots da purse?”

My first impression of him was he didn’t seem to be mentally challenged at all, and he actually came across very normal in an asshole kind of way.

He was acting a little strange as he looked around the living room.  I had a gut feeling he was up to no good.  I told him he could wait on the couch while I went and retrieved the purse, and as I hobbled out of the room using a cane he asked if I lived with anyone or was anyone else here, but I pretended as if I was hard of hearing and didn’t respond.  When I came back, he wasn’t there, but I could hear some noise coming from the kitchen.  A few seconds later, he came walking out of the kitchen with a puzzled look. “Yo, old timer.  Yo fridge is empty, and da power is off.”

“That old thing has been acting up for some spell now.  She’s as old as I am.  Sadly enough, I had to put her down last week.”

He quickly forgot about the refrigerator and zoned in on the purse I was holding in my hand.  “Dat’s my mom’s purse.”

I wanted to get a reaction out of him, and I wanted to see what he would do if I put him on the spot, so as he walked over to take it, I pulled it back.  “If ya don’t mind, young’un, tell me why there ain’t no pictures of you in this here purse?”

“Just give me da damn thing.  I don’t have time for yo games, old man.”

Without hesitating, he aggressively grabbed the purse out of my hand and began digging through it, then emptied the contents on the floor.  He became agitated when he didn’t find any money.  He tossed the purse at my feet.  “Where’s da wad, ol’ man?  You said there was fuckin’ money in dis purse!”

While he stood in front of me looking as if he wanted to kill me, I softly spoke, “I bought you a surprise.”

He stepped forward, grabbed my shoulders tightly.  “Stop messin’ around and give me dat money before I hurt yo’ ass!”

I made a few agonizing sounds as if he was hurting me. “Okay, okay.  You want it, here it is,” and as he stood in front of me gritting his teeth, I shoved a custom made, seven-hundred-thousand-volt stun gun into his crotch and pulled the trigger.  The gun made a loud arcing sound as his body was shaking from head to toe.  A few seconds later he fell backwards onto his ass, and, as he sat on the floor stunned, slobber ran out of his mouth and dripped to his crotch.  Surprisingly, he was able to shake it off fairly quickly, and as he stood up, screaming out I was a dead man, I knocked him over the head with my cane so hard that it broke into three pieces.  The impact had left a three-inch long gash in the top of his head.  I needed to stop the bleeding and the only thing I could find around the house was a can of roofing patch, so I covered the top of his head with the thick tar until I could get him back to the chamber and fix it correctly.  This guy was heavy.  He probably weighed over three hundred pounds.  Dragging him to my car was a workout, and I had to use some 2x6 boards I had found in a storage building as a ramp to roll his big ass up and into my trunk.  To prevent him from thrashing around inside of my car in the event he awoke on the way home, I tied his arms behind his back and tied his legs together, then tied one end of another rope around his neck and the other end to the rope at his ankles.  I could have used tape to keep him from yelling out for help, but I decided to use a needle and some thread to sew his mouth shut.  It would be more painful to tear the stitches than the tape.  The dude was so big the trunk lid bent slightly when I shut it.  The big bastard was as snug as a bug in a rug.

Before I left, I went back inside and cleaned things up so no one would know I had been there.  I also wiped down the car he was driving.  There was no need to get rid of it, so I left it where he had parked it, because the car belonged to the elderly woman and not the asshole.  She probably didn’t even know his real name, and if the police were called, they would think some kids had stolen it for a joy ride and then ditched it.  The only thing that linked me to her was the letter I had sent, but the dumb ass had it in his back pocket.”

A Horrific Son of a Bitch

“The drive back to Texas from California was long.  I drove non-stop except to get gas.  When I got back home and opened the trunk, Brian was wide awake and infuriated.  He tried to kick at me, but the rope between his ankles and neck restrained him.  He glared at me with hate in his eyes as he violently fought at the ropes.  He was desperately trying to yell.  The stitches in his lips were beginning to tear his flesh, but he ignored the pain due to his obsession to get to me.  I pulled out a wad of money from my pocket, and as I waved it in front of him, I sang in my old man voice a slightly modified version of a rap song that I had been hearing on the radio.  “I got my mind on my money, money on my mind,” and then I added my own lyrics, “I gotta bitch in the trunk, a trunk full of bitch.”  He was going absolutely nuts by the time I started to sing the phrases for the third time, and before I knew what happened, he had torn his lips loose and screamed out he was going to kill me as he flopped out of the trunk and onto the concrete floor like a fish.  He was full of piss and vinegar and ready to tear ass, but his attitude completely changed when I shoved a modified cattle prod into his bloody mouth and shocked his tonsils.  To make sure he would be completely submissive, I held the back of his head tightly to the floor as the two electrodes gouged and shocked his esophagus.  When there was blood, saliva, tears, piss, and vomit all over the floor, I released the trigger.”

Seth walked off, then quickly came back with a cattle prod.  As he stood by the bars, he showed Dicky the device.  “These usually produce around twenty-thousand volts, but I modified it to be around eight-hundred-thousand volts.”

Dicky looked confused.  “That would kill someone.”

“The voltage may be high, but the amps are very low.  Milliamps in fact.  And amperage is what kills.”  Seth held the end of the cattle prod a few inches from the bars and pulled the trigger.  Blue arcs instantly jumped from the electrodes and zapped the rusted metal while making a loud arcing sound.  Seth pulled the electrodes further back, causing the arcs to jump between two bars like a plasma ball.  Dicky stood to his feet as he stared in fear.  Seth released the trigger and lowered the device.  “The higher voltage delivers a devastating shock, taking over the muscle groups it touches.  The longer I shock the fuck out of someone, the more energy I can pump into them, ensuring their normal functions will be debilitated longer.”

Dicky just gazed at Seth as if he was crazy.

Seth held the cattle prod up and pulled and released the trigger a couple of times, making an arcing sound each time.  “This will definitely get someone’s attention, don’t you think?”

He nodded to indicate yes.

“That’s the way to participate during show and tell.”  Seth walked back over to Brian and sat down, then propped his feet up.  “This guy was big, so there was no way I was going to drag him fighting me, or drag his heavy unconscious body, through the house and into the chamber.  This was the reason I didn’t use a tranquilizer on him originally.  I thought it was time for him to carry his own weight, literally.  Since his arms and feet were still hog tied, he had to hop along like a rabbit as I forced him through my house with the cattle prod.  He really wasn’t fighting back—he didn’t feel threatened by me because I was still disguised as the old man, or he knew I would light his ass up again, but either way I could sense he was cursing me in his head.  When we were halfway down the stairs that went to the basement, I had to zap him in the back of his neck to keep him moving; the smell of death and agony that lingered in the air was making him feel uneasy.  Nowhere on earth can a person encounter such undesirable odors in one place, and unfortunately it was only going to get worse for him with each step.  He was hopping along pretty well with just a little motivation from the cattle prod here and there—he even hopped through the furnace with only a few jolts—but when he started heading down the tunnel toward the chamber everything changed.  The creepy stone passageway and the disturbing moaning sounds were starting to upset him, and before he had a chance to go nuts, I knocked him unconscious with a club.  After I removed his clothes, I mounted him in this stockade.  I also faced him toward a bare wall so he couldn’t see any of the horrific things in the chamber.  He would probably remain unconscious for a while, and his limp body was creating pressure on his neck.  I didn’t want him to suffocate, so I slightly supported his waist with a rope that was hanging from a ceiling beam.  I left enough slack where he wouldn’t be able to hang comfortably, but it supported him enough so his neck wouldn’t be in a bind while he was unconscious.

The next morning, I disguised myself as the old man again, and when I went into the chamber, I found Brian wide eyed and bushytailed.  When he saw me, he began jerking around in the stockade and foaming at the mouth as he glared at me.  “You cocksucker!  Get me the fuck out of this thing!”

Before I did anything uncalled for, I needed to know if he really had a low IQ.  “I want to play a game, young’un.”

His aggression quickly changed to uncertainty.  “Why am I here?  What are you going to do to me?  Who are you?”

“To take an IQ test.  Give you an IQ test.  The one who is going to give you the IQ test.”

He glared at me with an irritated look as he shouted in a stern voice, “I don’t know what the fuck your problem is, old man, but I suggest you release me now!  Did you hear me?  You better release me now before I rip your fucking head off!”

I connected an air hose to a pneumatic box stapler.  “Depending on how you answer some questions will result in you being released or receiving another surprise….  And what the fuck happened to your gangster slang, beyatch?”

He began jerking at the stockade again. “Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!  You old son of a bitch!  Fuck you and your fucking games!  You better fucking release me now!”

He wouldn’t calm down and his violent jerking was causing the stockade to crack and pop, so I got his attention by shoving the cattle prod into his mouth and lighting him up for a few seconds.  After he spit a couple of times, he began to curse me again, so I pressed the electrodes to his forehead and pulled the trigger.  He violently threw his head around to evade the arcs.  The electricity was taking the least path of resistance, which were his eyes, mouth, and nostrils.  The arcs were jumping back and forth between his eyes, nostril, and mouth.  When he finally settled down and yelled out he would do whatever I asked, I showed him a clip of one-inch long staples, then inserted them into the staple gun.  I rested the tip of the stapler on his back as he was being forced in a bent over position by the stockade.  “Question number one, who is the president of the United States?”

“Yo fuckin’ mama, asshole.”

He screamed at the top of his lungs, begged, pissed, and slobbered at the mouth all at the same time as I shot staples into his back and sides.  He violently kicked at me to stop the pain, but I took the blows without missing a beat.  He finally yelled out the correct answer about the same time I emptied the fifty-round clip.  He could kick like a jackass, and I really didn’t want a broken leg, so I nailed his feet to the floor with concrete nails.  He was in such agony that he began vomiting and crying at the same time.  He was foaming at the mouth as I reloaded the staple gun, and after I laid it on his back, I asked him another question.

After an hour or so, and hundreds of staples later, I realized he wasn’t mentally handicapped, nor did he have a low IQ—he was fairly intelligent.  He answered almost every question correctly, except for some physics, biology, and chemistry questions, which I asked just so I could get to staple him.

“One last question…  Why did you do such horrible things to those elderly people?”

He glared at me with anger in his eyes.  “Are you doin’ this because of them?  You want some type of revenge, old man?  I’m going to tear you the fuck apart when I get loose, you old motherfucker!”

“Not until I kill you a whole bunch of times.”

He looked at me like I was crazy, but he would soon come to realize what I meant.  He threw his head around as I wrapped a rope around his neck, and before he had a chance to speak, I began to strangle him.  He gagged and foamed at the mouth as I choked him into unconsciousness, and right before he passed out, his eyes opened wide as if they were going to pop.  I let the pressure off the rope right as he went limp.  He wasn’t breathing and was likely on the verge of death, so I kicked the shit out of his stomach until he started gasping for air.  Several minutes later when he regained full consciousness, I choked him again the same way.  The fourth time I had to use the air hose to fill his lungs in addition to kicking the shit out of his stomach to get him breathing again.  His eyes were extremely blood shot from the blood vessels rupturing, and his face was grossly swollen and discolored from the stress of being asphyxiated.  Around the eighth time or so I had to use a defibrillator to restart his heart.  I didn’t think he would survive another choking, so I began to shoot staples into his body.  He tried to scream, but his vocal cords had been temporarily damaged from the rope—all he could do was moan and cry.  He finally passed out after about two hundred staples.

Surprisingly, an hour later he was stirring around and ready for some more pain, which was perfect, because I needed to remove the tar from his head and clean his wound so it wouldn’t get infected.  The dried tar was completely embedded in his hair and stuck to his scalp.  There wasn’t going to be an easy way to remove it, so I simply grabbed a wad of tar covered hair with both hands, and with all my strength I ripped it from his head.  The tar not only tore most of his hair from the top of his head, but it also tore a palm size piece of flesh from his scalp.  His moaning was echoing throughout the chamber and his muffled screams and horrified facial expression were a little unpleasant to watch.  I could have simply bandaged his wound after I cleaned it, but instead I stretched the shit out of his skin and sewed it closed.  The tension on his flesh was so tight the skin on his forehead was now on the top front of his head.  His eyebrows were almost in the center of his forehead and his eyelids had so much tension on them he wasn’t able to close his eyes.  He finally stopped moving and I wasn’t sure if he had passed out because his eyes were being held open.  For curiosity’s sake, I stuck a needle into his left eye, which I left in place, and when he didn’t blink, I knew he was out cold.  It’s hard sometimes to tell if someone is conscious, or if they’re being still on purpose so they will not be tortured.  Everyone in here knows painful things don’t happen when you’re asleep or unconscious.  Brian had enough for one day, so as he hung unconscious, I pulled the nails out of his feet, unbolted the stockade’s pedestal from the concrete floor and turned it around so he could have a bird’s eye view of the chamber.  I hung an intravenous bag filled with nutrients and antibiotics on the end of the stockade and ran a tube to a butterfly needle that I had inserted into the top of his left hand.  I also connected a heart monitor to him so I could monitor his condition when I was out of the chamber.  I don’t have to come down here every day because everyone has an IV bag, and some of these lowlifes have a heart monitor I can monitor from my laptop from anywhere.  The chamber also has a CCTV system I can monitor from my laptop.

Over the next few days as I was out of town taking care of some business, I noticed Brian’s heartbeat was erratic.  Most of the ones I bring into the chamber freak out for the first few days, and it’s very stressful to their body.  I’ve lost seven of them due to stress related heart attacks.

When I arrived home from my trip, I was a little excited to see how his mental stability would be after hanging in the stockade for several days with all the terrifying monstrosities that were all around him.  It was around midnight before I had a chance to head downstairs, and when I entered the chamber, I was wearing my usual disguise of being the undead.  This disguise is something I’ve perfected through the years, and I can fool even the most skeptical of people.  I usually only do the makeup thing with the newcomers just to mess with them, and I will do different looks depending on the situation.  He originally thought I was a psychotic old man out for revenge, which was explainable and something his mind could understand, but now he was terrified and uncertain of where he was.  He noticed me right away when I strolled into the chamber looking like something from the depths of hell.  He didn’t say a word when I walked up to him.  “Have you seen an old man around here?”

He stayed as still as possible and remained quiet as his body trembled with fear.  He held his head down while looking slightly upwards, kind of like a submissive dog.  I grabbed the staple gun from the table.  “Who in the hell stapled your back?”

He remained silent, but he did have the facial expression as if he wanted to tell on the old man.

I knelt in front of him.  “Why in the hell is there a needle sticking out of your eye?”

He looked down and didn’t say anything.

“This is bullshit!  Wait until I find that old bastard.”

I tossed the gun back on the table, then walked out of the chamber.  A few hours had passed when I came back into the chamber, but this time I had disguised myself as an elderly woman by wearing a medium length, thinned out, gray-haired wig, a long flowery dress, white hospital shoes, and enough facial prosthetics and make-up to fool anyone.  I noticed Brian was staring at me as I slowly hobbled into the chamber hunched over while using a four-legged walker.  After a few feet, I stopped, looked around, then acted like I was in shock, and as I held my left hand over my mouth, I softly spoke in an old sounding voice, “Oh, my!  Oh, my goodness!”

While pretending I was frightened, I quickly spun around and began hobbling back out of the chamber, but before I had a chance to take a third step a sound of desperation echoed in the chamber when Brian yelled out, “Ma’am!  Please help me!  I need your help!”

Some of the others in the chamber began screaming out for help as well, so I turned around and frantically hobbled over to him.  “Oh, young man, what in the world?  Your head…  Oh, my!  Oh, tell me, what can I do?”

He had regained part of his voice, and in a raspy sound he quickly answered, “Unlatch the end of this thing I’m in…  And please hurry!”

I hobbled over to the side of the stockade with the walker.  “It’s locked!  I can’t open it.”

“Oh, shit!  Then can you get some help?”

His back was blood red and extremely swollen from the staples. “Oh, for goodness sake, young’un, what in the world happened to your back?”

Panic overcame him.  “Lady!  Please just go get some help before that old man comes back.”

“Old man!  What old man?”

He started to get upset.  “We don’t have time lady…  Just…  Just go get someone!”

A few others in the chamber were getting angry and yelling at me to go get some help as well, but I ignored them and hobbled to where I could see his face.  “Ya catch the name of that old man?”

An expression of confusion came over his face.  “I think its Tom or something.  Why does that matter?  Just go get someone.”

I stood upright and shook my head.  “So, this is where that old geezer has been hidin’ all these years?  I’m tellen’ you, I mean to have a word with him.”

For the next few seconds, I looked around the chamber like I was disappointed, and when I spotted the staple gun, I hobbled over to the table and picked it up.  I pretended like I barely had enough strength to hold it.  “Did he use this on ya, young’un?”

“Ma’am!  I really need you to go get someone.”

I laid the staple gun in the basket on the walker and hobbled back over to him, then picked it back up.  “How does this thing work, young’un?”

He was becoming desperate.  He thought the old lady had lost her mind.  He looked at me as if I was an idiot as he spoke in a condescending voice.  “If you go get some help, I’ll show you how to…”

POW!!!  The stable gun fired.  He jumped.  And then with an excited voice I said, “Yaaaa just pull the trigger.”

He took a deep breath.  “Now can you go get some help?”

Without any warning, I aimed the gun toward his head and shot a staple into his forehead.  He screamed out in a muffled and painful sounding screech.  “What the fuck are you doing, you crazy bitch!?!”

“Watch that tongue, young’un.”  I shot three more staples into his face while he jerked his head around and yelled.  Blood was running down his face and dripping on the floor as he cursed at me and fought at the stockade.

He glared at me with hate and made a growling sound.

“What a potty mouth.  If I had a bar of soap, I’d make you lick it.”

“Fuck you, you old motherfu……”

I reached over and grabbed his lips.  “Ya gonna wish I did,” and after I pinched them tightly together, I shot a staple sideways into his gums.  One end of the staple shot into his top gum and the other end shot into his bottom gum.  I quickly removed my fingers from his lips and shot a row of staples across his entire mouth the same way as I had done the first one.  The staples had penetrated his bones and shattered his front teeth at the roots.  His eyes almost popped out of his head as he tried to scream from the excruciating pain.  He began bobbing his head around as I shot staples into his face and forehead.  When the gun ran out of staples, I stood in front of him clicking the trigger.  “Now look what ya did.  You broke the damn thing.”  I tossed the gun onto the floor, then hobbled out of the chamber, leaving him sobbing and bleeding from his mouth, face, and head.

The next day I came into the chamber as myself, no disguise or makeup.  I pulled up a chair and sat down next to him.  I didn’t say a word as I began pulling the staples from his swollen mouth.  As tears flowed down his face, he moaned in agony as each staple tore out a piece of flesh.  When I pulled the last one out, his mouth fell wide open as he let out a deep moan.  He tried to speak, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was thick, dark colored blood and broken teeth.  The sludge oozed down his chin and dripped to the floor.  After he spit out a few bloody clots and a few more pieces of teeth he was finally able to mumble, “Please don’t hurt me anymore.”

“Then tell me why you’re so cruel to helpless people.”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

I stood up.  “That’s not an answer.”

He hung silently and didn’t make a sound as I was checking his back for infections.  His flesh was extremely swollen at each staple and a few places had become infected.  He remained quiet until I poured alcohol onto his back.  He went from beat down and silent to frantic.  I just stood silent as he angrily shouted, “I don’t know what to tell you!  But what y’all have done to me is wrong!  I hope y’all burn in hell.”   Then he tried to kick me.

I walked back in front of him.  “Maybe you are retarded.”

He spit some blood at me, and as snot dripped off his face he shouted in an angry voice, “Fuck you and those sniveling white cocksuckers!  Their own families forgot about them and left them to rot.  They were just waiting to fucking die!  I hated them racist white motherfuckers!  You can just kill me now because I don’t give a shit!  I did what I did, and fuck all of you white cracker motherfuckers!”

During his hate the white man tirade, I grabbed a couple of spikes and a hammer.  He didn’t even know what I was up to as I kneeled next to his left leg.  His bitching turned to screaming as I pounded a spike through the old wound in his foot and into the concrete.  When the spike was fully driven in, I continued to pound his foot with the hammer until I broke some of the bones in his foot and toes.  I waited a few minutes until he began to calm down, then pulled his right leg away from his left leg and nailed it to the floor.  The spikes forced his feet apart about thirty-six inches.  This was very uncomfortable compared to the way he was originally standing.  To make it worse, I untied the rope that was supporting his waist so he wouldn’t be able to rest his legs.  He didn’t say shit as I stood in front of him and stared at the detestable sight that he had become.  His stretched-out face was covered in blood, snot and tears, and the remaining staples were causing so much swelling that his skin had torn around most of them.  His mouth was abnormally swollen, and his lips were beginning to tear from the pressure.  The needle in his eye was causing so much swelling his eyeball was bulging from its socket.”

Seth laid his hand on the stockade.  “This is an extremely uncomfortable torturing device because it forces its victim to stand and lean forward as their head and hands are bound.  Brian had already been in the stockade for almost a week and his body was getting exhausted.  He was also having a hard time standing because of the severe pain and swelling in his feet due to the spikes and broken bones.”

Seth walked over and sat in a chair next to Dicky.  “Brian’s back was extremely red and puffy from the hundreds of staples that were buried deep into his flesh, and it appeared he was getting an infection where portions of his skin had torn from the swelling.  They needed to be removed, so I used two sets of needle nose pliers and began pulling them out.  They were box staples and they don’t go straight in.  The stapler actually folds the penetrating pieces back against the outside piece, so I had to bend the staples around to get them out.  He screamed as each staple tore out a little bit of meat and skin.  It took about three hours to remove hundreds of them from his body, face, and head.  Some of the staples that I shot into his sides were embedded into his ribs and were difficult to remove.  I had to use a small pry bar and the needle nose pliers together to leverage them out.  Some of the staples in his face and head had also been extremely difficult to remove because they had penetrated his skull.  Over the course of pulling out the staples he had vomited several times and screamed until he made himself hoarse.  He finally calmed down, breathing heavily and panting like a dog as I scrubbed his wounds with soap and water.

I do try to prevent infections as much as possible.  The staple gun and staples had been sprayed with alcohol before they were used, and all the weapons and instruments I use are sterilized as well.  Brian was kind of a stinky person, so the bacteria that was causing the infections was most likely from him.  If I would have sprayed him down with alcohol before I shot the staples into his flesh, he probably wouldn’t have had such a reaction, but that’s what he gets for being fucking nasty.  I needed to kill as much of the bacteria on his body as possible, so I filled a bug sprayer with an iodine solution.  I started with his back, and as soon as the chemical came in contact with his skin, he began frantically squirming as his puncture wounds began to burn.  He started screaming and yelling profanity and making threats when the solution ran down his legs and onto the wounds in his feet.  When I was finished, I walked in front of him so I could start cleaning the wounds on his head and face.

He was pumping his fists as he yelled, “You’re a horrific son of a bitch!”

I squirted some of the solution into his left eye.  “Now I’m a horrific son of a bitch.”  The iodine immediately began to burn his eye, especially around the needle, and as he screamed, he was blinking his eyes as fast as he could in a faint attempt to flush it out with tears.  The blinking only pushed the solution into his socket and behind his eyelid and within a few seconds it really began to burn the shit out of his eye as he was yelling, “Please wash it out.  Please wash it.  Please wash it out!”

Instead of washing it out, I grabbed a hammer, a large spike, a roll of fishing string and fifteen fishing hooks off a nearby table, then sat down on the floor behind him.  I drove the spike into the floor between his legs directly below his ball sack, then tied twelve long pieces of fishing line to twelve fishhooks.  Brian quickly forgot about his eye when I took one of the fishhooks and stuck it into his ball sack.  The bastard farted as the second hook pierced his left testicle.  “If you shit on my head, I swear I will shove a table leg up your ass!”

“Please stop!   You’re killing me!”

The show was on as I tried to stick another hook in his sack.  He was frantically throwing his ass around while shouting, “Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Oh, shit!  Please stop!  You’re fucking killing me!”

I finally became irritated and pulled down on the fishing strings that were connected to the hooks in his scrotum.  “Stop moving around.”

He quickly bent his knees and lowered his ass.  “Oh, my God!  Stop!  You’re fucking killing me!”

While he squatted down to keep his ball sack from tearing, I tied the strings off to the spike in the floor.  Now he wasn’t able to move as much.  I took another hook and jabbed it into his sack, piercing his right testicle.

He howled like an animal for a few seconds, then shouted, “You’re fucking killing me!  Please stop!  I’ll do whatever you want!”

Over the next thirty minutes his screams and begging echoed throughout the chamber as I shoved the rest of the hooks into his sack.  After I tied off all the strings to the spike, I walked in front of him.  “Now I’m really a horrific son of a bitch.”

Brian was struggling to hold himself in the squatted position.  The desperation in his facial expression was making my nuts ache.  To prevent tension on his scrotum, he had to hold a partial squat.  This was causing his leg muscles to tremble.  If he squatted any more, he would hang by his head in the stockade, causing him to choke.  His facial expression was getting more intense with each passing second and I wanted to show some of the others in the chamber what it was like to perform ball squats in the stockade, so I went and grabbed my camera.  When I took a picture of his face, he glared at me with a painful expression.  “Why are you doing this?  Please help me….  I can’t hold this position much longer!”

“Tell me why you like to harm helpless people…  And don’t give me any of that racial bullshit.”

He quickly responded.  “White people have it made.  Their whole life they took what they wanted.  So, I took what I wanted.  You know.  Survival of the fittest.  Now cut me loose!”

When I started walking out of the chamber he shouted out, “I told you the truth and you said you weren’t going to hurt me anymore!”

I stopped and turned.  “I never said that.  And besides, I’m not going to hurt you…. You are.”

In a panic-stricken voice, he shouted out, “My nuts are going to be ripped off if you don’t help!”

“Shit, I better stay then.  That might be better than watching reruns of Star Trek.”  I grabbed a chair and slid it toward him.  He screamed profanity at me as I smoked a cigarette and relaxed.  Within a short period of time, the pain in his legs became agonizing as he squatted, and to relieve the burning sensation in his muscles, he began bobbing his ass up and down.  A look of desperation came over his face.  “I got a fucking cramp!  I got a fucking cramp!  Ohhhh shit!  I got a cramp in my fucking leg!”

Sweat was pouring from his face and body as he desperately screamed for someone to help him.  By the time I finished my second cigarette, his adrenaline rush and the pain in his legs had overcome his fear of ripping off his sack.  I was leaning forward in my chair and holding my nuts as he was pumping his fist and gritting his back teeth while attempting to stand up.  With all his strength, he was trying to fully extend his legs, but his sack wouldn’t tear, and the fishing strings wouldn’t break.  It was a grotesque sight.  I had no idea someone’s nut sack could stretch as much as his was.  In a panic, he began bouncing his ass up and down as he tried to break free.  His violent upward thrusts were now causing the hooks to tear gashes in his skin.  His eyes looked like they were going to pop as he resembled a weightlifter doing squats.  It was so barbaric that it was causing me to get nauseous.  Suddenly, his sack tore wide open and his testicles fell out, and as his balls bounced around by their vas deferens tubes, I started gagging and laughing at the same time.  A few seconds later he passed out.

I injected him with a tranquilizer, then removed him from the stockade.  Over the next two hours as he slept, I removed the hooks and sewed his nut sack back together so he could do the ball squats again another day.  Before I left the chamber for the night, I put him back in the stockade and retied the rope to his waist so he wouldn’t choke to death.

Over the next few weeks, I would choke him unconscious a couple of times a day.  I had to give him a lot of antibiotics to reduce the infections around his neck and wrists where the stockade held him, and from the rope where it had started digging into his flesh.  Eventually I got bored with Brian, so one evening I released one of his hands and gave him a butcher knife before I left the chamber for the night.  I told him if he had enough, it was time for him to end it.  Instead of making a smart decision he tried to stab me, so I kicked him in the mouth and took back the knife.  It’s a rare chance someone gets to die on purpose in here.  I usually do everything I can to prevent death.  Death is the easy way out.  Unfortunately for Brian, he didn’t take that opportunity.  After a few more weeks of choking the shit out of him and another set of ball squats, still swollen and stitched up, ravaged ball squats, he was begging for the knife back.  But instead, he was forced to hang in the stockade for years and suffer a choking every few weeks.  He also had to perform an occasional set of ball squats.  Eventually I had to amputate his family jewels—it became un-repairable due to ripping it apart so many times.  He originally thought that was a good thing until he started performing ding-a-ling squats.  Fortunately for him, he got a severe infection I wasn’t able to control in his lower abdominal area.  Instead of letting him die from it, I gave him back the knife, only after dulling it as sharp as a butter knife.

The next day when I came back into the chamber, I found a surprising sight.  It looked like he tried to cut his neck—it was covered with hundreds of little gashes and scratches—but he was apparently so weak he didn’t have enough strength to do any real damage with the dull blade.  His arm was resting on top of the stockade as he held the knife, and when I walked up to him, he gazed at me with an exhausted look.  “Please kill me.”

I pulled some hooks and string out of my pocket.  “Today you’re going to do anal-cavity squats.”

He began sobbing as he pulled his arm from the stockade, and as tears ran down from his face, he began sliding the knife across his throat in a desperate attempt to end his suffering.  A few minutes later as I was standing beside him, he began to make a weird sound, so I walked back to the front of the stockade to see what he was up to.  I was surprised to find he was taking the knife and pushing it into his left eye.  He had to wiggle and twist it as he pushed so it would go in deeper, and as he worked it around, intraocular fluid and blood was running down the blade and dripping onto the floor.  When the blade was several inches in, he let go of the knife and threw his exhausted arm back on top of the stockade.  He held his head down and cried as the knife stuck out of his eye socket.  Brian lived several more days until he died from the infection in his abdominal area.”

Seth glanced at Dicky.  “Just for the record, all of the ones in here that yelled at the old woman for help got shot with the staple gun for being stupid.”  Seth stood up and grabbed the bars.  “I only bring the worst ones here.  There are many more that I’ve left on the streets.”

Dicky exhibited a grimace of terror.  “Why are you torturing me with these horror stories?”

“You’re the one who inspired me to do such things.”

A look of shock came over him.  “What have I ever done to you?”

Seth thought back to the dreadful day at the cemetery when his parents were being buried.  He was kneeling next to his parents’ graves as he watched the gravediggers cover their caskets.  The only words he could mumble out as he cried were, “Please don’t leave me.”  Seth’s mom and dad were buried next to his older brother who had died just a few years earlier.

While Seth sadly watched as his parents’ graves were being filled in with dirt, a lady approached him.  “It’s time to go, Seth.”

He looked up while weeping.  “Go where?  I have no one left.”

“You’re going to live with a nice family for a while.”

On the drive to his new home, the lady told him he was going to live on a farm and there were other kids who lived there.  She told him most of them had lost their parents as well.  Seth asked the lady why the man in the car hit his mommy and daddy.  The lady glanced over at him with a sad expression—she knew he would be too young to understand.  She tried to explain the man didn’t do it on purpose.  She said sometimes adults do adult things like drink alcohol, and it causes them to do bad things they don’t mean to do.

Hours later, they finally arrived at a two-story farmhouse way out in the country.  When Seth got out of the car, an older man wearing coveralls and a woman wearing a large sun hat and a flowery dress were waiting to greet him.  He held his head down because he didn’t know what to say.

The man squatted down.  “Hi there.  My name is Bill, and this is my wife Sara.”  Seth thought they seemed very nice.  Within no time, he made friends with some of the other kids and a stray dog he found and named, ‘Chip’.

Several months went by and everything seemed normal until one stormy night.  Loud thunder and bright flashes of lightning had awakened Seth.  It was raining as he gazed out the window from his upstairs bedroom.  He could see far off in the distance as the lightning lit up the dark.  From the flashes of light, he saw Bill walking across the yard.  Seth wondered if Chip or any of the other animals were hurt and needed help, so he ran downstairs and outside.  He stood in the dark and looked for Bill from the porch.  He finally noticed the barn door was cracked open as it was letting out a faint amount of light.  Without hesitating, he ran through the rain to the barn, and when he walked inside, he saw Timmy, another boy who lived on the farm, lying on some hay.  Seth ran up to him.  “Are you helping the animals too?”  When Timmy rolled over, Seth noticed he had a bloody nose and was crying.  “What’s wrong, Timmy?”

Suddenly Bill came out of nowhere and threw him onto the ground.  Seth was scared as Bill held him down on the dirt floor by his throat.  “You have been a bad boy!”

Seth could hardly breathe, gasping for air.

Bill threatened to do horrible things to him and his dog if he said a word to anyone about what he had seen.  Bill released his throat and stood up, then kicked dirt on him.  “Get before I hurt you, boy.”

Seth ran back up to his room, and as he laid in his bed he cried—he couldn’t understand how someone as nice as Bill could turn out to be so cruel.

The next morning, Bill came into Seth’s room and stood at the end of his bed.  “It’s time for breakfast and you will be on time!”  Bill walked to the door, then turned around.  “Remember what I will do to you and your dog if you say anything.”

When Seth came downstairs, Timmy was sitting in his usual spot as if nothing had happened.  During breakfast, Bill stared at Seth as if he wanted to kill him.

A few days later while Seth was playing with Chip outside, Bill came up to him. “I want that damn dog gone by tonight, or I’m going to bash his head in with a shovel!”

“But he’s my best friend,” pleaded Seth.

Bill marched up to Chip and kicked him in the side.  “Bad little boys should be seen and not heard.”

While Chip yelped, Seth ran into the house and up to his room as he cried.  That night he took Chip way out into the nearby woods, and as he held him, he said, “You’re my best friend and I will never forget you.”

It seemed Chip knew what he was saying—after Seth stood up, he took off running, and before he got too far, he turned around for a few seconds and looked back at Seth, then disappeared into the woods to never be seen again.  A short time later, Seth went to live at another foster home.  He moved from home to home as the years passed; some were better, and some were much worse.  Eventually he moved to an all-boys’ home when he was sixteen.

Seth was still thinking about when he was a boy when Dicky quietly spoke, “You have me confused with someone else.”

After Seth collected his thoughts, he looked at him.  “Soon all will be revealed.”

Dicky held his head down and kept quiet as Seth reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.  He noticed it was empty.  “I feel inspired to introduce you to Bill next, but first I’m going to go grab a new pack of smokes from upstairs.  Do you need anything thing while I’m gone?”

“Some nourishment please.”

Seth laughed as he was leaving the room. “I’ll bring you a Spanish Pear.”

The Indestructible Monster

Later that evening, Seth walked up to Dicky as he was sitting on the floor.  He tossed a rusted metal object at his feet.  “There’s your Spanish Pear.”

He had a concerned look on his face as he stared at the medieval-looking torture device.

Seth grabbed the rusted bars and leaned in.  “That’s for later.  First, I want to introduce you to Bill.”  Seth walked over to a man who was bound inside of a cage, or gibbet, that was hanging from the ceiling.  The cage was made of steel, about six and a half feet tall, and just a little wider than the diameter of an average sized person.  The man was skin and bones, and what was left of his body was covered with severe scarring.  His arms and right leg had been cut off.  The severed limbs were hanging on the sides of the cage, and his dangling right arm was still holding a long wooden shaft that was covered with blood.  His penis and balls had been cut off and they were also hanging from the bottom.  The man’s left leg was supporting his body, and a 2x4 piece of lumber was secured to it with rope, appearing to help keep it straight.  His leg was extremely deformed—possibly from having to endure years of supporting his body in the cramped torture device.  His crotch had a small plastic hose coming out of the scarring, and the end of it was hanging out of the bottom of the cage.  The man was wearing a medieval-looking mask that was almost hidden by his long shabby hair.

Seth removed a torch that was mounted on a nearby wall and began burning the bottom of the man’s foot, causing him to move around and make grisly noises.  Dicky gasped with horror—he had presumed the man was deceased due to his appearance.

Seth hung the torch back on the wall.  “This hanging piece of shit is Bill, and years ago, I lived with him and his wife Sara on a farm where they ran a foster home.  Over those years, I witnessed cruel and inhumane acts that were done to the kids.  Bill was a cruel man who worked us like slaves on the farm from dawn to dusk.  I can still remember like it was yesterday how he would say we were worthless pieces of shit, and we should have been killed when we were born.  The verbal abuse was bad enough, but the beatings and unusual punishments would haunt all of us for as long as we lived.  He would lock kids in the storm shelter or chain them in the barn for weeks with very little food and water.  When he got drunk, he would beat any one of us that was in his nearby vicinity.  He was an abusive person, but that wasn’t the worst of it.  It wasn’t enough to break the kids of their spirit, but he went so far as to rob them of their dignity and any chance of ever having a normal life.  Fortunately, Bill didn’t have an interest in me like he had with some of the other boys.  He never touched me, but over those years I felt helpless as I heard others weeping in their beds late at night, saying how they wished they were dead.  I waited a long time to bring justice to all the kids who had lived on that farm at one time or another.  I wish I could have done something sooner, back when I lived there, but I was just a scared little kid that saw Bill as some type of indestructible monster.  His blood wasn’t the first to christen the chamber, but it wasn’t too much longer that his blood covered that blood.

It was a long time ago when I made the long journey back to the hellish farm of Bill and Sara, but this time I was like Freddy Krueger on steroids that was created from all the earth’s fury.  It took two full days of driving to reach North Dakota.  It was around nine o’clock at night when I finally reached a gravel road in the middle of nowhere.  It was the last stretch of road that led to Bill’s farm.  I could feel the anger building up inside of me with every jar from the potholes as I drove down the narrow gravel road.  To be cautious, I parked my car in a wooded area slightly down the road from the house, then snuck to the barn.  I knew there wouldn’t be any dogs around to alert Bill—he hated them more than the foster kids.  The inside of the barn hadn’t changed in all these years; it had the same horse shit odor that reminded me of all the hours I was forced to clean out the stalls.  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up when I heard Bill yelling from inside the house.  The sound of his voice angered me so severely that I wanted to storm into the house and rip his tongue out with my bare hands, but I refrained—there could have been kids around and I didn’t want them to get hurt, so I stuck with my original plan.  I climbed up a ladder and into the loft of the barn, then sat down next to the wall where I could see the farmhouse through the cracks in the old wood; it was my old hiding place.  I sat and waited patiently to see if he would come out to the barn to check on the horses like he used to do every evening.

About an hour later, he finally came out of the house and sat on the porch.  The porch light was dim, but I could see the fat bastard rocking in a chair as he was drinking a beer.  After a short period of time of time, he went back inside, and after I watched through the crack for a little while longer, I realized he might not come out to the barn, but it didn’t take long for me to think of a way that might entice him.  I climbed down from the loft and dug through a box of toys I had noticed earlier until I found some bait.  When I got back up in the loft, I took a ball and started bouncing it against the wall of the barn.  Minutes later, I heard the screen door slam open, and then shortly after that I heard the barn door squeak.  I knelt quietly beside some hay, and as I hid, I could see the light from Bill’s flashlight as he was sneaking around the barn looking for the little intruder.  I bounced the ball off the wall to get his attention.

A voice echoed out from below.  “I know you’re up there.  You better come down if you know what’s good for you.”

I remained silent.

He began stomping around in the dirt as he shouted and cursed for me to come down from the loft.  His crude persuading didn’t pay off, so he started up the ladder cursing with every rung.  When he reached the top, I surprised him when I came leaping from the dark.  Before he had a chance to speak, I kicked him in the face.  He screamed as he fell to the ground.  I quickly climbed down, then waited beside him as he regained his composure.  The fat bastard looked up at me with confusion as I said, “This is for Chip.”  I began beating him with a shovel as he rolled around in the dirt.  I beat him on his back, sides, and stomach, and when he tried to get up, I broke the handle of the shovel across his face, knocking out a couple of his front teeth.  He was lying on the ground moaning when Sara came running into the barn.  She never saw me coming at her until the pitchfork had already stabbed her through the stomach, and as she screamed, I pushed her backwards with the tool until she was bound to the wall of the barn by the long forks.  As she gasped her last breath of air, I leaned in toward her ear.  “You had your chance years ago.  You knew, but did nothing about it.”  Five minutes later, I was driving away from the farm, leaving Sara hanging in the barn and the indestructible monster locked in my trunk.

When I got back home, I restrained Bill to a table and gave him nutrients, antibiotics, and steroids through a peripherally inserted central catheter in hopes it would help him recover from the injuries he obtained in the barn.  I was kind of irritated at myself—I thought he was going to die from his head injury.  Unfortunately for him, he came around two days later with a severe headache.  Over the next few weeks, I let him watch in fear while I would strangle the black asshole in the stockade.  I wouldn’t say a word to him, ignoring his pleas of who I was, why he was here and what was I’m going to do to him.  I continued to ignore him as the months passed, and as each day went by he became more and more aggressive.  He couldn’t stand being ignored and would curse and scream at me whenever I was around.”

The Carjackers

Seth walked over to the rusted cage and leaned against the bars.  “Bill was a real piece of shit and I needed to get something special for him.  I thought I was going to make a quick trip to the electrical supply store, but I ran into a snag on the way back.  I was stopped at a red light on the shitty side of town when I noticed two Hispanic punks were in the process of carjacking a woman at knifepoint.  It’s hard to watch bad people do bad things to good people and do nothing, but for the moment, all I could do is watch because I had some incriminating items in the trunk.  One of the thugs, who was covered in tattoos, noticed I was the only other car at the intersection.  When he spotted me, he stopped in his tracks and pointed his hand toward me in a way that resembled a gun.  I wanted to show what I had, but showering the fucker with 5.56 mm rounds in the middle of the street would draw way too much attention.  For now, I was just going to wait and see if I needed to step in—I am willing to sacrifice my identity if I can help an innocent person.  Luckily, I was wearing a fat suit and a fake beard, so I wasn’t worried about being identified in case I decided to help.

Over the next couple of minutes, I just sat and watched as the two ass clowns attempted to steal the vehicle.  Every time they would drag her out of her car, she would run back and begin fighting with them.  She would either try to grab the keys out of the ignition or climb into the back seat.  During her attempts in whatever she was trying to do, the driver was punching her in the face and head.  For some reason, she wasn’t backing down.  At this point I didn’t have to step in because she was handling herself pretty well.  Eventually the two punks became more aggressive and threw her on the ground and began kicking and stomping her all over, so I stepped out of my car and chambered my short-barreled AR-15 that was equipped with a thirty-round magazine.  It was obvious these two jackasses were from the hood, because they heard the bolt close eighty feet away and knew the shit was fixing to hit the fan.  They forgot about her and jumped back into the car.  Right before they had a chance to drive off, the woman jumped up and climbed into the back seat again while frantically screaming.  At this point, I was back in my car sitting with my mouth wide open.  I couldn’t understand why she was risking her life for a vehicle.  The lady was in the backseat and the man on the passenger side was leaning over the front seat hitting her in the head with his fist.  The small car was rocking side to side as the passenger and woman fought.  The driver took off, but stopped again after a short distance.  I was wondering what the hell they were doing as the driver quickly got out and dragged the woman back onto the ground.  When the car finally sped away, the lady stood up and ran to the curb holding an infant.  At that point I knew I was going to have to make these two assholes pay for what they had done even though it was in my town where I don’t like to draw attention to myself.

It was wintertime and the days were short, so I felt comfortable following them while using the darkness to my advantage.  I followed the car at a safe distance using night vision goggles so they wouldn’t see my headlights.  The two punks were making a lot of turns and taking short cuts through alleyways as they were apparently trying to avoid the main streets.  That was also a good thing for me because I was driving without headlights.  Around fifteen minutes later they stopped at a house on the ghetto side of town.  I pulled to the side of the street a short distance behind them.  The tattooed passenger quickly got out and went inside a house.  The street was dark, and the only light was coming from a few porch lights across the street.  Without any planning, I jumped out of my car and grabbed a plastic gas can out of the trunk, then walked down the sidewalk toward the stolen vehicle.  As I quickly moved along, I put on leather gloves and wiped down my Zippo lighter.  Right when I was approaching the car, the punk came jogging out of the house, so I walked on by as if it was a hunky-dory evening.  When he passed me on the sidewalk, he saw I was carrying a gas can, and as he was getting back into the car, I heard him laughing and making fun of me in Spanish.  As soon as I heard the car door slam shut, I looked around to see if anyone was watching, then scurried toward the car.  I walked straight up to the driver’s window, and without a warning, I shoved my razor-sharp sickle against the driver’s throat. “If either one of you move, I will cut this fucker’s head off.”

The guy on the passenger side started to get out until his buddy shouted, “Hang tight Holmes!  This vato is serious.”

The punk was holding as still as a sculpture as I held the sickle to his throat, and as he eye-fucked me I asked, “Whose vehicle is this?”

He replied with a smirk, “It’s mine.”

I shoved the blade harder against his neck.  “One last chance for the truth.  And something you need to know.  I’ve been asking Santa Claus for a greasy Mexican’s head for the last several years and all I ever get is a fucking sock full of coal…  So, I really, really want you to lie again.”

“I stole….”

“We’re borrowing it.”  Interrupted the passenger.

I slightly pulled back on the blade and sliced his skin.  “No, no, we stole it dude.  We stole it from some lady.”  He turned his head a little and caught a glimpse of my clothing.  “You’re that dude from the intersection.  What, you some kind of cop or something?”

“Do I look like a fucking cop?  Would a cop be holding a medieval-looking weapon to your throat?”

The passenger was getting a little antsy like he wanted to get out of the car, and I didn’t want him to jump out without any notice, so I made them put their seatbelts on.

The passenger did a, ‘what the fuck’ hand gesture at me.  “Now you gonna call the cops.  My juvenile ass will be out in the morning.  And when I find you it’s gonna take a lot more than a seat belt to stop me from cutting your fucking heart out, motherfucker!”

“Juvenile.  Juveniles don’t have a tear drop tattoo under their eye.  You must think you are some kind of killa?”

The punk threw a gang sign at me.  “Seventeen bitch!  That’s all it takes to get my ‘get the fuck out of jail free card’, motherfucker.  Just like fuckin’ Monopoly, except in this game you die, bitch.”  The dude pointed under his other eye.  “Right here gonna be your tear drop, bitch.”

While the dude was grinning like a possum eating shit, I threw gas on his face.  He immediately covered his eyes and screamed.

“Ya gotta, ‘get the fucking gas out of my eyes card’?”

Even though his eyes were burning he reached over to unlatch his seat belt, and about the same time he pressed the unlatch button, I reached in and sliced his left hand almost in half.  Tendons were the only things that prevented a full amputation, and as he screamed, he tried to hold it together with his other hand.  The driver started to move, but I quickly shoved the sickle back to his throat.  While the two thieves were preoccupied with their pain and fear, I sloshed gas all over the inside of the car and on top of their heads while keeping the blade against the driver’s throat.  The container was plastic, so I chunked it into the back seat.  By now, the passenger had partially regained some of his sight and noticed his seat belt was loose, so he started to open the door with his right hand, and as he was debating if he wanted to run, I lit my Zippo.  “I wouldn’t move if I were you.”

The guy looked at the flame.  “What the fuck, man, are you fucking crazy?”

“No…  Not really…  Maybe just a little.  I’m just tired of seeing pieces of shit like you harm innocent people.”

The thug on the driver side became teary eyes, and as a tear ran down his cheek he said, “Sir, I’m sorry.  I’ll do whatever you want.”

I started laughing.  “I want you to grow some fucking cojones.  I had you figured for a tough guy from the way you handled the woman and her little baby earlier.”  I looked at his partner.  “Did you know Holmes here is a bitch?”

The driver became upset.  “I got your cojones, motherfucker!  You’re the one holding the fucking knife!”

“Let’s see how tough you are.”  I released the tension from his throat.

His eyes were full of hate.  “Fuck you, Holmes!”

I waved the flame in front of his face.  “You move, you burn.  So, fuck you.”

The guy didn’t move as I took the sickle and ripped open his shirt.  He remained quiet and gritted his teeth as I began cutting into his chest.  He was fighting the urge to scream—he was now in badass mode.  I was almost done with my artwork, a rival gang sign, when he grabbed the blade with both hands.  Within a blink of an eye his fingers on both hands had been severed.  He had blood squirting out of each of his stubs as he frantically waved his arms.  The tattooed passenger was terrified while he watched in horror—blood was spewing all over him and the car.  Panic overcame the passenger and he started to get out.  As soon as he put his foot on the ground, I dropped the lighter.  Before I could take my first step, the gas vapor exploded, and a fireball almost knocked me down.  My adrenaline rush was causing me to laugh as I ran down the sidewalk back toward my car.  About halfway down, I saw the passenger was on fire as he was running parallel with me down the road.  After a short distance, he turned and ran back toward the other direction.  I knew I couldn’t just take off and leave him as an eyewitness, so I pulled out into the street and drove slowly as I looked for him.  When I drove passed the burning car, I could see the driver was being burned alive as he was frantically trying to unlatch his seat belt with no fingers.

A half a block down I saw smoke coming from a yard.  When I got closer, I could see it was coming from the clothes and hair of the punk.  Before I had a chance to stop, an old man came out of the house and ran over to him, so I drove on by.  I parked my car down a dark alley, then quickly ran back toward the yard.

I hid in the shadows so the old man helping the punk couldn’t see me clearly.  “Hey!”

The old man stood up and looked in my direction.  “Who’s there?”

“Call 911 now!  A gang of violent savages with flame throwers is heading in our direction!”

The old man jumped to his feet and took off running.  He almost knocked his wife down as he ran into his house.  Without hesitating, I ran over and grabbed the vato’s hair, and as I pulled his head back, I swung the sickle so hard I almost decapitated him with one blow.  His head came off with the second swing, then hightailed it out of there with my early Christmas present.  I had to get rid of the car I was driving because I didn’t know if the woman who had been carjacked had seen it or if there had been cameras in the area.”

Mr. Propane Torch

Seth walked across the chamber, and a moment later, he came back with a preserved head.  He stood in front of the cell holding a rope that was secured to the top of the gangbanger’s head.  “I’ve always taken precautions and prepared for most situations.  This has really saved my ass numerous times over the years.  One slip up and I would blow my cover and end up being on the run for the rest of my life, which I’ve already made arrangements for just in case.  The newspapers have labeled me the Angel of Vengeance.  It’s really irritating, but it could have been worse, I suppose.  Those fuckers always have to come up with some kind of label—it makes their headlines more interesting.  If I ever go rogue, they will have to call me the ‘Angel of Death’—I will not be selective with the scumbags and lowlifes I go after.  It will be a crusade on cleaning house before I am taken down.”

Dicky raised his head.  “You will be caught eventually.”

“Yeah, probably, but it will be too late for your ass.”  Seth laid the head on the floor, then sat down.  He propped his feet up on the bars and lit a cigarette.  “The next morning the newspaper had a front-page article telling of the grisly murders.  The paper stated the police had no leads, except for the marking on one of the victim’s chest.  They believed the murders were gang related.”

“So, you pinned the murders on others.  That’s mighty white of you.”

“You would really like how I made your disappearance look.”

Dicky had a worried facial expression.  “What…  What did you do?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?  All I can say is your family and friends think you’re some kind of sicko.”

He jumped to his feet.  “Tell me!  What the fuck did you do?”

“It doesn’t matter, pal…  And besides, if you somehow magically escape, I ensured you will not be able to go home.”

He pumped his fist.  “You tell me what the …”

“Hush!  You need to save your energy for the upcoming festivities.”

“Screw you!  I’m not listening to your shit anymore.”

The sounds of moaning and crying in the chamber stopped.  Seth sat quietly as he smoked his cigarette.

Dicky looked around the chamber for a moment, then sat down in his dark corner.  “I meant…  You know…  Please continue on with Bill.”

Seth rested his head on the back of his chair.  “As I was saying earlier before you opened your mouth, the police assumed the murders were gang related.  Later that morning I went into the chamber and walked straight up to Bill.  “Good morning, Bill, Mr. Propane Torch is here to see you.”  I will never forget his facial expression.  He knew it was his turn because I hadn’t said a word to him since he had been brought into the chamber.  I had completely ignored him over the last seven months except for when I had to change out his IV bag and wash him down.  The agony of being bound to the table for such a long duration had almost caused him to go mad.”

Dicky had a look as if he wanted to say something, so Seth asked, “What’s on your mind, pal?”

He stayed silent.

“You will tell me what you’re thinking.  You apparently need the interactive time.”

“How did he…  For seven months.  You know, bed sores and infections.”

“Good question.  You’re paying attention.  And you’re right.  Being bound against something for that long of a period would be an issue.  The table top he laid on rotated from the ends.  I designed it to automatically flip every other day, so I didn’t have to interact with him.  When he was upside down, he would hang from his leather restraints so his back would be relieved of the pressure points.”

“Why the games?”

“It’s actually torture.  And it requires a lot of patience and holding back.”

Dicky exhibited an expression that stated, whatever.

Seth leaned forward in his chair.  “He might not have been physically tortured, but being confined to the table for such a long time was as excruciating as anything else I could have done on a long-term basis.”

He still had the same look on his face.

“Torture can come in so many ways.  You would think that I’ve run out of new things to do because I’ve been doing this for decades.  But believe it or not, I have a first waiting for you.”

Dicky looked around the chamber for a moment, then his facial expression changed to one of concern.

“Don’t worry, pal, you’ll find out when story time is over.  And by the way, it’s good to know you need a lot of attention.  And stop worrying about the future—it’s inevitable.  Now back to Bill.  He was terrified.  There was nothing he could do to fight back because he was bound to the top of the table.  He had been very vocal for the last seven months and now he was pleading for me not to hurt him.  When I unbuckled the restraints on his left arm, he became frantic and began jerking and pulling at the ropes to get free.  Spit was running down his mouth as he frantically begged for mercy, and his eyes were filled with fear as he watched me screw the torch head onto a propane cylinder.  The fear and anticipation of what was in store for him was agonizing.  He witnessed a lot of horrific things over the past months, and he knew there were no boundaries to the suffering in his new world.  When I lit the torch, he began foaming at the mouth like a rabid animal and screaming at the top of his lungs for help as he stared at the blue colored flame.  Before I began, I looked down at him.  “At one time the sound of your voice horrified me.  And now I can’t wait to rip out your tongue.”

He raised his head off the table and looked into my eyes.  “I know you.  I can’t remember your name, but I recognize those fucking eyes.  I made a man out of all of you brats, and this is how you repay me?”

I grinned a little.  “Well then.  If being belittled, humiliated, tortured, confined, starved, and sodomized are the ways to become a man, then you’re going to become fucking Mr. Universe.”

He held his fist up and shook it at me.  “No one talks to me like that, you motherless cocksucker!”

I grabbed a pair of pliers and jumped on top of the table and sat down on his chest to where I was facing his head.  To prevent him from grabbing or hitting me, I held his left arm down with my knee, then gripped a handful of his hair so he couldn’t turn his head.  While I held his head tightly, I began to pound on his mouth with the end of the pliers.  “Give me your tongue!”

He was fighting back as much as he could.  “Stop!  Get the fuck off me!”

It took about four or five hard blows before he opened his mouth.  “Stick it out.”

“Ahhhhh!  Okay, okay!”

When he stuck out his tongue, I grabbed it with the pliers, and as I pulled back on it, his head came off the table as he tried to relieve the tension, but I pulled back further and harder.  When I had his tongue out as far as it would go without tearing, I shoved a long piercing rod through his bottom lip, through his tongue and out his top lip.  To prevent the rod from falling out I bent each end in a U shape.  When I released his tongue, he began moving his lips a little as he was trying to figure out what the hell was going on, and as he opened and closed his mouth, his lips would slide up and down on the rod while the thick portion of his tongue held it in place.

Over the next few minutes, I sat calmly on his chest while he was trying to dislodge the rod; it was made of heavy gauge stainless steel and only a pair of pliers could straighten it out.  When he finally realized what I had done, he became angry and began mumbling threats.  Without saying a word, I started burning his tongue with the torch.  His screaming was almost deafening as I burned him.  The flame finally caused his tongue to rupture, and it became black as a burnt weenie over a campfire.  During his screaming and heavy breathing, he inhaled a lung full of his own burning flesh, which was causing him to violently cough and gag at the same time as he screamed and cried.  Every time he exhaled, gray smoke would puff out of his nostrils; he reminded me of the bull in the Bugs Bunny cartoon.  The pain finally became so intense his body went into convulsions and he began choking on his vomit.  I didn’t want the fat bastard to choke to death, so I quickly grabbed a knife out of my sheath and cut a large hole in the side of his cheek.  Blood and vomit immediately gushed out of the hole, and when his throat was clear, he began screaming again.  The wound in the side of his face was bleeding profusely, so I cauterized it with the torch so he wouldn’t bleed to death.  This guy had some tolerance for pain, which was unfortunate for him because I usually stop when someone passes out.  Curious on how much he could take, I cut another large hole on the opposite side of his face and pulled out all his upper and lower molars with a pair of fencing pliers.  Blood was pouring out of his mouth, so I packed a powdered clotting agent into the holes in his gums and cauterized the wound in his other cheek.  Bill was in a lot of agony and was on the verge of a heart attack, so I nailed his hand to the tabletop and left him to recuperate.

Two days later when I entered the chamber, Bill seemed a little down and out and didn’t want to talk.  “Come on, pal, don’t pout.”

He still wouldn’t look at me.

“I killed Sara in the barn with a pitchfork.”

He jerked his head toward me and mumbled something out of the holes in his face.  I couldn’t understand him.  His tongue was so swollen it was forcing his mouth to be stretched open to the point the bent sections of the steel rod were tearing into his lips.  His gums were so swollen they were protruding out of the holes in his face.  I’m sure the horrific amount of pain he was in was also making it difficult to speak as well.  The sight of him was making my face hurt.  He truly looked like a monster.  The statement I made about Sara had really upset him, and he was desperately trying to communicate.

I made sign language gestures at him with my hands.  “I can’t understand you.”

He continued to mumble.

It was going to be impossible to make out his gibberish, so I grabbed an Electro pharynx off Jack the molester—he didn’t need it anymore because he had died a year or so ago.  After I installed new batteries in the device, I tied it to Bill’s neck.  He quickly became frustrated as he tried to talk.  The Electro pharynx made him sound like a malfunctioning, retarded robot.  After listening to him rant and rave for a few minutes, I grabbed the device and stuck it to my throat, and as I danced like a robot, I sang a modified version of Mr. Roboto by the band Styx.  “Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto, domo... domo.  Thank you very much, Mr. Roboto, for killing Sara with the pitch forko, doing the job that nobody wanted to do o.  Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto.”

He became extremely hostile as I sang the song.  His adrenaline rush also helped him overcome his pain, which allowed him to scream out.  Mucus was spraying out of the holes in his face with every yell.  He was a smoker, so the mucus was yellow and elastic-like.  He had that shit spewed all over his face and head, and it was stretching from his face to the tabletop and between the holes in his face like spider webs.  Four or five minutes later he begun to calm down, so I pulled the nails out of his hand and strapped the Electro pharynx back to his neck.  He didn’t notice I had lit the torch—he was too busy messing with his face and bitching at me for what I had done, but he quickly forgot about that when I started burning his right leg from his toes to his hip.  He violently fought at his restraints as the putrid smell of flesh filled the air around us, and as he screamed out, the sound of the Electro pharynx accompanied his voice as if they were singing a duo.  While I cooked his flesh, he was slamming his head against the table and frantically throwing his left arm around in every direction.  He would bang his head several times, then he would pull on the leather restraints for a second or two, then he would reach toward me, then back at the restraints.  He continued to repeat the cycle in a desperate attempt to knock himself out, break the restraints and magically escape, or with the power of telekinesis, grab my arm, then in a superhuman way beat the shit out of me.  After several minutes of screaming at the top of his lungs and acting a fool, I finally pulled the flame from his leg.  When he calmed down, and when he could talk, the Electro pharynx echoed out in a robotic sound.  “Please, please, I will do whatever you ask.  Just stop hurting me.”

I turned off the torch.  “Rip your dick off with your left hand.”

He raised his head up and looked at me for a few seconds with a, ‘what the fuck’ expression, then he laid his head back on the table and began staring at the ceiling.

After I relit the torch and began burning his leg again, he had no choice but to do what I had asked, so without hesitating he started tugging at his penis.  His eyes were about to pop out of his head as he stretched his dick like a rubber band, but as soon as he tore a few small surface veins, he let go and tried to grab the torch.  “Grab your dick and not the torch if you want the pain to stop.”

He yelled, “Oh, fuck!  Oh, fuck!  Oh, fuck!” as he began frantically pulling at his dick again, and after he stretched it to where his skin was beginning to rip, he let go.  “Please stop!  I can’t do it!  I can’t.  It hurts too bad.”

Before he had a chance to say another word, I started burning his face.  He reached over and grabbed the torch head with his hand and jerked it away.  While he held on for dear life to the red-hot nozzle, burnt-flesh smelling smoke poured out between his fingers as a sizzling sound came from inside his fist.  Just for curiosity I didn’t fight back—I wanted to see how long he could endure the pain.  As I expected, the big pussy jerked his hand away only after a few seconds.  He frantically rubbed the palm of his hand on his chest to relieve the pain.

The Electro pharynx echoed out.  “Just kill me and get it over with!  Take your fucking vengeance!  You’ve tortured me and killed my wife.  What more do you want?  Just kill me.”

I slowly walked around to his left side with a hacksaw.  “I am taking vengeance.  Vengeance for everyone you have wronged.”

He became enraged and tried to grab my throat as I was standing next to him on his left side, but to his surprise, I quickly grabbed his arm, and with all my strength I broke it backwards over the side of the table until his arm was at a ninety-degree angle.  His humerus had torn through his skin and blood and bone fragments were gushing out of the hole and were running down his arm.  While I held his arm down, he screamed in absolute horror.

“Vengeance doesn’t include death.  And what more do I want?  I want you to scream every day until you die of old age, and then I want you to scream for eternity in hell.”

His hollering and screaming were echoing out in the chamber as he lay on the table in excruciating pain.  I waited a few minutes for him to calm down, and when he was finally, well not relaxed, but not in as much pain due to his arm going numb, I set the blade of the hacksaw on the upper portion of his arm.  “This is another one for Chip.”

He screamed erratically and was blowing slobber out of the holes in the side of his face as I began cutting into his flesh.  For a special treat, I made sure I was sawing into his arm very, very slowly.  I wanted him to feel the blade as it cut through his flesh and muscle at a fraction of an inch at a time.  He passed out when I started cutting into his bone, so I pulled the blade out of the cut and quickly poured a hemostatic agent into his wound so he wouldn’t bleed to death.  He started coming around after I threw ice-cold water onto his face, but I waited another three or four minutes until he was fully conscious before I continued.

He looked over at me.  “Please just kill me.”

I shoved the blade back into his blood clotted wound.  His body went into convulsions as I sawed through his bone, and as soon as his arm was severed, and right before it hit the floor, he was out cold again.  While he slept, I cauterized, cleaned, and bandaged his bloody stump.  He was going to be out for a while, so I went ahead and left so I could take care of a few things.

The next morning when I entered the chamber, Bill was extremely upset, and as soon as I walked up to him, he yelled out, “I do not deserve what you have done to me!”

“I feel the same.”  I freed his right arm, then lit the torch.  “You deserve a lot more.”

He didn’t say a word as he glared at me.

I walked over and stood next to his charred leg.  “You have one arm left, so I suggest you tear off your dick so we can move on to bigger and better things.”

Surprisingly without any motivation from the torch he gripped his dick tightly and grotesquely stretched it until some of the larger surface veins in it ruptured, and as he held his eyes tightly closed, he screamed with everything he had.  I was grossing out as he was stretching his dick by at least three times its normal length, and the harder he pulled the thinner it would get.

As soon as the small rips from earlier began to tear he released it.  “I can’t do it!  Please don’t make…”

I shoved the torch head into one of the holes in the side of his face.  Flames were bellowing out around his swollen and charred tongue, which was still bound by the long piercing rod.  He grabbed my arm and tried to pull the flame from his mouth, but he was too weak.  But his screaming did extinguish the flame.  Even though the flame was out, propane was still being pumped into his mouth and throat, and when I pulled the ignition trigger on the torch his nostrils caught fire.  I stepped back with the torch and watched with excitement.  His screaming was causing flames to blow out of his nose and the holes in his face like a dragon.  A few seconds later, the flames had extinguished and he was back to screaming and yelling.  During his heavy breathing, he must have sucked in a lung-full of propane when the flame was snuffed out, which would explain why fire had come out of his face.  While he coughed and blew out mucus all over his face and head, I walked off and grabbed a large wooden cylindrical shaped device.  The wooden device was about twenty-one inches long with an eight-inch outside diameter and a seven-inch inside diameter; it kind of looked like a hollowed-out tree stump.  I shoved his arm through the hollowed section of the wooden device, then laid the device on the table where his arm and the device were perpendicular to his body.  I adjusted it so that it was shoved up tight against his armpit, and where his hand was barely sticking out the other end.  To prevent him from being able to move the wooden device, or pull his arm out, I toe nailed it to the tabletop with long nails.  He glanced at the device for a moment, then looked at me.  “I told you I couldn’t do it!”  He thought he was done pulling at his dick because his arm was stuck inside the wooden tube.

“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?  We’ll see.”

I forced him to grasp the center of a three-foot piece of broomstick, and as he gripped it, I wrapped duct tape tightly around his fist so he wouldn’t be able to release it.

He looked at the contraption and sarcastically popped off, “I wasn’t able to pull my arm out as it was.”

I tossed the roll of tape.  “I bet you that it can slide out.”

“What?  You think I am fucking Houdini?”  He thought for a second.  “No, no, no!  Please don’t cut if off!  I’ll do anything!”

I smiled.  “I’m not going to cut off your arm, so relax.”

He stared at me with uncertainty. “You’re not?”

“No.  I’m not.”

He took a deep breath as he laid his head on the table.  “I thank you for showing mercy.”

While he laid on the table with a sigh of relief on his face, I grabbed the stick and began lightly rotating it, and as his arm was being twisted, he raised his head up and glared at me.  “What are you doing?”

I stopped twisting as I held the tension on the stick.  “Tell me on a scale from one to ten, ten being the worst, how bad does this hurt?”

He spoke quickly without thinking.  “A ten!”

“Really, what about this?”  I twisted the shit out of the stick.

“Oh, shit!  Stop!”

I held the tension.  “How bad?  From one to ten?  I’ll turn it in the direction of less pain according to the scale.”

He screamed out.  “A fucking twelve!”

“One to ten.  Twelve is not on the scale.”

Sweat was pouring off his face.  “Ten, ten, ten!”

“Ten was already used at the beginning.”  I continued to hold the tension.  “So, what you’re saying is, this hurts as bad as when I was lightly twisting your arm?”

He began breathing deeply.  “You’re gonna break it!”

I still hadn’t let off the pressure.  “I will hurt you less if you tell me how bad this hurts on the scale, and remember, you have already used ten.”

“Then it’s a nine!  It’s a fucking nine!”

When he yelled nine, I started twisting his arm as hard as I could.  He screamed at the top of his lungs as the massive amount of pressure was causing severe stress to his bones and ligaments.  At first it was hard to twist the stick, and with every pop I heard, the stick got easier to twist.  He was screaming so loud from the excruciating pain that he broke the speaker in the Electro pharynx.  Even though his body had begun to violently shake and he was probably going to pass out, I continued to twist his arm until it tore in half at the elbow.  After I pulled the lower portion of his arm out of the hollowed trunk and threw it on the floor, he began dry heaving, and as soon as blood and pieces of bone came gushing out of the end of the wooden device he passed out.  Before he bled to death, I quickly unlatched his restraints and pulled his ravaged stub out of the device.  The upper portion of his arm was destroyed, so I amputated it at the shoulder and cauterized the stub.  His body was in shock, and I knew he couldn’t handle anymore trauma, so I removed him from the table and put him in an intensive care room that was separate from the chamber.  Over the next several hours I worked quickly addressing his wounds.  First, I removed his tongue, which was now a large, infected piece of rotting meat.  I half-assed repaired the holes in his face by grafting some of his skin that I cut from his ass cheeks.  When I was done, I had a good laugh—he had an old tattoo of a pair of cherries on his left ass cheek, which was now on the side of his face.  Not sure about cherries, kind of gay I thought.  The facial repairs only took a couple of hours, but it took weeks to fight the infection in his leg, and it took months for him to fully recover from all his injuries.  The entire time he was in the intensive care room he didn’t say a word.  I think he was glad because he thought his suffering was over.

A couple of months later when he was fully recovered, I sauntered up to him as he was watching TV.  “Are you ready to tear off your dick?”

He just glared at me as he laid on a comfortable bed.  The past several months Bill had been on easy street as I had been torturing some of the newcomers.  He was almost like new for the exception of having no arms, no tongue and severe scarring on his face and leg.  He became hostile as I wheeled his bed into the chamber.  His retarded-sounding voice was echoing throughout the chamber.  “You’re not going to touch me anymore, you sick and twisted fucker!  You hear me!  You will not fucking touch me!  Do you understand?”

I had to pull him kicking and screaming from the bed onto the wooden table, and as I tied down his legs he shouted, “Get the fuck away from me you son of a bitch!”

I screwed the torch head on the propane cylinder.

He raised his head up and stared into my eyes.  “You have no fucking right to do this to me!”

“I bet the kids that you stuck your dick into felt the same.”

He glared at me with fury.  “Fuck you, you sick and twisted fucker!”

I lit the torch.  “Now get to bitin’, you tongueless fuck!”

His facial expression went from a hatred look to a confused look. “You’re out of your fucking mind!  You’re insane!”

“I’ll tell you what’s insane.  The fact that you didn’t listen the first two times, you now have to bite your dick off.  And who’s sicker?  Me for forcing you to punish your sorry ass, or you finding pleasure in hurting and touching little boys?  You fucking child molester piece of shit!”

After that comment, he became infuriated.  His eyes turned red and he spewed spit out of his mouth as he shouted, “You can go fuck yourself!  I will not give you the satisfaction of begging anymore!  Do whatever you need to do you fucking cocksucker!”

I cranked the flame on the torch to its max and began burning his right leg.  He was screaming at the top of his lungs and throwing his head and body around as his skin boiled.  He would sit up and lean forward, and as he screamed into my ear, I would take the torch and burn his face until he fell back to the table.  The process continued to repeat until his hair caught fire, and at that point the pain between his leg and his smoking head was so excruciating he began slamming his head on the table in an attempt to knock himself unconscious.  Because he was refusing to bite his dick, I decided to shut off the torch and try something that would be more enticing.

His head was still smoking as he laid his head back and stared at the ceiling.  “I told you.  I told you I would not give you satisfaction.  I can take whatever you dish out, so you might as well just cut it off yourself or just kill me.”

I opened the top of ten small plastic containers that were cylindrical in shape, then poured their contents on the top of his burnt leg from his ankle to his hip.

He sat up with a cocky grin.  “What the fuck is that, freak?”

“Motivation.”

He took a deep breath.  “You’re wasting your time.  There is nothing I can physically do to stop you, but I can use my mind to overcome the pain.  So, you might as well give up.”

Seth pulled an empty plastic container out of his pocket and tossed it into the chamber next to Dicky.  “That’s what I went into town to get for Bill the day I ran across the carjackers.  It’s used in conjunction with lead molds to weld copper wiring together, or copper wiring to metal such as rebar or metal beams.  The container is filled with powdered metal oxides and an aluminum reducing agent.  The powder is poured into a mold and ignited with a spark gun to create an exothermic chemical reaction.  The powder reaches between twenty-five hundred and three thousand degrees within a few seconds to create a superheated molten metal weld.  I thought it would be interesting to see what the powder would do to flesh.”

Dicky picked up the plastic container.  “Bill seemed to be a strong-willed person.”

“No, more like stubborn.  He was used to being the aggressor in life and he would rather suffer horrendously than submit to someone else.  I remember like it was yesterday when I ignited the powder—there was a large flash that looked like a thousand sparklers that instantly went off.  It was so bright I had to step back and shield my eyes.  The chemical reaction of the powder and Bill’s burning flesh created such a thick cloud of smoke that his leg was completely hidden.  Pieces of burning particles were being shot all over the place as the superheated material came into contact with his flesh and muscles.  Bill sat up and screamed at the top of his lungs, and as he stared in horror, the fire from his leg was burning his face and head.  He finally passed out about the same time the particles stopped shooting out of his leg, but the smoke continued to pour out and fill the chamber with the raunchy smell of burning flesh for several more minutes.  I could start to see the damage as soon as the smoke began to dissipate from his leg.  Right off I knew cauterizing wasn’t going to be needed.  The top of his entire leg had caved in and was charred to the point it looked like a tree limb that had been burned in a brush pile.  The molten metal had disintegrated his flesh and was smoldering on the top of his bones.  The flesh and muscles on each side of his bones were disintegrated and some of the molten metal was still burning the top of the wooden table.  The only tissue he had left was under his leg.

Several minutes later, I threw cold water on his face, and when he became coherent, I said, “Check out your leg.”

When he sat up and examined it, a wave of horror came over him.  “Oh, shit!  What the fuck have you done?  That’s fucking bad!”

I smiled.  “What’s really bad is I have to amputate it as soon as possible so you don’t die.”

He was terrified as I lifted his thigh and pulled a handheld flexible tree limb saw under his leg, and after I climbed up and stood on the top of the table, I bent down and grabbed a handle with each hand.  He screamed as I started working the blade back and forth, and by the time the blade reached his bone, he had blown his voice box.  He passed out as I was cutting through the last portion of muscle.”

Judas Cradle

“Over the next couple of weeks, I let Bill recover from his injuries in the intensive care room again.  He was watching the ten o’clock news one evening when I came into his room to remove him from his cozy bed and into a wheelchair.  I sometimes allow TV in parts of the chamber so these assholes don’t forget the fact that they are missing out on the real world.  It’s very agonizing for them to be forced into confinement against their will.  When I pushed him out of the room and back into the chamber, he didn’t say a word.  He was furious as I rolled him across the stone floor.  I could almost hear him cursing me in his head.  When we reached the opposite corner of the chamber, I parked him next to a strange looking device, and as he sat dumbfounded, I said, “You’re running out of limbs, pal, so we’ll try something different.”

He turned toward me with a hateful look.  “If you want it torn off, then you do it!  I am not going to play your game anymore.”

While he sat in the chair pouting, I secured a metal band around his chest.  The band had four eyebolts located evenly around it, and each of them had a rope secured to it.  The ropes ran through its own pulley that was mounted to the ceiling, and the four pulleys were mounted about ten feet apart in a square pattern.  After I tied a rope around his ankle, I began hoisting him up by pulling on each rope a little at a time, and when he was suspended about eight feet in the air, I tied off the ropes.  I needed him to be at a slight angle, so I took the rope that was secured to his leg and tied if off where it held his leg slightly out in front of him.  He watched with uncertainty as I slid a six-foot tall pyramid-shaped device out of the corner of the chamber.  I centered the metal point of the pyramid under him, then stepped back so I could see his face.  “This is called a Judas Cradle and it was used in the medieval times to torture assholes like you.”

He didn’t say a word, but he did look terrified as I lowered him down on top of the device.  As soon as the point rammed in his ass, he constricted his butt cheeks to stop it from entering further.  I tied off the ropes where they had just enough slack so he couldn’t fall off the pyramid.  I didn’t say anything as I started to walk off.

“What the fuck?  You can’t leave me up here like this.”

I spun around.  “Oh, by the way, I suggest you don’t relax too much unless you want to be turned into a human popsicle.”

He shouted profanity at me as I walked to another section of the chamber.

Several hours later when I came back to check on him, his body was covered in sweat and every muscle in his neck was sticking out as he strained to keep his butt cheeks together.

When he saw me, he became frantic.  “It’s killing me!  Please get me down!  I don’t want to die this way!”

“It’s a pretty damn humiliating device, isn’t it?  And every time you move it slides in deeper.  The more you sweat, the more slippery it gets.  The more your butt muscles tear the deeper it goes.  As the point gets deeper it also widens.  Unfortunately, you might have to sit there for several days before you die.”

He looked down at me with desperation etched across his face.  “Okay, I’ll do it.  I’ll do anything you want.  Just get me down.”

“We’ll discuss that in the morning.”  I spun around and walked away.

It was around noon the next day when I came back into the chamber, and when I approached Bill, I found he was extremely exhausted and noticed the top of the pyramid was covered in blood, piss, and shit.  While I stood next to him smoking a cigarette, he was so tired that he couldn’t even speak to tell me how violated he felt; all he could do was hold his head down in shame.  A few minutes later, I lowered him to the floor and dragged his white-as-a-ghost body over to his favorite table.  I tied his left leg down, the only limb he had left.  “Get to bitin’ or the pyramid will become your new perch.”

He didn’t say a word as he tried to sit up, and as I watched him struggle, I realized his body was too exhausted and his mind wasn’t very alert to do what he needed to do.  “Let’s wait until your state of mind and body are fully refreshed so you can get the full experience of having to gnaw off your own dick.  Tomorrow will be the day that you will give every kid you violated justice.”  Before I walked away, he had fallen sound asleep, and for the rest of the day as I did shit around the chamber, I could hear him snoring like a grizzly bear.

The next day when I walked up to Bill, he didn’t say anything, and as I stood next to him, he sat up without any motivation and tried to reach his penis with his mouth, but he wasn’t flexible enough.  After his failed attempt, he laid back down.  He just laid on the table with a don’t-give-a-fuck facial expression. “I can’t reach it.”

“Can’t couldn’t do shit, and that’s sure not going to be an excuse in here.”  I went and grabbed a rope, some pulleys, and a metal collar.  He had a smirk on his face as I pulled him forward and secured a metal collar around his neck.  On each side of the collar was a point of connection, and after I tied a rope to each side of the collar, I hung them off the side of the table they faced.  I crawled under the table and mounted two pulleys directly under his ass, then pulled each rope through a pulley.  After I mounted a hand-cranked winch on the end of the table by his feet, I cut off the extra slack in the ropes and connected them both to the winch.  With each crank of the handle, he moaned louder and louder as the ropes forced his head downwards toward his crotch.  I didn’t want to break his back, so I stopped cranking it as soon as he started screaming, then I left him in that dreadful position overnight.  Day after day I cranked the winch a little at a time, and when his head finally laid in his crotch, I left him in that miserable position for days.

A week later when I cut the ropes, his head remained motionless, stuck in the bent over position.  I thumped him on the side of his head.  “Wouldn’t it have been a lot easier and less painful to have torn it off the first time I asked?”

He didn’t say a word, but he did start sobbing.

“Get after it, or I will cut your other leg off a foot at a time.”

After that comment, he picked his head up out of his crotch and grabbed a mouth full of wiener.  He bit down and pulled back.  It stretched a couple of inches, then slipped out.  Every time he grabbed his dick and pulled back it would slip out of his mouth.  After the fourth time, he just gave up and laid his head back in his crotch.  “I have no teeth.  I can’t grip it.”

He screamed loudly as I threw him backwards on the table.  He had been forced forward for so long that the new backwards position was causing severe pain due to possible muscle cramping and spinal stress.  He attempted to rise back up a couple of times, but he finally just gave up and laid motionless as he cried.  While Mr. Snivels blew slobber and snot bubbles all over the place, I cut some small diameter stainless steel rod into seven, one-inch pieces, then grounded a sharp point on each end of them.  Before Bill knew what hit him, I had grabbed his face and locked his mouth open with a pair of dental clamps, and over the next several minutes, he screamed out as loud as a person could scream as I drove four of the rods into the top of his gum and three in the bottom of his gum.  After I removed the dental clamps, I walked off to the other side of the chamber so I could hear myself think.  He had screamed so loud my ears were still ringing an hour later.

Several hours later, around midnight, Bill had settled down, so I strolled over to him.  “Any more excuses?”

He didn’t say a word, but he did give me a hateful look.  When I helped him sit up, blood and saliva gushed out of his mouth and onto his stomach.  His new teeth were too long, which prevented his mouth from closing all the way.  He kind of looked like a werewolf.  A werewolf that was ready to go knob gobblin.  As soon as I nodded toward his crotch, he leaned forward and sunk his stainless-steel teeth into his penis, then with everything he had he lunged backwards and ripped it completely in half.

When he fell back to the table he yelled out, “I fucking did it, you sick fucking bastard!”

“Well, what about the other half?”

He raised his head up, and as he looked at me with hate, I started laughing because he still had the end of his dick stuck to the top set of his steel teeth.  He had no way of dislodging it because he had no tongue or hands.  My laughing must have pissed him off, because he lunged forward without saying a word and began tearing off pieces of his stub, piece by piece.  He finally passed out from all the excitement that we were having, and as he slept, I cauterized his nub.  Before I bandaged him up, I inserted a catheter into his urethra so he would be able to urinate during the healing process.

Bill was completely healed within six weeks with the help of antibiotics through an intravenous catheter.  Even though he originally thought his suffering would end after he tore off his dick, he had to endure various types of torture for years, and it’s still not over.  Just being confined in the cage is excruciating.  He has been in there for many, many years.  Occasionally when he gets sores from rubbing against the bars, I will either suspend him inside the cage with fishhooks and wire, or I will remove him and stick him on top of the Judas Cradle.  Sometimes I let him crawl around on the stone floor like a slug.  He also stopped speaking about ten years ago when I showed him his appearance in a mirror.  In the back of his mind, he probably thought he would be rescued, but he didn’t realize at that time what kind of monster he had become.  As he stared into the mirror at his monstrous deformities, the revelation that he would never be able to live a normal life came over him.  Only in a nursing home, or a traveling freak-show, would he be able to exist outside the chamber.”

When Seth finished his story about Bill, someone in the chamber began moaning loudly.  Seth nodded to Dicky. “It sounds like you’re going to meet the Siamese twins.”  Seth walked over to a table where the moaning sound was coming from and pulled a bloody sheet off something.  Seth turned his head away from a putrid odor that filled the air.  Dicky stood up and gazed at an appalling sight.  He could see there were two men lying on top of a table and they had been sewn together with thick, black thread in the sixty-nine position.  Both of their arms were sewn to the other ones back as if they were holding each other. The skin on their chest and abdomen was stretched and torn as they had been sewn together as one person.  The shaft of each man’s penis was sewn to the other’s lips.  The man on bottom was dead and his body was grossly discolored from decomposition.  The man on top was covered with sores and bruising where he was lying on the other man’s decomposing body.  The bottom man’s head was covered with feces from the man on top.  The man on top had scars and severe gashes all over the back of his body from years of torture.  Both men had intravenous bags that hung on the nearby wall.  The decomposed man’s bag was tarnished yellow and the liquid inside was full of mold; it appeared he had been dead for a while.

The man on top looked up at Seth as he was being displayed like a carnival freak, and as he held his head up, rotted flesh hung from his lips where he had torn it off the other man’s dick.  The man tried to speak, but the pain was too horrendous from the stitches that held the rotted skin and his lips together.  After the man let out an agonizing moan his lifeless head fell back to the other man’s rotted crotch.

Seth threw the sheet back over the detestable sight, then glanced at Dicky.  “I can’t stand to look at these two obscene cocksuckers.”  He grabbed a whip that was hanging beside the intravenous bags and began beating the man on top through the bloody sheet.  During the whipping the man began howling and twitching around from under the sheet like a wild animal trapped in a net.  Fresh blood began to stain the sheet, and after a few more pops Seth stopped.  “Quit moving, that’s how you killed your buddy!  You’re not only a rapist, you’re also a murderer.”  Seth looked over at Dicky and laughed.  “This fucker couldn’t take the pain from the whip, and when I would give him his daily beating, he would jerk around so aggressively that he would cause the stitches holding them together to tear from their skin, then they would both start jerking around and causing each other such horrific pain that I would have to stop before they tore themselves apart.  These two have been in the chamber from almost the beginning.  They have endured some unthinkable and barbaric shit together, and sewing them into one being was just another phase of their punishment.  The guy on top eventually tore the dick off the man on bottom, causing him to bleed to death.  I am kind of aggravated at myself for not paying closer attention to what had happened.  In a few days, I am planning on removing the guy on top and stick him in a cell so he can recover.  He is not going to get off as easy as his buddy did.”

Passing the Buck

Seth walked over to a body of a man that had been stuffed like an animal and was positioned on all fours like a dog.  He sat down on the stuffed man’s back.  “Do you think Bill got what he deserved, or was it overboard?”

Dicky didn’t speak.

“You know, we could just skip story time and get on with what I have planned for you.”

“I don’t know what to think.  Bill should have gone to prison instead of you taking the law into your own hands.”

“Funny that you say that, pal.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll find out later.  I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“Tell me.  I need to know why I’m here.”

“Drop it.”

He lowered his head.

“Well, if you assume Bill should have gone to prison, then I must have really overstepped some boundaries with the carjackers.”

He looked up with a ‘yes’ expression.

“Yeah, I agree.  I shouldn’t have taken them out in my own town, but they weren’t the only ones I’ve taken out in my zip code.  Their demise also wasn’t the only time I had pinned a death on another lowlife.”

Dicky’s face was telling on him.

“I know what you’re thinking.  No, I didn’t slip up, so there isn’t any evidence or reason that will lead anyone here.  Trust me.  Nobody will find out about our little secret.”

He took a deep breath and put his head down.

Seth leaned back in his chair to get comfortable.

Seth awoke.  He had fallen asleep.  He sat up and noticed Dicky was squatted in the corner of his cell taking a shit.  “Can’t you wait until I’m not in here?”

Dicky held his head down.  “I tried to hold it.  What else am I supposed to do?”

“Hurry the fuck up.  That’s what you can do.”

He pulled his pants up and eased back over to his dark corner and sat down.

“That’s freakin’ nasty…  Not wiping your ass.”

He looked at Seth with a confusion expression.

Seth laughed.  “Oh yeah, we’re in the middle of a fucking torture chamber.  Ol’ Jerry over there hanging from the ceiling has the same problem.”

Dicky examined a barbaric sight for a moment, then looked back at Seth.  Seth smiled.  “I’ll tell you about him later.  Now that I’m refreshed and your colon is drained, let’s get back to it.  The previous story involved a child molester, doing vigilante shit in my own town, and pinning other lowlifes with the crime.  This next encounter is a combination of all three.  Several years ago, I received a notice in the mail from the state that a sex offender had moved into my neighborhood.  I looked this guy up on the Internet and found out he had spent most of his life in and out of prison.  His name was Kevin and he had just got out of prison after serving only eight years for molesting an eleven-year-old girl, and now he was living down from me in a run-down shack.  His criminal record showed he had served six years for molesting another child and he had only been out two years before he molested the eight-year-old.  I don’t know why our justice system would ever let a guy like this out of prison.  It really irritated me knowing the pervert was in my area, but originally, I didn’t want to draw attention to the area I lived in.  Killing the carjackers wasn’t a smart move, but it’s hard just to stand back and watch the wicked take advantage of good people.  Over the years all my victims have been spread across the country and the police haven’t been able to determine any type of pattern, except they were all worthless pieces of shit.  Most of the lowlifes that I go after I bring back here, and they’re not even missed, but occasionally I leave one on the streets with a signature mark or planted evidence just to mess with the police.  The two carjackers were the only ones that were from my city up to that point, and I knew if I took a chance at Kevin, even though the police thought the car jackers’ deaths were gang related, that could possibly jeopardize my location.  My house isn’t bumped right up to other houses.  It’s a 100-year-old farmhouse that sits on thirty-eight acres.  At one time, it was secluded back when this was all farmland, but now it sits behind a subdivision built in the seventies, obviously resulting from the town growing through the years.  Houses will never be built behind me because the land is in a flood zone and is controlled by the Corp of Engineers.  An old cemetery runs from the north side of my property, which is behind and parallel to the newer houses, and it runs about two thousand feet until it stops next to a highway.  Portraying the image of being normal and blending in is very crucial.  I do everything I can to be low key and come across as average so I don’t draw any attention to myself.  To help maintain that image in my immediate area, which is the most important, I will occasionally attend a Neighborhood Watch meeting, and a few times the meeting had been held at my house.  I’ve gone to great lengths to ensure my house, yard, and vehicles are as normal as anyone else’s.  Only scumbags like you get the pleasure of knowing what’s under it.”

Dicky rolled his eyes.

“What?  You don’t think you’re a scumbag?

He just glared at Seth.

“Okay.  Including fuckheads like you that think they’re above the law.”

He jumped to his feet.  “What do you know about…,”

“Shut the fuck up!  We’re not doing this.”

“No, you know something.”

“I said we’re not talking about why you’re here and what I know.  Drop it.  You’ll find out later.”

He sat back down and lowered his head.

“One day when I was heading into town, I drove past the pervert’s house to see exactly where he lived.  His house and yard looked like shit.  The perv had trash piled all over his yard and the grass and weeds had grown so tall it looked like a jungle.  An old rape style van was parked in the driveway with the hood open and worn-out tires and auto parts were piled all around it.  His front porch was covered with old furniture, appliances, and piles of crap.  The screen door was hanging open by one hinge and a couple of his front windows were covered with what appeared to be cardboard.  The other windows had dirty sheets hanging in them instead of window blinds.  When I drove off, I thought about how the guy should be killed just for being such a pig and eye sore.

A few months later when I attended a Neighborhood Watch meeting, I found out a lot about Kevin—the agenda was pretty much about him.  The people were not only upset about him living in their neighborhood, but how he would walk up and down the streets at all hours of the night.  They said he was a loudmouth and would harass women when they walked down the sidewalk in front of his house.  Parents were infuriated because he would go out of his way to try to talk to their kids, especially the girls when they were playing in the area.  One of the homeowners said he had talked to the police, but they said they couldn’t do anything because Kevin hadn’t broken any laws, but they said they would patrol more.  While I stood quietly in the back, I heard a man telling someone the police had told him Kevin had pissed off a couple of local Hispanic gang bangers when he shouted racist remarks at them from his porch.  The police had to apparently break up the argument before it got out of hand.  The man said ever since the incident the gangbangers have been harassing Kevin by breaking his windows and spray-painting graffiti on his house.  During the walk home, I thought to myself how there might be a way I could get the child molester.  I knew it could put me in jeopardy, but the principle behind it was more important.  The next day I studied the area around his house, and I made a detailed plan of how and what I was going to do.  Over the next few weeks, I took pictures of graffiti around the area and studied them in detail, and I also learned how to reproduce them exactly.  Through the course of studying the graffiti I found several used cans of spray paint, which would come in handy.  I needed something from the molester’s house, so I took a bag of trash from his driveway.

One night I snuck down to a park where some of the local punks hung out.  I had been watching one in particular.  I’ve always kept a close tab on the street punks and knew who most of the sorry ones were.  Orlando was a piece of shit and needed to be pinned for a murder, because he had been getting away with it for years.  He and his buddies were sitting in his car doing whatever assholes do.  I was keeping an eye on his cigarette butts that he was tossing out his window—I needed them.  Finally, he and his buddies went and hung out around a picnic table that was a short distance away.  It was dark enough I was able to walk up to his car without being seen.  The only issue was his dome light, so I crawled under his car and shorted out the starter’s positive wire to the car’s frame.”

Dicky started laughing.

Seth was caught off guard.  “What’s so damn funny?”

“Not only would shorting out the cable burn you, but it would also make a lot of noise and possibly catch the wiring on fire.”

Seth sat forward.  “Listen here, Edison, it’s not like I stuck the cable directly to the frame.  I’m not as much of an idiot as you suspect.  If you must know every tiny detail, I will tell you.”

“No, I believe you.”

“Apparently not.  You must remember something.  I try to plan for everything, and over the years have come up with a bag full of tricks.  This wasn’t the first vehicle I needed to disable its power.  I built a device to do it safely without causing alarm.  And speaking of alarm, that’s why I built it in the first place; to disable vehicle alarms.  The device is simple.  It’s made up of a resistor and two alligator clips.  And I’m not talking about an everyday resistor that you buy at Radio Shack; this one is a large industrial type that is designed to handle large currents.  I attach one clip to the positive wire at the starter and the other to the frame.  The resistor allows the battery to discharge slow enough to prevent the wiring from extreme overheating, and it doesn’t cause any noise or bright flashes from arcing.  Now there is a chance the battery can explode, and it did happen on one occasion.  With Orlando’s car, it did fine.  I just had to wait about five minutes for the battery to discharge.”  Seth leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs.  “You satisfied with that?  Can I move on with the story?”

Dicky looked down, shaking his head to indicate yes.

“Thank you.  Now back to Orlando and his buddies.  They were too busy smoking weed and bragging to each other how badass they were to notice I was sitting in the back of Orlando’s car rummaging through his shit.  I had taken plenty of pictures of Orlando over the last few weeks and knew what he wore.  I needed things with his fingerprints and DNA, so I bagged up several items that only belonged to him and not his friends, such as two t-shirts and one of his basketball shoes.  I also found several cans of spray-paint that were the exact match to the empty ones I had found, so I tossed them in the bag.  He was the only one out of his group that drank this orange drink from Mexico, so I took a couple of the glass bottles that were lying in the front passenger side floorboard.  He had left his Dallas Cowboys jacket in the back seat, so I tore a large piece of fabric from the corner, then stuck the jacket under the driver’s seat.  I knew he owned a tactical knife—I had seen him playing with it when I was watching him—and sure enough, it was hidden in the driver side door pocket.  I also took some clear tape I had brought with me and ran the sticky side over the driver’s seat to pick up stray hairs.  Suddenly Orlando and his buddies came walking up to the car.  I ducked down in the back floorboard before they saw me.”

Dicky spoke out.  “I bet you got your ass kicked.  And now someone has seen what you look…”

“What I look like.  If you would shut the fuck up and let me finish my stories you would save us a lot of time.  Damn!  You’re definitely a mouthy fucker.  That’s what I get for trying to tell you all these fucking stories.”

“Then why the fuck are you doing it?  Just do whatever the fuck you’re gonna do and get it over with?”

“Like I said earlier, I have something special planned for you.  Now shut the fuck up!  And as far as being seen, that didn’t happen.  I had already made plans so I wouldn’t be caught.  Before they had a chance to open the door, I flipped a switch on a remote control I had in my pocket.  A loud flash lit up the dark across the park followed by a boom.  The douche bags took off running toward a large fire.  Before I got out of the car, I took some empty beer bottles I had found in the molester’s trash bag and stuck them under the rear seat.  I could see Orlando and buddies standing next to a burning dumpster, so I crawled under his car and removed the resistor, then connected the positive side of a portable vehicle booster to the positive wire on the starter and the negative side to the frame.  I planned on doing this in case I had to blow up the dumpster, knowing the police would probably show up, and if Orlando got arrested, it would mess up my plans of passing the buck to him.  Before I moved away from his car, I picked up his cigarette butts.  When I was a little way from the car I shouted, “Hey!  Fuckheads!  I called the cops!”

Orlando and his buddies came running when they realized they would be blamed for blowing up a dumpster.  I didn’t drive off from where I was parked in a nearby wooded area until they had pulled away.  When I pulled out on the road behind them, I saw the battery booster had fallen off and was lying in the road, as I had planned, so I quickly stopped and picked it up.  Over the next thirty minutes I followed Orlando around as he dropped his buddies off at their houses.  Around midnight Orlando pulled into his garage, and as the garage door closed, I knew all went without a hitch and my plan had a good chance of working.  He lived at home with his mom.  Her house was in the same subdivision as Kevin the molester’s house, which would give Orlando motive if he was a suspect in the up-and-coming festivity I had planned.  She also worked the night shift at a local factory, so I knew he wouldn’t have a good alibi.  Now that the first phase worked out as planned, I went on home to get ready for the next phase.”

La Venganza

“When I got home, I went into my workshop with Orlando’s shoe that I had taken from his car.  I already knew what brand and style he wore, so a couple of weeks prior I had ordered ten pairs of the shoes in different sizes from the Internet.  He wound up being a size ten.  I took a new pair of shoes that were his size and removed the soles.  I traced the outline of the soles on a two-inch rubber sheet, then cut them out with a band saw.  I glued the soles to the bottom of the rubber cutouts, then glued the cutouts to the bottom of my size twelve boots.  The rubber cutouts were needed for blocking between the soles and my boots to prevent the outline of my boots from accidentally showing up if I didn’t step just right because his shoe size was smaller than mine.

At two in the morning, it began to rain as the weather forecast had predicted, so it was time to move forward with my plan.  To prevent any loose hairs, skin, or lint from being left at the crime scene, I wore a complete neoprene wetsuit, gloves, and a wetsuit hood.  I also wore a black ski mask to hide my face.  Thirty minutes later, I grabbed my duffel bag and took off down my driveway on a black painted bicycle and vanished into the dark of the night.  It was pitch black, so I had to navigate by using a pair of night vision goggles.  When I came to the end of my road, I turned right on the street behind the subdivision, then went down several hundred feet until I turned into the old cemetery.  I cruised down the narrow-paved roads of the cemetery until I came to a concrete storm water drain, which ran through the subdivision.  The drain was deep.  I had chosen this route so I wouldn’t be seen, and it would take me close to Kevin’s house.  Up to this point I had been in complete darkness and the only way that someone could have seen me is if they had night vision goggles as well.  The drain had several inches of water flowing in it, so I had to ride slowly because I couldn’t see submerged items or holes.  After eighteen hundred feet, I stopped and got off the bike.  The trip down the drain had been smooth except for the occasional limb or rock I ran over.  After I hung the duffel bag over my shoulder, I crawled up the concrete embankment.  At the top, there was a barbed wire fence.  I carefully crawled through it, making sure I didn’t tear anything to prevent leaving trace evidence behind.  Orlando’s house was several thousand feet further down the drain, so I removed the piece of black cotton fabric I took from his car, which I had in a sandwich bag to prevent cross contamination, and dragged it through the fence.  I made sure I left cotton fibers and small torn pieces hanging on the barbs.  The area was muddy, so I took his shoe and pressed it into some mud to leave soil type evidence in the groves of the sole.

Lightning was beginning to light up the sky in the distance, so I had to make sure I stayed out of sight as I snuck down an alleyway that ran behind Kevin’s house, which was several blocks down from the drain.  His gate squeaked a little as I opened it, and when I entered his backyard, I kneeled and watched carefully to see if anyone was around.  The area around his house was dark.  I could see there was a small amount of light coming from one of his windows.  Up to this point I had been a little worried that dogs might bark at my presence, but the rain was keeping them in the cover as I hoped it would.  When I felt comfortable, I snuck through his junky backyard, and when I approached his house, I kneeled again and looked around carefully to make sure there was no one around.  I peeped through different windows to find his whereabouts.  When I peeked through a window on the east side of the house, I could see he was asleep on a couch in front of a television.  I snuck over to a secluded side of his house where the bushes and trees were thick, and, as I hid, I tore some old cardboard off a window frame where the glass had fallen out.  I stood motionless as I examined the dark room through my night vision goggles.  It was clear, so I set my bag through the opening.  I could smell a stale odor as I crawled through the window as quiet as a mouse.  My heart was pounding as if it was going to rip through my chest as I squatted down in a cluttered bedroom.  Before I went any further, I took deep breaths as I tried to calm my heart rate down from the adrenaline rush.  When I regained my composure, I snuck down a dark hallway and into the living room, then over to a lamp and turned it off.  The only light at that point was from the glow of his television.  While I stood silently over Kevin as he was snoring, I noticed what a fat slob he was.  The pig was lying on the couch wearing dingy underwear and a white tee shirt covered in stains, which was several sizes too small for his fat stomach.  He looked and smelled like he hadn’t taken a bath in a long time.  He was snoring like a bear, and I could tell he was in a deep sleep, so I looked around his house to make sure there was no one else there.  I checked all his windows to ensure they were covered up and the doors were locked.  The place was a real shithole and reeked of dirty ass and feet.  He had shit piled everywhere.  Empty beer cans, pizza boxes, potato chip bags, and anything else that you can imagine was lying on the floor and piled on top of every piece of furniture.  His kitchen was a detestable sight as well.  Utensils and dishes covered with rotted food were piled on every surface and they filled the sink to the point they were falling out.  In his bathroom, his tub was full of dirty clothes, filling the air with an awful stench.  The toilet was covered in dry splattered shit and piss; it reeked like a portable shit house.  While I walked through the shit hole, I found the pervert had child pornography hidden all over the place, and I also noticed he must have been a tile setter by trade because he had boxes of tile and bags of mortar piled throughout his house, which was a shame because he was entering people’s houses without them knowing he was a threat to their children.  Kevin was a disgusting pig that should be killed simply for being an insult to the human race.  In fact, I was insulting the pigs for calling him one.

When I was finished looking around, I walked back into the living room and stood over him.  “Hey, pal, do you have a water hose?”

He looked up at me in a daze.  “Who the fuck are you?”

“Do you have a water hose?”

He quickly sat up.  “Get out of my fucking house before I kill you!”

Without hesitating, I hit him in the head with a pipe before he got too loud.  While the slob laid unconscious on the floor, I lit a kerosene lantern that I had brought with me and sat it on the kitchen countertop—I didn’t want to turn on the kitchen light, plus the lantern was going to serve another purpose later.  The dude probably weighed over three-hundred pounds and I needed to get him on top of the kitchen table without breaking my back.  Plus, I had no desire to pick him up because he was so filthy.  Fortunately, he had a solid wood table.  I tipped it over and dumped all the shit off it, then slid it on its side across the kitchen toward the living room.  I dragged him over to the table and leaned his back against the top.  I tied one end of a rope around his chest and the other end to the table legs that were in the upper position on the opposite side.  I pulled the table back over to its legs with the fat slob on top of it.  He was starting to come around, so I injected him with a small amount of tranquilizer to keep him asleep for a little while longer.  This fucker stunk bad and looked as if he had a staph infection.  He had sores all over his legs and arms, so before I went any further, I poured bleach all over him.  After I let the bleach sit for several minutes, I cut off his clothes using the knife I had taken out of Orlando’s car, making sure I didn’t mess up the fingerprints that were on it.  The knife was a large tactical type with a brass-knuckle handle; it kind of resembled a trench knife.  The blade was stainless steel, and I could see it was covered with the idiot’s fingerprints from when he was playing grab ass with it.  I needed to secure Kevin to the table.  Usually, I would have nailed his ass to it, but in this case where I was pinning someone else, I used some rope I had brought with me.  I made sure his torso and right arm were bound tightly, but I did leave his left arm free.  I had to hold back on some of the sicker shit that I do so it would appear as a normal murder, or actually, as if it was done by a crazed Mexican like Orlando.  I had brought my own water hose with me, but I didn’t need it because Kevin already had one in the backyard, which was a good thing since it was one less thing I had to worry about being traced back to me.  After I pulled his hose through his backdoor, I connected a large rubber sleeve that was shaped like a mushroom on the threaded male end, then shoved it up his ass a few inches.  To prevent the mushroom from being pushed out, I taped his ass cheeks together, taped the hose down his left leg, then taped both of his legs together.

It was going to be a while before he woke up, so I went outside to paint some of Orlando’s gang signs.  Everything was wet except for a three-sided porch on the back of his house.  I laid one of the empty spray paint cans I took from Orlando’s car next to the house, then took a full can of the same brand and color and painted a gang tag on the inside walls of the porch.  There was a storage building in the backyard.  The door was secured with a padlock, so I took Orlando’s knife and pried the hasp off the building.  The inside was as nasty as his house, and the fucker had more porn stacked in the corner.  I took a couple of the magazines and stuck them in a plastic bag.  This was also a good place to leave some more evidence, so I took Orlando’s empty orange drink bottles and set them on a work bench next to a porn mag, painted some more gang tags on the inside walls, and took the piece of black fabric I had dragged through the fence and hung it over a nail sticking out of the storage building door.  I planted the fabric there so it would appear the nail had torn the jacket.

About an hour later Kevin awoke, and when he noticed that he was naked and tied up, he began to panic while he frantically looked around.  It took a little bit before he finally saw me, and when he did, he did a double take.  “What the fuck are you doing, man?”

I just stood there silent.

“This is my fucking house!  Untie me now!”

I continued to stand silent.

“Are you fucking retarded or something?  Why are you dressed like a fucking weirdo?  Untie me now!”

I’m sure he thought I was crazy because I was standing across the kitchen wearing a wet suit with a brown paper bag over my head that had holes cut out for my eyes and mouth.  A few more minutes of me standing motionless and silent, he became really upset, and as he pulled at the ropes with his free hand he was cursing and slobbering at the mouth.  He really got upset when he finally noticed something in his ass.  “What the fuck, man?  There is something in my ass!  What the fuck did you do, freak?”

He was getting extremely loud and I didn’t want anyone to hear him, so I squeezed his mouth.  “Shut the fuck up or I will stab you in the face with a fork.”

He spit at me.  “Go fuck yourself, asshole!”

I grabbed a dirty fork off the floor and began stabbing him in the face.  He screamed as I ravaged him, and as I pounded away, he tried to block the blows with his free arm.  I finally stopped when the fork drove through his hand and firmly logged into the upper gum of his mouth.  The savage stabbing caused him to scream louder, so I had to hit him in the head with a frying pan to shut him up.  He was out cold, and as I stood over him with the pan, I looked at what a bloody mess I had made of him.  His face, head, neck, ears, and arm were covered in puncture wounds that came in sets of four.  His hand was stuck to the top of his mouth by the bloody fork and his right eye was hanging out of its socket and dangling over the side of his face.  Over the next fifteen or so minutes, I watched out some of the windows to make sure that no one had heard him screaming.  I was a little nervous about staying, but his house was on a corner lot and the house on the other side was condemned.  There was really no one that could have heard him except for the people across the street or someone that was walking down the road or alley, which was unlikely due to the time of night and the rain.  I took advantage of the down time and painted some more graffiti on the inside of his house.  I also took the potato chip bag and the cigarette butts from Orlando’s car and threw them into the backyard.

About an hour later, I heard him stirring around so I went back into the kitchen.  “If I hear a peep out of you, I’ll cut your tongue and dick off with a pair of fingernail clippers.”

He just stared at me in fear with his one eye as he moved his fingers on the hand that was stuck to his face.  I tried to pull the fork out of his hand, but it was lodged in his top gum and teeth, so I had to work the fork back and forth until it broke off inside his hand.  He screamed out as I jerked his hand off the remaining pieces of the broken fork.  The four end pieces were still lodged in his gum.  Tears were running down his face as I looked down into his one eye through the eye hole in the paper bag.  “Before I leave you here, I’m going to tape an ice pick in your hand.”

He looked at me with uncertainty for a moment.  It was excruciating for him to move his mouth, but he was still able to mumble.  “For what?  You want me to fucking stab you?”

“No, it’s to relieve the pressure.”

He had a confused look.  “What pressure?  What the fuck are you talking about, you fucking psycho?”  Out of the blue he became upset again and started yelling out.  “Let me fucking go you sick, twisted fuck!  What the hell have I done to you?”

“Nothing to me.  I’m reaping vengeance for all the kids you touched…  Asshole.”

He grabbed my arm and shouted. “I served my fucking time!”

I grabbed the eyeball that was hanging out of his socket and ripped it out.  After he let go of my arm and covered his eye socket, I shoved it into his mouth while he screamed in agony.  He was throwing his head around as I shoved a rag into his mouth, then he began swinging his fist at me to fight back.  I grabbed his arm and slammed it down on the table beside him, and as he shouted muffled curse words through the rag, I drove an ice pick through his hand and into the tabletop.  Blood, sweat, tears and snot ran off his face as he tried to scream out from the pain, but luckily the rag muffled the sound.  Since he couldn’t scream, he resorted to just blowing snot bubbles out of his nose as he took deep breaths while whimpering.

Several minutes later as I was preparing to put some tape over his mouth, I noticed he was turning blue, so I quickly pulled the rag out before he suffocated.  He tried to take a breath, but he was still choking on the eyeball he had apparently sucked down his windpipe.  Choking to death would be too easy of a way out for this worthless sack of shit, so I grabbed a chair and began beating him in his fat stomach.  Several broken ribs later he had thrown it up.  By now he was breathing erratically and sobbing.  His face was covered with vomit as he stared up at me through his eye.  “I’m sorry for what I’ve done.  I have a disease.  I beg you to please don’t hurt me anymore.”

He threw his head around as I shoved the rag back into his mouth, and as I wrapped tape around his head, which would prevent him from spitting it out, I took some hairs that I removed from Orlando’s car and stuck them between the layers.  The fat slob was crying a river of tears, which was impressive to watch because I didn’t know one eye could produce so much.  I gazed down at him so he could see my eyes through the holes in the paper bag.  “Served your time?  What about the kids you stuck your dick in?  Do you think they’re done serving the sentence you bestowed on them?  Disease or not, when you choose to spread it around, you affected the lives of innocent people.”

I was sick of looking at his face, so I tied a tow sack over his head, then cut out a hole in the sack above his eye so he could see what was happening.  He started screaming from under the sack as I began carving ‘Eres un a marica’ into his chest with Orlando’s knife.  He was arching his back as much as his fat gut would allow as he was forced to endure the horrific amount of pain as I was cutting deep into his flesh.  After I cut ‘You are a faggot’ in Spanish across his chest, I pulled the ice pick from his hand and forced him to grip it, then wrapped tape around his fist so he wouldn’t be able to drop it.  When I let go of his arm, he began swinging it around like a crazy blind man to stab me.  It was time for him to suffer an uninviting and painful sensation to his colon as he had done to others, so I went outside and cracked open the water valve.  Originally, I planned on setting up the lantern in a way that it would catch the house on fire, then haul ass, but my curiosity got the best of me, so instead of leaving, I sat in a kitchen chair backwards and rested my arms on the back of it so I could have a front row seat to the upcoming festivities.  He was slightly moaning as I lit a cigarette.  Halfway through my smoke he was starting to move around and making grunting sounds from the pressure that was building up in his abdomen.  About the time I was finished, he was throwing his head around and scraping at the ropes with the ice pick.  Around four or five minutes later, he was in severe agony from the pressure building up inside him, and as I lit another cigarette, he was frantically jabbing at the ropes with the pick, causing minor puncture wounds to his body.  A couple of minutes later, he was in such horrendous pain from the pressure that he was ferociously tearing into his skin with the ice pick as he tried to cut the ropes that were restraining him.  He was even stabbing himself through the tow sack to tear the tape that was holding the rag in place so he could scream out for help, and with every blow through the sack, blood would fill the puncture area and turn the cloth red around the hole.  His self-inflicted wounds were obviously less painful than the excruciating pain from the water pressure inside his intestines.

Over the next few minutes, he frantically moved around and violently ravaged his flesh for survival.  I could see his abdomen was swelling up more and more as the seconds passed.  When I was putting out the cigarette, he was stabbing the ice pick deep into his abdomen as he was trying to release the pressure, and as brown water and blood was squirting out of the puncture wounds, I could hear his ghastly moans as he was suffering with horrendous pain.  Brown colored water from his puncture wounds and blood from the carving in his chest covered his sides and the tabletop before it dripped to the floor.  Suddenly, he jerked his head back and began choking as water pushed through his esophageal sphincters and filled his esophagus, then he started violently shaking as water, blood, and shit pushed through the rag and tape.  I stood up as the fluids began gushing out from under the tow sack and onto the floor.  As the kitchen filled with the putrid odor of a diarrhea shit storm, I took Orlando’s knife and cut the tape along Kevin’s leg, and soon as I pulled the hose from his ass, water and shit gushed out of his body and filled the room with even more of a disgusting rotted ass odor.  I took a syringe and sucked up some of the fluid that was puddled on the floor, then stuck it in a zip lock bag.  While he continued to leak out, I took all his clothes, quilts, towels, and anything fabric I could find and piled them on the floor next to the kitchen table, then cut him loose and pulled him onto the pile.  I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with Orlando’s knife, so I stuck it up his ass.  Before I went any further, I grabbed the kerosene lantern and walked down the hall to a back bedroom, then set it on the floor and turned the flame up as high as it would go.  I had brought a small gas can with me, but I also went back out to his storage shed and grabbed more gas.  When I got back, I poured my gallon of gas and his three gallons all over his body and the pile of fabric he was laying in.  After I loaded my duffel bag with everything I had brought, except for the shit covered ropes he had been tied down with, I checked my list to ensure I wasn’t forgetting anything.  Right before I left, I broke the gas line that went to the stove, and as the kitchen began to fill up with natural gas, I snuck out the backdoor and across the yard.

My heart was pounding and my adrenaline was pumping as I ran down the alleyway, and about the same time I was getting on my bike in the storm drain a boom shook the neighborhood.  While I quickly rode down the drain, I could see porch lights were coming on from people that had been awoken from the loud explosion, so I made sure I stayed in the darkness of the night.  Right before sunup I slipped back into my house.  I took my bike and duffel bag into the chamber, then stripped down and rinsed off under a showerhead.  I went upstairs and quickly cleaned up the mud and water I had brought into my house.  If for some reason the police were led here, they most likely wouldn’t be able to find the chamber.  I was just being a worrywart because I had just tortured the shit out of someone and blew up his house a short distance away.  I usually have state lines, or at least city limit boundaries, between the crime scene and me.

About thirty minutes later my doorbell rang, so I went to answer it while wearing my pajamas, a night robe, and flip-flops.  When I opened the door, I found my neighbor, Tom, standing on my porch in his robe.  Before I could speak, he began frantically pointing in the direction toward Kevin’s house.  “The child molester’s house is burning down!  Let’s go check it out!”

He waited in my living room as I ran upstairs and threw on some pants and shoes, then we took off in his car.  When we reached Kevin’s street, we had to park several blocks away—the police had already blocked off the roads.  Several blocks down from the fire, a man let us go through his yard to the alleyway that went behind Kevin’s house.  There were a bunch of people already standing in the alleyway, and everyone was in shock as they watched the smoke as it rose over houses and trees in the distance.  Some people were screaming and yelling to call the fire department, and some were just screaming from excitement.  I followed Tom and a few other people as they ran down the alley toward the smoke.  There were probably seventy-five to a hundred people that were running and walking up and down the alley.  They were talking, looking, and pointing at what was going on, and I could hear people saying the child molester’s house was on fire, and some of them were saying they hoped he was inside it.  I could see there were people on the other end of the alley watching the house burn as well.  The large number of people walking around was a relief.  Their footprints were destroying any possible incriminating evidence left behind, and if there was something found in the alley that was traced back to me, I wouldn’t be lying about being there with my neighbor.

When the fire trucks arrived, they made everyone leave and go back into their yards.  After Tom dropped me off at home, I went upstairs and sat at an open window so I could watch the smoke as it was rising into the sky.

I knew it would take the police a day or so to do their investigation, so that night I went and looked for Orlando’s car.  I found it at a buddy’s house.  I took his shoe that had the planted mud on it and stuck it with the other one.  He had a large speaker box behind the back seat, so I stuck the dirty magazines in it through the vent ports.  For the final touch, I took the syringe and dripped Kevin’s fluids on the drive side floorboard and smeared some on the steering wheel and the stereo’s control knobs.

Several days later I got a knock on the front door, and when I glanced at a monitor, I saw it was a cop.  I opened the door.  “Can I help you, Officer?”

“I’m checking around the area to see if anyone saw anything unusual the night of the fire.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary besides the burning house.”

He handed me his card.  “If you can think of anything, give me a call.”

While he was walking to his patrol car I asked, “What happened?”

He turned around briefly.  “You don’t want to know.  You wouldn’t get any sleep at night.”

Several weeks later, the newspaper mentioned the incident and stated after a thorough investigation the police had arrested a local gangbanger for the murder.”

Oklahoma Massacre

Seth walked across the chamber, and a few minutes later he came back with a sign that read Thank God for dead soldiers.  He leaned it up against the bars so Dicky could read it, then he sat back down on the stuffed man.  “Kevin’s death made the local news.  I usually don’t like drawing any kind of attention to any of my activities, but there was one incident that drew national coverage.”

Dicky examined the sign for a moment, then looked at Seth with disbelief.  “You couldn’t have been.”

“The one responsible for the Oklahoma Massacre.  With the right amount of imagination anything is possible.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing and showed a sign of interest.  “How did you get away with it?”

“Like I said, imagination.  And of course, detailed planning, electronic and mechanic skills and a burning desire to give a needed spanking played an important role as well.”

He stood up and walked over toward Seth, and as he held onto the bars, he exhibited a cheerful expression.  “Now you have the whole country looking for you.”

“No need to get excited, pal.  Not one shred of evidence was ever found.  Remember what I said?  Detailed planning.”

He had a solemn look on his face as he sat back in his dark corner.

“It was a risky move and I had always kept a low profile with my activities, but at the time all I was seeing on the television was how these jackasses were protesting the funerals of soldiers; I was absolutely appalled.  I understand the importance of our freedom of speech in our country, but there is a time and place and a right way and a wrong way about doing things.  Regardless of their opinion and our right to free speech, these jackasses showed they had absolutely no respect for the fallen soldiers or for their families.  They were parading around with signs that read Thank God for dead soldiers and God hates you as they yelled and chanted disrespectful remarks.  My attitude is they do have a right to freedom of speech, and I have a right to bash their head in with a hammer if I feel offended.  I wanted to take these jackasses out really bad while they were being inconsiderate, self-righteous hypocrites, but I knew there would be cops and media at every one of these funerals where they would be protesting.

A month or so later while I was watching MythBusters one night, I got an idea of how I could take the jackasses out.  The guys on the show had installed some equipment inside a car to make it remote controlled.  Three weeks later, I was testing a remote controlled 1985 Toyota 4x4 that was equipped with all types of gadgets.  A long-range RF remote operated the vehicle, and I installed cameras on the inside of the cab facing outwards so every direction could be seen on some monitors.  I didn’t want anyone to know the truck had cameras or was remote controlled because the police would be looking for the operator.  To solve that, I tinted the windows, and strapped in a manikin in the driver seat, securing its hands to the steering wheel so its outline would appear it was driving.  I needed a way to haul the truck around, and a place to control it.  I found a box truck in Mississippi on Craigslist that was exactly what I needed.  When I went to pick it up, I was extra cautious.  I had disguised myself as a Jamaican and drove a throwaway car to the opposite side of Mississippi, then took a bus to where I was picking up the truck.  If the truck was traced back to the guy I got it from, it would appear I had come from the east.

When I got back home, I installed several monitors, a remote-control panel and a couple of televisions in the back of the truck.  Because I had to install a large antenna on the top of it for the RF system, it made sense to disguise it as a channel 6 news vehicle.  I could have gone with a smaller antenna, but I wanted a three-mile range so I wouldn’t be near the mayhem.  I also welded over all serial numbers and removed the vehicle identification tags on the 4x4 and the box truck to reduce the chance of them being traced back to the original owners.

About a month later, the protestors’ website announced they were going to hold a protest in Oklahoma in two days, which was only a six-hour drive.  I immediately went to Google Maps and examined the satellite view of the surrounding area around the cemetery, then took a road trip to see the layout in person because the map was a few years old.  When I arrived back home, I put together a plan from all the data I had gathered.  That evening I loaded the 4x4 and a motorcycle in the back of the box truck and left my house around 10 PM and drove nonstop to Oklahoma.  I arrived about 4 AM, and the funeral was scheduled for 10 AM.  I drove out in the country to an area where there was an unsupervised off-road park for ATVs and 4x4s.  It was dark as I unloaded the Toyota, which was the reason for arriving so early.  Using the transmitter in the back of the truck, I moved the 4x4 into a wooded area so it wouldn’t be seen, then drove the box truck into town.  I parked in the parking lot of a coliseum that was hosting a livestock show.  It was filled with all kinds of vehicles, including news vans, so I blended right in.  I had a few hours to burn, so I sat in the back of the truck and ran a diagnostic check on the RF transmitter and receiver to ensure there wasn’t any interference from other signals, buildings, or the terrain.  The 4x4 operated very well and I had a decent field of view; it was just like playing a video game.  I drove the 4x4 to the side of town where the cemetery was located and parked it in a shopping center parking lot that was a short distance away.  I was at ease—usually I am extremely anxious when I am in the middle of one of my undertakings, so I analyzed everything again to make sure I wasn’t overlooking something.  The 4x4 and all its components were free of anything incriminating or traceable, and I had placed a lot of false evidence.  Only the box truck could have some hair or lint from me, but it was fingerprint free and all its components were untraceable.

It was about 9:30 AM when one of the local news stations starting broadcasting live footage from the cemetery.  The protesters were there early with their chicken-shit signs as they paraded around with eager looking faces.  These idiots don’t realize their actions were doing more damage than good.  They should witness to others by living for Christ and setting a positive example.  By far I am the last person that should be casting stones, but I am not using the Bible to justify my actions either.  The actions of these jerk wads would encourage a non-believer or an unsaved person to want no part of the Christian way of life.  If fact, their beliefs and actions are way in left field and are so far from the truth.

Right around 10 AM the funeral procession entered the cemetery, and I watched with disgust as the jackasses didn’t hesitate to run over and start yelling and waving their signs as the cars drove past.  They were ready for a showdown and didn’t even know it.  I took control of the 4x4 and took off for the cemetery.  I became more agitated with each passing minute as I watched the jackasses taunt the family of the fallen soldier.  Before the 4x4 approached the main gates, I parked it on the side of the road to give the family respect so they could bury their loved one.  I couldn’t see the funeral from the cameras in the 4x4, so I sat patiently as I watched the news coverage on the television sets.  It was a media circus.  There were numerous news teams and a whole bunch of cops standing guard.

Fifteen minutes later, about the same time the preacher began the service, I noticed a man, who appeared to be the father of the soldier because of the seating arrangement, had jumped out of his chair and was running toward the chanting group of troublemakers.  Before he had a chance to engage the group, a couple of cops took him down linebacker style.  I could see the sadness in his eyes as they cuffed him and dragged him toward a patrol car.  A couple of the other men and a woman who were part of the funeral were also detained when they tried to interfere with the cops.  The group of troublemakers really began prancing around as they watched how their First Amendment right was being protected at the cost of the solder’s dignity, which was pathetic, because he gave his life protecting that right.  Within seconds of witnessing their promoting of their agenda and their absolute disregard for the sanctity of privacy and disrespect for the family, I had flipped all switches on and the 4x4 was cruising toward their direction at a fast speed; no one saw the truck as it barreled across the green grass.  I drove straight toward the first asshole holding a sign, chanting, and about the same time the jerk-off turned and noticed what was about to take place, I had run smooth over him.  The truck was quick and nimble because it was small and light weight, and before the others had a chance to catch on, I spun around and was headed back in their direction.  The group of jackasses quickly realized what was happening when the 4x4 took out two more of the jack wads that were standing together.  The cops were running toward the commotion about the same time I flipped a switch and began spraying a chemical mixture of gas and foam onto several of the assholes that were running in front of me, and as soon as I flipped another switch and ignited the flammable liquid, a huge fire ball caused the cops to retreat to safety.  The cops began firing at the 4x4 as the jackasses were scattering throughout the cemetery in all directions like scared little rats.  Unfortunately for them they were all wearing chicken-shit bright yellow shirts, which made them easy pickings as the truck hunted them one at a time.  The cops were chasing the 4x4 as I took out the assholes one at a time, and after I had got most of them, I released a group of chains from the rear that were lined with large shark hooks.  Some spectators were helping the first injured jackass that I came upon.  They quickly scattered right before the 4x4 ran back over him.  To their horror, they watched as the hooks ripped into the skin of the yellow-shirted fucker and jerked him into the cloud of dust and debris that followed behind the truck.  Bullets were punching holes in the metal of the truck, but it was a useless attempt because all the vital mechanics and electronics were being protected by bullet-proof materials and the tires were filled with foam.

Within three or four minutes I had about eight of the jack wads bound up in the chains and I could hear their screams over the monitors.  To my surprise, two of them had managed to crawl up the chains and were sitting in the bed, so I flipped a switch and ignited four propane blow torches.  One of the assholes jumped over the cab while he was on fire and rolled off the front of the truck and wound back up tangled in the chains.  The other one had jumped out the back where he joined his burnt buddy.  When I couldn’t find any more of the jackasses, I high tailed it out of the cemetery with about twelve of them bound in the chains.  As soon as I hit asphalt, I flipped a switch and covered the group with the flammable liquid, then I ignited the mixture at the same time I showered down on the throttle.  The police were horrified as they chased the 4x4 at a high speed as it dragged the burning group of protestors down the highway.  The cops were swerving as they were trying to miss the body parts that were flopping around in the road.  About three-hundred feet from a bridge that ran over a deep ravine I flipped a switch and engulfed the entire inside and outside of the 4x4 with gas, and as soon as the truck went off the cliff, I ignited it.  The cops stopped and stared in horror as they watched the explosion below.

I had been too focused in on the monitors and didn’t realize what kind of barbaric aftermath I had created until I looked over at the television screens.  There were yellow shirt wearing fuckers laying everywhere in the cemetery and some of them were still smoking.  People were frantically running around as they tried to help the ones that I didn’t hook with the truck.  There were almost forty police cars and emergency vehicles.  Cops were running around and throwing up police tape all over the place.  I knew it would take a while before they realized the truck was remote controlled, so I simply lowered the antenna and drove off in the box truck.  I went out in the country to an abandoned rock quarry I had checked out during my original visit.  The area was secluded and there wasn’t anything else around that would burn, so I drenched the inside and outside of the truck with gas, then lit a twenty-foot slow burning fuse.  I took the motorcycle and rode down the highway for several miles until I came to a hilltop.  A couple of minutes later, I saw a huge fireball in the direction of the quarry, so I headed for Texas.

When I got back home the incident was on every channel, including some international broadcasts.  I’ve always kept a low profile and some of the things I do only appear in local news.  I was prepared to take one for the team if need be, but it went without a hitch.  I could have simply taken a few of the pricks out with a sniper rifle but that wouldn’t have been as dramatic and exciting.  Since then, there haven’t been any more protests at solder’s funerals; it was all worth it.  Thank God for our soldiers.”

Richard Head

Dicky just sat and stared at Seth after hearing the story about the protestors.  Seth could tell something was on his mind.  “You disagree with the way I handled it?”

“We have laws in this country.”

“You’re right.  The same ones that protect child molesters by adding them to the Hate Crimes Bill so they will be protected.  Okay, that makes sense.  A molester can stick his dick in a kid and screw the child’s life up forever, but it’s illegal to call him out on it.”

“It’s more than that.  We have a set of standards in this country.  We’re not a third world country.”

“Yeah.  The land of the double standards.  People on the far left consider it okay to kill unborn babies but will fight for a murderer on death row.  The government spends millions to rehabilitate criminals and they do almost nothing for the victims.  In fact, the term “criminal” is being replaced by the term “sick people”.  In public schools, homosexuality is taught to be okay, but the word God is not.  Pornography is all over TV and the Internet, but a nativity scene on a courthouse lawn during Christmas will cause uproar.  The working folks of this country have to hand over their hard-earned money to those who don’t want to work.  We still have freedom of speech only if it’s politically correct.  Ritalin, TV and video games have replaced parenting.  We can talk about this kind of shit until we’re blue in the face.”

“Well, you know…”

“I don’t give a shit what you think.  You’re not in here to talk politics.”

Dicky just sat quietly, so Seth patted the stuffed man’s head.  “Now back to the more gruesome shit.  I want to tell you the story about this fucker.  This guy was an all-around ass wipe who I like to call Dickhead; his real name was Richard Terryhole, known as Dick.  I originally read about this guy on an online news website, and what caught my eye was the headline that read Getting Away with Murder.  The story stated Richard, who resided in Nashville, Tennessee, had killed his twelve-year-old stepson while on a hunting trip and claimed it was an accident.  He had taken out a large insurance policy on the kid several months before the shooting, and he had lost everything gambling shortly before that.  I read he was acquitted and his case never went to trial.  Several months later, he was arrested for attempted murder and arson when he tried to burn down his ex-wife’s house during the middle of the night while she and her daughter from her first marriage were sleeping.  Shortly after he was released without bail, then he skipped town.

To understand as much as possible about Dickhead, I hired a private detective out of Florida.  He ran a complete background check on Richard and his parents, David and Judy Terryhole.  It didn’t take long for the detective to send me a response.  Nothing really stood out, except for the Dickhead’s criminal record; it was spotless.  This didn’t add up and made me very curious, so I sent the detective to Nashville so he could dig in deeper by examining court records, old newspaper articles and to interview locals of the town.  I don’t believe everything I read or hear, so I drove to Nashville myself so I could keep a close eye on the P.I.  Of course, I kept a low profile as I usually do.  The law has been on my trail for years and one slip up would be all it takes to jeopardize my identity.  When I need the help of a private investigator, I will hire different ones from all over the country, and I will make the trip to their city.  I always use fake identification and pay in cash up front.  To prevent these guys from accurately describing me, I will disguise myself in numerous ways from looking like a fat black lady to an elderly man to a whacked-out hippy.  That’s what I did in this case.  If the police did question the P.I., Florida was a long way from Texas, and I was wearing a disguise.  For my trip to Nashville, I wore a fat suit, baldhead cap, fake beard, mustache and enough facial prosthetics and makeup to make myself look like a sixty-year-old Hispanic man.  I even had a fake Tennessee driver’s license to match.  Sometimes I take my modified car when I go after someone, and in some cases I buy a vehicle from another state to mix it up and keep the law confused.  For this trip, I drove an untraceable Chevy S10 pickup I had taken several years ago from a thug in Las Vegas.  It had been in a storage facility for a couple of years, so I had to make a fake inspection sticker and registration tag.  The truck was small and didn’t have enough power to outrun a cop or someone else that could end up chasing me, so I drove it to Missouri to swap it out for something else.  When I arrived on the north side of St. Louis, I found a car in the local newspaper that interested me, so I called the owner and made arrangements to meet.  I didn’t want the guy that had the car for sale to see the truck I was driving, so I parked at a mall where I didn’t see any cameras.  I took a city bus across town, then a taxi to his house.  The guy’s car was a 1994 Lincoln Town Car with a V8 that was in good shape, so I paid him in cash and drove back to where I had parked my truck so I could move over all my stuff.  Before I drove off, I left the keys in the ignition with the windows down.  The mall was located in the run-down part of town and most likely some jackass would take advantage of the easy pickings.

When I arrived in Tennessee, I swapped out the car’s license plates, tags and inspection sticker with a fake set I had made before I left home.  Over the next couple of days, I stayed in contact with the private investigator through my untraceable cell phone and laptop while maintaining the appearance I was still in Florida.  To keep a close eye on this dude I stayed in the same hotel where he was.  And to make certain I wasn’t being set up, I picked his lock one night and snuck into his room when he was asleep and planted a few bugs, including a tiny one in the bottom of his cell phone case.  I also stuck a tracking device under his vehicle.  He only knows me as Jimmy Fly from when I met him at his office in Florida disguised as a Cuban nightclub owner.  And he also thought I was a loan shark who was owed money by Richard Terryhole.  The reason I wanted to keep track of him so closely was the law most likely knows I occasionally use these guys, and you never know if one of them is on their payroll.  The sleazeball investigators that I use would throw their mother under a bus for a pack of cigarettes, and when I throw wads of cash at them, they will usually do whatever I ask without asking any questions.  I also have to make sure my wads are bigger than the police’s wads.  Even then they will still play both hands.

Over the next couple of days, I followed the investigator around as he did his thing, and nothing seemed out of place with this guy.  A day later I received several faxes from him.  The documents verified the news was on the level regarding Mr. Terryhole.  Even though his criminal record was spotless, I now had proof through old newspaper articles and court records he had been arrested numerous times; twice for disorderly conduct, three times for driving while intoxicated, once for injuring a woman and her child when he ran a stop sign while under the influence of a controlled substance, and twice for aggravated assault.  The investigator also found out Richard had sold his house, boat, RV and everything else he had owned, except for his Suburban, which was missing.  All his bank accounts had been closed and his credit cards had been canceled.  He seemed to have left town in a hurry.  I also learned he had some bounty hunters on his trail due to large gambling debts and loans from underground loan sharks, which was a good thing—the P.I. though that was my reason as well.  And this was actually good in a way, because if I got lucky and found Dickhead first, I could make his death or disappearance look like it was caused by one of those guys if needed.

A day later I received another fax from the P.I. that came from Mr. Terryhole’s insurance company.  It stated Mr. Terryhole had collected a large sum of money years ago, when carjackers had murdered his first wife while she had been sitting in her car at a red light.  It also seemed a little strange his wife had filed for a divorce shortly before her death.  The next day I called the detective and asked if he knew the reason why a criminal like Mr. Terryhole had a spotless record.  He said he had just been informed Richard was the son of a judge, which I already knew from the background check, and that his father was apparently involved with some lowlife people.  He said he was on his way back to Florida and I was on my own because some real shady individuals had made an unwelcome visit to him, stating he needed to leave immediately before he came up missing.  Since it seemed I hit a dead end and there was nothing else I could do, I decided to head back home.  At least I had learned his crooked father was most likely the reason he had been getting off all these years.”

Wide Road to Destruction

“Later that evening while I was traveling through Mississippi, the highway was starting to become congested, so I decided to take a farm-to-market road that would take me to Louisiana.  About an hour into my trip, while in the middle of nowhere, some idiot in a black car with tinted windows began tailgating me closely.  All I could see was a large head of Satan hanging from the rear-view mirror and words across the top of the windshield that read Wicked as Hell.  Even though the driver was being a prick, I moved over as far as I could to encourage him to pass.  Without hesitating, the vehicle jerked over and began to pass, but instead of the driver heading on down the road, the car pulled up beside me.  Not sure what the driver’s intentions were, I slowed down a little, but the car slowed equally.  Finally, the passenger’s side tinted window rolled down and revealed the assholes inside.  The driver was a bald white dude with piercings all over his face.  The passenger was a Hispanic dude with tattoos on his neck and he had a beanie cap on so low that I could barely see his eyes.  I wasn’t sure why these assholes were messing with me, but all kinds of thoughts were running through my mind, and as I was contemplating if it was worth messing with these fools the passenger pulled out a pistol and motioned for me to pull over.  Instead of granting their wish, I put in earplugs, then slightly rolled down my window and showered down on the two punks with my fully auto 5.56 mm SBR, equipped with a thirty-round magazine.  I hit them numerous times and blew out most of their windows.  Surprisingly, the driver took off in a hurry in his rice burner wannabe racecar.  I couldn’t take a chance of one of them calling 911 on a cell phone, so I quickly caught up to them and shot out both rear tires.  The car lost control around ninety miles an hour and ran off the road into a heavily wooded area.  The entire road trip had been either wooded or swampy, and I had not encountered any other vehicles for over an hour, so I felt comfortable going in after them.  Their car didn’t leave any noticeable tracks where it left the road, so I pulled into the area where their car had cleared a path in the wooded area and parked behind some thick cover.  The area was thick with all kinds of vegetation, and I couldn’t see their car from where I parked.  No telling how far it could have traveled if it missed solid objects, I thought as I followed the path of broken tree branches.  After about three hundred feet of fighting my way through thickets, I finally found the car; it had nose-dived at the edge of a swampy area.  The front half was under mud and water and the rear section was on dry land.  The two punks were crawling out the back window as I was walking up.  I could clearly see the Hispanic dude was severely wounded in his right arm and shoulder, and his right side was covered with blood where one or more of my bullets had hit him through the door.  The driver was bleeding from his neck, right arm and hand, and his left leg and his left arm appeared to have been broken from the crash.  Luckily, I had on a nerd disguise.  I was wearing a gray pin stripped suit, a blue toboggan, thick glasses, makeup, a large fake nose, and a Best Buy name tag.  The punks didn’t see me in my car because of the darkly tinted windows, so for the fun of it, I decided to mess with them.  Before the assholes had a chance to see me, I ran up to them.  “Woah, dang!!  Are you freakin’ all right?  I saw what happened.  What can I do?”

The Hispanic dude immediately yelled out in an aggressive voice.  “Call fucking 911, dipshit.”

I quickly pulled out my phone, and as I opened the flip top, I pretended I dropped it on the ground.  When I went to pick it up, I kicked a rock into the murky water and made a splash.  “Jeezlouise!  My phone went into the water.”

The Hispanic dude became irate.  “You fucking idiot!  Go get it!”

I walked over and stood at the edge of the water as the Hispanic dude helped the other guy from the back of the car.  When the bald fucker fell to the ground, he looked over at me.  “You fucking heard him!  Get that fucking phone!”

I turned and faced them as I held my hands on my hips.  “First of all, the phone is not going to work now that it’s wet.  And I really don’t want to ruin my Penny Loafers.”

“Listen here, motherfucker!  If you want to make it out of this swamp alive, I suggest you do what the fuck that I say,” replied the brown asshole.

The white dude’s right hand was damaged beyond recognition—it appeared some of the 5.56 mm rounds had blown it apart.  The brown dude was trying to wrap the guy’s hand with a rag to stop the bleeding, but he was having difficulty due to his injuries.  He finally became irritated and glared at me.  “Fucking help!”

I walked over and stood next to them.  “What do you want me to do?”

“Stop the bleeding in his hand, you fucking idiot.”

Within a blink of an eye, I had chopped the guy’s arm off at his elbow with my sickle.  Blood was running out of the arm as I stood there holding it.  “Like this”?

While the Hispanic dude was kneeling, he grabbed my pants with his left hand. “What the fuck!?!  I am going to fucking kill….”

Before he had a chance to complete his sentence, I had sliced his left arm off at his elbow.  Over the next couple minutes, I let them roll around on the ground and scream as they tried to stop their bleeding stubs, and they watched in horror as I stood next to them while flipping their severed arms into the air as I was juggling with them.

The white dude finally looked up at me.  “Please get me to the hospital so they can put my arm back on.  We can’t wait much longer.”

I stopped juggling.  I was covered from head to toe with their blood.  “The hospital is too far away for them to save it.”

The other dude stayed quiet—he probably knew what their fate was going to be.  The white guy began crawling toward me.  “Then can you get some ice for it?”

“From where?  We’re in the middle of a fucking swamp, moron.”

He started to panic.  “Come on, man!  You have to help me!”

“You want an arm sewn back on?”

“Of course, man.  I don’t want to lose it.”

I walked over to the Hispanic dude and cracked him in the head with a club, then injected the white guy with a tranquilizer.  Two hours later, the white guy started coming around and the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was his buddy’s facial expression, who was sitting on the ground with his back against a log a few feet away.  The white guy was still dazed from the tranquilizer and wasn’t able to move around much.  “Are we in the hospital?”

The Hispanic dude didn’t respond as he sat on the ground with a fearful look on his face.

“Talk to me, holmes.”

The Hispanic dude looked around, and when he didn’t see me, he whispered, “We’re still in the woods, bro.  Just pretend you’re asleep if he comes back.  And don’t move.”

Around five minutes later, the white dude had finally come to his senses enough to notice his arm.  When he got a good look at it and saw the lower half of it was brown, fear overcame him when he realized I had sewn the other dude’s severed arm on him.  He immediately began freaking out, so the Hispanic dude hobbled over to him and knelt.  “Try to stay quiet.”

The white dude began sobbing when he noticed his arm had been secured to his buddy’s stub with rusted wire.

“Chill out, dude.  I’ll get us out of this, but we have to be smart and play it cool.  This is one crazy motherfucker were dealing with.  I know this is some real medieval shit that he has done, but we can’t panic.  We’ll hang tight for a little while longer, and if he comes back just pretend you’re asleep and I’ll jump his ass.  If he doesn’t, I’ll go get some help.”

I had been hiding so I could watch these two fools to see how they would react in a fucked-up situation.  We were well hidden in the woods, and I didn’t feel the need to have to rush off, so I wanted to mess with them for a little while longer.  I’m not really sure what they had planned, but the white dude couldn’t even move because of his injuries, and the Hispanic dude wasn’t in much better shape.  When I walked out of the thickets, they both remained still as if they were dead.  While I stood over them smoking a cigarette, I said out loud to myself, “Good thing there’re dead.  Now I can cut their dicks off without them screaming.”

Without warning, the Hispanic dude tried to tackle me, but his right leg was apparently broken, because as soon as he lunged in my direction his leg folded backwards below his knee and he fell back to the ground.  He glared up at me from the ground.  “You sick fucker!  I am going to kill you for what you have done!”

“Hey, pal.  Where’s the thanks for fixin’ your arm?”

“You sick fucker!  I’ll….”

I grabbed his newly transplanted arm and tore it from the barbed wire stitching.  He screamed out as blood gushed out of his stub.  He screamed out louder when I started beating him with it.

The other fucker watched in horror as I beat the Mexican into a bloody pulp.  When the arm was limp as a noodle due to the bones breaking into numerous pieces, I threw it into the murky water, then glared at the white dude.  “Give me that fucking arm.”

He started scooting backwards on the ground.  “I’m sorry!  I’m sorry!  Please don’t hurt me anymore.  I won’t say anything if you let me go.  I haven’t done anything to deserve this.”

“Oh yeah?”  You just wanted to force me off the road at gunpoint so you could give me a hug?”

When he started to say he was sorry again, I put my foot on his chest and reached down and grabbed the arm, then with all my strength ripped it off.  He was rolling around on the ground screaming as I tossed it into the air toward the water.  While they were both rolling around on the ground screaming, I began burning their stubs with my pocket torch—I didn’t want them to bleed to death so soon.  They cursed, threatened, and screamed the entire time during the painful medical attention I was giving them.  They weren’t able to fight back because their other limbs had sustained serious injuries.  When I was done cooking the ends of their stubs, I cauterized their other wounds to slow down the bleeding in those areas as well.  While the two punks were rolling around on the ground moaning and growing over the inhumane treatment they had received, I sat calmly on a log and smoked a cigarette as I tried to think of what I was going to do with them.  During their tranquilizer and clubbing nap, I had run a background check on them on my phone.  Both of them were wanted for a couple of armed robberies, and their criminal history was fairly long.  I didn’t want to take them back to the chamber because it was getting full, but I also didn’t want the police to find these nimrods either.

Eventually, the Hispanic dude mustered up enough strength to stand up, then he began hobbling back toward his car.  With every painful step, he cursed me and made comments like how he was going to kill me.  I didn’t say or do anything because I was curious what he was up to.  When he started climbing back into the car’s rear window, I figured he was going in after his cell phone or the gun.  The front portion of the car was under water and he had to blindly search for whatever he was looking for.  Suddenly, he popped out of the water and began screaming how his eyes were burning.  The fool didn’t realize the gas tank had been damaged during the wreck and there was gas leaking all over the ground behind the car; it was also floating on top of the water, which means it was inside of the car as well.  I continued to watch as he relentlessly dove under the gas-contaminated water to find whatever he was looking for.  I was also keeping an eye on the bald dude; he was in bad shape and pretty much just crawling around on the ground in circles.  On the fourth or fifth diving attempt the Hispanic dude finally emerged with a large hunting knife.  He shouted out something in Spanish as he blindly waved the knife around, then began yelling in English how he was going to cut my guts out.  He was excited as he blindly crawled over the seats toward the window of redemption.  Just for fun, I ran over to the bald dude and pulled my blue toboggan over his head, then quickly dragged him over to the back of the car before the Hispanic dude had a chance to get out.  As soon as the knife brandishing madman began to crawl through the rear window, I threw the bald dude headfirst on top of him as I shouted, “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill ya, grease ball!”

The blind vato sliced and diced like a crazed savage.  Blood, guts, muscle, skin, hair, and ass were being slung everywhere, and after several minutes of intense barbaric savagery, the Hispanic dude collapsed from exhaustion in the rear seat of the car.  I stood silently and watched as he breathed heavily while pieces of human flesh, blood and feces floated around him.  The vato couldn’t see jack shit and he was busted up pretty bad, but he still held his head high as he savored the flavor of vindication.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed an alligator had come up to the water line right next to the rear of the car.  He most likely heard the commotion and probably could smell all the blood.  I knew it was time to go.  “Shit, homie, what have ya done?”

The dude was startled when I had spoken.  He stared in my direction while rubbing his eyes to regain his vision.  “Are you a cop?”

“No fool.  I’m the one who shot your ass to pieces, cut your arm off, sewed another one back on, then ripped it off and beat you with it.”

When he realized who he had chopped to pieces, he became irate, and as he crawled through the rear window, he was screaming how he was going to fucking kill me.

He was infuriated as he crawled across the rear trunk, and when he fell to the ground, I could hear the broken bones in his arm and legs crack and pop, but his adrenaline rush allowed him to overcome his pain as he stood up and began hobbling over to my direction.  He was so focused on cutting me with his knife, he didn’t notice I had my SBR pointed at him, but he did notice when I sprayed a round of bullets that turned his legs into Swiss cheese.  When he fell back, he landed at the edge of the swamp.  I was ready to cut him in half with my rifle until I saw the alligator was heading in his direction.

The vato knew it was over as he gazed up at me.  “Do it, motherfucker!  I don’t give a shit!  That’s how I roll, bitch!”

I pointed in the direction of the alligator, and when he looked over and noticed it, he started crawling in the opposite direction as he screamed out for help; it didn’t arrive.  The alligator grabbed his tattooed burrito by the bloody legs and took off to the deeper part of the swamp, where they both quickly disappeared.

Before I left, I dragged the white dude, or what was left of him, over to the water’s edge, then pushed him off like a boat so the alligators could have another snack.  I also erased all my footprints and made sure I wasn’t leaving anything behind that would be incriminating.  Just before I walked off, I noticed the large devil head that had been hanging from their rear-view mirror was floating on the murky swamp water.  I thought to myself as I walked out of the thickets what it must be like now that they were in Hell.  But that’s what they get for choosing to take the wide road that leads to destruction.  Before I drove off, I changed my clothes and wiped off as much of the blood that I could with wet wipes just in case I was pulled over for something.  The remaining part of my trip back home went smoothly, and when I arrived, I immediately got rid of the car and all my bloodstained clothes.”

Stuffing Animals Made Easy- Volume One

Seth stood up and stretched for a moment, then walked over to Dicky and stood next to the bars.  “It might seem that I’m a magnet for assholes and lowlifes, but actually a lot of people have to go through life and deal with the chaos that these kinds of pricks dish out.  Unlike most, I am fortunate that I can return the chaos back a thousand-fold.”

Dicky looked as if he wanted to say something.

Seth took a deep breath.  “Let’s hear it.”

He had a somewhat of a relieved look on his face.  “C.S.I. agents most likely found hair traces, so they will link you to those murders.”

“They probably did find some, but not mine.  And remember, things aren’t always what they seem.”

He didn’t say anything.

“I can tell that you have something else to say, so go ahead and tell me how I fucked up.”

“Your toboggan had hairs.”

“Like I said, not mine.”  Seth made a gesture with his hands that stated, ‘what the fuck’.  “Do you think all these assholes behind me magically appeared in this chamber?  I couldn’t have gotten away with all this if I was incompetent.”

Dicky put his head down.

Seth walked back over and sat on the stuffed man.  “Any other questions?”

He remained silent.

“All righty then, so back to it.  A few months later, I did a follow up on Mr. Terryhole, and when I searched his vehicle’s identification number again it was now registered to a Mr. Redden in Durango, Colorado.  I searched online and found the guy’s phone number, but before I gave him a call, I searched the vehicle online and found several recalls for that make and model.  When I called Mr. Redden, I told him I worked for a third-party company that represented General Motors and I was following up on their recall notices.  He said he wasn’t sure if the recall issues had been taken care of because he had recently just purchased it.  I played dumb and advised him if I had the previous owner’s name and the city he lived in, I could look up his information on the computer to confirm whether he had the necessary recall issues taken care of when he owned the vehicle.  Mr. Redden told me he had bought the car from a Mr. Warren, and he believed he lived in Durango as well.  I went back and did a property search on Richard’s relatives.  I discovered his uncle, Mr. Warren, had a cabin in Durango.  His uncle’s permanent residence was in Oklahoma, so the cabin was most likely a vacation house.  Dickhead wasn’t very smart making whatever deal he had made with his uncle.  Only thing I could figure was he needed money and sold the Suburban for some quick cash, then his uncle sold it at a profit.  It wasn’t a smart transaction—it would have been in his best interest if he had dumped the vehicle into a lake, especially since there were several people looking for him, but I come to learn he was an arrogant person who thinks he was untouchable.

There was nothing more I could do from home, so I left Texas to take a chance that Dickhead was now living, or hiding out, in Colorado.  The trip wasn’t bad, but the cabin was somewhat difficult to find because the area was heavily wooded with a lot of unnamed roads, and the ones that were named had the signs missing from their poles.  After several hours of driving around the mountains I eventually found a log cabin that fit the profile and location; it sat way back in the woods near a small lake.  When I drove by, I didn’t see any vehicles outside, but I knew someone was there because smoke was coming from the chimney.  At that point I really didn’t know how to approach the situation because I didn’t have current photos of Richard and it would be a shame for some poor soul to reap the consequences of his actions.  There was snow on the ground, and it would be pointless to try to hide my car in the woods because I would leave tire tracks, so I parked on the side of the road and walked up to the cabin.  I was a little nervous as I knocked on the door because I wasn’t sure how things were going to go down.  Within seconds, someone moved the curtains in a window next to the door so they could see me, so I waved at them and smiled.  Shortly after the curtains fell back in place a man opened the door with a suspicious look.  “What do you want?”

“Can I please use your phone?  I was driving a little too fast and slid off the road.  My car stalled on me and now it won’t start.”

He laughed.  “Sounds like you’re shit out of luck, dude.”

I hit the bastard with a tire tool, and as he laid on the floor, I thought to myself, this guy at least needs to have his teeth knocked out for being such an asshole.  While the guy was lying in a pool of his own blood, I quickly checked to make sure no one else was there.  The cabin was clear, so I dragged the man inside, then checked his wallet and verified it was Dickhead.  I quickly tied him up on the floor with a phone cord, phone still attached, then moved my car into the garage before someone had a chance to see it.  I was uneasy about someone walking in on me, so I hid some wireless motion sensors on the exterior of the cabin; they would activate a receiver that was with me if anything got in their range.  The cabin was most likely used for vacation and hunting because the walls were covered with stuffed animal heads, trophies, and hunting gear.  While I was checking out one of the bedrooms, I noticed Richard’s bags and suitcases weren’t unpacked and it seemed he was temporarily staying there before his next destination, which might have been out of the country.

An hour later, Dickhead came around and began fighting to get loose as he frantically looked around.  His eyes opened wide when he finally noticed me relaxing on the couch smoking a cigar and drinking coffee.  He became instantly pissed as I reclined back, chilling in one of his robes.  He glared at me with anger.  “What the fuck are you doing, man?  Untie me now!”

“Is your name Richard, and is your father Judge Terryhole?”

He rolled over on his back, then sat up.  “Don’t even try it, you worthless fuck.  My dad will bury your sorry ass if you fuck with us.”

“Try what?”

“I’m not stupid, so just cut the bullshit.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, pal.”

“A fucking payday!”

“I’m not here for a fucking candy bar.”

“A ransom, asshole!  A fucking ransom.”

I smiled.  “Well hell.  I didn’t think of that.  Thanks, pal.”

The guy had a real air about him, so strolled over to him and poured my hot coffee on his head, and as he squirmed around and hollered on the floor, I stomped my foot into his crotch as hard as I could several times.  He began yelling out loudly, and I couldn’t take a chance of someone hearing him, so I knelt and squeezed his mouth.  “You need to lower your voice.”

He gave me a death stare, and when I removed my hand, he yelled out, “Screw you, motherfucker!”

I got up and grabbed a needle and some heavy gauge thread out of my duffel bag.  I threaded the needle with about two feet of thread, then tied a huge knot in the end.  He was sitting up and yelling at me as he watched.  When I approached him, he began kicking at me, so I scrambled to his back side, knelt and put him in a one-armed choke hold with my left arm.  He tried to throw me off, so I fell to my left side, which forced him to go with me.  I threw my right leg around his legs and locked him down while I continued to hold the choke.  All he could do was watch in fear as I brought the needle toward his face.  He tried to move his head away, but I jammed the side of my face against the side of his head, causing the choke hold to be tighter.  He began screaming as I shoved the needle through the bottom of his bottom lip on the right side of his mouth.  He was flinching and screaming as I pushed the needle straight up and through his top lip.  His screaming changed to loud moaning when I jerked back on the thread and forced the side of his mouth closed.  To his horror, I drove the needle back through both of his lips on the same side as the first stitch and I didn’t stop until I had about seven or eight tight loops around the side of his mouth.  I ran the needle through the exposed portion of the thread, then tied a granny knot to hold them in place.  I could have simply sat on his chest and sewn his mouth, but I wanted to get up close and personal so I could feel his pain.  When I pushed him away and stood up, he rolled over on his back and stared up at me with horror on his face.  I had only stitched one side of his mouth to prevent him yelling out, but he would still be able to answer questions as I needed him to.  He was too upset to have a civil conversation with as he rolled around on the floor bitching and moaning, so I went and sat on the porch for a while to give him time to calm down.

An hour later, I went back into the house and knelt next to him.  “Is your name Richard Terryhole?”

He wouldn’t look at me as he laid on the floor in the fetal position.  His lips were beginning to swell, and it was too painful for him to shout, but he was able to mumble through the other side of his mouth.  “Go fuck yourself!  I ain’t telling you shit.”

“I see that I am dealing with a bitch.”

He rolled onto his back.  “You’re so fucking dead!”

I needed some motivation, so I took off toward the kitchen.

He yelled out the best he could.  “You’re so fucking dead and don’t even know it.  My family is going to fucking rip your limbs off and beat you to death with them.”

Several minutes later when I came back into the room with a jar of jalapenos, I found him standing up, so I trudged up to him and kicked both of his legs out from under him, causing him to fall on his back and slam his head against the floor.  While he laid on his back in a daze, I squatted down and jammed my knee into his chest.  He squirmed and moaned a little as I pulled his eyelids inside out and stretched them upwards, then stapled them to his forehead with a small stapler I had found in the study.  He didn’t scream or say a word because he was still dazed, and he wasn’t sure what I had done to him as he laid motionless while rolling his eyes around.  Before he had a chance to speak, I grabbed a handful of his hair and held the jar of jalapeno juice over his face.  “I am not asking you again.”

He didn’t move an inch.  “Yes, my name is Richard Terryhole.”

He continued to lie motionless as I held the jar above his face, and as I looked around the room I asked, “Who killed all these animals?”

He didn’t reply, so I slightly shook the jar.

“Me and my pops.”

I poured the jalapeno juice onto his face, then strolled over to a picture sitting on a mantel.  He was hollering muffled screams through the side of his mouth and flopping around on the floor like a fish as I picked up a picture of his dad and sat back on the couch.  I couldn’t hear myself think as he was shouting out, “It’s burning! It’s burning! It’s burning!  Wash out my eyes!  Oh, shit, I’m going blind!  Please wash it out of my eyes!”

I was trying to relax and had enough of the noise.  “Stop making racket before I really give some something to bitch about!  If you can’t take the pain of your eyes burning than I will cut them out.”

He rolled to his knees, then stumbled to his feet and took off running, but he ran straight into a wall, and as soon as he fell back onto the floor, he began yelling again about going blind.  He was apparently going to be a pain in the ass, so I got off the couch and walked over to him.  His entire face was covered with snot, and he had pulled the staples from his forehead.  “Where’re ya running off to, pal?”

He held his eyes tightly closed.  “I need water for my eyes.”

“Okay, buddy, I’ll hook you up.”

I made a quick trip to the kitchen.  When I came back, I squatted next to him.  “Here, let me soak up the juice in your eyes.”

He continued to hold them tightly closed.

I patted him on his head.  “Hey, dickhead, let me help.  I shouldn’t have poured jalapeno juice in your eyes.  Here, let me soak it up.”

When he opened his bloodshot and swollen eyes, I dumped a jar of salt into them.  He instantly began screaming again.

I slapped him across the face.  “Hush!”

“You’re a sorry mother fucker!  Wait till I…”

I slapped him again.  “I said shut the fuck up!  Keep on and I’ll sew your mouth completely shut.”

He grunted as he fought the urge to stay quiet.

I thumped him in the forehead.  “Hey, just for future reference and curiosity, which burns worse?”

He became hysterical and tried to stand up, so I shoved him down to the floor and hog-tied his feet together.  He began to scream at the top of his lungs and to foam at the mouth as the salt really began to burn his eyes.  The staples were also under his eyelids and digging into his eyeballs as well.  He was making so much noise I finally grabbed his hair and jerked his head back.  Thin trails of blood were running out of the corner of his eyes as I sarcastically popped off, “We’re at a nice getaway cabin in the woods and it should be peaceful and quiet, so zip it up before I do something really fucked up!”

He held his eyes tightly closed.  “You’re gonna fucking pay.  Even if you kill me, you’re gonna fucking pay.”

I knew it would be several hours before he would calm down enough to have a conversation with, so I slapped him across the face several more times.  “If I hear one peep out of you, I will poke your eyes out with a stick, and then I will sew your tongue to your nut sack.”

While the rude bastard rolled around on the floor and moaned, I laid back on the couch and took a nap.

Several hours later when I woke up, I found him lying motionless on the floor with snot running out of his nose.  His eyes were swollen shut and the skin around them was red as an apple.  I thought he was dead until I stomped his crotch again.  He moaned a little as he picked his head up off the floor slightly while trying to open his eyes.  He was in such agony, instead of trying to fight back he laid his head back on the floor and calmly said, “Please don’t hurt me anymore.  I will do anything you ask.”

I knelt beside his head.  “So, you would torture yourself in the most unthinkable and horrific way, causing yourself excruciating pain until you were dead?”

After that comment, he began breathing heavily and whimpering.  “Why are you doing this?”

“It’s kind of fun.”  I glanced around the room.  “It’s kind of like how you take pleasure in killing all these helpless animals.”

He began crying and pleading for mercy, and as tears and blood ran down his face, I thought to myself how it was a pathetic sight to see a big bad hunter like him acting like a baby, so I laid my hand on his chest.  “If you tell me why you killed your stepson like one of these animals on the wall, I promise you I’ll give you mercy.”

He hesitated for a few seconds.  “That…. That was an accident.”

I reached over and thumped one of his swollen eyes.  “Come on Dick, I know what you did.”

He started to say something.

I interrupted him.  “I’m giving you a chance to tell the truth.  I know more than you think.”

He took a deep breath.  “I said that it was a fucking accident!”

I wanted him to confess to what he had done, so I made up a lie in hopes he would come clean.  “I’m a hit man that your father hired to kill you.  He thinks you’re a piece of shit and that your sorry ass has put his reputation in jeopardy for the last time.  He said he is done cleaning up your messes.”

He took the bait and began weeping.  “So, that’s why that fucker wanted me to move out here?  He told me he just wanted me to lay low for a while until things blew over.  I can’t believe he would do this to me.”

“Your father wanted me to tell you before I killed you that you crossed the line this time.  And he said he is ashamed of you and that you’re no longer his son.”

He just laid on the floor and didn’t say a word for a few seconds.  “I guess you’re going to kill me now?”

“Not until you confess to what you did.”

“I’m not going to tell you a fucking thing!  Just hurry up and do whatever you’re going to do and get it over with.”

I stood up.  “Okay, but I assure you that I won’t hurry—your dad made it very clear that he wants you to suffer.”

He became really upset and his adrenaline kicked in high gear after that comment.  He went from being submissive to a wild beast in just a second or two.  Before I knew what happened, he had broken his hands free and jumped to his feet, which were still tied with a cord.  He tore the stitching from his lips as he screamed out he was going to tear me apart.  He was still blind from the jalapeno juice and salt, but that didn’t stop him from swinging his arms around like a mad man to hit me.  While I bobbed and weaved, I stepped toward him and shoved him backwards, causing him to trip and fall to the floor.  He kept trying to get up, but I kept pushing him down.  He eventually grabbed me around the legs, causing me to fall backwards onto the floor.  When I tried to get up, he lunged on top of me and began choking me, and as he shouted for me to die, I shoved my thumb into his swollen right eye.  He immediately released my neck as he screamed out horrendously.  Fluid gushed from his eye socket as he rolled off me and onto the floor.  I rolled over in the opposite direction as I held my throat.  Seconds later as he was down on all fours holding his hand over his eye, I jumped to my feet and kicked him as hard as I could in the face.  As soon as he fell over onto his side, he quickly rolled back to an all four stance, then quickly stood up again.  He yelled out he was going to kill me as he blindly lunged toward me, and before he could grab me, I moved out of the way, causing him to fall back to the floor.  He began crawling across the living room like a wild animal trying to escape, so I jumped onto his back and put him in a triangle chokehold.  Within a short period of time, he was unconscious.

While he slept, I broke the legs off the kitchen table and laid the tabletop flat on the floor next to a wall, then I ran out to the car and grabbed a bag full of sixteen-penny nails, a bag of small nails, two large spikes and a hammer.  When I came back into the cabin, I dragged Lefty over to the tabletop and positioned him on top of it in such a way his arms were perpendicular to his body and his legs were spread eagle.  After I removed his clothes, I took the spikes and drove one into each of his shoulders just below the clavicle bones.  They went all the way through his body and into the tabletop several inches.  I stretched the skin on his right side, or love handle, outwards from his body and drove a couple of nails through the loose skin and into the wood, then repeated the same for his other side.  I outlined his entire body with about two hundred large and small nails by toe-nailing his flesh to the tabletop.  The larger sixteen-penny nails were spaced about two inches apart and they lined the inside and outside of his arms and legs, each side of his torso and the top of his shoulders.  The smaller finishing nails were spaced about a half an inch apart and lined each side of his fingers and hand, and they also lined each side of his neck.  It was a good thing he was unconscious, because that would have probably been extremely painful, but it was easier than having to fight him.  Now that the nailing the shit out of him portion was completed, I lifted the table up and nailed it to the interior wall of the cabin.  While he hung bleeding like a stuck pig, I stood back and thought to myself what a gross sight this bastard turned out to be.  His entire body was covered with blood and his punctured eye was oozing something nasty and the other one was swollen shut.  He had snot all over his face and neck and it was running down his chest.  The nails were pulling his flesh so tight, that each nail was causing a one-to-five-inch stretch mark.  The skin across his chest was so tight that his ribs were showing.  He was so hideous looking I went and found a large mirror and propped it up in front of him so he could see himself when he finally awoke.  It was getting late, and I was starting to feel a little tired, so I sat on the couch and read a book, Stuffing Animals Made Easy- Volume One, that I had found in the office when I was looking for a stapler.

Several hours later, I was awakened by a loud moaning sound; I had fallen asleep.  A little while later his moans began to get louder, so I walked over to him to see if he was awake, but he was still pretty much in and out of la-la land.

About thirty minutes later, he was starting to come around, and when he finally got a good glimpse in the mirror through his swollen eye, he began screaming his lungs out.  He was frantically screaming and staring in the mirror in disbelief in how his body had been gruesomely nailed to the table.  I walked over to him.  “Ready to tell me what happened?”

After he stared at himself for a few more seconds, he glared at me and yelled out in a dreadful voice.  “What have you done to me, you son of a bitch?  Why would you do such a thing?  I don’t deserve this.”

“Stop being a bitch.  The way I see it you’re getting off easy.  I could have hung you upside down by your nut sack.”

He realized his predicament wasn’t going to get any better regardless of what he said or how much he begged.  “You might as well just fucking kill me and stop playing games.”

“You wanna play a game?  Sounds like fun.”

I strolled over to a dartboard that was hanging on a wall and pulled out a handful of darts.  Richard’s eye got big as I stood in front of him aiming a dart, and when I threw it at him, he flinched.  When he realized the dart had stuck into his chest, he gritted his teeth.  “You’re a ruthless bastard!”

“Only if I was killing a young boy for money, so let’s not talk about who’s ruthless.”

I threw another dart.  “Stop!  Stop!  Stop!  What the fuck do you want, man?  Shit!  Stop fucking doing that!”

“Tell me the truth about the shooting incident with the boy and I’ll stop.”

“Just kill me, you sick fucker!  I ain’t tellin’ you shit!”

After I threw another dart, which struck him in his right arm, he screamed like a little bitch.

“Why are you being such a fag over the darts?  You should be screaming over the fact you’re nailed to the fucking wall.”

For curiosity’s sake, I went and grabbed a syringe out of my bag, and when I started to poke him, he hollered out excitedly.  Just as I figured, he feared needles.  It’s amazing how bad some people have a needle phobia.  Now that I knew about it, I went out to my car and grabbed a handful of syringes with extra-long needles.  When I came back in, I ripped the fins off the darts and glued them to the back end of the syringes with super glue, then filled them with just enough water so they would be weighted correctly.

He began panicking as I stood in front of him with the hybrid syringe darts, and as soon as I threw one, he screamed out and started jerking his body as much as he could.  The needle sunk about three inches into his stomach.  He looked down and stared in horror at the needle.  “Get it out!  Get it out!  Please get it out.  I can’t stand it!  Get it out!”

I threw another one and it stuck into the side of his neck.

He began acting like a little kid at the doctor’s office as he turned his head away.  “Please…  Please stop!  I’ll do what…”

I threw another dart.

“Ewwww…  Ouchy!  Please stop!  I’m begging you!”

I strode up to him.  “Stop looking away, or I will slowly stick a needle into your fucking eye.”

He was looking at me as if he wanted to throw up as I slowly worked each needle in and out, in and out, of his flesh until I finally pulled it out.  By the time I was pulling out the last needle, he was dry heaving, and as I walked away, he began throwing up all over the front of his nude body.

“If you look away, I’m really going to give you something to be nauseous about.”

He apparently didn’t believe me, because when I threw a dart he turned his head, which was a big mistake.  The next three out of five consecutive darts struck him in his nut sack and penis.

I laughed.  “Hey, Dick!  You gotta needle in your dick.”

He stared into the mirror in disbelief for a few seconds, then he became enraged.  “You fucking cocksucker!  You’re a fucking coward!  You got no balls!”

He was cursing me as I threw the last two darts, which struck him in the throat.  He quickly began gagging—the needles had penetrated his trachea.  While he gagged and spewed at the mouth, I went over to him and squatted down next to his legs, and before he had a chance to say anything, I had taken my knife out of my ankle sheath and in one slice cut his nuts off.  He tried to scream, but the darts in his throat caused him to start choking again when his muscles tightened in his neck.  I stood up and held his bloody sack in front of his face.  “I got balls now.”

He was speechless as he stared in horror.

I tossed his sack on the floor and grabbed a red-hot coal out of the fireplace with a pair of tongs, then went over and squatted down next to him again.  He couldn’t scream or speak loudly, so he quietly mumbled in a terrified voice, “Oh please don’t.  I can’t take any more pain.”

“You’re going to bleed to death.”

He took a deep breath.  “Just let me fucking die.  You have robbed me of everything.”

Before he could say another word, I shoved the red-hot coal into his bloody wound, and as he tried to scream, a sizzling sound and a cloud of rancid smelling smoke poured out from his crotch.  He used everything he had to try and pull his arms from the tabletop, but he didn’t have enough strength to even budge the nails or tear his flesh.  He could only hang helplessly as every part of his body was being tightly bound.  Snot was hanging from his nose as he gave up and held his head down in defeat.  He didn’t say a word as I pulled the darts out of his body.  I strolled over to his ball sack and pulled out the darts.  “It’s only going to get worse.”

We played about eight more games of syringe darts and when his needle phobia had lost its luster, I walked up to him with a syringe and stuck it into his ruptured eye, and as he screamed, I sucked the remaining fluid from it.  Before I had a chance to insert it into his other eye he cried out, “I did it for the insurance!  I shot him for the insurance!  I had lost everything gambling!”

Now he was in confession mode.  “What about your first wife?”

He took a deep breath.  “That bitch was leaving me.”

“And?”

“I had her killed.”

“What’s was the deal with your second wife?”

I could tell he was gritting his teeth.  “I hated her.”

“And?”

“I tried to burn that bitch.”

I grabbed the hair on his head and pulled his face up to where I could see it.  “Why in the hell is your sorry ass not in prison?”

He grunted out, “My father covered it up.”

I thought to myself how he had answered all the questions that I already knew, so I asked him something I didn’t know.  “What made you want to kill all these innocent animals on the wall?”

“I don’t know, for the sport of it I guess.”

I let go of his hair, then went over to a gun case and pulled out a compound bow and a few arrows.  Richard’s face had a look of horror as I stood across the room loading the bow.  I pulled back on the string and aimed an arrow toward him.  “How does this make you feel?  Does it make you feel like an animal?  It makes me feel tough.  I feel like I can go outside and kick a squirrel’s ass.”

He screamed out as I let the arrow go, and when it hit the wall three feet away from him, he gasped with relief.

I looked at the bow.  “How do you aim with this thing?”

He didn’t say a word as he hung in fear, and as he looked at me like I was a psycho I said, “You’re going to die ether way.  It looks like you’re in enough pain as it is, so here’s your chance to end it, you balless bastard.”

Instead of making an intelligent decision, he began begging.  “Please don’t kill me.  I’m sorry for what I did.  You have taught me a lesson.  If you let me go, I promise I won’t say anything.”

I let another arrow go.  “Hell no, you’re not going to say anything.”

He closed his eye tightly as he made an ‘ohhhh’ sound.

“It went through a damn window!”

He opened his eye and took a deep breath.

I got agitated and tossed the bow on the floor.  “Now I have to wait until morning when it’s light so I can go outside and find that fucking arrow with my fingerprints on it.”

He sighed.

“I guess I’ll have to play darts until morning.”

A look of horror came over his face.  “You said you would have mercy if I told you the truth.”

“I am.  I could take you back to my house.”  I started to walk away, but then I paused.  “You know, if you would have just admitted to the truth earlier you could have saved us both a lot of trouble.”

He didn’t respond.

I laughed. “Hell, I’m having fun, aren’t you?”

He began sobbing as he hung in a massive amount of pain, and as I watched his tears drip off the left side of his face, I thought how I really didn’t want to play darts anymore and I was bored with the whole torture thing.  I went and sat on the couch, and as I flipped through the book that I had been reading earlier, I thought it would be neat to try what I had learned.

After I took a quick nap, I walked up to Richard and showed him the book, ‘Stuffing Animals Made Easy’.  “Look, this might be better than darts.  Don’t you think?”

He just hung on the table silent.

“Oh, come on.  Don’t be a party pooper.  You said earlier you wanted to die because you’re balless.”

The Dickhead died thirty minutes later.  I guess it was from a loss of blood, or the horrendous stress to his body, or maybe it was because he didn’t have any balls, either way it was a good thing for him because the book didn’t have a chapter on how to stuff an animal still alive, which would have probably been excruciatingly painful.”

Dicky gasped in disbelief as he listened to Seth’s story.  Seth laughed as he patted Richard’s stuffed head.  “Yeah, as you can tell I did it.  And it wasn’t as bad as I would have figured it to be.  They had everything I needed in a tool shed from when they had preserved and stuffed their animal heads.  The next morning, I loaded my trophy into the trunk of my car and went and found the arrow stuck in a nearby tree.  I wanted it to look like Richard had left on his own, so I packed all of his clothes and personal belongings and threw them in the trunk of my car as well, and before I left I cleaned the entire cabin to rid any evidence of me being there.”

Seth laid backwards on the stuffed man and put his arms behind his head.  “It was wonderful to be in such a peaceful place like that cabin and away from all the noise, hostility, and violence of town.  I wish I could move to a place like that.”

“But you would rather create chaos for others.”

Seth smiled.  “I guess what goes around comes around.”

Seth closed his eyes and thought back to when he was sixteen and living at Saint David’s home for boys.  It was located in a small town in the middle of nowhere and it wasn’t any better than the foster homes he had grown up in.  The Sheriff of that small town was a real prick to the boys who lived at the home, and he made things a lot worse for them than it already was.  Sheriff Johnson, or Chuck as he was known by the locals, would always torment the boys by saying that the town wasn’t big enough for their kind, and he would harass and abuse them whenever he had a chance.  Life was difficult for Seth, but there was one thing that could get him through the day; her name was Ashley Sullivan.  They had become best friends and were inseparable.  Being with her made him forget how cruel the world could be.  He would always meet her at their secret hiding place in the woods that was next to a creek.  Cedar Creek was on the outskirts of town.  They had to keep their relationship a secret because the people of the small town would frown upon a girl who went out with trash from the boy’s home.  And her dad didn’t approve of her seeing Seth as well.  He was a drunk and would slap her around if he caught wind of her being seen with him.  The Sheriff’s son, Jason, and his friends hated Seth and caused a lot of trouble for him.  They were a lot older.  Jason was around twenty, and he used his size to intimidate and bully Seth.  The truth was Jason was just pissed because she would never give him the time of day.

One day a carnival set up at the edge of town.  Seth was sad that he couldn’t take Ashley—he didn’t want to cause any trouble for her, so instead they drove to a place in the country where kids would go to hang out, which was called Dead Man’s Bluff.  The area was on a nearby mountain that looked over the town below.  They arrived in the evening after the sun had set and parked near a fence at the edge of a cliff.  It seemed very peaceful and tranquil as they sat on the hood of the car and watched the lights from the carnival.  But that didn’t last long.  A truck drove up with bright off-road lights.  It stopped around ten feet away, then the driver started revving the engine.  The lights were so bright that Seth held his hand in front of his face to see who it was.  Several guys finally got out of the truck and started walking toward him with baseball bats.  Before Seth could get off the hood, one of the men jabbed the end of a bat into his chest.  Seth jumped to his feet.  He noticed it was Jason and a couple of his sorry friends, and as he stepped toward them, Jason pointed a bat at his head.  “I fucking told you to stay away from her, you motherless cocksucker!”

Before Seth and Jason got into a fight, Ashley jumped off the hood and got between them.  She shoved Jason backwards.  “Mind your own business!”

Jason laughed.

Ashley slapped him.  “Punk ass!”

Jason smiled.  “Screw you!  You ain’t worth it.”

“Back to you, asshole!”

Jason got back into his truck, and as his friends were laughing, he threw Seth the finger.  “Watch your back, fucker.  She ain’t always going to be around to protect your sorry ass.”

Jason had a chicken-shit grin on his face as he peeled out and threw dirt all over Seth and Ashley.  Seth was angry that Ashley stepped in between him and Jason—it made him feel cowardly.  She knew Seth was upset, but she also knew if Seth had gotten into it with Jason, Chuck would have thrown him in jail—he was looking for such an excuse.

A few days later as Seth was walking back to Saint David’s from meeting Ashley, Chuck pulled up next to him in his patrol car.  Jason was sitting on the passenger side looking like a punk.  Chuck rolled down his window.  “I thought I told you to stay away from this side of town, boy.”

“I don’t know why you give me such a hard time.  I’ve never done anything to you.”

Chuck got out of his patrol car.  “I’ll show you a hard time, smart ass.”

Before Seth could react, Chuck grabbed him and threw him on his back on the front of the car.  He tried to get up, but Chuck was too strong as he held him down by his throat.  “If I see you with that Sullivan girl again, I will make you wish that your parents were hit by that car before you were born.”

Seth didn’t say anything.

He threw Seth onto the ground.  “Boy, the best part of you ran down the crack of your mama’s ass and wound up a brown stain on the sheets.”  Chuck got in his patrol car and peeled out a little as he took off.  Seth’s pride was more hurt than anything else.  As he was brushing himself off, Chuck had turned around a little way down the road.  When he slowly drove by, Jason spit out the window.  “You better stay away from Ashley if you know what’s good for you.”

Seth had enough.  He went back to the boy’s home and packed up his stuff.  His friends were sad to see him go, but they knew how difficult life was for their kind.  Seth walked out the door and never looked back.

Dial 1-800-Eat-Shit

Seth sat up from where he was lying on the stuffed man and rubbed his face as he spoke out loud to himself.  “What goes around comes around.”  He stood up and stretched, then walked over to a wall where a human head was mounted on a wooden plaque.  He took it off the wall and brought it over to the stuffed man.  He sat back down, and as he held the plaque, Dicky could see how the mounted head was grotesquely deformed and its eyes were missing.

Seth rubbed some dust off the nametag that was secured to the plaque.  “Guess whose fucking head this is?”

Dicky just stared down at the floor as if he didn’t want to know.

Seth read the tag out loud.  “Sorry ass Judge.”

He shook his head as he stared at the floor.

Seth laughed.  “You didn’t think I would forget about this piece of shit, did you?  He was as guilty as his son the Dickhead when he used his power as a judge to cover up his son’s indiscretions.  I wish the headless bastard was still alive so I could sew his balls to his tonsils, but he wound up getting off easy.”  Seth leaned the plaque against the bars of the cell, then sat on the floor.  He leaned his back against Richard’s corpse.  “You have to hear about Judge Terryhole, who I refer to as ‘Mr. Potato Head’, and how I used a unique persuasive device to retrieve a confession and other interesting information out of him.”

Dicky rolled his eyes.

“Hey, ass wad, at least act like you give a shit.”

He took a deep breath, then looked at Seth.

“The judge wasn’t hard to find like his worthless son.  He was living at his beach house down in Corpus Christi, which was convenient for me because I was overdue for a vacation.  I was probably going to be away for a week, so I tripled everyone’s IV bags and loaded my car with everything I might need.  It was late in the evening when I pulled out.  The trip down through Texas was going great until some asshole in a truck got a bad case of road rage.  I was minding my own business driving in the right-hand lane when I noticed a red truck was weaving in and out of traffic driving recklessly with no regard for anyone else’s safety.  Before I knew it the jackass was speeding toward me, and as he approached the rear of my car I moved over onto the side shoulder to let him around to avoid any problems.  When he passed by, the prick laughed at me and threw me the finger.  I was so mad I wanted to run him off the road so I could cut off that finger and shove it up his ass, but I didn’t want to jeopardize the integrity of my trip, so I just gritted my teeth as I watched him disappear in the traffic ahead of me.

Around two in the morning I became extremely tired, so I pulled into a rest stop in the middle of nowhere.  I got out of my car to stretch my legs, and as I was walking around the area, I noticed a red truck with a large rebel flag in the back window.  It couldn’t be I thought to myself.  When I walked closer, I recognized a bumper sticker that read If you don’t like my driving, dial 1-800-Eat-Shit.  It was the prick that threw me the finger.  There were several big rigs in the area, so I maintained a cautious distance.  As I casually strolled by the truck, I noticed the asshole was asleep.  Over the next few minutes as I walked around, I thought of an idea that would be more on the lines of getting him back.  When I got back to my car I dug through the trunk and found a bottle of white shoe polish, and as I looked at it, I smiled, thinking back on how I lured a crooked car dealer to my car by simply writing a dirt-cheap price on the windshield.

A few hours later, I was awakened from the loud exhaust of the red truck, and, as it was pulling away, I started laughing as the white letters, I HATE NIGGAS, stood out like a sore thumb on the tailgate of the prick’s truck.  I laughed as hard as I could as I watched him drive off down the highway—I knew between his bad attitude, the rebel flag, and the crude remark, he would get his ass kicked.  Now that the punk was gone, I got out of my car and stretched a little before heading down the last stretch of road that would lead me to Mr. Potato Head.

Thirty minutes down the highway, the traffic started backing up.  It appeared a wreck had occurred about a mile or two up the road.  As I approached the area of the highway where the slowing of the traffic was originating, I noticed there was a group of cars on the side of the highway and a there was a large commotion in the grassy median.  The traffic was moving about twenty miles an hour from everyone slowing down and rubber necking.  When I was finally able to see what was going on, I noticed it wasn’t a wreck at all, it was a large group of black people beating the shit out of the prick in the red truck.  As I slowly drove by, I even caught a glimpse of a large black lady stomping on the guy’s head as he laid helplessly in the grass.  I began laughing so hard that I almost pissed myself.  The prick got exactly what he deserved.”

Seth looked at Dicky and noticed he exhibited a solemn expression.  “Come on.  Don’t look so intense.  You know you wanna laugh.”

He just stared at Seth.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?  Any one of these fuckers in here would trade places with you in a heartbeat.”

He lowered his head.  “I just don’t find racism funny.”

“Racism?”  Seth laughed.  “If you haven’t noticed I operate an equal opportunity torture chamber.”

He shook his head.

Seth got a little aggravated.  “You’re one of those fuckers that thinks only white people can be racist.  All ethnic groups have people that are racist.  Everyone is so quick to throw in the race card.  But it’s really simple; humans dislike humans if they are different in any way from themselves.”

“I understand all of that, but the N-word is derogatory.”

“If the N-word, as you put it, is so derogatory, the blacks wouldn’t use it, or even the lesser insulting term, nigga, which according to some blacks is not derogatory, and the one I actually used.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“It’s only derogatory if someone other than a black person says it.”

“Really?  Is chink, gook, jap, kike, cracker, raghead, wetback, and spic derogatory terms?”

“Of course, they are.”

“You’re right.  That’s why you don’t see those other ethnic groups calling each other those names, or a variation of them.  It’s an insult.  So, if the N-word was such a horrible name, including the lesser insulting term where the ER was replaced with an A, then why do the blacks use both of them so much?”

“I….  It’s probably.…”

“Point made.”

“But there is no need for bigotry.”

“A bigot is a person who is utterly intolerant of any differing creed, belief, or opinion.  Making fun of a sensitive subject is simply poor taste or dark humor.”

“Black people wouldn’t find it funny.”

“They find it funny when it’s the other way around.”

“That’s different.  They have been oppressed.”

“A lot of people have been oppressed through history.”

“But slavery…”

“You own a fucking slave?”

He looked up with a confused expression.  “Of course, not.”

“How many did your parents own?”

“None?”

“How about your grandparents?”

“No one in my family did.”

“Nor did my family or myself.  I’m sick and fucking tired of the bullshit.  Slavery happened to all kinds of people since the beginning of time.  The same assholes that had slaves back then are the same assholes that run corporate America today.  They’re the same ones who have created modern day slavery through crappy minimum wage jobs while dangling unaffordable things in front of people, such as nice homes, cars, and belongings.”

“I understand all that.”

“I don’t think so, pal.  Like I said, people dislike people.  If humans were all the same in every aspect, from physical and mental characteristics, abilities and accomplishments, wealth and lifestyles, opinions and religious beliefs, heritages and traditions, some asshole would eventually find a minuscule difference in another person so they could have a reason to dislike them.  It’s really that simple.  And it all stems from envy and jealousy, and it has been that way since the beginning of human existence.”

.

Theater of Horror

Dicky just stared at Seth as he sat on the floor of his cell.  Seth put his right arm behind his head to get relaxed.  “Time is running out and we’re not in here to discuss ethics, so let’s get on with the judge.”

Dicky raised his knees while leaning back against the wall.  He rested his arms on his knees and his chin on his arms.

Seth looked at him and smiled.  “Now that you’re all cozy and have gotten how racist I am off your chest, let’s proceed.  It was late in the evening just as the sun was setting when I finally reached the coast.  It took another thirty or forty minutes until I came to the strip of beach where the judge’s house was located.  His street had numerous cars parked along the shoulder and I could see there was some type of get-together at a house that sat way off the road, which was also his closest neighbor.  When I drove by his house, I noticed it was dark except for the front porch light, and I could see the reflection of vehicle taillights under a carport, meaning he was most likely home.  I went down the road a little way, turned around, and when I came back, I parked my car with the other cars.  At this point I really didn’t have a plan, but the convenience of parking my car incognito with the others relieved some tension.  Everything I might need was in one duffel bag, so I grabbed it and quickly began walking across a large empty lot toward his house.  The area was almost in complete darkness, so I wasn’t concerned about anyone noticing me.  The houses were spaced a great deal apart, allowing me to walk around his house at a cautious distance as I checked for dogs, people, cameras, and security lights.

After I had made a circle around the property I snuck up to the house, which was also dark, except for the faint light that was coming through a window on the east Side.  From the window, I could see the light was coming from a fireplace, and I could see there was someone reclining back in a recliner, and it appeared they were asleep.  I was surprised the window was open and only a window screen was preventing me from entering the house, but I was still cautious as I cut through the screen with my pocketknife because I wasn’t sure if there was anyone else in the house, including dogs.  Even though there wasn’t a window sensor the house still could be wired with a security system that utilized motion sensors, so I had to proceed with caution.  I quietly slipped through the window and knelt while I cautiously examined the room.  After a few minutes, I quietly snuck over to the person in the recliner and noticed it was Judge Terryhole.  On a table next to him, sat an empty bottle of bourbon and a pack of cigarettes.  The room smelled like a beer joint as he snored like a grizzly bear.  He seemed to be in a deep sleep, so I left him be as I roamed around his house to make sure there was no one else there.  When I went upstairs, I found a woman asleep in the master bedroom.  Her head was almost hidden by the blanket, but I recognized she was the judge’s wife by comparing her to a photo.  While she slept, I inserted a needle in the calf of her leg and injected her with sodium thiopental, which would keep her asleep through the night.  I went back into the living room where the judge was sleeping and snooped around some more.  The room was like a walk down memory lane for some old timer.  The walls were covered with antique weapons and paintings of military type stuff from different eras.  There were glass display cases full of police and military memorabilia and there were several bookcases filled with war novels and legal books.  The mantel above the fireplace was lined with trophies, whatnots, and keepsakes.  I was standing on the ledge of the fireplace and piddling with some of his awards on the mantel when the noise had awakened him.  When he got his thoughts together, he pulled a revolver out from a magazine rack that was beside his recliner.  Without hesitating he pointed the gun at me and yelled out in an aggressive tone.  “Gotcha, asshole!  Move and I will blow you’re fucking head off!”

I threw my arms up.  “Please don’t shoot.”

The judge scrambled out of his recliner and jumped to a tactical stance while keeping me in his sights.  “Buddy, you really fucked up now!  I’m going to take you down.”

I remained still.

He cocked the gun.  “Drop whatever you have and get down on the floor now.  And you better keep your hands in sight, or I will fill you full of holes.”

I released the items as he requested, and they broke when they hit the floor.  The judge quickly noticed the two items were trophies he had won from a shooting tournament.

He gritted his teeth.  “You cocksucker!  I said get on the floor.”

When I stepped down from the ledge another trophy fell out of my trench coat and broke when it hit the floor.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, boy!?!  I’ll teach you to break my shit!  Empty out your pockets.  And take it slow, ass fuck, or I’ll blow you away!”

I reached into my pocket and slowly pulled out my hand in the shape of the universal ‘fuck you’ sign.

He became irritated.  “Get down on the floor wise guy before I fill you full of lead!”

I could tell he was really enjoying his power trip from the tone of his voice, so I continued to mess with him.  “My back is a little stiff.  Can I just sit in your recliner?”

At that point he became really aggravated and had an aggressive look on his face.  “You lazy fuck!  I said get on the floor!”

I held my hands in the air as I started slowly moving toward his recliner, and with every step his anger increased.  And as I got closer to his chair, he became so aggravated that spit flew out of his mouth as he shouted, “I said get on the floor, asshole!  Do not take another step!  Last warning!”

Even though I knew he was at his limit I continued moving toward the recliner.

“Pow!!!  Pow!!!  Fire came out of the gun.

I fell sideways, landing in the dickhead’s chair.  My body was twitching as he dragged me onto the floor by my trench coat, and as I laid motionless, he examined his recliner as he quietly mumbled to himself.  “No blood.  Motherfucker better be glad he didn’t get any blood on my leather.”

He slid the recliner backwards a few feet, then began kicking the shit out of me.  The third time he kicked, I grabbed his foot and threw him off balance, causing him to fall to the floor.  I stood to my feet.  He had a stunned look on his face as he laid on the floor—he had shot me twice with a .357 magnum.  When he regained his composure, he popped the other four rounds toward me.  While he held the smoking gun, he looked puzzled as I continued to stand over him.

A few seconds later, he began scooting back away from me on the floor as he had a scared look on his face.  “Get the fuck away from me!”

The judge was squirming backwards as I quickly grabbed a trophy off the mantel, and before he could react, I cracked him over the head several times until he was unconscious.  While he laid on the floor bleeding, I laughed to myself thinking about his facial expression after he shot me.  Of course, I had found the revolver when I first examined the room, expecting an asshole like the judge to have a weapon close by.  I had removed the hollow points from their casings and filled the ends with candle wax.  Before I made another move, I quickly tied him up, then sat on the front porch in the dark to see if anyone heard the gunshots.  There were firecrackers being set off at the house next-door party, which was the only reason I had planned on making that much noise in the first place.  I’ve always wanted to do the blanks in the gun trick, but in most situations, that would have alerted someone.

Around thirty minutes later, I went back into the house and dragged him over to his favorite recliner and sat his unconscious body in it.  While he slept, I went to my bag and got some thread, needles, duct tape, and a handful of tools.

When he finally awoke, he found himself in excruciating pain.  When he focused in on his projector screen he tried to scream, but the stitches holding his lips together would only allow him to moan.  While he was unconscious, I had stripped him of his clothes and sewed his naked body to his chair.  His shoulders and love handles were sewn to the back of the chair, his arms to the armrest and his legs to the leg rest.  He didn’t have a large mirror handy, but I did find a camcorder, which I had sat on a coffee table that was in front of him.  I had connected the camcorder to his projector that was mounted on the ceiling so he could see himself on the screen, which was funny, because his screen, which was built into a wall, was so large he could see every stitch in his body.  His image was almost three times the actual size of him; it was like being at the theater, a theater of horror.  Over the next minute or so he just sat mortified as he stared in horror at his projector screen.  His eyes were bulging out as he examined himself closely.  A short bit later, tears began running down his cheeks and he began to whimper like a puppy.  When I lit a cigarette, the flame of my lighter caught his eye.  He turned his head and stared at me with disbelief etched into his features.

He tried to mumble something.

“Believe it or not, it’s going to get a whole lot worse than this before the night is over.”

He started frantically looking around the room in hopes that someone would save him from his nightmare.

“Where is your piece of shit son?”  The judge had no idea I had already found Richard two days earlier.  I just wanted to mess with him a little.

He mumbled through his stitches.  “Why are you doing this?”

“Don’t answer a question with a question.”  I kicked the leg release, causing the chair to recline back and the leg rest to open, stretching him horizontally.  This was causing a great deal of tension to his stitches.  He moaned out from the horrific amount of pain.  The muscles in his neck were sticking out as he fought the chair from reclining further, and as he squirmed from the excruciating pain it would recline more and more, which in return would cause more tension to his stitches.

“Hey, fuckhead.  Where’s Richard hiding?”

He tried to speak, but the stitches in his mouth prevented him from speaking clearly.

“If you don’t tell me now, I’m going to cut your package off.”

He mumbled something.

I pulled a knife out of my sheath.  His eyes became huge as he stared at the sharp blade with fear, and as he was desperately trying to speak, I was moving the knife toward his family jewels.  As soon as the point of the blade touched his sack, he shit all over himself.  While he continued to fart, I grabbed the back of the recliner and forced it to the fully reclined position.  His stitches were under so much tension that his skin was starting to tear.  He was in so much agony he tore his lips apart so he could scream, and before anyone had a chance to hear him, I grabbed his mouth.  “Now that you can speak, tell me where Richard is hiding.”

“Don’t know.  I don’t know.  I haven’t seen him in months.  Please!  Please stop!  I told you what you wanted to know.”

I hit him in the head with his revolver to silence him for a while, then went into the kitchen to get something to eat.  While I was heating up a Hot Pocket in a microwave, I got an idea that seemed interesting.  When I was done eating, I took the microwave apart to see how it worked, and after examining it, I removed the door and by-passed the door safety switch and start circuit so the microwave could be turned on and off with the cord.  I tested the appliance’s circuits, ensuring they would work as I needed them to, then grabbed a roll of duct tape and the modified microwave and went back into the living room.  When the judge awoke about an hour later, he found his mouth had been re-sewn closed.  Sweat and blood poured from his naked body and his skin was pale as a ghost as he laid bound in his recliner while staring at his screen.  He was in so much agony he just lay motionless.  I was sitting on the couch across from him.  “Now, are you ready to tell me where Richard is hiding?”

He mumbled through his stitches.  “I don’t know.”

Seth was so exhausted he fell asleep as he leaned against Richard’s corpse.  A few hours later, he was awakened by the sound of a soft voice.  While he sat quietly, he tried to focus in on the unusual sound.  It wasn’t the normal crying and moaning sounds that haunted the chamber.  He could hear a man whispering in a calm voice full of joy as if he was at total peace.  While Seth continued to lie still he could hear the man saying, “Father, I know that I am a sinner.  I know that Jesus died on the cross for my sins and I thank you so much for my salvation and forgiving me for the things that I’ve done.”

When Seth stood up, he startled the man who was praying—he apparently didn’t know Seth was in the room.  When Seth walked over to him, the man held his head down as he was being bound to the wall by chains.

“Unlike the unfortunate others in this room that will see hell when they die, your suffering will end here after death.”

The man lifted his head and stared at Seth with disbelief.  A tear fell from the man’s face as Seth raised his sickle and ended his suffering.  Seth lowered the blood-covered sickle to his side, then turned and looked upon some writing on a wall that read, For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not parish, but have everlasting life, and for whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.

Seth walked over to Dicky and grabbed the rusted bars.  “Death does not come easy in here.  Only a very few are granted the relief from their suffering when deserved.”

Dicky stared in uncertainty, for he didn’t understand what had just taken place.  Seth tossed his sickle on a table that was covered with an assortment of tools, then left the chamber.

Gateway to Hell

The next morning Seth walked up to Dicky.  “Rise and shine, sunshine.”

He rubbed his eyes as he sat up.

“Time is running out, so let’s finish the story about Mr. Potato Head.”  Seth sat in a chair that was next to the cell and propped his feet up on the bars. “The judge stuck with his story that he didn’t know where Richard was even though the pain of being sewn to his chair was excruciating.  To persuade him to tell the truth, I took the microwave and sat it over his head, then wrapped duct tape under his armpits and over the appliance so he wouldn’t be able to knock it off.  I plugged an extension cord in a wall outlet, then sat on a couch with the end of the cord and the microwave’s cord.  The judge was lying motionless when I plugged it in.  Within a few seconds, he began jerking his head around, and as the microwave hummed, I could hear a weird arcing and popping sound.  Around eight seconds later, smoke was starting to puff out from around his neck while he moaned and jerked around violently.  Before he passed out, I killed the power to the unit.  I laid back on the couch while he cried, and as I watched the smoke as it was puffing out from under the microwave, I thought how it wasn’t very appealing; it was actually boring.  Within no time, I thought of a more exciting idea, so I removed the microwave from his head and took it back into the kitchen where I completely disassembled it so I could examine the interior sections again.  The bottom of the microwave didn’t have any important electrical or mechanical components, so I used a serrated kitchen knife and cut a large u-shaped notch out of the bottom from the door opening side, then reinstalled the door and reassembled the microwave.

The judge was whining and moaning as I slipped the microwave back onto his head, and as I had planned, the u-shaped notch fit his neck perfectly.  His head was now centered in the middle of the microwave and the bottom of it sat on his shoulders.  There was no need for duct tape, because with the door shut, his head was locked inside.  The microwave kind of looked like a comical Abbot and Costello space helmet.  Before I sat back on the couch, I opened the door to the microwave.  “Where is Richard?”

“Don’t know.”

“Awesome.”  I closed the door.

He began begging for me not to hurt him anymore, but instead of granting him his request, I sat back on the couch and plugged in the cord.  When the interior light came on, I thought how this was going to be much more exciting now that I could see his head through the glass door.  His eyes opened wide as the microwaves started burning him, and after a few seconds the arcing and popping sounds started coming from inside the unit again, but I couldn’t tell from what.  With curiosity, I kneeled in front of him and searched for the sound, and as I watched with excitement, his eyes started swelling from his intraocular fluid heating up.  The pain was so intense from every molecule inside his head burning that he tore the stitches from his lips, and when he screamed a puff of smoke came barreling out of his mouth.  When the smoke finally cleared, I knew where the arcing and popping sounds were coming from.  He had a mouth full of fillings that were arcing, which was just like leaving a fork in the microwave.

In a short period of time, his body began to violently shake, and he was starting to tear the stitches out of his skin where he was sewn to the recliner, so I killed the power before his head exploded.  Even with the unit off he continued to jerk around and scream, then he vomited all over the inside of the glass door.  While I watched him gag, I thought to myself how the power had only been on for about twenty seconds, and it must be nice to be able to afford such a high quality appliance.  I went into the kitchen to get some popcorn—the smell of burning teeth made me hungry.  When I came back into the room, I opened the door to the microwave.  “Now are you ready to tell me where Richard is hiding?”

He began begging for me not to hurt him anymore and that he would tell me anything I wanted.  He told me how he pulled strings to cover up his son’s crime, but he didn’t know his whereabouts.  I could sense he was holding back information, but he began telling on himself after I told him I was really craving popcorn and the only microwave in the house was on top of his head.  Over the course of several hours, he confessed to a lifetime of corruption.  He recalled dates, events, and names of people for whom he covered up their crimes or found not guilty, or gave lesser punishment all for monetary or political gain.  He gave me the combination to his safe where he kept written documentation and recordings of conversations of these events just in case he needed to blackmail someone.

Over the next hour, I sat on the edge of the fireplace and quickly skimmed through the files.  The judge did have a lot of detailed information about worthless people that should have gone to prison but were unpunished—either they or their family paid him off or helped in advancing his career.

When I was finished looking at the files, I reopened one that was extremely disturbing.  “Tell me about Andrew.”

He stayed quiet as he laid in a pool of his own blood, piss, and shit, and as he drooled at the mouth, he talked to himself.

I got a little aggravated.  “Spill the beans, asshole!  It’s fucking inevitable!”

He tried to speak but he could barely talk.  He was now becoming a little incoherent.  The only thing I could figure was his brain was beginning to swell from the damage caused by the microwaves.  His ravaged lips were also extremely swollen and becoming more painful.  His eyes were open, but extremely bloodshot and glazed; I think he was blind.  His body was covered in fresh and dried blood from where his skin had been torn from the stitches.  His head was swaying forward and backwards, causing the door of the microwave to swing open and closed.  I gave him an adrenaline injection, and within a few minutes he became coherent again.  I showed him the file.  “Tell me about Andrew.”

Blood and mucus were running out of his mouth.  “What do you want to know?  Everything is in there.”

I tossed the files to the side.  “It’s bad enough to overlook murders, rapists and thugs, but how could you let a child molester off on a phony technicality?”

He didn’t say a word as he held his head down while sporting a facial expression like a retarded kid.

I grabbed the file.  “Oh, let’s see, here it is.  I understand now.  A hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars did the trick.  Lucky for you, and Andrew, his father had a bank full of money.  Oh, lookey here.  Ain’t this nice.  The child’s father went to prison for two years for attacking Andrew with a club after he found out he got off on a technicality.  Wealthy criminals must love the American judicial system.  Hell, all criminals must love our judicial system.”

He just sat dumbfounded as he glared at me.

I tossed the file down.  “Now I’m hungry for some popcorn.”

The judge cursed me as I approached him with the box of Orville Redenbacher’s.

I tossed a bag of popcorn beside his head.  “This is going to be your gateway to hell.”

He started to speak, but I interrupted him by slamming the door in his face.  Then he began throwing his head around to dislodge the appliance from his head.  He was full of adrenaline and was not going to give up without a fight, until I plugged it in.  I sat right in front of him and stared through the glass so I could see if his eyes were going to explode.  Around fifty seconds into it, the excruciating pain from his head cooking, eyes burning, blood boiling and fillings arcing was so extreme that he tore the flesh from his arms where they had been sewn to the recliner.  He began hitting the microwave with his hands in a dire panic to hit the stop button—he didn’t know that I had bypassed the circuit.  A few seconds later, the foam around his mouth began boiling, and as he screamed, the moisture in his mouth was turning into steam.  His facial expression wasn’t anything I had ever seen before, and I had thought I had seen some really fucked up facial expressions.  His skin was cooking and began to turn dark in patches across his face.  His brain must have been cooking as well, because he was yelling gibberish and his hands were making weird gestures.  I remembered seeing a meat thermometer in the kitchen, so I quickly ran and grabbed it off the counter, and when I came back, I jammed it into his chest to see what the temperature of his blood would be.  About the same time the gauge hit a hundred and twelve, the judge lunged forward and pushed off the recliner with his arms with such momentum that he tore himself loose from the chair.  Huge chunks of flesh and stitching lined the chair as he fell forward to the floor like a partially skinned rat.  The microwave continued to heat up his head as he frantically flopped around on the floor while he beat, slapped, scratched, and tugged at it.  A few seconds later, he stopped moving and just laid on his back and screamed.  I could see his eyes were grotesquely swollen from the fluid inside of them boiling.  Suddenly, he arched his back and screamed at the top of his lungs the same time his left eye exploded, blowing boiling intraocular fluid all over the door.  I looked over at the thermometer and it was now reading a hundred and twenty and climbing.  To ensure he was dead, I let the fucker cook a few more minutes until brain matter began oozing out of his eye sockets and ears, then unplugged the unit.  While he cooled down, I read through some more of his files.  During my research, I discovered some interesting facts about his wife; she was as sorry as he was.  He had kept records on her as well, most likely in case they ever got a divorce.

After I ate some popcorn, I went and rounded up the microwave and its removed parts, the tools that were used to modify it, the broken trophies, the gun, and the wax candle that I used to fill the bullet casings.  I took them to the upstairs bedroom where the judge’s wife was still in a deep sleep from the sodium thiopental.  First, I rubbed her fingers all over the candle, ensuring I got wax under her fingernails.  Next, I took her fingers and planted her prints on all the items, which included waxy residue.  I removed the empty casings from the revolver and added her prints to them.  I put the casings back in the cylinder and stuck the gun back in the magazine rack.  I threw the microwave and all its parts into a trashcan that was outside.  I put the tools back where I found them and tossed the trophies in the fireplace.  I took a pair of the woman’s pants, a shirt, pair of socks and shoes from her closet and rubbed some of the judge’s blood on each piece.  I washed and dried them and put them back into the closet.  I flushed the needle and thread I had used to sew the judge to his recliner down the toilet.  I put a fresh set of the woman’s fingerprints on the glass and frame of every picture of the judge, then smashed them throughout the house.

When the judge cooled down, I cut his head off with an axe I had found in the back yard by a pile of firewood, and after I washed the blood off the axe, I added the woman’s fingerprints to it, then put it back where I had found it.  I also took all the money from the safe and stuck it in the trunk of the woman’s Porsche.  It was a few hours until sunrise, so I loaded the judge’s head, the camcorder tape and all my stuff into the trunk of my car.  There were still ten or twelve vehicles remaining from the party next door, so I was good there.  Before I left, I did a final walkthrough of the house to ensure I wasn’t leaving any evidence that I was there, which was a good thing because I had almost forgot about the cut window screen.

I was sitting on the beach fifty miles away when the sun finally arose.  While I relaxed, I thought about how any decent crime scene investigation crew would find most of the evidence I had planted and think that the judge’s wife tried to cover it all up.  I’m sure I will read about it in the paper one day.  Regardless of the outcome, I’m sure the judge’s missing head will always be a mystery unless they find the tiny tattoo of my mark on the woman’s back.”

Lighter Side of Things

Seth stood up and stretched.  “The judge’s files kept me busy for years punishing worthless fuckheads.”

Dicky popped off with a sarcastic tone.  “How are you any better than them?”

Seth walked over and grabbed the rusted bars.  “Being any better would depend on the opinion of the parent whose child was molested or abducted, the woman who was raped or beaten, or the mother or father of a murdered child.  The victims and victims’ families are always left without justice because of our weak and pathetic judicial system.”

Dicky put his hands over his face as he began weeping.

“Come on, pal.  Don’t be such a wimp.  You have to see the funny side of my stories also.  Here, I have one for ya that will make you laugh—it’s on the lighter side of things.”

Seth sat down to get comfortable.  “Years ago, I frequently went to storage building auctions.  I enjoyed the gamble of finding unique things—you never know what somebody has buried deep inside a packed storage unit.  I had been doing it for several years when some jack wagon started trying to push everyone else out of the game by running up the bids on purpose.  This fucker was relentless.  He was showing up to every auction and biding on every unit, even the ones he didn’t want just to raise the price.  There was a show on TV that had come out years later about storage building auctions with the same kind of asshole; the ‘Yuuup’ guy.  That fucker reminded me of the asshole I had to deal with, but unlike on TV where everyone just dealt with his shit, we got even.  I laugh every time I watch that show because it reminds me of back in the day when I was doing it.  This prick had moved here from New York where he apparently made a living at buying and selling stuff.  He would run his mouth and brag how he’d been doing it for years and that we were nothing but a bunch of dumbass rednecks.

After several months of having to deal with this guy’s bullshit I came up with an idea to teach him a lesson.  Most of the regulars had stopped coming and the newcomers couldn’t compete, so there wasn’t any competition left for him.  To get even, I disguised myself and rented a small climate-controlled unit in one of the storage facilities that regularly held auctions.  I filled the unit with about forty small to medium boxes.  Each box was filled with trash, and I taped the shit out of them so no one could open them easily.  On each box, I used a large marker to write different firearm types, manufactures, calibers and quantity.  I positioned them so they could be read from the door.  I also took one of the boxes and purposely left the top open so the contents could be seen.  It was filled with layers of newspaper, and on the very top I laid a partially covered non-functional display type revolver that looked like the real thing.  I labeled the box as antique revolvers.  Without examining it up close it appeared to be legitimate, and the box appeared to be full.  I stopped making the rental payments.  Four months later, I received a notice in one of my post office boxes that the contents of the unit were going to be auctioned off so the owner could recuperate his expenses.  When auction day approached, I was excited to see the jack wagon had showed up.  I had purposely not shown up to the last several auctions, and for this one I was wearing a disguise and a fat suit that made me look like a white professor Klump from the movie The Nutty Professor.  I did have a backup plan in case he didn’t show up.  I was going to simply call in a bomb threat, causing it to be rescheduled.  This would give me another chance for him to show up and I could repeat it if necessary.

About an hour into the auction, they finally cut the lock and opened the door to my unit.  There were around twenty people, and everyone immediately began whispering and eye fucking the contents.  The rules stated no one could enter the unit and they only had a minute or so each to look, and the winning bidder had to pay with cash before they were granted access.  One of the strategies that the jack wagon used was to plant a couple of his employees into the crowd so they could eavesdrop on the bidders.  I knew who they were, so when one of them walked up next to me I flipped open my phone and pretended like I was talking to a business partner.  I was making comments how the contents of the unit were worth a fortune, and I was going all out on this one.  I had calculated the firearms being worth around sixty thousand and I would be comfortable going up to twenty-five thousand.  I made a comment about how old Red had died while in the process of relocating his gun store.  I was holding a newspaper in a way that the guy could see an article regarding the death of Virgil ‘Red’ Thompson of Red’s Gun Shop.

A few minutes later, I nonchalantly made my way over to the jack wagon while he and his minions were talking.  I noticed he was looking at his phone, reading an article about Red’s death.  It was a bullshit article that I had created before the auction.  The newspaper I had been brandishing was also bullshit.  He fell for it.  He was excited as he quickly inventoried the boxes while typing on his calculator.

When the time came to bid, the jack wagon had a serious look on his face.  He didn’t run his mouth like he usually did in the past—he apparently didn’t want to start a pissing contest on this one, but that was exactly what I had planned.

The auctioneer whistled to get everyone’s attention.  “Two thousand dollars”.

I nodded.  “Four thousand.”

The jack wagon did his normal “Yuup!” sound when the auctioneer blurted out five thousand.

I quickly nodded.  “Six.”

A lady raised her finger.  “Seven.”

Over the next several minutes there were about five people bidding, and as soon as the auctioneer went to the next higher amount the jack wagon would quickly blurt out his famous “Yuuup!” to show his dominance.  When the bid finally reached twelve thousand me and the jack wagon were the only two left bidding, and as soon as I nodded my head for the next bid amount he wouldn’t hesitate to “Yuuup!” at the next increase.  At nineteen thousand I started slowing down and hesitating with my bids, but he didn’t with his aggravating, “Yuuup!”.  At twenty-six he hesitated, then nodded his head to say yes, so I raised my hands in defeat.

He gripped his fist and shook them as he raised his arms above his head.  “This is my game, boy!  No one can run with the big dog!”

He was smiling like a possum eating shit as they closed and locked the door.  He didn’t bid on the remaining units—he quickly left instead.  Around the time the auction was coming to an end he came back with the money so he could pay the storage facility and gain access to his treasure.  There were still around ten to twelve people left and we all wanted to see the contents of his unit.  We were standing around while he removed the lock.

He tossed the lock on the ground, then turned and faced us.  “Y’all need to leave.”

Someone in the back of the group yelled out.  “You don’t own the hallway, asshole.”

He slung the door open.  “That’s fine.  Stand around and gawk at your losses.”

He sported an arrogant look on his face as he picked up the revolver from the top of the open box, then it changed to a what-the-fuck expression as he realized it was a twenty-dollar fake.  A sick feeling overcame him when he found the remaining contents of the box to be newspaper.  Without hesitating, he ripped open a box that was labeled Smith and Wesson, 40 cal., Semi-autos, 15 pieces.  Horror overcame him when he found it was full of random trash from a dumpster.  He threw it on the floor, then grabbed another box that was labeled Glock 9mm, 20 pieces.  When he opened it and found it full of trash, he began to panic.  The next box was full of trash as well.  By now everyone was laughing.  He became upset and began throwing the empty boxes out of the unit as he dug through them one at a time like a crazed savage.  When he came to the last box and found it was full of water pistols, he charged out of the unit and began yelling how he wanted his money back because someone had set him up.  We watched as he hurried to the office.  A few minutes later, he burned rubber out of the parking lot.  Apparently, he didn’t get his refund.

Several weeks later, I was surprised to see him at the next auction.  He was furious and running his mouth how he was going to get even with the one who set him up.  He was eye fucking every one of us as we stood around waiting for the first door to open and the bidding to begin.  He set out to make a point as he ran the bids up while talking trash.  He won the first three units.  In the fourth unit, there were a lot of shop tools sitting in the very back.  I could see a drill press on a stand, table saw, two router tables, band saw, radial arm saw, several large roll-around toolboxes and a mig welder.  There were numerous boxes with labeling that read Hand tools and power tools.  I really wanted this unit, and when the bidding was over the jack wagon had outbid all of us as usual.  He had gone up to four thousand dollars, which I thought was a little steep and knew he had done it to keep any of us from getting it.  He quickly whipped out the money and paid the auctioneer.  He wanted to flaunt his winnings while we were all standing there.  He looked at us and did a little dance as he smiled like a possum eating shit.  “Read ‘em and weep, fuckers!”  He was still running his mouth as he walked into the unit, but then I heard him yell out, “fuck!” the same time the drill press came flying out of the unit and across the concrete drive.  Carl, one of the regulars, sat up the drill press.  He came back over to us and said it was made of papier-mâché.  The jack wagon was screaming, yelling, and throwing things around from inside the unit as I examined the drill press.  I was amazed as I stood there and noticed how someone had done such an outstanding job.  I had been fooled as well.  All the shop tools turned out to be fake and the boxes were filled with halite blocks.  The jack wagon was so upset, he jumped into his car and took off.”

Seth laughed.  “I didn’t screw over the jack wagon with the papier-mâché tools.  Someone else must have been irritated at him.  They couldn’t have got the idea from the fake guns because there hadn’t been enough of a time-lapse.  Mine took three or four months from when I stopped making the rent payments to the time of the auction.  Or maybe the owner of the storage facility did it.  I might not ever know who it was or the reason, but it was definitely funny as shit.  I still can’t believe how realistically those items looked from the door.  They had been crafted and painted to perfection.  And by the way, that was the last time I saw that asshole.”

Dicky exhibited a don’t-give-a-shit expression.

Seth stood up.  “Apparently, you don’t have a sense of humor.”

“It’s not funny.  Everything you do is fucked up.”

Seth walked off and came back with a strange looking cluster fuck.  He threw it on Dicky.  He grabbed it, and when he noticed it was a whole bunch of human hands dangling from a rope, he tossed it across the floor.  Dicky screamed out as he wiped his body frantically.

“I was going to tell you about that one, but you apparently want to hear the more gruesome shit.  I think I will tell you about Andrew instead.  He…”

Dicky interrupted.  “I can’t take this shit anymore!  I beg you to stop!  Please just stop!”

Seth walked up to the bars, then stood motionless as he glared at him with a death stare.

“Please stop, man!  I beg you!”

Seth walked out of the chamber.  The lights went out.

The Predator

The lights came back on three weeks later.  When Seth strolled into the chamber, Dicky was hysterical.  He was extremely filthy.  His supply of dog food was almost depleted, and he had been drinking water from where it pooled in the corner of his cell—he had emptied his water bowl a week earlier.  Seth stood at the bars and stared at him.  Dicky tried to open his eyes, but they were sensitive to the light—he had been in the dark so long.  He squinted as he tried to focus on Seth.  “Why the fuck did you leave me in here so long?”

Seth turned and walked out of the chamber.  The lights went out again.

Six weeks later, the lights came back on.  Dicky was covered from head to toe with feces and filth.  There were rat parts all over his cell where he had eaten them—he had run out of dog food.  His tongue was raw and swollen from where he had been licking the wall where water seeped through the stones—the pool of water had been depleted.  Seth walked up and stood by the bars.

Dicky crawled over to him while holding his eyes closed.  “I’m sorry.  I will listen to your stories.”

Seth picked up from where he left off nine weeks ago.  “…was a real piece of shit.”

A confused expression came over Dicky.  “Who’s a piece of shit?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t been listening to my stories.”

“Please don’t be mad!  That was like eleven or twelve months ago when you were talking about it.”

“It was only nine weeks ago, and I was talking about Andew.”

Being in the dark for such a long duration, Dicky lost tract of time.  To him, nine weeks felt like a year.  “Oh.  And please don’t ever do that to me again.”

“Then I suggest you pay attention to my stories.”

“I will.  I swear.”

Seth strolled over to a man suspended in the center of a rusted cage that was sitting on the floor.  The cage, which was shaped like an old-fashioned birdcage, was several times larger than the man.  His body was being suspended in the center of it by hundreds of individual pieces of stainless-steel wires that were secured throughout the bars of the cage.  Each strand of wire was tied to a fishhook that was buried deep into his flesh.  He had hooks covering his entire body from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet.  Medium sized fishhooks were driven through the nail bed of each finger, forcing his fingers and arms to be pulled outwards from his body.  While his arms were forced out horizontally, tiny hooks lined the top and bottom of them, stretching the top of his skin toward the roof of the cage as the ones on bottom pulled his skin downwards toward the floor.  The skin on the sides of his arms were being pulled away as well, and his legs were being done in the same gruesome way as his arms.  Small hooks completely covered the top of his head and pulled his skin upwards.  Hundreds of tiny hooks were inserted in his face, stretching his flesh in all directions.  His face was so horribly deformed from his skin being tugged that his eyeballs were buried deep inside his head.  The flesh throughout his entire body was being so grossly pulled in every direction that he didn’t appear human, but more like a large piece of bloody Play-Doh.  Most of his skin was discoloured from massive bruising and dead flesh.  His bottom lip had been ripped off, exposing his rotting lower teeth and gum.  His nut sack and dick had been cut off; they were hanging from his neck by a leather necklace.  The man’s tongue was being pulled from his mouth by wires, and it had been stretched to about twelve inches.

Seth leaned against the bars of the large cage.  “This worthless sack of shit is Andrew, who I call the Predator because he stalked young kids for his sexual entertainment.  I learned about him, as I mentioned earlier, from the sorry judge when he was undergoing his microwave therapy.  Andrew had kidnapped an eleven-year-old girl from a park and molested her for several days until she escaped.  At first, she was scared to say anything because he had told her he would kill her family and pet dog if she did.  The thirty-four-year-old predator was finally arrested when she described him and his car, and afterwards she picked him out in a line-up.

The judge had all the documentation, including pictures and tape recordings of his private meetings with Andrew and his father.  The judge kept incriminating evidence against his clients, as I had stated earlier, so they couldn’t come back and try to blackmail him, or so he could blackmail them if needed.  Andrew’s father was a local thug who ran several illegal businesses like gambling, prostitution, and loan sharking.  The judge’s tape recordings had Andrew confessing to the abduction and molesting of the young girl, and it also had his father and the judge discussing large amounts of money in exchange for the judge to tamper with the evidence.  The documentation, as well as old newspaper articles, showed Andrew’s case had been thrown out when his DNA and hair samples couldn’t be used in the trial because they had become contaminated.  The articles also stated Andrew had a past record of indecency with a child years prior.

What really pissed me off was the judge placed a higher value on monetary gain than the victim’s justice.  Andrew was allowed to continue on with his life like nothing had happened and most likely sticking his dick in other children.  During my research, I had also found out the parents of the eleven-year-old girl had filed a civil suit against Andrew after she killed herself at the age of sixteen.  The old court records stated she had been in and out of the hospital for mental issues related to her molestation.  The court had sided with her family, but for some reason shortly after they withdrew their case.  The judge had enough evidence against Andrew, so I didn’t have to do further research besides locating the worthless sack of shit.  He and his father had moved out of state years ago.  I simply did a pervert search and found he was registered on the State of Arizona’s sex offender website—the fucker fondled another kid.

A few days later, I took a road trip to see where he was living and to get an idea of how I would be able to abduct him.  After seventeen hours of driving, I finally arrived in Phoenix.  It took another hour until I found the address that was listed on the website.  It turned out to be a vacant apartment located in the crappy part of town.  I wasn’t surprised that Andrew’s father had his son’s place of residence at a location that nobody would care about.  I drove to his father’s address to see if I could locate him there.  The property was guarded by rock walls and steel gates.  After I went down a few miles I turned around so I could make another pass before I headed to a hotel.  When I approached the house, the driveway gates were opening and a black van was starting to exit the property, and as I passed by, I noticed Andrew the pervert was driving.  Through my rear-view mirror, I saw he had pulled out behind me, and as he followed, I thought to myself how this could turn out to be easier than what it first appeared to be.  A few miles down the road he pulled up beside me at a red light, and as I glanced over at him, I noticed what a stupid ass he was.  His black van looked like a gay A-Team van, and the sides near the back had heart-shaped windows, and next to each of them was a white hand painted Playboy bunny.  The van was accessorized, or I should say gayorized, with curb feelers, a Playboy bug deflector and heart shaped tail pipes.  The interior had a large set of dice that hung from the rear-view mirror and tacky dingle berry balls that lined the headliner.  When the light changed, I hesitated to see if he was going to turn, but he went straight, so I followed behind him.  Fifteen minutes later he pulled into a busy Cyber Café.  I parked on the opposite side of the parking lot where it was dimly lit.  I watched as he carried a laptop into the building.  He was wearing baggy pants and a bright green shirt, which made him look like a teenager dressed in hip-hop clothes.  Abducting him from the café would be risky because of the large amount of people that were coming and going.  Instead of cracking him in the head with a club, I casually went in and sat at a table behind him so I could scope out what he was doing.  While I attempted to blend in with everyone else, I discreetly observed him as he typed on his laptop.  I could see he was on some type of teen chat room going by the username 14 & rich.  As I eavesdropped on his conversations, I noticed he was deceiving kids by pretending to be a teenager, and he had all the kids’ lingo down to an art.  He was also striking up conversations with the younger crowd and hitting on the girls that actually talked to him.  An hour or so later he left.  As I followed him back to his father’s house, I thought of different ways I could get him.  I didn’t want to stay in Arizona, and I didn’t want to drive back and forth.  While the gate closed behind his gay-mobile I thought of a slick idea that would save me time in the field.  I headed back home to set my plan in action.

Over the course of several weeks, I chatted with 14 & rich on the Internet and deceived him as he was deceiving young kids.  I pretended to be a fourteen-year-old girl who showed interest in him, and to ensure the conversations couldn’t be traced back to me I used a laptop registered with false information and an untraceable wireless connection.  After several conversations, he wanted to hook up and party with me at an abandoned warehouse on the outside of town, a place where the younger crowd hung out, according to him.  I responded with excitement as I replied that I would.  He was concerned how I was going to get there because I wasn’t able to drive.  I knew he was fishing to see if I was going to bring someone else, so I told him my older sister was out of town and I would sneak out and use her car.  We set the date for the upcoming Saturday around 10 PM.  He also gave me the directions and all the details I needed to know.

Shortly after noon on Friday, I disguised myself as a black pimp.”  Seth glared at Dicky.  “African American pimp.”

He looked down at the floor.

“Like I said, I had disguised myself as an African American pimp with a really large Afro.  I left Texas around 2 PM on Friday and arrived in Arizona around 7 PM on Saturday.  I arrived at the warehouse three hours early so I would be prepared when he showed up.  The building was way on the outskirts of town, and it had a chain link fence that surrounded the property, which made me feel better about going forward with my plan.  At the rear of the building there was a set of gates where old railroad tracks entered the property.  They were open just as he had stated.  I drove through the gates and parked my car between a set of silos as he instructed me to do.  This wasn’t my territory, and I was uncomfortable with the whole situation.  Anything could go wrong, and I didn’t have any backup plans as I usually do.  I had three hours to check out the building and surrounding grounds before Uncle Touchy arrived.  The only unlocked entrance into the building was through a broken dock door; again, Andrew’s information was correct.  Within a few minutes or so of walking around the inside I realized the building was still in use.  And I could tell it didn’t have any signs of partying teenagers.  I had a strange feeling—something in my gut was telling me his father probably owned the building, and that would explain why he knew so much about it and felt comfortable meeting an underage girl there.  In case something went wrong, I went outside and cut a large opening in the chain link fence several hundred feet from where my car was parked so I could have an alternative escape route.  There were two exterior lights near my car, and one around my alternative escape route, so I shot out the bulbs with a CO2 pistol.  Most of the security lights on the interior were burned out or had been broken.  For the ones that were burning, I took the pistol and shattered their bulbs, except for the one below a mezzanine by the broken dock door.

At 10 PM, Andrew arrived as planned, but he wasn’t alone.  A short, chubby, Hispanic guy with a thin goatee and a large Afro came in with him.  When the two walked into the middle of the room, Andrew started wolf whistling and his buddy began to act like a fool as he was dancing and making a body movement as if he was having sex with a farm animal.  While I hid on the mezzanine in the dark, I watched the two punks walk around and search for their jail bait.  After a few minutes, they headed into another section of the building.  I had brought a voice changer so I could convert the sound of my voice to sound like a young girl’s.  Before they went too far, I spoke into it.  “Over here.”

Andrew and his buddy turned around and walked toward me.  They stopped at the edge of the dark and began looking around.

Andrew put his hands on his hips.  “Hey, where are ya?”

“Hiding from you.”

He adjusted his crotch.  “Don’t be scared, we don’t bite.”

His buddy laughed.  “Unless you want us to.”

“You’re not fourteen, and why did you bring a friend?”

Andrew snickered.  “I thought you wanted to party.”

“With somebody my age.  You tricked me.  I want you to leave.”

Andrew started to get a little irritated.  “Just come out!”

“No.”

“Then we’re just gonna have to find ya.”

His buddy grabbed his crotch with both hands and shook his package.  “Come on baby, you know you wanna party with us.”

I remained silent to see how they would react, and after about ten seconds Andrew yelled, “Fuck it,” as he walked into the dark portion of the room.

His buddy followed him.  “Oh baby, now you’re really gonna get it.”

They were walking around in the dark portion of the building when I said, “Please just leave me alone.  You’re scaring me.”

Andrew and his buddy turned and began walking in my direction, but I was on a mezzanine above them, and when they came to the end of the room and didn’t find me, Andrew became hostile.  “Get your ass out here, bitch!  You’re starting to piss me off!”

“Why are you doing this?  If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police.”

Andrew quickly yelled out.  “You ain’t going to call anyone, you bitch.  And besides, there’s no cell phone signal way out here.”

His buddy spoke out.  “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, but it’s going to happen either way, so if you don’t want to get hurt, I suggest you come out.”

I purposely knocked over a couple of boxes, which made some noise.

Andrew yelled out to his buddy.  “The bitch is upstairs!  Let’s find a way up there.  You go that way, and I will go this way.”

They took off in separate directions to find a way up.  Within a matter of seconds Andrew’s buddy found a ladder and began climbing up toward me, and as soon as he reached the top, I jumped out of the dark and shouted, “Boo!”

Soul Train flinched, and when he started to yell, I kicked him in the throat so hard that he released the ladder and fell to the floor.  A few minutes later, Andrew came back into the room and found his buddy lying on the floor unconscious, and as he knelt, I snuck up behind him and knocked him in the head with a club.  While the two perverts were lying in a pool of their own blood, I sedated Andrew with a strong sedative, then gagged and tied them up.  Before I did anything uncalled for, I checked the chubby guy’s wallet to see who he was, and when I looked at his driver’s license, I found out his name was Arnufo and he was thirty-three years old.  I needed to find out more about him to determine if I was just going to leave him lying on the floor or take him back to the chamber with his butt buddy, so I went out to my car and pulled up his criminal record on the Internet using my laptop.  Unfortunately for him he had a past criminal history.  It included two sexual assaults, an attempted rape, carjacking, burglary, and a multitude of smaller things.  He was also registered with the state as a sex offender, and what really irritated me was his permanent address was the same as Andrew’s.”

Seth grabbed the bars of the large cage and violently shook it, which caused the suspended man to scream as the fishhooks tugged on his flesh.  Seth walked over to Dicky.  “It’s really pathetic that these two ass clowns were bucking the system and living their lives as they wished, and being registered as sex offenders really hadn’t affected their lives.  It’s no doubt that having a molester sign in your yard is embarrassing as shit, but what good is a sign when it’s in a yard across town while the predator is walking around the mall with a hard-on?  I think the solution is all child molesters should be killed immediately following a conviction, then have their organs donated, but of course the human right activists would have a coronary.  My second choice would keep them in prison for life so they could be raped over and over until their ass fell out, but in reality, when they are given a life sentence, they get out in eight years.  My third choice would be to cut off their dick and balls and tattoo their face in several places with large bold letters or a symbol that states they are a molester, but that would be considered cruel and unusual punishment to a portion of our society.  The ones who scream out the most about human rights have lived a very sheltered life and they have never had a horrible act bestowed upon them or a loved one by a ruthless person who had no concerns or mercy for their victim.”

Dicky held his head down.

Seth walked back over to the large cage.  “Before I made another move, I loaded Andrew into the trunk of my car.  When I had originally checked out the facility, I had noticed there was only one unlocked way into the property, which was through the railroad entrance, so I locked the gate closed with my own chain and lock.  I also set up some motion sensors like I had done at the Terryhole cabin—the last thing I needed was to get busted by the police, or someone else, while I tortured the shit out of Arnufo.  I could have easily taken him back to the chamber with his buddy, but that wouldn’t be as fun as what I had planned for him, and by leaving him where the police could find him would somewhat make an example out of him to rest of the molesters.

Now that I felt somewhat comfortable knowing there was no easy way for someone to walk up on me, I went to my car and grabbed some items, then went back into the building to get the party started.  Arnufo was still unconscious, so I removed his restraints and gag, then strapped a metal band around each of his ankles.  Each band had an insulated number ten-gauge wire soldered to it.  The ten-gauge wires were part of a heavy-duty two-conductor cable that extended about twenty-five feet from the bands to where it was connected to a hand-held switch.  The switch was connected to a large battery in conjunction with a high output coil.  There was a rheostat in line with the electrical wires to adjust the voltage so I could increase or decrease the current flow as needed.  I had originally built the device, which I call the Motivator, years ago as a way to retrieve information from scumbags, and I still have it; it has proven to be very effective.”

Mutherfuckin’ Seventies Pimp

Seth walked over to Dicky and grabbed the bars.  “There was one time I had used the Motivator against two shit heads that worked at Herb’s Chicken Shack.  It’s comical, so remind me later and I will tell you about it when I’m done with this story.  And you better not forget.”

He nodded in a cowardly way as to say okay.

Seth walked back over to the cage and looked at Andrew.  “Hey, fool.”

Andrew moaned.

“Pay attention.  You finally get to hear what happened to your butt buddy, Arnufo.”

He moaned again.

Seth leaned back against the large bird cage and pointed backwards with his thumb toward Andrew.  “I waited patiently for this fucker’s friend, Arnufo, to wake up, and after about forty minutes or so he came around and sat up.  At first, he stared in a daze at the bands and electrical wires that were attached to his ankles.  When he finally stood up, I stepped out of the dark and startled him.  Arnufo staggered a little as he looked at me with a confused expression.  I had disguised myself to look like a pimp that had time warped from the seventies.  I had painted my skin black, and I was wearing a huge afro with a large comb sticking out of the top of my head.  I was wearing lime green bellbottom pants and a cream-colored long sleeved pimp shirt that was tucked in.  Gold and silver chains and medallions hung around my neck and fancy bracelets and a large watch dangled from my wrists.  I had rings on every finger and fake gold teeth that sparkled as I smiled.

While I stood in front of him wearing my Mr. T starter set I slightly lowered my large gold-framed sunglasses, and as I looked over the top of them, I asked, “Whassup, muthafucka?  Ya ready to par-tay?”

Arnufo threw his hands out to imply, ‘what the fuck’.  “Who the fuck are you?”

I raised my glasses back up.  “I’s goin’ to be yo D.J. tonight, bitch.”

Arnufo pulled out a switchblade and pointed it at me.  “I’m gonna stick you, motherfucker!”

He didn’t hesitate to start moving toward me as he cursed me.  I pushed the button on the controller, which immediately caused his eyes to get big, then he began twitching and moving like a zombie.  After a few seconds, I let off the button and began pushing it in one-second intervals.  He was jumping around in a dancing motion as I lit his ass up.  Every time I pushed the button, he yelled out an ‘ahhhh’ sound.  Each time the electrical current went through his body, he would freeze in whatever position he was in, then he would start shaking.  If I timed it just right, he would do the robot dance.  I started laughing when he fell on the floor and began spinning around like Curly from The Three Stooges.  Finally, I walked over to him and kicked him in the crotch.  He cupped his nuts and groaned as I stood over him.  “Get yo lazy ass up off dat fuckin’ flo.  Yous has some muthafuckin’ electrical work dat needs to be done up in this here bitch.”

Over the course of an hour or so I made him stand on wooden crates and do a few things.  For the first task, I made him replace a florescent light fixture that was in a storage room with a pull-chain type incandescent fixture I had found in a janitor’s closet, then had him screw a receptacle outlet adapter in the fixture socket.  For the second task, I made him take two twelve-foot pieces of insulated ten-gauge solid copper wire and connect them to the receptacle outlet adapter.  To prevent the wires from being pulled from the adapter I had him secure them to a sprinkler pipe on the ceiling.  I also had him tie a long string to the short pull chain of the fixture.  He did exactly what I said, or I would shock the shit out of him.  When that portion of the work was completed, I had him take one of the wires and secure it to a water pipe that was running vertically on a nearby wall.  The wire was secured about three feet from the floor.  I had him pull it tight and cut it off where the end would be directly under the light fixture he had installed.  The other wire’s length didn’t matter, so I left it long.  For the next step, I had him strip the last twelve inches of insulation from the ends of the two wires, then made him secure the bare portion of the longer one around his left ankle.  On the shorter wire, the one secured to the pipe on the wall, I took a large knife and struck the twelve-inch bare portion of the bare copper at angles with the blade, which created sharp barbs that faced away from the end of the wire.  Arnufo hadn’t said a word and followed all my directions until I told him to shove the barbed copper portion of the wire into his dick hole.

He tossed the wire on the ground.  “You’re fucking nuts, dude!  I ain’t sticking shit in my dick!  You can stick it in your ass as far as I care!”

He was still rambling on when I pushed the button on the controller.  I lit him up for about twenty seconds, and after he stopped shaking, he shouted, “You might as well kill me you fucking asshole, because I ain’t doing it!”

He needed a little more motivation, so I cranked up the voltage using the rheostat, then began shocking the shit out of him.  The dimly lit room was flickering with the light that was being created from the electricity arcing between the bands and his ankles.  Within ten seconds his flesh started smoking and the smell of burnt flesh began to engulf the air.  When I let off the button, he quickly unbuttoned his pants, then just stood there in a daze.  After I lit him up again, he pulled down his pants.  I continued to shock him, but the pain wasn’t convincing enough for him to insert the wire into his dick, so I turned the rheostat to the minimum voltage and locked the push button in the closed position.  He fell to the floor, and as he lay twitching, I went over to my duffel bag and grabbed a propane torch.  The current flow wasn’t going to kill him, but it was enough to immobilize him.  He could only watch in horror as I lit the torch.  He wanted to scream when I began burning the hair from his head and face, but the current had frozen his vocal cords.  Surprisingly, the flames got out of control—he had some type of greasy shit in his hair that really fueled the fire.  I let him burn for a couple of minutes, then released the button.  Immediately he jumped to his knees and started smothering the fire with his hands, and as he desperately patted his charred flesh on his scalp his screams echoed throughout the building.

Finally, he relaxed his arms while smoke was rising from his head.  “Why are you doing this?  I haven’t done anything to you.”

“Nope, but yo ass has done plenty of shit to other muthafuckas.  Now start sticking da wire up yo blow hole before I burn yo mutherfuckin’ eyes out.”

Over the next minute or so as I stood over him, holding the controller in one hand and the blowtorch in the other, I painfully watched as he slowly inserted the wire and sobbed like a baby.  When he was finished, I made him stand up and tie the string that was hanging from the light fixture above around his neck.  I tossed him a pair of handcuffs and had him secure his hands behind his back.  I held my sickle against the bare skin of his balls while I removed the bands of the Motivator from his ankles to ensure he wouldn’t try anything.  The task was now complete.  He had the hot wire from the light fixture stuck in his dick and the grounded wire secured to his ankle.

He was standing very still as I continued to hold the blade against his sack.  “Yous has three fuckin’ choices.  Yo first choice is dat yous can bend or kneel down and pull da string dat is around yo fuckin’ neck, which will energize the circuit between yo little pecker and yo ankle.  Dis choice will surly cook yo weenie just like yous was at a muthafuckin’ backyard weenie roast.  If yous is lucky, yous will be electrocuted instead of being a fuckin’ no dick pervert.  Yos second choice is a lil mo fuckin’ gruesome.  Der be enough slack in da fuckin’ string and da wire around yo fuckin’ ankle dat will allow yous to back yo sorry ass away from da wall where da shorter one is secured between da water pipe and yo little brown dick.  If yous pull hard enough on dat muthafucka yous might get lucky and pull it out of yo pee hole, which will remove yo muthafuckin’ ass from da electrical circuit.  Da previous choice might seem da best, but da barbs on da wire slid in smoothly going in, but I promise yo ass dat yous will tear out yo piss tube from yo muthafuckin’ dick when da wire is pulled in da opposite direction.  In fact, yous might tear yo dick completely off before yous get da wire out.  And yo ass will still wind up being a fuckin’ no dick pervert.  The last fuckin’ choice is to stand here til some muthafucka finds yo sorry ass, but yo legs will eventually get tired and der isn’t enough slack in da string for yous to sit or kneel yo lazy ass down, so yous will end up at da first fuckin’ choice anyway, or freak da fuck out and wind up with da first two muthafuckas as da end result.”

Arnufo glared at me.  “That’s all right, motherfucker.  My homeboys will find me because they know where I am.  Those fuckers will find you and kill you for what you have done to me.”

“Yous must be fuckin’ retarded.  It’s not bad enough to have da fuckin’ wire jabbed up yo dick, now yous fuckin’ going to have one up yo ass as well.”

As I was walking out of the room Arnufo yelled out, “Yeah, that’s right!  Fucking leave!  Me and my boys will find your sorry ass!”

Five minutes later, I came back with a piece of rusted rebar I had found, and as I stood next to him, he started cussing me again.  I grabbed the wire going to his dick and pulled straight up.  While I held the tension, he stood on his tippy toes to reduce the pain.  “Yous says another muthafuckin’ word or moves a fuckin’ inch I will drag yo sorry ass all over this building by yo dick.”

He stood quietly as he watched me bend the rebar into the shape of a fishhook.  When completed, the hook was about eight inches long, the gap width was about two inches, the point was about four inches, and the eye was about a two-inch diameter loop.  I grabbed the wire going to his dick, then removed the wire from his ankle.  “If you move mutherfucka, I’ll tear yo dick off.”

He didn’t move or say a word.

I jerk on the wire.  “Yous got dat shit, boy.”

“Awwwww.”

I jerked harder.

“Fuck, yeah!  I got it, dude!”

“DJ, bitch!”

“Yes, I got it, DJ.”

“Dats better.”

“Now, if yo ass moves I will drag yo ass all around dis place by yo dick.”

He remained still, so I released the wire going to his dick and took the other wire that had been tied to his ankle and securely tied it to the eye of the hook that I had made.

I put the hook in his hands that were cuffed behind him.  “Shove it up yo ass.”

“I ain’t…”

I grabbed the wire going to his dick and almost lifted him off his feet, and as I pulled up on it, I could hear his flesh ripping through his deafening screams.  While he screamed, I got in his face and shouted, “Not a fuckin’ option, homeboy.  Shove dat muthafucka in now or lose yo dick!”

Over the next minute or so he cried as he worked and wiggled the dry hook into his ass.  I made sure he inserted the whole thing, which allowed his pucker hole to close and conceal the connection of the wire to the hook.  Tears were running down his face and he was sobbing as the ten-gauge wire hung out of his ass.  “Now yo big mouth gave yo ass a fowth option.  If yous wont, yous can trys to pull da rebar out of yo ass, which will most likely rip out yo nasty colon.  Yous can also dig around in dat muthafucka and trys to untie da wire from da hook, but yous will have to really stretch out yo ass to gets to it.”

Arnufo begged for me to let him go as I cleaned up the area.  Before I left, I gagged him with duct tape and locked the door going into the storage room.  I also locked the loading dock door on the way out of the building.  If for some reason if he did manage to survive, the police would be looking for a nineteen seventies, foul-mouthed, Ebonics speaking, Mr. T wanna be pimp.”

Moulding Bloody Play-Doh

Seth noticed Andrew had tears running down his face.  “Yeah, that was real fucked up what happened to your buddy.”  Seth looked back at Dicky.  “This fucker here probably thought there might have been a chance his butt buddy would find him one day.  Everyone in here thinks there is a chance of getting out of here.”

Dicky moved his face into the dim light.  “You never know.”

“I know one thing…  You’re not getting out alive.”

“You can’t be…….”

“Hush!  You don’t know shit.”  Seth turned toward Andrew.  “Do you think Arnufo is searching for you?”

Andrew’s tongue was being stretched from his mouth and he couldn’t speak, so he made a grunting sound.

Seth glanced at Dicky.  “He said he hopes so, because he wants to get the fuck out of this hellhole.”

“He didn’t say that.  He just made a groaning sound.”

Seth moved his focus back to Andrew.  “I read in the paper your buddy had been found in the warehouse a few days later.  It looked as if he opted for option two, but it turned into option four, then somehow turned into an option that I hadn’t even thought of.  He apparently tried to back away and rip the wire out of his dick, but then something happened where he tried to pull out the hook out of his ass.  Of course, I’m just putting the pieces together from what I had read in a report.  The investigators found half of his dick was still on the end of the wire, and he was found thirty feet away from the room.  His intestines were coming out of his ass and ran all the way back to the hook—it was still secured to the cable.  All I can figure is he panicked when he tore his dick in two, and he wasn’t able to remove the hook or untie the wire going to it.  He was probably bleeding and knew his only chance to live was to seek help, and the desperation for survival caused him to rip out his intestines.”

Andrew had a look of horror across his face.

Dicky remained silent.

“Hey guys, no grunt or comment.”

They remained silent.

“Well then.  Just to let you know, Arnufo didn’t die.  He’s running around with a colostomy bag, half a dick and no ass.”

Andrew grunted.

Dicky shook his head.  “You’re fucking sorry.”

Seth eyed Andrew.  “Am I fucking sorry?”

He grunted.

Seth glanced at Dicky.  “That means he would have traded places with Arnufo in a heartbeat.’

Seth looked back at Andrew.  “Yeah, it would have been a lot better to be an assless stub fucker than this shit, right?”

“Aww!”

Seth sat down next to the bird cage from hell.  “Let’s get back to Andrew’s adventure.  When I returned home, I dragged his unconscious body into the chamber and tied him in a heavy steel chair using barbed wire.  I only secured his arms, legs, and waist so he would be able to move his upper body.  I hung an intravenous bag filled with nutrients and antibiotics on the back of his chair and ran a tube to his right arm.  He was kind of nasty, so I removed his clothes, then sprayed him down with an alcohol solution to help prevent infections.  After I sterilized his bottom lip, nose, eye lids and nut sack with iodine, I inserted two small fishing hooks in each eye lid, one in the end of his nose, four across his bottom lip and ten into his nut sack.  I leaned him forward and tied stainless steel wire between the hooks in his face and sack.  The wires had just enough tension where his face and nut sack were being slightly stretched toward each other.  It was late and it would be a while before he awoke, so I left for the night.

When I returned two days later, Andrew was lying on the floor asleep with the chair still attached and he was covered with blood, snot, saliva, shit, and piss.  He had torn most of his bottom lip off and ripped gashes in his eyelids where he had pulled on the hooks.  The skin on his nut sack had been so ravaged from where he tore out the hooks that his testicles had fallen out and were grotesquely hanging by their spermatic cord.  The fishhooks and wires were still attached at one of their ends, either at his sack or face, and the ones that had been ripped from his skin had pieces of torn flesh hanging from them.  The barbed wire that held his arms and waist had torn large gashes in his flesh as he had apparently fought at them like a wild man.  While he slept, I discreetly snuck up on him and injected him with sodium thiopental so he wouldn’t wake up.  After he fell into a deeper sleep, I pulled him and the chair back into the upright position.  I washed him, his chair, and the floor with a hose, washing away all the body fluids and waste into a channel in the floor.

Over the next few hours, I removed the rest of his lip and sewed the gap closed.  I used glue on the gashes made by the barbs.  I sewed what was left of his nut sack back together, which resembled a patchwork blanket when I was finished.  When I was done cleaning and patching him up, I pulled his tongue out and inserted four large fishhooks through it, then inserted about forty tiny hooks in the outer skin of his penis.  I tied ten wires to each of the hooks in his tongue, then leaned him forward and tied the other ends of the wires to the hooks in his dick.  Before I left the chamber, I refilled his IV bag with antibiotics and nutrients, and I connected him to a heart monitor so I could monitor his vital signs with my laptop.

Ten hours later, Andrew’s heart monitor woke me up.  His heartbeat was extremely high, so I used my laptop and zoomed in on him with one of the cameras in the chamber.  He was viciously jerking around in his chair as he was apparently trying to tear himself loose from the bent over position.  I really didn’t understand why he was inflicting such horrific pain and destruction to his body.  For some reason he desperately wanted out of the chair.  He might have been terrified of all the horrifying things in the chamber.  I really wasn’t sure, but regardless of the reason it was exciting to watch.  Within a short period of time, he began throwing his head back and forth, violently jerking at the wires between his tongue and dick.  His tongue and dick were being stretched four to five inches every time he thrust his head backwards.  He was screaming so loud that his voice was echoing through the laptop’s speakers, and it seemed he was in the same room with me.  Suddenly his head and body lunged backwards as the skin from his dick completely ripped off, causing it to look like a bloody, peeled banana.

While he laid back in the chair trembling and breathing deeply, I could see that sweat was pouring off every inch of his body and blood was dripping from his crotch and mouth.  The skin that was once was around his dick now lay against his chest as it was being suspended from the ends of the wires that were still attached to the hooks in his tongue.  I could tell he was bleeding severely, so I quickly rushed down to the chamber.  When I entered the room, I slipped up behind him and injected him in the neck with sodium thiopental.  When he fell unconscious, I amputated his penis and sewed the end closed around his piss tube.  I also inserted a catheter into his stub to help reduce infections and to speed up the healing process.  His amputated dick looked like a shrivelled-up hotdog covered with torn veins as it laid on the floor.  After I cleaned him up, I dragged him into a cell so he could recuperate from his wounds, then left the chamber.

The next morning while I was incinerating Andrew’s personal belongings, I found an artificial disk replacement card in his wallet.  The card explained different exercises and stretching techniques for the recipient to perform, which would maintain their disk performance. The instructions also informed the recipient of things he or she should do to prevent injury to the artificial disk.  Out of curiosity, I looked up the type of disk on the Internet.  I found out it was a fairly new procedure in the United States.  During my research, I visited a few online forums, and there was one thing that caught my attention; people were complaining they had lost up to thirty percent of forward flexibility.  They stated they had severe pain when they tried to touch their toes.  Some people said the pain was absolutely excruciating if they bent over for a long period of time, or if they lifted heavy items.  If Andrew had this procedure done, that would explain why he tore himself apart.  The long duration of being bound in the forward position must have been causing a lot of pain in his back.”

Seth looked at Andrew.  “Hey, pal, how did you fuck up your back in the first place?”

“Awwwwwwwww.”

Seth glanced at Dicky.  “He said from humping kids.”

Andrew glared at Seth and made an angry snorting noise.

“Anyway, grunt fucker here hadn’t seen me up to this point.  I walked straight up to his cell and grabbed the bars.  “How’s it hangin’ stumpy?”

He glared at me while sitting on the floor with his back against the wall.  “R ew da uther…”

I interrupted him when I began laughing.  His mouth still had wires hanging out of it, and when he talked his dick skin bounced around on his chest.  He also sounded retarded because his tongue was extremely swollen from the hooks.

He got aggravated and stopped talking.

“What’s wrong, pal, cat got your tongue?”

“R ew da utherucker dat did dis to me?  I’ll ucking kill ew!”

He was still talking shit as I walked into his cell, and when he started to get up, I grabbed the wires that were hanging from his tongue and wrapped them around my hand and made a fist.  While holding the wires tightly, I beat him in the face with the same fist, just like paddleball.  Every time his head bounced back, his tongue would stretch about twice its length.  Blood and spit gushed out of his mouth and nose as I continued to beat him, and with every punch he screamed out like a little bitch.  After fifteen or twenty hard punches, I released the wires and he fell to his back.  He held his mouth for a moment, then started to get back up, so I kicked him in his swollen and stitched up nut sack with my work boot.  I walked out and shut the cell door.

He was lying on his side cupping his nuts.  “Uck ew!  Uck ew!  Uck ew!  I ‘ll ucking kill ew!”

I locked the cell door.  “You think a handful of hooks were painful.  Wait until you have thousands of them tugging at your skin.”

He was lying curled up on the floor and moaning as I left the chamber.”

Seth laughed as he looked at Dicky.  “You realize this fucker had no dick, but still had balls.  Very big balls because of the swelling.  It was strange as fuck to look at.  Kind of like a dickless baboon.”

Dicky just shook his head at Seth’s dark humor.

Seth looked at Andrew.  “Whatcha think about that?”

“Uhhh.”

Seth nodded toward Andrew.  “Monkey fucker here had the pleasure of watching me build his cage.  It took several days, and I built it right here in the center of the chamber.  He sat in his cell and gibbered curse words and death threats at me the entire time—he either liked pain or he was fucking retarded.  When I was finally finished, I stood back and admired it.  As you can see it stands almost eight feet tall and is around eight feet in diameter.  It kind of resembles a birdcage; an exceptionally large one.  The bottom is flat and the sides curve slightly inwards as they approach the rounded top.  The bars are five-eighths round stock and are spaced about ten inches apart.  The cage has a three-by-four-foot round stock door built in it, and it’s secured with heavy steel hinges and latches.  Andrew must have known I was planning on sticking him in the cage, because when I walked up to his cell he became irate while pacing back and forth like a wild animal.  He was pumping his fist and cursing me.

“Hey, pal.  We can do this the easy way or the hard way!”

He charged at the bars.  “Ew ucking dead!”

I laughed.  “Look around you fuckin’ dickless idiot.  What makes you so special?”

He replied with an aggressive tone, “Open ta ucking door an ew’ll find out!”

I unlocked the door and swung it open.  “Your wish is granted.”

He slowly walked over to the door opening, then charged me like a line backer.  He tried to tackle me by ramming his head into my stomach while grabbing my legs.  I grabbed one of his ears and twisted the shit out of it.  He fell to his knees as I was physically trying to rip it off his head, and as he screamed, he was grabbing my arm to relieve the pain.  Without hesitating I pulled him kicking and screaming by his ear into the cage.

I released his ear and slammed the door shut.  “If your mama had disciplined you like that, you might not have turned out to be such a piece of shit.”

He glared at me with hate as he rubbed his ear.

I locked the door.  “Where is that sorry bitch anyway?  I heard through the grapevine that she left you when you were a kid because you were as much of a fuck-up then as you are now.”

He became instantly angry, and after he grabbed the bars on each side of himself, he began violently shaking the cage as he yelled out he was going to kill me.  While the knob goblin acted like Jo Jo the circus clown, I went and grabbed a fishing rod and a bag of three pronged hooks.

When he saw me with the gear, he became angrier.  “Ew utherucker!  What the uck!  I know ew ain’t going ishing after all da ucked up shit ew’ve done!  Ew cut my dick off ew ucking cockucker!  Ew’re gonna get ers!  Ew wait and see!”

I set the fishing gear down by a chair, then walked up to the cage.  “You’re too much of a pussy to be the one to give me mine.  You must think your sorry ass father is going to bail you out of this one as well.”

“Ew have no idea who ew’re ucking with!  Even if ew kill me my old man will ucking ill ew!  He has connessions!  Ew won’t be able to hide what ew ucking done.  He will find out what ew did to me!  Ya gonna ucking get it ew ick wisted uck!”

While the mouthy prick ran his lips, I went and grabbed a camcorder and tripod, which I set up next to the cage.

“What da uck ew doing?”

I aimed the camera at him.  “He won’t need his connections.  I’ll help him out by sending him this tape so he can see how much fun his dickless son is having.”

“Pay ack is going to be brutal for what ew’ve done!  I’m oing to rip ew eyes out and kull uck ew utherucker!”

I reached through the bars and grabbed him by the back of the neck and slammed his face into the bars.  “You don’t know when to shut the fuck up do you?  Skull fuck me?  With what, moron?  And one other thing, you don’t need to be concerned about what I have done to you.”

I shoved his head back and went and sat in the chair where I had left the fishing equipment, and as I laid out some treble hooks on the floor he began cursing and threatening me again as he jumped around like a crazed monkey on crack.  He was so angry that his nude body was red as a beet, and as he screamed, he was spitting slobber all over himself and the cage.”

Andrew moaned as he stared at Seth.

Seth looked at him for a moment, then glanced back at Dicky.  “He was extremely upset that I had cut off his penis.  And he is still pissed about it.  I don’t blame him though.  I’d be pissed too.”

Seth glared at Andrew.  “Hey monkey fucker, that’s what you get for being a molester.”

“Awwwwwwww.”

Seth walked over to Dicky.  “He’s so worried about his dick.  As you can see, he needs to be more worried about how I turned him into a piece of Play-Doh.”

“That’s really fucked up what you’ve done to him.  No one deserves to be violated like that.”

“I’m sure the kids who he stuck his dick into thought the same.”

He remained silent.

“Now let’s get back to how I moulded him into a bloody piece of Play-Doh.  Now that I had all the fishing gear laid out, I tied a large treble hook to the fishing line.  I took the rod and cast the line toward him, but it bounced off one of the bars of the cage.

Andrew gritted his teeth.  “Uck you, dude!  I’ll shove dat rod up ew ass!”

When I cast the line again the hook fell over his shoulder, so I jerked back on the pole and embedded the barb into his back.

He grabbed the line and pulled back to relieve the tension.  “Ohhhh!  Ew utherucker, I’m going to ucking kill ew!”

He continued with his threats as I cut the line and tied on another hook, and when I cast the line again, he slapped the hook away.  The next three times that I launched the hooks toward him he knocked them away as well.  The fourth time I caught him on the top of his left hand, and when I jerked the line, two of the prongs dug deep into the flesh and tendons.  He screamed as I tugged on the line and pulled his left arm through the bars, and as I held the tension, I cut the line and tied it off to a ceiling support beam that was about fifteen feet from the cage.  He tried to pull the hook out with his other hand, but the barbs had dug into his tendons and muscles.  When he realized the degree of pain and damage it would take to remove the hook, he tried to break the line, but I had bought nylon monofilament line with a 300lb test, which was the highest test fishing line I could find at the time.  He was still fighting at the line when I had cast another hook, which had caught him on the top of his foot.  He screamed as I jerked the line and tied it off as well.  He couldn’t bend down and grab the line going to his foot because the hook in his hand was binding him tightly against the bars.

He was gritting his teeth as he stared at me.  “Stop uking me ew son of a bitch!”

I remained silent as I continued hooking and tying off the lines.  Within no time, I had ten or twelve of them that were deep into his flesh at different parts of his body.  The lines were so tight that they were forcing him to be bound tightly against the side of the cage where he couldn’t move.  There was so much tension on the lines that they were grotesquely pulling his skin through the bars to the point his flesh was starting to tear.

I was out of treble hooks, so I walked over to the cage.  “I’ve got to go into town and get some more hooks.  Do you need anything while I’m out?”

He glared at me.  “Ew sorry astard!  What tha uck did I do to ew?”

“You destroyed a young girl’s life by sticking your dick in her.”

He grinned with a chicken-shit grin.  “Dis is over dat bitch?”

I quickly reached in the cage and grabbed a handful of his hair and held his face against the bars.  “Hey pervert, she was eleven.”

“Uck you!  What the uck do ew know about it anyway?”

I pointed to the wall where the judge’s head was mounted.  “You were ratted out, Homie.”

Somehow, he was able to reach out with his right arm, trying to grab my face.  “I’m oing to uck ew up!  Ew not oing to get away with dis!  I’m oing to ill ew?”

While he reached through the bars like a chimpanzee trying to grab a banana, I grabbed his arm, and with all my strength I began bending it backwards around the bars.  When his elbow hyperextended, I could hear the tearing and popping sounds of ligaments as they broke.  As I forced his arm around the radius of the cage, I could hear his bones cracking and snapping as they were breaking.  He was screaming out loudly as I held his arm tightly to the cage.  As I tied his wrist to one of the bars I said, “Most everyone that I bring in here tells me I am not going to get away with this, but maybe, just maybe, the molester protector will come and save your sorry ass because you’re so fucking special.”

Now that his arm was secured, I stood back and watched him struggle as he was stuck against the bars.  He was bound in such an awkward and painful position that his muscles throughout his body were trembling.  His arm was swelling and turning blue as each minute passed.  It was obvious he had severe injuries in his arm the way it was bent backwards around the cage.  I could see in a couple of areas where his skin was being pushed out from broken bones.  He was begging and crying at the same time as I took a medium sized fishhook and drove it through the center of the nail bed on his right index finger.  Since it was too painful to try to move his arm, all he could do was scream and wiggle his fingers.  Between screams he had managed to yell out, “Da tucking stings ew utherucker,” so I heated the next hook with a torch until it was glowing red, then shoved it through his fuck you finger.  This time he didn’t have time between screams to say anything rude.

Over the next fifteen minutes or so I took my time as I shoved heated hooks through his last three nail beds, and he was screaming so hard that spit was blowing out of his mouth and it was running down from his chin to his belly button.  After I was done inserting the hooks, I tied a two-foot-long piece of stainless-steel wire to each of them, leaving them hanging for the future.  He closed his eyes and rested his head against the bars to block out the excruciating pain, and as he breathed heavily and moaned, I started inserting hooks through the end of his fingers on his left hand, the one that was being stretched outwards from the cage.  By the third nail bed he started slamming his head against the bars in an attempt to knock himself unconscious—he couldn’t handle the pain anymore.  After I shoved the last hook through the nail bed on his thumb, I tied a wire to each of the hooks like I had done on his right hand.  It was getting late, so I removed the hooks from his tongue and injected it with steroids and antibiotics to help reduce the swelling—I was tired of trying to make out his gibberish.  He was weeping as I walked out of the chamber for the night.

The next evening when I came back to check on him, I could tell he was in agony from being left in the barbaric position for such a long period of time.  Before I had a chance to say anything, he began banging his head against the bars in an attempt to knock himself unconscious.

“Easy, pal, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

He stopped banging his head and started bawling.

“Now that’s better.”

Tears were running down his face as he hung in a daze.  “Please don’t hurt me anymore.  I beg you.”

“Give me a good reason why I should stop when you had no concern about your victims.”

For some reason, he began crying like a little kid, and as he cried uncontrollably, he mumbled, “Because I don’t deserve what you’re doing to me.  You have robbed me of any chance of living a normal life.  It ain’t like I killed her.  What am I supposed to do without a penis?  There is no way you’re going to get away with this.”

I’ve seen some of the others react in a crazy way before, but this guy was living in his own little world.  “Several things, pal.  As far as a normal life, this is as normal as it gets in here.  And as far as what you deserve; you sure in the hell don’t deserve a dick.  And if for some minute chance you’re magically set free, you won’t be sticking it into anyone else.”

He continued to plead with me not to hurt him anymore as I climbed up the side of the cage with a large shark hook, but I ignored him.  When I reached the top, I laid on my stomach and locked my position in by gripping the bars with my feet so I could keep both of my hands free.  I reached through the bars and positioned the hook under his chin.  He was staring up at me with fear, and before he had a chance to say anything I pulled up on the hook and drove the barbed point through his flesh.  When he screamed out, I could see the pointed end of the hook was lifting his tongue.  Of course, he tried to scream, but the sharp point had torn into the bottom his tongue, so he just hung in the bound position and moaned.

When he finally calmed down, he looked up at me.  “You’re killing me!  Oh, shit, you’re killing me!  Please stop.  I will do whatever you ask.”

I continued to ignore his begging as I tied a rope to the hook, and as tears dripped from his face, I pulled the shit out of the rope and tied it off to the top of the cage.  His eyes were bulging out of their sockets, and he was spewing blood and vomit all over himself as his head was being pulled sideways.  The pointed tip now had penetrated deep inside his tongue, and every time he tried to scream, he would gag.  I cut the string going to the hook in his left hand, the one being stretched outwards, pushed his arm back into the cage, then tied each of the wires that were hanging from his fingers to the bars.  His face was white as a ghost and his body was trembling from the pain from his arm being broken, the agony of the hooks in his body, and the misery from the shark hook in his mouth.  His eyes looked as if he was almost to the point of passing out.

Tears were running down his face as he stared at me.  “Just kill me!  You’ve got me back.”

I paused.  “Believe it or not, this is just foreplay.”

He took a deep breath and began sobbing.

“Don’t blame me, pal.  Blame your sorry ass father and our judicial system.  Just think about it.  You could be playing hide the snake right now in prison instead going through this shit.”

“What gives you the right to do this?”

“The same one that you used to rape kids.”

He looked down and remained silent.

I needed to reposition him in the cage, so I cut all the fishing lines except for the ones that I had just tied to his left fingers.  When I cut his right arm loose, it retained the curve of the cage.  I grabbed his wrist and pulled outwards, and as I straightened out his arm, I could hear ligaments and bones popping through his deafening screams.  The shark hook in his mouth prevented him from fighting back, so without any resistance I was able to push his right arm into the cage and tie the stainless-steel wires that were hanging from his fingers to the opposite side of the cage from where his left hand was secured.  To make sure he was directly in the center of the cage, I had to re-adjust the wires on each of his fingers a few times, making sure each one had the same amount of tension.  Andrew’s face and body was covered with sweat, vomit, snot, and blood as he was being bound in a barbaric way.  I could see the misery in his eyes as I stood next to him.  It was getting late, and because I was at a good stopping point, I decided to leave the chamber for the night.  I had just started to walk away when Andrew popped off.  “Better sleep light tonight.”

I spun around.  “Wow!  What a fucking idiot!”

“You have no idea what me and my family are capable of.”

I walked over to a table, then slid it over next to his cage.  “Man, y’all must be some really scary folks.  Hey, maybe I should hire y’all to work in here.  How’s that sound?”

“Ha ha, funny man.  You better kill me because I will hunt you down for what you have done.”

I turned over a box and dumped out several thousand jig-hooks onto the table.  “Then I better make sure you don’t escape.”

He began panicking as he stared at the hooks.  “You’re crazy man!  You’re crazy!  You don’t have to worry about me doing anything.”

“Damn!  You’re one flip flopping fuckhead.  Make up your mind.  Are you going to hunt me down or not?”

“No, no, no….  I was just running my mouth.  You have taught me a lesson.  I’m sorry.”

I climbed up the side of the cage again, this time with a handful of pre-cut steel wires and hooks, and when I reached the top, I laid on my stomach as I did earlier.

He looked up at me.  “I said I was sorry.  You don’t have to worry about me.”

I remained quiet.

He had a terrified look on his face as he watched me tie long pieces of wire to the hooks.  “Come on man.  I said I was just running my mouth.  I beg you not to hurt me anymore.”

I paused and looked down at him.  “Let’s just say hypothetically that I let you go.  Do you think you could go on with life without having a dick?  And would….”

“Yes!  Please give….”

“Hey, don’t interrupt.”

“Sorry.”

“Do you think you could go on with life without having a dick?  And would you be able to keep what happened here a secret?”

He became somewhat excited as a relieved expression came over him.  “You have taught me a valuable lesson and I deserved to have my penis cut off.  If you let me go, I promise I will not tell anyone what you have done to me.”

I knew he was full of shit and just saying anything that might give him a chance.  He was looking to his right as he lied through his teeth, so I decided to see how much he would endure for the chance at freedom.  “I am going to give you an opportunity I seldom offer.  I will release you if you do not scream, curse, or say a word over the next two hours, starting now.”

He began to shed tears.  “Fuck, yeah!  I can do it.”

It took a few minutes to secure a wire to each of the hooks, and when I was done, I reached through the bars and drove one into his forehead.  He wanted to scream, but he resisted with everything he had.  Every muscle in his body was shaking as I tied the wire off to the top of the cage.  Over the next hour or so I inserted small hooks all the way around his hairline and made an x pattern with them across the top of his head.  Each one was tied off to a different bar, which caused the skin on his scalp to be pulled in different directions.  I inserted hooks all around his neck and over his face, including his ear lobes, and with each wire that I tied to a bar, his head and face became more and more distorted.  The hooks were pulling his flesh outwards from his face so much his eyeballs looked as if they were sunk deep inside his head.  Every muscle in his body was trembling as he fought the urge to scream.  The veins in his eyes had ruptured, and he had shoved the hook all the way through his tongue and it was now poking into the top of his mouth.  He was breathing heavily and panting like a dog as I climbed down from the cage.  “Your time is up, pal.”

He screamed for what seemed to be an eternity.  When he was done deafening my ears, he took a deep breath.  “I id it.  I ucking id it!”

The hook had damaged his tongue.  I shook my head.  “Damn….  You’ve fucked up your tongue again.  Now I am going to have to listen to more of your gibberish.”

He gazed at me with a sigh of relief.  “Oh yeah, I id it.  I id it.  I ucking id it.”

“You’re awful chipper for someone who blew a chance to get out of this shit hole.”

He jerked his eyes toward me.  “Ew ucker!  I knew ew were a liar.”

“Liar?  You lost fair and square.”

“Ew know I idn’t make a ucking sound.”

I laughed.  “Fuck, yeah.  I can do it.”

He looked confused for a second.  “Ew can’t count dat.  I asn’t ready.  Ew can’t urt me anymore.”

“Rules are rules, pal.”

Over the next couple of hours, he screamed as I lined the top and bottom of his arms with hooks in such a way that the top of his skin was being stretched toward the roof of the cage as the ones on bottom stretched his skin down toward the floor.  I inserted small hooks in the center of his toenails and tied them off with wire to the bars in front of him.  I took larger hooks and inserted one behind each of his Achilles tendons and tied them off to the bars that were behind him.  His legs were a little fat, so I was able to insert sixteen rows of hooks from his ankles to his hips, and after I tied a wire to each hook, I stretched his skin perpendicular to his legs.  I covered his back and stomach with hundreds of small hooks.  The tension from all the hooks had lifted his feet off the floor, so I took advantage of that and inserted some in the bottom of his feet.  His flesh throughout his entire body was being so grossly stretched in every direction he resembled a bloody Pillsbury Dough Boy.  He had screamed continuously as I had worked through the night, and by the time I had tied off the last wire he was hoarse.  Now that all the smaller hooks were suspending him, I removed the shark hook from under his chin.  I washed him down with alcohol using a bug sprayer, and when all his puncture wounds began burning at the same time the pussy passed out.

The next day I adjusted the mirror that was next to Andrew’s cage so he could see himself.  After he stared into the mirror for a few seconds, he closed his eyes and began making an ‘ahhhhhh ahhhhhh’ sound.

“Open your eyes and look what your dick got you into.”

He continued to hold his eyes closed.

“Open your eyes, fuckhead.”

He refused.

I forced his eyelids upwards and sewed them to his eyebrows.  For the next several days, he just stared at the horrific sight in the mirror and made grisly sounds.

A few weeks later as I was piddling around in the chamber Andrew begged me to kill him, but instead, I inserted three hooks into the tip of his tongue and stretched it outwards from his face.  Every few days I would slightly tighten the wires, and after several years I had stretched his tongue to about six inches past his lips.  I wanted to see how long I could actually get it, so I began lubricating it with lotion and milking it and after a few years I had stretched it to a total of nine inches past his lips.  As the length of his tongue would increase the diameter would decrease, and after several more years I had stretched it to about eleven inches and the diameter had shrunk to about the size of a nickel.  As time went by the skin on his body would get saggy, and I knew if I continued to tighten the wires his flesh would start dying, so instead of just stretching his outer layer of skin I would remove the smaller hooks and replace them with larger hooks so I could catch a layer of muscle.”

Seth walked over to Dicky.  “I edited the tape of Andrew being tortured by cutting out the sections that filmed my face or any other incriminating stuff.  I sent it to his father so he could live the rest of his sorry ass life searching for his son, tormented over the fact that Andrew was suffering in a very bizarre and barbaric way.  Every so often I will spray Andrew’s body down with a bug sprayer filled with alcohol to help with infections.  His time is running short because most of his skin is dying from of a lack of blood.”

The Awakening

Dicky stood to his feet.  “I know begging will not change what you have planned for me, but I plead for you to eventually grant me a way out like Andrew.”

Seth laughed.  “Actually, I’m planning on amputating his arms and legs to get rid of some of his dying body parts, then I’m thinking about using some of your skin to graft to his torso because you both have the same blood type.  If I can get the new skin to take, and if I can keep the infection under control, I might get another five to ten out of him.”

Dicky put his head down.  “You should have kept your word and released him when he didn’t scream out.”

Seth walked off and came back with a scarecrow that had six human arms and six human legs.  The body was made of coveralls stuffed with hay and the head was an aged and preserved pumpkin that had lips, eyes, ears, a nose and hair from different humans, and there were two rotted penises hanging out of its zipper.  Seth leaned the bizarre creation against the bars.  “I might do some really fucked up shit, but I’ve always kept my word.  This fucker here, which was created over the years, is what’s left of three lowlifes that I made deals with, which resulted in each one of them going free.  Two were rapists, and now they are somewhere rolling around in wheelchairs without dicks, legs, arms and tongues; they have nothing left to stick into someone.  The other one was a child murderer, and she is probably laying in a nursing home because she is a blind, deaf and mute slug.”

Dicky stood up and started to speak.

Seth interrupted.  “I know.  I know.  You’re getting excited because you think they are witnesses.  It wasn’t like I opened my front door and said good luck.  They woke up hundreds of miles away and they never knew where they had been or what I truly looked like.”

He eyed Seth with a gotcha expression.  “I can describe you.  And because of your stories, I know we’re somewhere in Central Texas.”

“Don’t get excited, pal.  You’re the only one that knows that.  And you’re the only one who has heard my stories, except for some of these eavesdropping bastards in here, and besides, neither you nor them, will leave here alive anyway.”

Dicky put his head down and began weeping.

“Hold your tears.  I wanna show you something else.  You can see a lot of the things from where you’re at, but there are other sections of the chamber you haven’t seen.”

Seth rolled a wheelchair into Dicky’s cell.  “Sit down.”

“I ain’t doing….”

Seth raised a cattle prod.

“Okay, okay.”  Dicky sat in the chair.

Seth tossed him a set of handcuffs.  “Handcuff your right hand to the arm rest.”

He did what Seth asked.

Seth handcuffed his left hand to the other arm rest, then secured his ankles to the foot rest.  “You ready to check out the coma section?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Yes.”

He thought for a moment.  He was bound in such a way where he couldn’t fight back.  “Okay, I want to see it.”

As Seth pushed him through the chamber, he could see one monstrosity after another that he hadn’t been able to see from his cell.  Everywhere he looked there were people in every type of contraption imaginable, and there were people being tortured in ways that most people couldn’t even comprehend.  Seth stopped at a steel door on the opposite side of the chamber.  “This is my coma room.”

Dicky stayed silent.  The short trip he had taken across the chamber made him realize there were no boundaries to Seth’s madness.

Seth opened the door, then pushed him inside.  His eyes opened wide as he stared at numerous people who were bound in machines that looked as if they came from a science fiction movie.

“The people in these machines are in a state of coma.”

“Why would….”

“No questions at this time.”

He remained quiet.

Seth walked over to one of the machines.  “Each one of these people did something that cost another person to lose time.  I’m not going into the specifics of what each one did, but I will simply explain what’s going on.  They will have no recollection of being abducted.  I will eventually return them to the exact location where I found them after they have served the same amount of time that they had cost another individual.  Some will be in here for many years.  When I return them, they will not know they had been abducted and will simply wake up in the same place, doing the same activity they had been doing.  The loss of time will be something each one will have to come to terms with when that reality arises.  These machines were designed to ensure they will remain in the induced coma and be able to survive the long duration.  The process is complicated.  I use barbiturates and other drugs in conjunction with hypothermia to maintain a state of coma.  A cooling catheter is inserted into their femoral vein where a cooled saline solution is circulated through a metal coated tube.  I also change to cooling blankets or collars if the catheters start causing problems.  Their cardiac rhythm, blood pressure and breathing are maintained mechanically or with the use of drugs.  Each person has an IV bag filled with nutrients and other drugs that are administered through a catheter.  Now, the main purpose of the machines is to help fight bed sores and muscle deterioration.  As you can tell, each person is in their own machine.  Their arms and legs are secured to robotic arms.  The robotic arms are automatic, and they move their limbs in a natural way.  The robotic arm that is connected to the band that goes around their chest automatically raises, lowers, and twists their upper body.  In conjunction with the robotics, I also use electric muscle stimulation.  Each of their muscle groups have electrodes that are secured in place with elastic bands or stick on pads, and an electrical control device delivers just enough current to cause their muscles to expand and contract.  The bed sores are prevented by elevating pressure points through air induced air blankets, kind of like an air hockey table, or by repositioning the pressure points of the machine.”  Seth nodded toward Dicky.  “Now do you have any questions?”

“I don’t know what to think.  It’s like modern day barbarism without the suffering.”

“Not until their awakening.”

He looked confused.

Seth walked over to a man who was in one of the machines.  “Think about it.  Let’s use Mr. White here for an example.  It’s a long story what he did, but basically, he was a cop and planted drugs in his ex-wife’s house and had some of his scumbag street narcs give false statements that implicated her as a drug dealer.  She served four years in the pen.  One night I broke into his patrol car while he was in a coffee shop and filled the interior with an odorless gas.  Shortly after he came out and got in the driver’s seat he passed out.  I pushed him to the passenger’s side and took off in his car.  I disconnected his car’s GPS system and hid it in a storage facility.  He’s been in here in a coma for three years now.  Next year I will put him back in his car and park it back at the coffee shop.  He will simply wake up feeling like shit.  After he regains his composure, he will probably start looking around.  First everything will seem normal, and he will simply think he had fallen asleep.  From that point on, any number of things can happen, but either way, he will have a lot of explaining to do.  Of course, his police department, family and friends will not believe his story of simply falling asleep.  He will not believe he has been missing for four years.  This will create a lot of confusion for everyone.”

“They will figure it out.”

“Maybe.  But I will oversee every detail to make sure that doesn’t happen.  There will be a lot of small things that investigators will look for.  Simple things like the coffee that he had brought back to his car and sat in the cup holder; it will be fresh in case they test it.  He had an air freshener hanging from his dashboard.  I will replace it with a new one.  His car battery is on a desulfator so it will be in good operational order unlike an older battery.  The car is on jack stands so the tires will not have any flat spots and I start his car every so often to maintain the engine.  I will reset his laptop back to the date he originally disappeared.  Little things like this will cause a lot of confusion.  Only thing that will change is he will be a little older and greyer.”

Seth walked over to another person.  “Now, Marsha’s awakening will be a lot more exciting.  She has been in here for eleven years now, and has quite a few more to go before I put her back.  Think about how much will have changed in her world, especially when she looks in the mirror for the first time.”

“How do you know they will awake due to being in a coma for such a long time?”

“Very good question.  I’m glad you’re paying attention for once.  Of course, I can’t guarantee they will awake.  I’ve been doing this for a long time and have already put two back.  They did wake and it was exciting to watch the chaos unfold while I stayed hidden in the background.  Now, these two individuals had been asleep for only a few years, and I am curious to see if the ones in the long-term coma will regain consciousness.  I’ve done some testing on some of the assholes in here.”

Seth began rolling Dicky out of the room.

“Where’re you taking me?”

“To show you the ones I experimented on.”

He was worried as Seth pushed him across the chamber.  “Is this something you have planned for me?”

“Nope….  I have something special for you that I’ve never done before.”

He became nervous as he looked at all the monstrosities again as he was being wheeled through the chamber.  “I need to know.”

“Know what?”

“Just tell me what you have planned.  I can’t take the worrying.”

“I know what you’re thinking, pal.  You’re looking around and listening to my stories, wondering what else could be done to a person.  The idea of having something planned for you that is a first must be mind boggling.”

“Exactly, so will you just tell me?”

“The psychological part is a bitch, isn’t it?  Seth stopped the wheelchair next to a man who was bound to the stone wall by chains.  “This is Mr. Johnson.  It’s not important why he is in here, but that I put him in a coma for seven years for experimental purposes.”

Seth looked at Mr. Johnson.  “Daniel, how long you been hanging here?

The man remained quiet.

Seth glared at him.

“Ju…  Just a few months I think.”

“Our new guest is interested in your seven-year nap.  How did that work out for you?”

He remained quiet as he gave Seth a confused look.

Seth began pushing the wheelchair back across the chamber.  “He has no recollection that I had stuck him in the coma room for seven years when I first started experimenting with long-term unconsciousness.”

“You do such horrible things, and somehow nature allows it.”

Seth pushed Dicky over to a large cell.  “Here’s the down side of long-term coma experimentation.”

He shook his head as he gazed upon several people who appeared to have lost their minds.  “Have you no remorse?”

Seth glanced into the cell.  “Yes, I do.  Now that these fuckers are no longer aware of their past, I can’t hold them accountable for their actions.”

Dicky looked up at Seth.  “You’re an abomination to nature.”

Seth pushed the wheelchair back into his cell.  He untied his legs and un-cuffed him.  “Get back in your dark corner.”

He eased over to his hiding place, thankful that Seth didn’t harm him when he was bound in the chair.

Seth wheeled the chair out, then shut and locked the door.  “I’m not an abomination to nature, but a disappointment to God.”

“If there is a God, then how can he allow you to do such things?  He wouldn’t allow bad things to happen.  He would simply have all of us follow him.  That’s why I know there is no God.”

“We have free will.  Without that we couldn’t truly love God.  Humans are corrupted by sins, and we have the choice to choose salvation offered by God through Jesus Christ.  Love cannot exist where there is not the freedom to choose.  And because we have free will, we have the choice to do good or bad.”

“You’re making no sense.”

“Okay, let me put it this way.  When I wanted to marry my girlfriend, I did not take her by the throat and tell her that she must love me…  Or else.  Whether we like it or not, love doesn’t work that way.  In creating us, God loved us enough to give us the freedom to reject that love.”

He had a confused look on his face.

“Now what the hell you thinkin’?”

“You have a wife?”

Seth remained quiet.

“But how can……”

“Shut the fuck up!  You’re not in here for a debate or anything else but to be prepped for your personal hell here on earth!  What I do is what I do, and that is something I must answer to God for, not you.”

Dicky held his head down as Seth walked out of the chamber.

Shit Sandwich

The next evening Seth walked up to Dicky wearing a black cowboy hat.  He was holding a metal box with switches and some cables.  He stood with an agitated look.  “This is the Motivator that I had used on Arnufo.”

He didn’t say anything.

“If I remember right you were supposed to remind me about it.”

He quickly stood up with a look of concern.  “I know.  I thought about it all night after you left.  Please don’t be upset.  I really want to hear the story about two people who worked at Hal’s Chicken Shack.”

“Don’t be such a fucking suck ass.  I simply got side-tracked showing you the coma room.  It’s all good.  I had a good laugh this morning while I ate some leftover chicken and thought about it.  Now sit your ass down and get comfortable because story time has begun.”

Dicky sat on the floor and Seth sat in a nearby chair.  “Do you like the stories that I tell?”

He nodded his head as if to say yes.

“That’s right.  You better respond that way.  It’s better to hear about the horror than feel it.  Right, pal?”

“Oh, yes indeed.  I’ll do whatever you ask.”

“Man, I bet you were all over your bosses’ nut sack back in the day.  That must be the reason why you’re bald on top.  The hot coffee mugs must have burned your hair off?”

He didn’t respond.

“And by the way, you no listening fuck, it’s Herb’s Chicken Shack.  You better start listening closer because you might end up like Brian and have a pop quiz later about all the things I’ve talked about.”

Seth lit a cigarette as Dicky remained silent, and after he took a long drag, he said, “Several years ago while I was traveling through Temple, Texas, I went through the drive-through at Herb’s and picked up some tenders with gravy.  Later that night while staying at a motel room in Lubbock, I was awakened with severe stomach pains and a bad headache.  I barely made it to the bathroom before I exploded.  I had to sit on the pot for hours, and because of the delay, I missed an opportunity to nab a lowlife.  Several days later when I was back at home, I saw on the news that two teenage employees had been arrested for shitting in the gravy at Herb’s.  Twelve people had also been hospitalized.  The hospital had informed the health department that all twelve had eaten at the same place, and when investigated, their co-workers ratted the two guys out—they had apparently bragged about it.  The two nineteen-year-olds were arrested when the police reviewed the security tapes, which showed them doing what I wish they hadn’t.

Several weeks later, the assholes had been released and were under house arrest.  They were also required to wear tracking devices.  The two shitters were roommates and living in an old farmhouse on the east side of town where they apparently got free rent for taking care of the ranch.  The next night I packed a bunch of stuff in a duffel bag and made a visit to the two assholes around eleven o’clock.  The house was secluded, which made it a simple operation.  I had disguised myself as a Mexican fresh across the border.  I had dyed my skin brown, sported a large fake moustache, green pearl snap shirt, pointed boots, a sombrero and one gold tooth.  This wasn’t going to be a sneak around type situation; I walked right up to their front door and knocked.  I wasn’t sure if they were home, but I could hear Garth Brooks playing in the background.  They apparently didn’t hear my knock, so I kicked the shit out of the door a couple of times.  A few seconds later, Shannon, who was one of the assholes, opened the door.  He was only wearing shorts and a cowboy hat.  “What the fuck, dude!?!”

I removed my sombrero, and in a broken English accent said, “I heres for sum work.”

“You got the wrong house, partner.”

“I work for Meeester Baker.”

Mr. Baker was the owner of the ranch and would hire cheap labor whenever he could, and as I stood on the porch, Shannon yelled out for William to come over to the door, which was the other asshole.  When he approached, I noticed he was only wearing shorts and western boots.  There was something definitely wrong with these two yahoos, especially since there weren’t any women present.

William walked onto the porch.  “Take your ass to the barn.  That’s where the wetbacks stay.”

“Vete a la chingada.”  I nodded toward their room.  “Mormir awui.”

Shannon shook his head.  “Hell no, hombre.  You ain’t going to get grease all over my shit.  Take your ass around back and sleep with the goats.”

I pulled out a pocket translator, and as I looked at it, I said with a Spanish combined with an Ebonics accent, “Fuck you, biatch.  I will pop a cap in yo muthafuckin’ ass.  Yous goat fuckas can get the fuck out of my muthafuckin’ crib.”

William grabbed the book from my hand.  He exhibited a puzzled expression as he examined the front cover.  “What the fuck!?!  Check this shit out, dude.”  He handed the book to Shannon.

Shannon noticed the title read, Spanish to Nigga translation.  He began laughing.

William smiled as he looked at me.  “That’s some funny shit.  Someone played a prank on your brown ass, partner.”

While the two fuckers were laughing their heads off, I pulled out a switchblade.  “Voy a puñalada le.  Gonna fuckin’ stick ya.”

The two Brokeback Mountain men quickly ran back into the house, and as they tried to close the door, I held it open with my pointed boot.  Suddenly I heard the universal sound of a shotgun being cocked, so I ran out into the dark and stood behind a tree with my custom-made semiautomatic tranquilizer pistol.  When the two dicks came out on the porch, I shot William, who was brandishing the shotgun, in his chest.  He quickly fell to his knees, then to the floor.  Shannon took off back into the house, and about the same time he crossed the threshold I shot two darts into his back.  He was only able to take two more steps before he collapsed and did a nosedive onto the floor.  I pulled William into the house and shut and locked the door.  Just to be safe, I closed all the window blinds and made sure the other exterior doors were locked.  I went back outside and set up my trusty motion sensors so I would be warned if anyone came around.  When I came back in, I secured one of the cuffs from the Motivator to William’s ankle and the other to Shannon’s ankle, then secured a pair of cuffs that were connected to each other with a three-foot cable around their other ankle so they would be cuffed together, which would complete the circuit.

An hour or so later, William began to come around first because he had only been shot with one dart.  He noticed me immediately as I was sitting on their couch eating a pop tart.

“Hey.  What the fuck, dude!?!  What’s this shit around….?”

I flipped a switch on the Motivator and lit his ass up for a few seconds.  “Motivation, pendejo.”

He was sitting on the floor with a dumbfounded look.  “What the fuck are you talking about?  Motivation for what?”

I tossed a half-eaten pop tart on the coffee table.  “Porque voy a hacerle comer algunos mierda.  You say in ingles, like...  I make you eat caca.”

William started to get up.  “I aint…”

I lit his ass up again before he could finish his sentence.  When I shut off the unit, I threw my pop tart at him, which struck him in the side of the head.  “Necesitamos algunos mierda…  You know, we need some caca.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, you crazy motherfucker!?!”

I cranked up the rheostat and shocked the shit out of him, literally—he shit his shorts.  He began screaming as soon as the current stopped flowing.

“Silencio!”

“What the fuck, dude!?!”

“Hush!  Ahora vamos a ver cómo gracioso es cuando tiene que comer mierda.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re saying!”

“In Ingles, you would say like, see how funny when you have to eat caca.”

“Eat what?  Dude, you’re fucking crazy!”

“Quitarse la ropa.”

He stared at me with a confused look.

“Quitarse la ropa.  Drop them cortos...  cortos, shorts...  and clean the caca with your pinches tongue.”

He didn’t obey, so I began shocking him on a higher setting, and after about ten seconds, smoke began to pour around the cuffs.  He was arching his back as he laid on the floor trembling and I could tell he wanted to scream, but the current had frozen all the muscles in his body.  His buddy Shannon wasn’t feeling anything because he was still unconscious, but his muscles were contracting as well.  When I finally let off, he screamed at the top of his lungs, so I lit him up again to shut him up.  “I se corte la garganta si usted gritar.”  I flipped open a switch blade.  “In Ingles, you would say like, I cut your fucking throat if you scream.”

This time when I shut off the device, he laid on the floor quietly.

“Es major.  Good amigo.  Now, get to lickin’ it up before I quemar your feet off.”

Tears filled his eyes as he laid in the fetal position.  “I can’t do it!”

“Not stopping until usted hacerlo, you know, you do.”

He started to say something, but I interrupted him again when I flipped the switch back on.  I lowered the voltage to where he could still move around, but also where it still hurt like hell.  It only took a short period of time for him to pull off his shit covered shorts, but the lower voltage wasn’t convincing enough for him to start licking his shit, so I cranked it up a little.  He fought the pain as he just sat on the floor gagging while holding his soiled shorts and underwear.  I cranked the rheostat to almost maximum, and as he flopped around on the floor, blue arcs were jumping around between the cuff and his flesh, and as each second passed, his skin turned darker and darker.  As soon as I cut the power, he screamed as he lunged on top of his shorts and began licking his shit.  He was dry heaving at the same time as he made a weird moaning sound.  After a few half-ass licks he vomited all over the floor.

He stared up at me with a look of disgust on his face.  “You fucking happy?”

“Sigue...  Keep going till all gone.  Incluyendo, mal olor puke, you know, the puke also.”

He jumped to his feet.  “I’m going to fucking kill you!  You fucking wetback!”

I zapped him on the maximum setting for about thirty seconds until he passed out.

Ten minutes later he awoke.  He didn’t say anything as he sat up.  Over the next hour, he just sat there watching me as I was watching the movie Machete on TV.  He knew if he tried anything that I would light his ass up, because I had the TV remote in one hand and the remote to the Motivator in the other.  Throughout the movie, I would yell Spanish curse words at the TV, and occasionally I would look over at him and smile as I slightly shook my head.  He didn’t say a word as he glared at my sparkly gold tooth.  Around the end of the movie, Shannon began stirring around, so I shut off the TV.  I remained quiet so Shannon could regain his senses before joining the party.  A few minutes later, Shannon sat up and glanced at William, who was sitting nude on the floor next to him with his head down, covered in shit.

Shannon sported a confused expression as he scratched his head.  “What the fuck, dude?”

William looked up and nodded toward me as I was relaxing on the couch.

Shannon glanced over in my direction, then became irate.  “I’m going to fuck you up!  Nobody wears my fucking cowboy hat!”

He started to get up, so I lit his ass up, which in return energized William because he was in series with the circuit.  I let the two roll around on the floor and cook for a few seconds.  When I shut off the unit, William remained calm, but Shannon glared at me.  “What the fuck!?!”

“Bienvenidos a la fiesta.”

“What!”

“That got your atencion.”

“You ain’t got shit, fucker!”

I smiled.  “Funny you say shit...  Now, you will take a grandes shit on the piso.”

“Piss on what…  Who?”

“Piso, floor.  You will take shit on floor, pendejo.”

He started to get up, but when I held up the remote, he sat back down.  He was still pissed that I was wearing his cowboy hat, but he decided to remain calm.  It took just a little motivation from the shocker to get him to pull down his shorts.  After a few more zaps, he dropped an eight-inch log on the floor.

My gold tooth sparkled as I smiled.  “Usted thought it was divertide, funny, to caca in my alimentos, food.  Le pajarones will tartar, treat, yourself to a caca sandwich.”

William didn’t say anything because he knew it was inevitable, but Shannon became aggressive again and started to get up again while cursing, so I lit them up until blood began oozing out of their charred skin around the cuffs.  When I shut off the unit, I tossed the assholes several slices of bread.  Neither one of them said a word as they scooped up some shit on their slice.  They were both hesitant at that point, but when I threatened to light them up again, they both began to shove their shit sandwich into their mouth.  Shannon immediately began vomiting all over the floor and William gagged as he swallowed his sandwich without chewing.  Over the next couple of hours, I made them eat the remaining turd, lick clean William’s shorts and underwear, and I had them suck up all their puke from the floor, which they had probably done twenty times each.

The two dicks were white as ghosts as they laid on the floor in the fetal position, and now that I had made my point, I shot them with a tranquilizer dart.  While they slept, I removed the Motivator cuffs from their ankles.  I wasn’t going to kill them, and I knew they would most likely whine to the police about the inhumane treatment they had received.  To make their story un-creditable, I stuck a piece of acid under each of their tongues and left the remaining pieces in a bag on the coffee table.  They had severe burns around both of their ankles, so I took a handheld propane torch and burned around the strapping of their tracking devices.  The torch was mine, but I wiped it down and put their fingerprints all over it, and I also burned their hands and fingers with the side of the hot torch head to give an appearance that they had been screwing around with it.  I wanted it to appear they had tried to burn their tracking devices off, but because they were on acid, they also burned around their other ankles.  I cleaned up the place so no one would know I was there.  On the way home I called the police and told them there were gunshots coming from the house.  I still laugh when I think about it.  You know the police found them nude and covered with shit.  I’m sure they told what had really happened, but who in the hell would believe such a story?”

Seth stood up and walked up to the bars.  “That’ll teach them fuckers to mess with someone’s food.”

The Soulless Bitch

Dicky looked as if he wanted to throw up.  Seth hung the cowboy hat on a hook that was mounted on a nearby ceiling support beam, then stood by the edge of a square cesspool that was located in the back of the chamber.  The pool was about ten feet long, twelve feet wide and five feet deep.  It was filled with human feces, blood, urine, and rotted flesh.  Shallow trenches that were flowing with human waste were feeding the pool, and catheter tubes were lined up one after another and they were dripping urine into the trenches.  A rusted ventilation fan and a filtration system were mounted in the ceiling above the pool to help reduce the foul odor and toxic fumes.  In the center of the pool were rotting corpses that were being bound by ropes, chains and barbed wire, and there were severed limbs and torsos floating in the sludge.

Seth pointed to a corpse in the center of the pool.  “This is Sandy.”

Dicky noticed a rope that was tied to a ceiling beam above was suspending her decaying body to where her head was just above the human waste.  He took a deep breath, then looked down.  “How many more stories do I have to bear?”

Seth walked back over to the cell.  “What?  I didn’t hear your mumblings.”

“Nothing.”

“Fucking look up!”

He glared at Seth.

“Okay, if you want your personal hell to begin, let’s get started.”

He changed his facial expression.  “I’m sorry.”

Seth looked around the chamber for a moment.  “Have you noticed how everyone in here looks at you like you’re a fucking retard?  They would trade places with you in a heartbeat.”

“Yes, I am happy where I am.”

“Yeah, that’s until you find out what I have planned for you, then nobody will want to swap places with you, including the most fucked up ones in here.”

His eyes grew large.

“Don’t start.  You’ll just have to wait and see.”

He put his head down.

Seth walked back over to the cesspool and sat down in a large steel chair.  “Sandy’s crime is one of the worst crimes that a person can commit.  She’s a fucking child killer.  A child killer with no remorse.  And the worst part is she did it so her husband would feel sorry for her.  Her kids’ lives were that meaningless to her.  I originally found out about her on the news like everyone else in the country.  It was a media circus.”

Dicky stood to his feet.  “You telling me that is Sandy Larviskie?”

“The one and only.”

“I remember her story.  She drowned her two young children when she drove her car into a creek with them strapped in their car seats.  She told the police she was robbed when she was at an ATM withdrawing money, and the guy took her car with her kids in the backseat.  She blamed him for their death.”

“That’s right.  Do you know the specifics?”

“No, just a few things I read in the paper or what was said on the local news.”

“Well, I followed her trial closely.  So close that I was in the courtroom most of the time.”

“How did you manage that without out someone finding out who you are?”

“First, why would anyone one suspect anything?  It wasn’t like I was sitting in a pew holding a bat or a severed head.  I had disguised myself as a freelance journalist, so I blended in with the rest of them.  And besides, I was simply gathering data and had no plans of getting involved, especially if our judicial system did its job.”

“You definitely have some balls.”

Seth laughed.  “So do you, with the shit you pulled.”

Dicky walked over to the bars.  He had a concerned look.  “What do you…”

“Stop!  How many times do I must tell you that you’re going to have to wait until story time is over?  Just chill out.”

He looked down and shook his head.

“Now back to this soulless bitch.  I followed her trial for months.  The prosecution team proved she was a bold-face liar and a cold-blooded killer.  The ATM where she said she was carjacked was on the east side of town, and she had stopped to make her withdrawal around 10:45 PM.  Sandy’s 911 call to the police was at 11:08 PM.  The prosecution proved the car was flooded at 10:14 PM when water shorted out the electrical circuits of the car’s GPS.  The drive time from the crime scene to the ATM was approximately 30 minutes.  A video camera had filmed her at a convenience store across town buying a soda and cigarettes at 9:55 PM, and the store was on the same side of town where her car was found in the creek; the store was a quarter mile from the creek.  She stated the robbery took place directly in front of the ATM, but at 10:57 PM, the security cameras at the ATM showed she wasn’t in her car, but she had walked past the ATM to a pay phone to call 911.  Her cell phone record showed she had placed a call to a taxi company at 10:24 PM when she was at the store.  When the prosecution team had shown her phone records, she stated she had left her cell phone in the car and the car jacker must have made the call, but a taxi service testified she was picked up at the store around 10:30 PM and dropped off across town a block down from the ATM.  The CSI team had found an empty soda can with her fingerprints in a ditch about an eighth mile up the road from the creek.  They also found a couple of cigarette butts on the same road with her DNA.  Sandy said the carjacker was over six-feet tall, but her car seat was all the way forward.  She was a short person, and that forward position is where she would have it adjusted.  A person over six feet tall wouldn’t be able to drive the car with the seat adjusted in that position.  Her husband testified against her, stating she was angry with him for leaving her for another woman.  She had also told him that she was going to make him pay by never letting him see his kids again.  When the prosecution team began to prove she was the one who killed her kids, her defence team changed their tactics and started saying she had postpartum depression.  She was found guilty of the death of her children and sentenced to a psychiatric hospital for postpartum depression.”

Seth walked over to Dicky.  “Postpartum depression sounded like an excuse to me in this particular situation.  This woman was a ruthless killer who planned a way to get rid of her kids, and she would have probably got away with it if she weren’t so stupid.”

“How did you get to her?  She was in a high security psychiatric hospital.”

“She really wasn’t in what most people would call a high security building.  It was just the normal mental health institute with locked doors, guards, and security cameras.  Remember, she was considered sick, having a mental disorder, and treated as such.  But nevertheless, I did stake out the mental health institute on and off for years as I tried to figure out a way to get her, but it was an impossible feat due to the cameras and security guards.  She was eventually released twelve years later, and a year after that I found her living in a low-income, Section 8, apartment complex in West Virginia.  Every evening she would walk to the local grocery store and try to sell food stamps for money so she could buy drugs, wine, cigarettes and who knows what else.  One evening behind the store I simply knocked her over the head with a club and tossed her into the trunk of my car.”

“Really, that easy?  I never read that she came up missing.”

“It was that easy.  And why would you read that she came up missing?  She was just some lowlife street trash that the media could care less about.”

He just stared at Seth.

“That’s why patience is important.  It wasn’t worth the risk trying to break her out of the hospital.  I had to simply bide my time, just like I did with you.”

He wanted to say something but remained quiet.

“What’s the last thing you remember before you awoke in here?”

He became angry and grabbed the bars.  “You sorry son of a bitch.”

“Wow!  I can’t believe you’re that upset.  You were just watching Bonanza reruns.”

“He gripped the bars.  “You invaded my home and took me against my will.”

“I didn’t take you against your will.  You were unconscious.”

“Fuck you!  You have no right to do this!”

“You had no right to do what you did, so that makes us even.”

He walked away and faced a wall as he gripped his fist.  “You have no right to keep me here against my will.”

“You’re better off in here than going back and facing the music.”

He spun around.  “What the fuck have you done?  You keep saying you did something that makes me look bad.”

“Let’s just say that Bonanza wasn’t playing in your DVD player when a friend came looking for you.”

He walked back up to the bars.  “What the fuck did you do?”

“I’m not telling…  Pervert.”

“You motherfucker!  You’re messing with my reputation.”

“Fucking a mother would be appropriate considering all the illegal videos, magazines and sex toys that were found hidden in your house.”

“I know you didn’t!”

“You have no idea how far I took it.  You’ve been on the news, pal.  There’s a man hunt out for your ass.”

He grabbed the bars and began shouting profanities.

“Shut the fuck up before I give you something to scream about!”

He began pacing back and forth while mumbling to himself.

Pop!  Seth shot him in the side of his neck with a CO2 pistol.  “I said shut the fuck up!”

“You motherfuc…”

Pop!  A pellet struck him in his forehead.  “I said shut the fuck up!”

“Stop fuc…”

Pop!  A pellet struck him in the eye.  “What the fuck do you not understand about shut the fuck up?”

Dicky fell to his knees, screaming out while holding his right eye.  “Now look what you did.”

“Shut up!

“My fucking eye is bleeding!”

“It doesn’t matter.  You still have your left one.”  Pop!  A pellet struck him on the side of his face.

He fell to his side and began weeping.  Seth turned and walked out of the chamber.

Later that night, Seth came back into the chamber holding a cup of coffee.  He walked up to the cell and noticed Dicky was sitting on the floor with his head down.  “Hey, pal, how’s the eye?”

He didn’t speak as he looked up.

Seth laughed.  “Nice.”

“You’re a sorry motherfucker.”

“Yeah, least I’m not a one-eyed motherfucker.”

He stood up and walked over to the bars.  “You win.”

“Really?  What a different attitude you have.  You’re not going to cry and whine about wanting to get out of here?”

“What good has that done me?  And besides, you apparently fucked me real good where I can’t go home.  So just go ahead and tell your stories so we can get to whatever you have planned.”

Seth sipped his coffee.  “See what I mean?”

“About what?”

“How people change their mind-set in here.”

“I’ve simply given up.”

“Yeah, for now.”

Seth sat in a chair that was next to the cell.  He took a sip of his coffee.

Dicky gave him a go-to-hell look.

Seth examined his mug for a moment, then looked back at him.  “How rude of me.  Did you want a cup?”

“No.  I’m okay with the piss water seeping in through the wall.”

Seth took another sip.  “Good deal.  Now back to that bitch.  Last thing she remembered was standing behind the grocery store before I knocked her over the head with a club.  Before I made the trip back home, I injected her with a sedative to keep her unconscious.  The trip was long, so when I stopped to get gas, I would also check on her and give her smaller doses of sedative to maintain her unconsciousness.  When I finally made it home, I dragged her into the chamber and stuck her into a cell so I could take a nap—I had driven so many hours without a break.  Later that evening when I came back into the chamber, I gave her another injection so she would remain asleep, then began working on a glass aquarium for her head.  The aquarium, or glass box, was three-foot long, three-foot wide and two-foot deep.  Metal angle iron framed the corners of the glass box and metal legs held the unit about four and a half feet above the floor.  The legs were secured to the floor with angle brackets and anchors to ensure the unit would not fall over.  The bottom of the tank had a 14-inch diameter hole cut in the center where it facilitated a rubber sleeve.  The tank resembled a beefed-up aquarium on a high metal stand.

While Sandy was still unconscious, I stood her up under the tank and pushed her head up inside the hole that was in the bottom of the glass tank, and to prevent her head from falling out, I temporarily supported her body with a rope.  To make a watertight seal between her neck and tank, I slipped a special made rubber sleeve over her head.  The device fit snug around her neck and was fanned out at the lower part where it was secured to the bottom of the tank with a metal ring, bolts and nuts.  I ran a small plastic hose over to the tank and secured it to the inside edge with a metal strap, then connected the other end to an electric solenoid valve that was fed by a hand operated water valve.  I installed momentary electrical pushbutton switches a foot from the bottom of the tank on each of the metal legs, then ran wiring from the switches to the solenoid valve.  I completed the project by installing a hinged lid with a built-in light on top of the tank.

Several hours later, she awoke and found herself in an awkward position.  Her head was stuck inside a lighted box, and she couldn’t see anything through the glass because the lights were out in the chamber.  A few minutes later, she began to panic as she desperately tried to get free.  The combination of the light and glass was projecting the shadow of her face and head on the walls and floor of the chamber.  While I stood in the dark, I could see some of the others in the chamber were staring at the aquarium and her shadowed image on the walls while she was frantically jumping around and screaming like somebody had shoved a hot curling iron up her ass.

I lit a cigarette.  The flame from my lighter had caught her eye.  “Is someone there?  Please help me!”

I climbed a stepladder, opened the lid and spoke with a British accent.  “Bloody hell mate.  Some wanker tossed your head in the dustbin.”

Her reaction was a little different from what I expected—I figured she would beg for help, but instead, she looked up at me with an angered expression.  “What the fuck, dude?  Are you fucking crazy?”

Just for kicks, I starting sticking little fish stickers on the inside of the glass.

She was twisting her head so she could see me.  “Hey, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?  Get me the fuck out of this thing!”

I climbed down from the ladder and cut the ropes that held her body up, and because her head was bound inside the tank, she was forced to stand up and support her own weight or she would hang by her neck.  The tank was a little shorter than she was, so she had to stand in a slightly hunched over or squatting position, which was extremely uncomfortable.  She was jerking around and pulling at the support legs as I opened the water valve.  About ten seconds later, water began running out of the small hose, and as she stared at the running water, horror overcame her when she realized she was in a fucked-up predicament.  When the water began forming a puddle on the bottom of the tank, she began violently punching the glass to break it, but it was three-eighths thick and all she was accomplishing was bruising her knuckles.  Within minutes the water level had risen to a couple of inches.

I looked down into the tank.  “If you want the water to stop flowing, push both buttons.  One is located on your right side and the other one is on your left.”

She began frantically searching for the buttons, but quickly gave up when she couldn’t find them and went back to beating on the glass.

She was getting hysterical, so I grabbed her right hand and pushed it against the right button.  “Hold this button in with this hand and push the other button on the other side with your left hand, and when both buttons are pressed the water will stop.”

She quickly found the other button and pushed it.  The water stopped flowing.

She had a look of relief on her face as I peered down into the tank.  “Now that you have the hang of it, I am going upstairs to go to bed.”

She looked at me like I was crazy as I shut the top of the tank, and as I walked out of the chamber, I could hear her shouting and screaming for me to release her.

The next morning was a little more exciting.  The water level had risen just below her chin, and as I stood quietly behind her, I could tell she was extremely exhausted from having to stand all night in the slightly hunched over position while holding her arms out.  I slid a recliner next to her, then sat down so I could watch comfortably because her struggling was making my back hurt.  She was having a difficult time holding the buttons, and within ten minutes her arms had collapsed four times, and for each time she had released the buttons the water level had risen about an eighth of an inch.  With each passing minute, her muscles were becoming more and more fatigued, and within no time she was only able to hold the buttons for a few seconds before she would give out.  Her legs and back were extremely exhausted as well, and as soon as her arms fell to her sides her legs would collapse; she would hang by her head for a few minutes to let her body rest.  Every time she did this the water would get higher and higher, and at this point the water was just a little below her bottom lip when her body would hang.  The rubber seal between her neck and tank was flexible, so when she stood up her head would move up about four inches.  The next time her body collapsed, she waited until the water level had reached her mouth before she stood back up and pushed the buttons.  Her body was trembling and she was at her breaking point, so I walked next to the tank with a flashlight and shined the light onto my face so she could see me.  “You would have been better off if you had given up last night when I wasn’t here.”

She looked relieved, and when she tried to speak, her voice was muffled and extremely rough sounding—it was apparent she had yelled and screamed all night for help.

“You’re going to drown sooner or later, so you might as well just give up.”

After that comment her facial expression changed back to a panicked look.  “Why are you doing this to me?”

I opened the lid and dropped some plastic frogs and ducks into the tank.  “Don’t you recognize the yellow duck with the blue hat?”

She didn’t say anything for a moment—she knew the answer to my question—the duck belonged to her youngest son Jason.  “Did my ex-husband put you up to this?”

I laughed.  “Nope, just doing it for fun.”

“What are you, some type of sick and twisted fuck who likes drowning women?”

I taunted her by splashing water in her face.  “Actually, I’m not the one that is going to drown you.  You’re in control of that matter.  And far as being a sick and twisted fuck, what would you call a mother that kills her children?”

The water level had reached a height where she had to hold her head as high as possible to keep the water out of her mouth.  Her eyes were filled with fear and her tears added to the water level as she stared up at me.  “Come on man, please don’t do this.  I’m scared.  Please let me out of this thing.”

“This must be how Jason and Chris felt when they were bound in their car seats.  And I think it’s fair I show you the same compassion that you showed your sons.  At least you know why you’re in this predicament.  Your children must have been terrified being abandoned by the one who is supposed to be their protector.  If you tell me the reason why you murdered your children, I will assure you that you will live for many years and that you will not go to hell anytime soon.”

She stayed silent for a few seconds.  “I had postpartum dep….”

I interrupted her.  “If that’s the card you’re going to play, then death is inevitable for you.  Remember, you’re not talking to a jury.  The death sentence has already been bestowed to you.  The only chance of survival is the truth.”

Her facial expression went from frightened to spiteful.  “My husband wanted to have kids.  He knew I never had any desire to have any.  He promised me we would be together forever, and if I wanted to be with him, I would have to give him kids.  The sorry bastard left me for another woman.”  She stopped talking and began to daze.  She could barely keep her mouth above the water line and was breathing heavily.

“Don’t stop now, you’re running out of time.”

“I was angry with my husband.  He told me if I tried to keep him from seeing his kids, he would take them from me.  I was so infuriated with him that.…”

“Go ahead and say what you did.”

“I, I took his kids from him.  I wanted him to be as hurt as I was.”  She looked away and started staring into space.

“I understand wanting revenge for your husband’s adultery, but why did you make your kids pay for his indiscretion?  Why didn’t you kill the bastard, or just cut off his weenie like some other pissed off wives have done?”

She gazed at me with a strange expression.  “I love my husband.”

“Love your husband?  What about your kids?”

She didn’t say anything for a moment as she seemed to be in a trance.  “I told you, now let me out, I can’t hold on much longer.”

“First, tell me how a mother could not love her kids.”

She gasped for air.  “I thought my husband would feel sorry for me and come back.  We could have had more kids.  Now get me out of this thing!”

I paused a moment to take in what she had said.  Wow, what a piece of shit, I thought to myself.  “I didn’t say anything about getting you out.”

“I told you the truth.  You said I would live if I told you.”

She was begging for me to release her as I walked off in the dark and turned on the lights in the chamber.  The low bay lights began slowly lighting up the room as I stood next to her.  “Unfortunately, you’re not going to die.  Death would have been the better alternative for you.  You should have played the postpartum depression card.  Looks like you folded your hand.”

As the lights became brighter, she began to see the horrific sights in the chamber for the first time, and when she realized what kind of horror laid ahead, she began frantically screaming for help.  A few minutes later, her body and arms collapsed from exhaustion and her head went under water.  She held her breath as long as she could to give her legs and arms a rest, then she stood back up and pressed in the buttons.  She was only able to stand and hold in the buttons for about three minutes until she gave out again.  After resting a few more times, the water level had risen to where her mouth was under water and she had to breathe through her nose.

While she held her head up and fought to keep her nose above the water level, I leaned over the top of the tank.  “Good thing your nose isn’t stopped up.”

Her eyes were bulging out of their sockets and her neck muscles stuck out as she strained to maintain her position.  She knew the moment she released the buttons, or her legs collapsed, that she would drown.  A few minutes later, her body began violently shaking, then her legs buckled.  Her adrenaline allowed her to push back up, but her head movement had created waves, and when she tried to take a breath, she sucked in water.  She started blowing water out of her nostrils to clear her nose, and as she violently jerked around, the motion of her head caused the water to slosh around enough that allowed her to take in some breaths as the water level rose and fell around her face.  After a few lucky breaths, she accidentally caught a nose full of water and began choking, then she began viciously jumping up and down under the tank as she desperately tried to catch a breath; she looked like a wild animal caught in a trap.  As the pain of asphyxiation set in she threw her arms around like a crazy person as she was beating on the tank and the metal support legs; she was hitting them so hard she was tearing gashes into her hands.  I could see her horrified expression clearly through the glass.  Her eyes were extremely bloodshot and about to pop out of her head and the muscles in her face were straining so much that they looked as if they were going to bust out of her skin.  Suddenly, her blood-covered hand slapped the side of the tank, and after her hand smeared a bloody stripe across the glass, her body fell limp.  Her eyes remained open as if she were staring into space.  Time was short, so I quickly cut the rubber sleeve and pulled her head out.  She was starting to turn blue as she laid on the wet floor.  Before she slipped away, I quickly gave her artificial respiration using a hand pump.  After a couple of pumps, she coughed up some water, and as she started regaining consciousness, I looked into her eyes.  “Welcome back, sunshine.”

She screamed, begged, and cried as I dragged her into a cell.  I ignored her pleas as I walked out of the chamber.

The next morning Sandy was sitting in the corner of her cell, staring at all the gruesome sights in the chamber, and as she sat with a terrified look on her face, I walked up to her.  “I told you that you were going to live.”

Over the course of several days, she watched in horror as I built another glass tank.  She knew that it was for her because I had a box of rubber ducks and frogs sitting next to it.  When I was done, the tank resembled a glass coffin.  It was six-feet long, three-feet wide and three-feet tall, and it had short legs, so it sat slightly off the floor.  The tank was made of glass except for the angle iron that lined the corners and edges.  The lid was also made of glass and angle iron, and it was secured to the tank with large hinges.  There were leather straps that were secured to the bottom of the tank by large bolts that were inserted through holes in the bottom.  The tank sealant needed to dry for a while, so I tossed her a half-inch diameter by one-foot-long piece of PVC pipe.  “Get acquainted with that, tonight you’re going snorkelling.”  I had something urgent to take care of so I left the chamber.

Around 11:30 PM when I came back, I found Sandy lifeless.  She had tried to commit suicide by biting through her wrist.  She was lying on her side in a puddle of blood.  I quickly bandaged her wound, then pulled her from the cell and strapped her to a table so she couldn’t hurt herself anymore.  I checked her blood type and started a blood transfusion.  If I had waited a little longer to enter the chamber, she probably would have been successful at her attempt.  Unlucky for her she didn’t rupture any major veins, but only ravaged surface vessels, which still caused a lot of bleeding.

Three days later, she was ready to go snorkelling, so I sedated her so I wouldn’t have to drag her kicking and screaming over to the tank.  I secured her to the bottom using the straps.  They held her head, legs, arms, and torso tightly to the bottom of the tank so she couldn’t move an inch.  I was going to be in and out of the chamber and I didn’t want her to drown when I wasn’t around, so I connected her to a heart monitor that would alert me when I was away.

She awoke an hour or so later, and as she fought at her restraints, I cracked open a water valve, which allowed water to slowly flow into the tank.  I could have opened the valve all the way and filled it quickly, but that wouldn’t be as intense and terrifying to her as it would have been with the water level rising at an extremely slow rate.”

Seth noticed Dicky had fallen asleep.  He walked to the other side of the chamber and disappeared into the dark.

A Thousand Ways to Drown

A few minutes later, Seth walked over to the cesspool with a long pole that had a hook on the end.  He looked over and noticed Dicky was still asleep.  He pulled a knife from his sheath and cut a rope tied to an anchor in the wall.  The rope shot up in the air toward a pulley that was above the cesspool the same time Sandy’s body began to sink into the sludge.  Before her head went under the rancid smelling waste, Seth took the long pole and snagged the rope that was tied between her hands.  He walked backwards until he pulled her out of the sludge and onto the stone floor.  He took his knife and cut off the excess rope that ran up to the pulley, then dragged the corpse over to Dicky.  He unlocked and opened the cell door, and with the stick, he lifted the rotted corpse up into the air, then tossed it onto him.  Dicky screamed as he threw the shit-covered corpse off his body.  He frantically tried to wipe off the grotesque sludge with his hands.

Seth locked the door.  “Fall asleep again and I will sew that ruthless bitch to your flesh.”

Dicky ran to where the water had pooled in his cell and began splashing water onto his body and clothing to wash off the sludge.

“Hey Einstein, you know you’re going to have to drink out of that later.”

After he thought for a moment, he dropped his arms to his sides and held his head down as he stared at the floor.

Seth leaned up against the bars.  “A lot of people who believe in the death penalty don’t like the fact our death row inmates sit on death row for years before they are actually executed, but the next best thing to actually torturing the flesh is torturing the mind, so I personally don’t have a problem with a lowlife sitting in a small cell for years as he is scared shitless and wondering when his last day will be.  The anticipation of the unknown can be a very painful emotional experience.  I could have quickly drowned Sandy and been done with it, but the actual drowning isn’t as terrifying as the anticipation of drowning.  I’ve always heard general comments from friends that if someone harmed their family that they would make them pay by killing them.  When you kill someone, they don’t know it because they’re dead, so how is that making them pay?  I think letting them live is more of a proper punishment, of course after you poke out their eyes, bust their ear drums, rip their tongue out, and cut off their arms and legs.  What would be more agonizing than having to live for many, many years as a deaf, mute, and blind slug, especially if the one who did it to you taunted you first so you would be forced to live with those images until you died?”

Dicky had a disgusted look on his face as he sat on the floor next to Sandy’s rotted corpse.  Flies were swarming around the stench that was covering his body.

Seth nodded toward him.  “Hey stinky, you better pay attention from here on out.”

He stared at Seth as he rested his head against the stone wall, and after Seth sat down in a chair next to the cell, he leaned back and propped his feet up on the bars.  “Like I said before, I barely opened the water valve so the tank would fill up very slowly, and as the water trickled in, I did some past due tasks in the chamber.  As long as I could hear Sandy begging and whining, I knew the water hadn’t reached her mouth.  Several hours later when I went and checked on her, I found the water had risen to where her face looked like an island.  She was breathing erratically, and her eyes were filled with fear as I showed her the piece of PVC pipe.  “If you hold this pipe in the upright position, water will not enter the top.”

She begged for me to release her as I secured a mouthpiece from a snorkel on the end of the pipe.  A few minutes later, she was begging me for the homemade snorkel.  She wasn’t hesitant in taking the pipe—the water level was almost to her mouth.  Ten minutes later, the water had risen over her mouth and nose.  She started to have a panic attack from the claustrophobia of being bound tightly in a small box filled with water.  I could even hear her weeping through the pipe as she tightly held her eyes closed.  When the water reached two inches from the top of the pipe I closed the valve, and by this time she was lying very still and breathing calmly.  She knew if she panicked now, water could slip in the top of the pipe or around the mouthpiece, or she could suck in water through her nose.  She had to concentrate as she balanced the pipe with her mouth—a few degrees in any direction would allow water to enter the top of it.

Over the course of the day, she had just laid still with her eyes closed as she calmly breathed through the pipe; she had focused on nothing else.  It was getting late, so I banged on the side of the tank to get her attention, but she kept her eyes closed.  I reached over and covered up the end of the pipe.  She immediately opened her eyes in a panic.  After I released it, I tapped on the side of the tank to get her attention, but she couldn’t move her head because of the restraints, but she could cut her eyes enough to see me through the glass.  I signed to her in sign language ‘goodnight’, and I then left the chamber for the night.

The next morning, I was really surprised to hear my alarm clock.  I had expected the alarm from Sandy’s heart monitor to wake me in the middle of the night.  The heart monitors that I have in the chamber are interconnected with a life support panel so I can monitor them throughout my home.  I also have the life support tied in with my security cameras and security system.  I can monitor them anywhere using my laptop or phone.

Before I went into the chamber, I read the newspaper and did some stuff around the house.  It was sometime after lunch when I was finally able to check on Sandy.  She was looking extremely tired, and her skin had begun to shrivel all over her body.  Her eyes were open, and they were extremely swollen and blood shot, and the veins in her eyes were so huge they looked as if they were going to rupture.  She had bruising around her mouth from holding the mouthpiece tightly, and her skin was bruised where the leather straps restrained her.  She was most likely a heavy smoker, because there was gross yellow and white phlegm on the end of the pipe, and large chunks were floating in the water.  The portion of the glass lid that was above the pipe was also covered with the same nasty phlegm.  It was apparent she must have had difficulty breathing through the night due to the large amount of lung biscuits she had coughed up, and she seemed to be in an extreme amount of discomfort and pain.  I could honestly say she was most likely at the maximum threshold of anxiety that a person could withstand.  I opened the glass lid and took a piss, then walked off to the other side of the chamber so I could finish up some past due tasks.  Close to the end of the evening, I heard a strange sound coming from Sandy.  I walked over to see what the commotion was.  She was gagging.  She must have let water enter the pipe or around the mouthpiece, or she sucked in some through her nose, but regardless of how water entered, she was now spewing vomit and water out of the end of the pipe as she fought to clear her throat.  She was having a difficult time regaining her airflow, and within seconds she began violently jerking around.  Her eyes grew so huge, it appeared they could fall out of their sockets.  Because she wasn’t able to clear her throat, she spit the pipe out of her mouth and screamed, and believe it or not, I could hear her scream through the water as the last breath of air in her lungs exited her mouth.  I could almost feel her pain as I watched the intense jerking of her body, and I could feel my throat closing as I watched her mouth open and close erratically as she was searching for a breath.  Around thirty seconds later, her body went limp, so I quickly removed a large drain plug in the tank.  I didn’t hesitate to get her unstrapped and pulled out and onto the floor where I immediately started artificial respiration.  After a few minutes her heart stopped and she wasn’t responding, so I quickly gave her an adrenaline injection and used a defibrillator to get her heart started again.  When she regained consciousness, I strapped her down on a wooden table so she could recover.  Over the next few days, I monitored her closely as I treated her with oxygen, an IV solution of antibiotics to help with any lung infections and steroids to decrease lung inflammation.

A few weeks later, I started on her next water-sport activity, and as I worked on the contraption, she begged for me to kill her and stop hurting her, but I ignored her pleas.  Her next activity was a simple set-up, but just as scary as the previous two.

She became hysterical as I secured a leather belt with wrist cuffs around her waist.  “You have no fucking right!  Leave me the fuck alone, you fucking bastard!”

I remained silent as I secured each of her arms in a wrist cuff.

She was furious as she fought at her restraints like a savage.  She was just wasting her energy.  She couldn’t move her arms because the belt held them to her sides, and her body and legs were still bound to the table with leather restraints.

I tied a rope around her ankles.  The other end ran through a pulley that was mounted to a ceiling beam.  I unlatched the restraints around her legs.  She tried to kick me.

“You’re sure full of piss and vinegar.  You must be excited about your next water event.”

She raised her head from the table and glared at me.  “You have no right to do this to me!”

“Sure, I do.”

She glared at me.

I knew as soon as I unlatched the leather restraints around her torso, she would go fucking nuts.  I didn’t want to sedate or knock her out because she needed to be fully alert, but I also didn’t want to wrestle around with the nasty bitch either.  “Here’s what’s going to happen.  I am going to unlatch your restraints, and if you freak out you will wind up on your ass.”

“Fuck you!  Let me go, you motherfucker!”

As quick as I unlatched her restraints, she jumped off the table and began hopping toward me as fast as she could.  Before she knew what happened, I had pulled down on the rope that was running up to the pulley.  The other end of the rope that was tied around her ankles had jerked her feet out from under her and she had fallen on her ass.

She gritted her rotted teeth.  “You sorry motherfuc…”

I pulled on the end of the rope and hoisted her up into the air.  She began cursing me again as she desperately fought at her restraints while flopping around like a fish.

After I slid a large, galvanized tub under her body, I lowered her down to where her head was in the middle of the tub.  Before I filled it up, I needed to explain to her how the contraption worked, so as she hung upside down, I knelt to where I was eye level with her.  “I mounted a modified hand water valve….”

She interrupted me.  “You fucking bastard!  You have no fucking right to do this to me!”

“I bet your kids felt the same.”

“Fuck you!”

I was originally going to let her hang by her feet in preparation for her next water sporting activity, but after the ‘fuck me’ comment, I jerked the tub out from under her head and began swinging her back and forth.  Her path was clear of obstacles, so I would give her a hard shove in each direction as she swung by.  She was screaming and begging for me to stop, but I only shoved harder.  Finally, she slammed into the ceiling, and when she came flying back past me the pulley fell from the ceiling and she went sliding across the floor and into a wall.  The impact didn’t knock her out, but she was dazed.  The rigging hardware had somehow worked loose when I was swinging her back and forth, so I quickly grabbed a ladder and reinstalled the pulley before she regained her wits.  She didn’t say anything as I hoisted her back up.  I centered her head in the tub and knelt.  “Any comments before I explain this contraption?”

She just glared at me with hate.

“Okay.  As I was trying to tell you earlier, there is a hand water valve that I modified attached to the ceiling.  It’s about two feet over from where the pulley is secured to the beam.  It’s installed so the handle moves vertically.  The handle is being held open by a heavy-duty spring, which is the open position of the valve if you didn’t know that.  I’ve attached a rope to the handle, and when pulled, it will close the valve.”

She looked confused.

I showed her the rope hanging level with her chest.  “Just pull the fucking rope if you want the water to stop flowing.  Also, I tied knots in the end of it so you can grasp it better with your rotted teeth.”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“Just getting you ready for hell.”

She pleaded for me not to hurt her as I turned on the water that fed the valve mounted on the ceiling.  When the water began flowing into the tub she pulled her head forward, and as she did a stomach crunch, she tried to grab the rope with her mouth.  It took a few attempts, but she finally grabbed one of the knots.  When the water stopped flowing, I bent over to make eye contact.  “Well, lookey there, I’m surprised your seven rotted crack teeth are holding up.”

Since she had the hang of the contraption, I sat in a chair to get comfortable.  I knew she wouldn’t be able to last very long being bound upside-down in a crunch position while supporting the weight of her head and shoulders with her rotten teeth.  The knot was also making breathing difficult for her as she latched onto it like a dog playing tug-a-war.

After about five minutes her body was trembling so severely from the intense pain that she released the rope.  Her head flopped into the tub as she let out a moan.  Water was running into the tub below her head as she looked over at me.  “I can’t do it.  Just kill me.”

I kneeled beside her.  “I will grant that wish to you under one condition.  If you do not pull your head out of the tub when the water reaches your mouth and drown yourself intentionally, I will not resuscitate you.”

She closed her eyes and didn’t say a word as the water level rose in the tub with each passing second, and as she breathed erratically, a man in one of the cells yelled out, “I bet that bitch is going to pull out.”

I glanced over at him as he was leaning against the bars of his cell smoking a cigarette.  “How many?”

“Two packs.”

Seth walked over three cells down from Dicky, and after he unlocked the cell door he said, “You wanna meet our new guest?”

An old man that was lying on a cot sat up.  He stretched and yawned.  “Sure.”  The cell wasn’t like the other cells.  It was furnished with a cot, toilet, sink, refrigerator, stove, a bookcase filled with books, desk and a television set.  The man was about eighty-to-ninety years old, and he was dressed in a gray and white-striped jumpsuit.

Seth and the man walked over to Dicky.  “This is Ozy Vaughan.  Years ago, he broke into my house after he bypassed my security system.  In his day, he was a very skilled thief, but unfortunately for him he made the mistake of finding the chamber.  I found Ozy in the tunnel lying on the floor.  He was disoriented and lethargic.  I think he must have had a mild heart attack or a stroke.  At the time, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with him because thieves aren’t on the menu, and I couldn’t release him because he knew about the chamber, so I threw him into a cell until I could decide what to do with him.  Over the years Ozy has taught me a lot about a lot of different things, so in return I’ve let him live out his life in a cell.”

Ozy lit a cigarette and looked at Dicky as he was sitting next to Sandy’s corpse.  “Nice girlfriend ya got there, sport.”

Dicky didn’t say a word as Ozy walked away and back into his cell.  Seth walked over to a wooden crate that was in the center of the chamber and sat down.  “I knew Sandy didn’t have it in her to purposely drown herself, but I never turn down a bet from the old man because it makes things around here a little more exciting.”

Dicky noticed Ozy had somehow snuck up behind Seth.  His heart was pounding.  He knew if the old man could take him down, he would have a chance to escape from this hellish place.  Suddenly, Ozy wrapped a rope around Seth’s neck and pulled him to the floor.  Dicky jumped to his feet and rushed to the bars.  He could see Ozy and Seth were struggling behind the crate.  All kinds of thoughts were running through Dicky’s head.  He had to help, but he was locked behind bars.  He started running around his cell looking for things he could throw to Ozy.  There was nothing but his plastic dog bowl.  He quickly stomped it, breaking it into pieces.  He picked up one of the broken shards, then ran back to the bars.  He tossed the piece of plastic toward Ozy so he could use it as a blade, but it curved like a boomerang as it flew through the air and disappeared across the chamber.  He began to panic, then ran back and grabbed another broken piece of plastic with a pointed end.  He rushed to the cell door and began shoving the pointed end into the keyhole.  He knew if he could unlock the door, he and Ozy could take out Seth.  The plastic was too flimsy.  He frantically looked around, searching for something that could be used to unlock the door.  A bone from Sandy’s finger jumped into his thoughts.  He dropped the piece of plastic and rushed over to her corpse.  Without hesitating, he snapped her finger off and began ripping the dead flesh from the bone.  His heart seemed as though it was going to burst through his chest as he worked the bone in the keyhole.

Snap!  The bone broke in half.  There were more bones to choose from, he thought.  He just needed to get a bigger one.  As he was turning away from the door to head back toward Sandy’s corpse, he noticed Ozy had stood up.  His eyes grew huge when he noticed Seth was lying on the floor motionless.  He grabbed the bars and shouted.  “Kill that son of a bitch!  Hey!  Make sure he’s dead!”

His heart was pounding as Ozy strolled over toward him.  “Hurry!  Open the door!”

Ozy sauntered over and sat on Richard’s stuffed corpse.

Dicky was worried the old man had overexerted himself.  He looked across the chamber and noticed Seth was still lying on the floor.  “Just unlock my door before you rest.  Hurry!  I will go get us some help.”

Ozy thought for a moment.  “I can remember like it was yesterday how Sandy was holding her eyes tightly closed as the water rose in the tub.”

“What the fuck!?!  What are you doing?”

“Hush!  I’m talking.”

Dicky peered at Ozy like he was crazy.

“Eventually, she started breathing heavily and whispering to herself that she could do it as the water continued to rise.  It was just below her eyes.  Seth had pulled his chair close to her so he could have a front row seat to the horror.  I was smoking my last cigarette as I watched with excitement from my cell.  I knew that bitch was going to pull out and win me some more smokes.”

“You got to be fucking kidding me with this shit!”

Laughter broke out in the chamber.  Ozy fell back on Richard’s back and began laughing as well.  Dicky gritted his teeth when he noticed Seth was sitting up, laughing hysterically behind the crate.  Others in the chamber were laughing, but Dicky couldn’t tell where they were.

Seth ambled up grinning.  Ozy headed toward his cell, and as he passed by Dicky, he shook his head.  “Damn son, you just don’t have a clue.”

Dicky stared at Seth.  “This is just a fucking game to you!”

“Hey, laughing is better than screaming, isn’t it?”

He shook his head as he paced his cell.

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t realize it would make you so upset.”

“Fuck you, you patronising son of a bitch!”

“Hey, don’t be so mad.  At least you had a few minutes of hope.”

He went and sat in his dark corner.  “Fuck it!”

“All righty then.”  Seth sat in a chair next to the cell.  “Back to the gruesome shit.  As Ozy had mentioned, the water was almost to Sandy’s eyes.  I leaned forward to get closer to her.  “In a moment, water will reach your nose and mouth, then we’ll see how bad you want this to end.”

When the water reached her eyes, she held them tightly closed.  A couple of minutes later when the water reached her nose, she breathed through her mouth.  A minute later when the water reached her mouth, she held her breath.  I was on the edge of my chair and Ozy was smashing his face through the bars to get a better view as he watched to see if she was actually going to drown herself.

Suddenly she pulled her head out of the water and took a deep breath.

Ozy shook his fist in the air as he shouted.  “I knew it!  Thanks, Sandy!”

I sat back in my chair as I looked at her.  “Do you realize you traded about twenty seconds of pain for years of suffering?”

She glared at me while struggling to hold her head up.  “You’re a sick and twisted son of a bitch!”

I grabbed her throat.  “If you think I’m sick and twisted, what would you consider a mother who kills her children for dick?”

“Fuck you!”

While she screamed profanity and insults, I grabbed an electric heating element, and after I plugged it into an extension cord, I tossed it into the tub.  The element heated the water quickly as she held onto the rope with her mouth.  A few minutes later, the water started boiling and the rising steam was beginning to burn her back.  She could barely speak as she grasped the knot with her mouth.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.  Please don’t do this.”

While she fought to hold a knot with her mouth, I reached over with a knife and cut the rope.  “No, fuck you!”

She began screaming as the muscles in her stomach strained to hold her head out of the water.  The muscles in her neck were sticking out like a body builder’s muscles as she strained with everything she had.  Over the course of several minutes, her head was getting closer and closer to the boiling water as her muscles were starting to give out.  When the back of her head finally touched the water, the intense pain of her scalp being scalded in conjunction with the reality of the horrific position she was in caused her adrenaline to kick in full force, which allowed her to pull her head back up in the crunch position.  A short moment later, she screamed out as her body gave completely out and her head splashed into the boiling water.

I will never forget the violent reaction of Sandy’s head bobbing in and out of the boiling water.  I could hear her screams even when her head was completely submerged.  Her body was jerking around so violently that her head was splashing water all over the floor.  Seconds later, she passed out from the combination of the intense pain of being boiled and asphyxiation.  While she hung limp, I pulled on the end of the rope and hoisted her from the tub.  I was able to revive her, but it took months of special medical treatment for her to recover from the severe burns to her head and neck.  She would never be the same after that day.  The boiling water had permanently scarred her entire head, neck, and face.  She lost both of her ears due to infection, and she was blind in both eyes.  The massive scarring on her head prevented her from growing hair, so her scalp was mostly bald with just a few thinned-out patches of hair.

Over the next ten years I would drown Sandy on her kid’s birthdays, all holidays and whenever she was strong enough to handle the stress to her body.  I came up with a thousand different ways to drown that bitch, and I would make her choose by tossing a dart at a spinning wheel that had them listed.  When she wasn’t playing spin the wheel of horror or participating in water sports, I would let her rest in a cell.  Eventually she would stop fighting and would lie helplessly as water caused her to asphyxiate.  The last part of her life she hung in the cesspool until she died from an infection.”

Dicky stared at Seth with a troubled look because he had heard one horrific story after another and realized there was no boundary to suffering and torment in the new world that he was trapped in.  He closed his eyes and began rocking back and forth while sitting on the floor as he tried to clear his mind of the things he had been hearing.  Seth turned off the lights as he left the chamber.

Later that night, Dicky eased over to Sandy’s corpse.  The main lights were out, but there was a smaller wall-mounted fixture on the adjacent wall.  He knew there were cameras, so he nonchalantly put his arm around her back and started ripping through her rotted flesh to gain access to a rib.  Snap!  He broke one, and now he had something he could turn into a key.  Snap!  Now he could have a weapon.  He eased back to his dark corner where he began grinding one of the ribs on the stone floor.  Thirty minutes later, he had made a semi-sharp blade on the end of the rib.  He stuck it in his waistband and began making a key with the second rib.  He knew the lock was the early colonial style, and he had seen the skeleton key that Seth used to unlock the door.  It wasn’t anything special and knew he only had to get close.  He was able to make the barrel by grinding it against a flat stone, and he moulded the key bit by using the edge of a stone.  He wanted to see if he could unlock the door, but he held back his urge as Seth could come walking in at any moment.  He now had hope and would wait until the time was right to make his move.

Grease Monkey

The next morning, Seth came into the chamber and walked up to Dicky; he was just waking up.  Seth sipped his coffee.  “Whom do you want to meet next, pal?”

He didn’t say anything.

“Well, I guess we can go ahead and start rearranging your limbs.  I’ve been itching to see if I can actually do it.”

Out of nowhere a loud moan caused Dicky to look in the direction of a small steel door that had been installed in the adjacent stone wall.

“Curtis and Fabian.  Good choice.”  Seth unlocked the steel door, which was approximately four feet tall by three feet wide and it was made of heavy steel with beefed up hinges.  When Seth opened the door, it squeaked as dust filled the air; it seemed that it hadn’t been opened for a long time.  A putrid smell of rotted ass and feces quickly engulfed the surrounding area, causing Dicky to hold his hand over his mouth to block the foul odor.  With curiosity, he leaned his head against his bars to get a better look, wondering what was on the other side.  He could only see darkness inside the doorway because of all the dust floating in the air.  A minute or so later as the dust began to settle, the dim lighting of the main chamber lit up the first portion of the eerie room.  When most of the dust had settled, Dicky could only see the first few feet inside the room, which was covered with what appeared to be dried blood, feces and other grotesque and indescribable things.

Seth stood next to the opening.  “Come out.”

Within seconds, Dicky could see something moving in the dark, and as it moved toward the light it revealed itself.  He gasped as two detestable looking freaks crawled out of the dark and dingy room.  They appeared to be human, but were horribly disfigured.  Their legs had been amputated at their knees and their arms had been amputated at their elbows.  The two beings were chained together with a short chain, and the larger one was dragging the smaller one as it exited the dark room.  They both had hundreds of one-inch to two-inch long scars covering their bodies.  The ends of their arms and legs, or nubs, were deformed from having to crawl around like animals in the small, confined room.  Dicky could see they were covered from head to toe with dirt, feces, dried blood, vomit and urine, and their long hair was extremely matted and filthy.  Their hair had grown so long their entire heads were hidden.  Under the filth, the larger freak had dark hair and the smaller, weaker one, had blond hair.  Both beings had a metal belt that was secured around their waist and crotch; they sort of resembled medieval chastity belts.

Seth tossed a bag of dog food in the small room.  “There’s a special treat for y’all.  Now get back in there.”

The larger one turned around and slowly dragged the smaller one back into the dark eerie room.  When they disappeared into the darkness, Seth closed and locked the steel door.  Dicky stood silently as he looked at Seth in disbelief.  Seth strolled over to him and leaned up against the bars.  “You just met Curtis and Fabian.  Curtis is the larger of the two men and Fabian is the smaller one.  Both of these men are rapists who have no self-remorse.  I read about Curtis in the newspaper about fifteen years ago, and I stumbled across Fabian a few months later on the Internet.  Curtis, who is a serial sex offender, made headline news when the husband of his latest rape victim shot him as he was exiting a courthouse.  Curtis was on trial for the aggravated rape of a middle-aged real estate agent.  He had deceived the woman into thinking he was interested in a house that was for sale, and when she showed him the property, he beat, stabbed, burned, and raped her for over three hours.  The prosecution team had tons of undeniable physical evidence, and without a shadow of a doubt they were proving Curtis was her attacker.  During the trial the prosecution team was showing pictures of the crime scene and the lady’s injuries to indicate how violent the crime actually was.  Justin, the lady’s husband, became upset as the pictures were being displayed, and when he started screaming death threats at Curtis the police removed him from the courtroom.

The next day as Curtis was being escorted from the courthouse, Justin marched up to him and shot him point-blank in the chest with a pistol.  An hour later, Justin was behind bars and Curtis was on the operating table.  Curtis had to undergo hours of surgery and weeks of intensive care, but miraculously he survived the shooting.  For the next few months Curtis remained in the hospital, apparently going through some type of psychological rehabilitation and physical therapy.  He claimed he had a loss of memory from when his brain had been deprived of oxygen.  To make a long story longer, Curtis was acquitted when his attorneys blamed the shooting incident on the judicial system, stating he wasn’t being protected by the police when he was in their custody, especially when they knew that his life was in danger.  His attorneys also stated he had a severe mental breakdown and a loss of memory and basic motor skills from his life-threatening experience and injuries.  His attorneys stated convicting him of a crime he couldn’t remember would be cruel and inhumane.  Curtis didn’t go to prison, but Justin was sentenced to thirty years for premeditated attempted murder.  I was aggravated when I finished reading the article, and I became infuriated after I researched Curtis’ criminal background—he had been in and out of prison for sex crimes before this.  If our judicial system had done its job years ago when he had stuck his dick in his first victim, Justin and his wife would have never been subjected to this horrible event which destroyed their lives.

When I search his tax records a few years later, I found that Curtis was working at an east Texas oil field.  He listed his position as a mechanical technician.  That is the politically correct name for a grease monkey who is responsible for keeping moving parts lubricated.  I wanted to get a better idea of what kind of person he was, and I wanted to know if he was really mentally handicapped due to the alleged brain damage, so I made the drive to see if I could locate him.  After a couple of days of casing out the huge oil field and surrounding area, I learned most of the oil field workers who lived around the area would hang out at a run-down tavern during their off time.  The tavern was located next to the property line of the massive oil field, which was nothing more than a dust bowl, and there wasn’t anything else around for miles.  The workers were on rotating 8-hour shifts and I didn’t have a clue which shift he was working.  No one I asked knew of a Curtis, and his current address was incorrect because it showed he still lived in Amarillo at an apartment complex that had been demolished two years ago.  I didn’t want to leave empty-handed, so I threw on a disguise and hung out at the run-down tavern.  I blended right in as I sat in the joint, wearing a jumpsuit covered with oil.  People were coming and going all hours of the day as I eavesdropped on their conversations while keeping an eye out for the rapist.  The inside of the tavern was dark, which made me feel at ease because I like to keep a low profile, but it was going to make it difficult for me to recognize him if he came in.  The tavern closed at two in the morning, so I left around one-thirty and slept in my car that night.

The next day as I was sitting in a booth in the rear section of the tavern, a slightly chubby guy strolled in and sat at the bar.  The light from the beer signs was enough for me to identify him, but the waitress was calling him Tony.  I noticed he kept trying to talk to her, but she was ignoring him as best she could.  A jukebox on the adjacent wall was playing some country music and it was making it difficult for me to hear their conversation.  I didn’t want to move closer and give up my shadowed corner.  I noticed there was an electrical outlet next to my booth.  There was a chance that the jukebox was on the same circuit.  I took my fork and bent the inside pieces backwards, leaving only the two outside ones.  I wrapped a couple of napkins around the handle, then stuck the fork in the outlet, ensuring that one section went in the hot side of the receptacle and the other in the neutral side.  I purposely left the fork in place so the breaker could not be reset.  The jukebox went out, but so did a couple of beer signs and a pool table light.  The guys at the pool table tossed their cue sticks on the table and went back to their seats.

A moment later, the cook came out of the kitchen and went into a closet for a short bit, then went back into the kitchen.  Now I could hear everyone’s conversations.  I even heard the cook tell another waitress the breaker wouldn’t reset and for her to call an electrician.  She walked over and asked some men at a table if they could see what the problem was because they were electricians, but they told her they were I.B.E.W. and that kind of work was for the ratty ass non-union electricians.  She shrugged her shoulders as she strolled back to the bar area.  Now that the drama of the power issue was over, I concentrated on Curtis.  He was still sitting at the bar eye fucking the waitress.  When she came closer, he leaned forward.  “Hey darlin’, come here.”

“Now what?”

“You know what.”

“No, and I don’t want to know.”

“Come on, don’t be like that.”

“Honey, I’m just not interested.”

“You be givin’ that good time lovin’ to everyone else.  What’s wrong with ol’ Tony?  I ain’t good enough?”

“Don’t start.”

“Fuck you then.  I didn’t want any of that old saggy shit anyway!”

One of the men who had been playing pool looked toward Curtis.  “Leave her alone.”

Curtis laughed in a smart-ass way as he spun around on his barstool and faced the man.  “Shut the fuck up, boy, before I bitch slap you!”

The man shook his head and held his hands up to state he was backing down.  “I don’t want any trouble.”

Curtis threw a peanut at him.  “If you can reach down between your legs and find some balls, stand up and be a man and do something about it.”

After Curtis threw another peanut, the man put his head down in a cowardly way.

Curtis looked around the almost-empty bar as he grinned like a possum eating shit.  When he saw me, he stopped grinning.  “You wanna say something, ass fuck?”

I look directly toward him with a serious expression.  “Listen here, Curtis, you woman beating rapist.  I’ll knock all your fucking teeth out of your mouth!”

His eyes grew huge, and as his face turned red, he stuttered, “My name ain’t Curtis.”

I stood up.  “Yeah, it is.  You’re the one who beat, stabbed, burned, and raped that real estate agent, and then her husband shot your sorry ass, which supposedly made you retarded.”

Everyone in the tavern looked shocked, and as some of them were whispering to each other, Curtis turned another shade of red.  While everyone was staring at him, he got off his bar stool and scampered out the door.  I tossed some money on the table and followed him.  He was waiting for me as I walked outside, and when I approached him, he held his hands out as if saying, stop.  “Hey man, I’m sorry.  I don’t want any trouble.  Just leave me alone.”

He started walking away, so I followed him.  “What’s wrong, pal?  Mad that someone found out you’re more of a piece of shit than they had originally thought?”

I inched closely behind him as he was trying to flee, and when I got closer, he began walking faster.  “What the fuck do you want, man?”

“I need to find out if you’re really a retard so I can determine if you need to be tortured in the most horrific and unnatural way that a sick and twisted fucker like myself can conjure up.”

Curtis took off running toward his car as I pulled out a gun, and as he grabbed the door handle, I shot him with a tranquilizer.  He shouted out, “Fuck,” a few seconds before he hit the ground, and as he laid in the dirt, I dug through his pockets and found his keys.  My car was a half a mile down the road hidden in an old, abandoned building, so I pulled him into the backseat, then took off in his car.  There were a few wetbacks in the parking lot that had witnessed the incident, but they weren’t going to say anything because they were illegals.  Also, they were so drunk that they probably thought they were still in Mexico.  The people in the tavern would never be able to recognize me because of my disguise.  If the police were called and did an investigation, they would find fingerprints I had left on several beer bottles and the fork, but they weren’t mine.  I had planted false prints using stamps I had made, which replicated Richard Terryhole’s fingerprints.  A few minutes later, I pulled into the abandoned building and quickly loaded Curtis into the trunk of my car, and before I hauled ass, I planted Sandy’s fingerprints inside of his car.  When I got back home, I threw him into this small, confined room.  I knew he wasn’t retarded, but I did want to know if he remembered what he had done, so I decided to leave him in the small chamber where he couldn’t see any of the horrifying things until I could figure out how to get that info from him.

Several days later, I opened the door and tossed him a big Chief tablet and a box of crayons.  He rushed the door, so I slammed it in his face, then opened a small inspection door.  He was hysterical.  “What the fuck, man!?!  What are you doing?  I demand you release me!  Hey, do you hear me?  This is cruel what you’re doing.  You better release me at once.  Do you hear me?”

I shut and locked the small door.

A week later, I opened the inspection door again, and before he had a chance to speak, I said, “If you say a word I’ll leave your ass in here for a month.”

He quickly ran up the door.  “Get me the fuck…”

I slammed and locked the small door.

A month later when I opened the inspection door, he didn’t say a word.  I shined a light at him.  “If you want to leave this room, I need you to write down exactly what you did to the lady you raped.  If you leave out one detail, I will cut your throat.  Your only chance of getting out is the truth.”

He remained quiet as I shut and locked the door.

Three days later, I opened the inspection door.  “Do you have my document?”

He eased up to the opening and softly spoke, “Sir, please listen.  I had used the tablet for toilet paper, and I ate the crayons.  I didn’t know that’s what they were for, and you didn’t give me time to explain the last time.”

“Why the fuck did you eat the crayons?”

“I was hungry.  The only thing you’ve given me for nourishment was some dog food and bottled water.”

I shined a light into the small chamber and lit up some rats that were running around.  “That’s what the rats are for.  The dog food was to attract them.”

“I didn’t know.”

I tossed another big Chief tablet and a box of crayons into the small chamber.  “You have two days.  And I promise you, if it’s not accurate I will not open this door for a year.”

“I can’t see to write.”

“Use your instincts,” I said as I locked him in the dark.

Two days later when I opened the inspection door, Curtis was waiting and instantly pushed the tablet through the opening.  “What you’re doing to me is wrong.”

“That all depends on your statement.”

“You have no right to….”

I shut the door and locked it, then went upstairs so I could compare his chicken scratch to the court records.  Curtis nailed the event as if it had taken place yesterday.  He had lied about not being able to recall what had happened after the shooting incident.  He wasn’t mentally slow either, because his spelling and grammar were perfect, not to mention that he was in the dark when he was writing, which would have prevented him from proofreading and correcting his mistakes.

The next morning, I opened the larger door so he could come out of the small chamber, and as soon as he poked his head out, he went back in and closed the door himself.  I opened the inspection door.  “What’s wrong?  I thought you wanted out?”

He sat in the back of the small room and didn’t say a word.

“If you don’t fucking speak, I am going to drag your ass out of there and skin you alive!”

“I’d rather be in here.”

Later that evening, I came back with several large plastic containers.  I removed their lids and threw them into the dark room.  I shut and locked the door, then peeked through the inspection door.  “I hope you’re not afraid of rattlesnakes, because I just tossed three of them into your little comfort zone with a whole bunch of scorpions and centipedes.”

He began screaming and banging on the door.

Later that evening as I was messing around in the chamber, I was thinking about Curtis, wondering how terrified he was from being surrounded by snakes and stinging bugs.  Then it dawned on me; being in the dark with them was probably not that bad since he couldn’t see them.  I went back over to the inspection door and tossed him a flashlight.  I watched as he was freaking out while frantically shining the light around.  The snakes were curled up in the corner, but the insects were crawling all over the walls, ceiling, and floor.  He was slapping the bugs away and screaming like a little bitch as he tried to find a safe place.  Before I shut the inspection door I said, “You better conserve your batteries.  You don’t want to be in the pitch dark with all those critters.”

I left him in the room for weeks before I checked on him again.  I knew he was alive as long as I could hear him screaming, begging, and cursing.  As far as nourishment, I knew he would eat the bugs before he would starve to death, and he had a water supply where it was seeping through the walls.”

Seth sat down next to the cell.  He noticed Dicky had an expression of curiosity on his face, so he asked, “What’s on your mind.”

“Did the snakes not bite him?”

“Of course, they did.”

Dicky looked troubled.

“The snakes were venomoids.”

He’s facial expression changed to a confused look.

“A venomoid is a snake that had its venom glands removed.  They were given to me by a friend because the fangs had grown back, and he wasn’t sure if the venom glands had grown back as well and didn’t want to risk it.  I definitely like the fangs, but do periodic checks to see if their gland is functional.  So yes, the asshole was bitten quite a bit, but outside of maybe an infection and the initial pain of the bite, he experienced more mental torture than anything else.”

Raped by Royalty

Seth propped his feet up on the bars of the cell, then slouched in his chair to get comfortable.  “Around this time, I read about Fabian on the Internet.  I remember the headline read Raped by Royalty.  The article was from a group of university students who were fed up with the politics and special treatment of students whose families were wealthy and powerful.  They wanted to let the world know how there had been an injustice at their university, and they wanted someone to do something about it.  Their wish was granted.

Fabian was a fraternity boy at a prestigious university where the library was named in honor of his mother’s family, which in return gave him a reputation that was impeccable and creditable.  To make a long story longer, he had been accused of raping a freshman, and because of his family’s reputation, the girl didn’t stand a chance, and even worse, some had turned against her stating she was falsely accusing him.  The girl committed suicide shortly after.  A year later another girl came forward, and the same thing happened, but instead of killing herself, she dropped out of school and moved back home.  A few months later when I followed up on the story again the university had shut down the website, stating the tape recording that had been recently posted was confidential and legal action would be taken if it was reposted.  I dug through my records and found the email of one of the students who had been responsible for the original article.  I sent an email from an untraceable account and asked for a landline number where I could discuss the issue privately.  A few minutes later I received a number.  I called using an untraceable cell phone, and when a girl answered, I told her I didn’t want to know her name or anything about her, and if she truly wanted help, she would have to send me whatever evidence she had.  She felt comfortable enough to move forward because I didn’t ask anything about her, so I gave her the address to my post office box I had registered with false information.

Several weeks later, I drove to Louisiana to see if she had sent anything.  I’m always cautious when I have to check one of my PO boxes, which I’ve scattered throughout the states.  You never know if they’re being watched, so I usually pay a homeless person to check them for me.  I only use post offices that are in the crappy part of the city so I have a large selection of homeless to pick from.

When I entered the section of the city where the post office was located, I parked in a parking garage, then hoofed it several blocks to where the homeless lived under a bridge.  I picked out a woman that was off away from the others, and I told her if she would check my box for me I would give her a hundred-dollar bill.  She agreed, so I gave her my key.  The lady frowned as she examined the extra-large key fob.  I told her it was large because I have a bad habit of losing my keys.  I handed the lady a large metal box with a handle, which resembled a small toolbox, and I told her to put the contents of the PO Box into it when she was done.  I then told her when she got back to the bridge to put the box and key in the cloth grocery bag that would be next to the red trashcan, and her money would be taped under a rock on top of the bag.  She smiled as she took off down the sidewalk.”

Seth pulled a key fob out of his pocket and held it up.  “This is what I gave her.”

Dicky noticed it was a large cross.  It was around five inches tall.  “Why are you showing me that?”

Seth stuck it back in his pocket.  “Because everything isn’t as it seems.  Always remember that.”

“It’s just a large cross.  Whoop-de-doo.”

“No, you fucking smartass, it has a built-in microphone and transmitter so I can be warned if the police or someone else catches the person I’ve sent.”

He looked down.

“I might seem a little paranoid, but if my mailbox was under surveillance, the police or whoever was watching could catch my gofer and force them to point me out.  That’s why I take these precautionary steps.  When the lady came back, she put the box and key into the bag, then she grabbed her hundred-dollar bill from the rock and took off.  Another homeless person strolled up to the trashcan and grabbed the bag, then he walked several blocks through different alleyways until he met with me.  After I gave him a hundred, I took off myself.  When I got back to my car, I didn’t hesitate for a second.  I quickly drove off and left the city.  Time is important when someone might be staking you out.  The one minute that it would have taken me to examine the box, it could have cost me my life.  The content really isn’t that important.

When I got back home, I took the box into a small room and shut the door.  The room is lined with lead panels, and the box I use is lined with lead as well.  This is another precautionary step I always take just in case my mail has been tampered with.  Someone could easily hide a tracking device in a piece of mail, which would lead them directly here, and like I said before, I will take every possible step to keep from being caught.  When I opened the box, there were several pieces of junk mail and a manila envelope.  I opened the envelope and found a CD.  I went upstairs to the laptop I keep strictly for offline use.  Again, being cautious—someone could have installed a virus on the disk, and if I was connected to the Internet, untraceable or not, it could pinpoint my location, especially if the hacker was skilled, and this could take place without me being the wiser.

The CD had a recording between Fabian and his psychiatrist and another between him and his best friend. It also contained a photocopy of several pages from a journal that he kept, the identity of his last rape victim (a girl named Emily), and the police report regarding the incident.

It seemed someone had gone to a great deal of time investigating him.  I can see why the university removed the contents from the website, especially the conversations between Fabian and his psychiatrist.  The conversations are protected by doctor-patient confidentially and they are illegal in any trial, except for mine.  As I examined the records, the first thing that got my attention was why in the hell did a young rich boy like Fabian need a shrink.  Isn’t life perfect for an asshole like him?  I also noticed the dickhead was in his last year of law school; go figure.  I stayed up all night listening to the conversations between him and his psychiatrist.  There were hours of discussions about his sexual thoughts and fantasy about rape.  The psychiatrist would state Fabian’s sexual desires and thoughts would classify him as a power-assertive rapist, and if he didn’t continue to get help, he might act out his fantasies; I think the psychiatrist was a day late and a dollar short.  When I finished listening to the loony bin section of the recordings, I listened to a phone conversation between Fabian and his friend.  Fabian pretty much confessed to his buddy about raping the freshman who had committed suicide, and he even made a comment stating the bitch deserved to die because she was a sorry fuck.  The photocopy of his journal was very interesting.  It pretty much repeated the same shit as what he had told his psychiatrist, except in his journal he did mention he had forced sex with both girls that had accused him of rape.  Instead of him using the term rape, he called it ‘taking low-income pussy’.  His writings went in depth on how he liked to prey on weaker women and overpower them.  After reading through the pages, it looked like there were three women that he had raped and another four that he had drugged and raped.  I’m not sure why he would keep such incriminating evidence, but I think it was for several reasons.  One, he most likely thought he was untouchable and it was a power trip.  Two, he probably got off every time he read it.  And three, he was an idiot.  This guy seemed to be a real piece of shit and I was actually drooling as I thought about the different types of torture I wanted to do to him, but before I jumped the gun I needed to be sure the information I had was correct.  I needed to be sure Fabian was the one speaking in the recordings, so I called his frat house to see if I could get him on the phone.  The smart ass that answered wouldn’t give me a direct line to Fabian’s room or his cell phone number, so I told him I was a friend of Fabian’s from back home and I needed to talk with him.  After I gave the guy my cell phone number, he said he would relay the message the next time he saw him.

Since I didn’t receive a call after several days, I tried again, but this time the guy that answered the phone popped off and said he wasn’t an answering service.  Before I called again, I did a little more research on Fabian and his family.  I found out which of the law firms he would be most likely interested in, and when I called his frat house for the third time, I said that I was with Wyatt, Carter and Associates and I wanted to set up a time to meet with him to discuss his future plans.  The girl that had answered the phone informed me he wasn’t there; I figured he was probably too busy raping someone, but she said she would give him the message.  I left a fake name and a phone number to a different cell phone so Fabian wouldn’t notice the numbers were the same and get cautious.

A few more days had passed and I still hadn’t received a call from the rapist, so this time when I called I said I was with the FBI and I needed to talk to him immediately.  I stated it was an extremely urgent issue.

Five minutes later, Fabian called my cell phone.  “Yeah, this is Robert.  How can I help you?”

“Sir, this is Mr. Deorsam with the FBI.  Boston field office, Criminal Investigations Division.  Is this a secure line?”

“I think so.  What’s wrong?”

“Sir, I need you to listen closely.”

“Okay.”

“We would normally contact you in person, but we are in the middle of investigating a serial killer that we strongly believe has targeted you and we can’t take a chance of alarming him.”

“I’m going to leave and head home.”

“I do not advice that, Sir.  If this person even suspects something has changed, he will most likely move on his target.”

“Target?  You mean me?”

“Yes sir.  We are dealing with a very sick person.  I cannot go into the specifics, but he skinned his last victim and wore their skin as a bathrobe.”

He stayed quiet.

“Sir.”

“Yes, I’m still here.”

“I will be contacting you shortly to set up a place to meet at a secured location.”

“I’m not sure what to do.”

“Do your normal routine.”

“Yes sir.”

“And remember, it’s very important to keep this to yourself.  This person might know someone you know and will be alerted.”

“Yes sir.  I understand.  When can I meet with you?”

“Soon.”  I hung up the phone and started laughing.  The main reason I called was to get his voice on tape, but it was also fun messing with him.”

Seth sat up.  “I wasn’t sure if my bullshit FBI introduction worked, but he did sound worried.  Mr. Deorsam was a real FBI agent from the Boston field office, but he was on paid administrative leave, which I had found out from one of my sources beforehand.  I did this in case numbnuts called, and if he did, they would simply tell him Mr. Deorsam was out of the office.  And most likely they would not comment on any investigations that Mr. Deorsam was or wasn’t involved in.  Now that I had his voice on tape, I used voice identification software to compare his current voice with the recorded voice on the CD; it clearly indicated that they were the same.”

Seth stood up.  “It was sure nice to have someone else do most of the footwork for me.  It really saved me a lot of time and allowed me to be more active in the chamber.  Between the university student who sent me the info and Judge Terryhole’s files, I figured they saved me several years of researching and stake out trips.”

“Good for you.”

Seth laughed.  “Would you be interested in being my secretary?”

He looked at Seth like he was crazy.

Seth shook his head.  “No, I think suffering is going to be your occupation.”  Seth leaned up against the rusted bars of the cell.  “The next morning, I loaded up everything I might need and took off in a black late nineties Crown Victoria with tinted windows.  I drove nonstop, except for getting gas, to New Haven, Connecticut.  The area was congested with people, and cameras seemed to be on every freaking corner.  The school campus had even more people and cameras.  There was no way I could get to Fabian without drawing attention to myself due to the amount of people coming and going.  Anything I did would wind up on a camera and it would be crazy to even try to disable all of them.  He lived at his frat house, and sneaking in there would be impossible.  At any given time, day or night, I knew there would always be a handful of dickheads coming or going.  I needed a way that would allow me to snag him right out in the open, and where he wouldn’t get spooked.  Over the next few hours, I drove around and studied the area.  Around lunchtime I rented a storage unit in the town of Hamden that fit the layout I was looking for.  To make sure the unit couldn’t be traced back to me, I wore a disguise and used false information.  I also paid two years of rental in advance and told the guy at the facility I was heading overseas to make my story creditable.  The facility was a run-down piece of shit and didn’t have a security gate or fencing, which meant I didn’t have to enter a gate code that would be time stamped.  The leasing office closed at 6 PM, so there wouldn’t be anyone around at nighttime.  There were cameras, but there would have to be a reason for someone to review the video, and after a short period of time, the system would overwrite the data anyway.  And I really doubt the owners would keep long-term records; like they give a shit what happens to your crap.

Later that evening, I parked my car at a strip center that was a mile down from the storage facility.  From there I took a taxi over to Kinneytown and bought an older Harley Davidson with a small cargo type trailer from a guy that had them listed on Craigslist.  That night I went back to the storage facility and parked the bike in the unit.  I walked to my car, then headed back to New Haven to wrap up the final step.  I drove over to a car wash on the shitty side of town that didn’t have any cameras and shot out the light bulbs in one of the bays with a CO2-powered BB gun.

The next day, I called the fucker and told him I wanted to meet him at 6 PM at the Memorial Garden Park that was on his campus.  I knew he would feel comfortable meeting there because it was his territory and there would be people everywhere.  That evening I was leaning on the hood of my car wearing a gray ban-lon type pullover, khaki cargo pants, black shoes, and a black nylon tactical jacket.  My hair, or wig I should say, was jet black and slicked back, which fit well with the Freddie Mercury style mustache that I was sporting.  I was also wearing some prosthetics and makeup that slightly changed the appearance of my face.  Around 6 PM, I noticed Fabian was wandering around the park as he looked for me.  When he finally looked in my direction, I waved him over.  When he approached, I nodded toward the passenger door.  He strolled over and got into the passenger’s seat.  The law school moron plopped his ass right down in the front seat and shut the door.  I didn’t even say a word as I jammed a needle into his leg and knocked his ass out.  He had apparently told a buddy what was going on because the dude was watching from a distance.  Getting Fabian was easy, but unfortunately there were a couple of cameras in the area.  When I was leaving the parking lot I noticed there were several young punks eye fucking me as I drove away, not to mention his buddy was wondering what the hell was going on and most likely calling the police.  Time was crucial, so I drove straight over to a carwash that was ten minutes away.  The sun was setting and the area was getting dark.  I drove into the bay where the lights were out.  No one was able to see me wash the black temporary auto paint off the car.  I had driven in with a black car and exited with a white one, all under the cover of darkness on the ghetto side of town where nobody gives a shit about installing cameras.

My next destination was the storage facility, and as I drove I removed my disguise and put on another one.  When I got there, I drove straight up to my unit and pulled the car inside.  I was now at ease, so I took my time in preparing for the next step.  The rear of my storage unit was also the back of the building, which backed up to an alleyway.  On the other side of the alley was an unoccupied building.  I exited the storage unit, shut the roll up door and secured it with a pad lock, then strolled out of the facility and down a street.  If someone reviewed the video, it would simply look as if I had dropped off my car and then footed somewhere else.  When I was out of camera range, I doubled back and snuck down the alleyway that ran behind the storage facility.  There was only one camera on that side and I needed to temporarily disable it, so I climbed onto the roof of the office.  The camera was mounted on a pole that was secured to the roof.  I could have turned the pole, but that would have caused suspicion if they reviewed the recording.  Disconnecting the coax might set off an alarm, depending on the system and if they had it enabled.  I had a simple solution, which I had used in the past.  It’s common for bugs to be drawn to the LEDs in night vision cameras.  I took an average sized moth, a fake but realistic one, and taped it to the lens.”

Dicky laughed.  “That was technical.”

“Of course, I didn’t just slap it up there.  I manipulated it with fishing string as if it were flittering around, then taped its wings to the side of the camera.”

“Sounds convincing.”

“It actually is.  This is something I’ve practiced at home so I could make it as real as possible.  The fake moth will move around slightly as the wind blows.  From the recording, it would look authentic.  The infrared will bounce off the moth and make the recording blurry.  And I’ve had moths or other insects attach themselves to my cameras for hours at a time, so yes, it looked real.”

He just glared at Seth.

“Look here, fucker!  As I’ve told you over and over, things are not always what they seem.  And do I have to go into detail with everything?”

“Naw, you’re good.”

“So anyway, I didn’t see any more cameras, but there was a security light that was mounted close to where the back of my unit was.  I shot out the bulb with my CO2 BB gun.  Now that it was dark and the camera was disabled,

I snuck to the back of my storage unit and, using a nut driver, removed several self-tapping screws where two sections of corrugated metal came together, then pulled the overlapping sheet away and crawled into my unit.  There was no time to spare, so I immediately began moving all my stuff over to the motorcycle.  Most everything I had brought with me was in two duffel bags, so I was able to tie them to the rear seat.  I connected Fabian to an IV bag filled with a mild tranquilizer so he would sleep the duration of the trip, then duct taped the shit out of him and stuck him inside the small cargo trailer.  To prevent trace evidence being left in the car, I gave it a good cleaning, but also had another trick up my sleeve to prevent anyone from finding anything just in case I left something behind.  I had three hog carcasses bagged up in the trunk, so I un-bagged them and stuck one in the front seat, one in the rear seat and left one in the trunk.  To prevent the smell from alerting someone, I covered the entire car with a thick sheet of poly and duct taped the shit out of the edges to the concrete floor.  And to ensure that the duct tape and plastic didn’t come loose, I poured sand all the way around the seam to hold it in place.  If enough time goes by, the carcasses will eventually contaminate the entire interior of the car, just like on MythBusters when they did it.  When I felt comfortable that everything that needed to be done was completed, I laid out a sheet of plastic and stood in the center so I could change my disguise without leaving any incriminating evidence behind.  I changed my clothing to something that was more fitting for riding: blue jeans, a black tee shirt, boots, and a heavy leather jacket.  It would be hard to wear a complicated disguise such as prosthetics, makeup or wigs because I was going to be flying down the highway, so I made some simple changes like facial scars and pockmarks.  Luckily the guy had thrown in a half-shell German style helmet with the bike—I didn’t know which states currently had helmet laws in effect and didn’t need to get pulled over.  I was getting tired, and knew the drive back home was long, so I laid on the plastic and took a nap.  There really wasn’t any rush as long as I left before sunrise, and that would be better than falling asleep on the highway.

I slept for five hours.  My next move was going to be a little riskier.  I wasn’t worried about getting caught because I always have a few tricks up my sleeve, but that would ruin my plan of being stealthy, which would cause me to have to watch my ass all the way back home.  I slipped back outside through the corrugated metal, then removed several sheets.  I quickly pushed the bike and trailer outside and reinstalled the metal.  Before I left, I stopped next to the office and removed the fake moth.  It might seem I was going overboard with changing out vehicles and such, but Fabian was from a wealthy family with a lot of influences and if there was any indication he had been abducted, the police would be all over that shit.  There was probably a ninety percent chance I could have driven off from the parking lot and made it back home without any issues.  Heading home after the car wash increased my chances to ninety five percent and changing over to the bike increased my chances to ninety nine percent.  There are risks with doing any type of change out with the potential of leaving trace evidence behind, but I would rather take calculated chances instead of gambling.  The owners of the storage facility shouldn’t have had any reason to view the recordings unless some jackass robbed them within a few days.  After a short period of time, the part of me coming and going from my unit, which was recorded by the front cameras only, would have been erased.  The rear of the unit would eventually be mowed, destroying anything I could have left there.  The purpose of the pig carcasses was to destroy the car’s interior, turning it into a rotted meat-covered gore fest, eliminating any trace evidence.  The car was what I call a throw away.  There wasn’t anything that could link it back to me.  I use them instead of my own car when I know I will be ditching them.

It was around three in the morning when I was finally heading down the highway.  I was a little nervous being on a motorcycle—cops tend to pick on bikers.  Sixteen hours later I was entering Kentucky and had only made a few stops for gas and taking a break.”

Seth glanced at his watch.  “Hey, pal, I’ve gotta take care of something.  I’ll be back in a little while.”

Dicky shook his head as Seth strolled out of the chamber.

Murphy and his Fuckin’ Laws

A few hours later Seth came back.  He tossed a picture next to Dicky.  “That’s Emily.  She was around twenty-two in that picture.  It was taken before Fabian.”

“Who?”

“You no listening fuck!  The second girl that Fabian raped.  The one who dropped out of college and moved back home.”

He glanced at the picture, noticing she looked like a normal young person.  “Oh yeah, I remember.”

Seth tossed another picture in his cell.  “That’s Emily a year after Fabian.”

He was saddened as he compared the pictures.  “She doesn’t even look like the same person.”

Seth sat down.  “In the second picture, she looked like she had just been dragged out from under a rock.  She reminded me a lot of the Kayleigh character from the movie The Butterfly Effect.  Before Fabian, she was pretty, intelligent and had a carefree spirit.  After Fabian, she transformed into a rough looking and broken-down person.  Before I made the trip to get Fabian, I had done a little investigation on Emily to see how she was doing, but I came up empty-handed.  It’s something I’ve always done with the surviving victims of lowlifes that I go after so I can have a greater understanding of the damage caused.  If there is something I can do that will make a difference, I will, if I can stay anonymous.  The original documentation I had received gave me some information about her.  She lived on a farm in Carter County, Kentucky with her parents, which was convenient because that was on the way back home from the east coast.  I wanted to drive through and see what kind of town she was from.  This was back before Google Maps had satellite view.  After I drove through her small town I passed by her parents’ farm, then headed west on 64.  About an hour later, I stopped at a diner and parked in the side parking lot away from the other vehicles.  I went and sat in the back, and when the waitress came over the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.  It was Emily.  I recognized her from the pictures I had of her.  I was caught off guard because I usually don’t come face-to-face with the victims.  She had a sad look in her eyes and I wanted to blurt out I knew and I had the scum bag in the cargo trailer, but I remained quiet and ordered.  When I was getting ready to leave, I noticed the rear tire on the cargo trailer was leaning outwards.  When I examined it closer, I found three of the four welds holding the spindle in place had broken.  I was aggravated as shit at Murphy and his freakin’ laws as I stood there wondering how in the hell I was going to get out of this one.  When I examined it closer, I could tell someone had tried to JB Weld the damn thing to hide the damage instead of fixing it correctly.  I had a bad feeling about the asshole I had bought the bike from.  He seemed to be the kind of prick to do such a thing just to get rid of the piece of shit.  I knew the tire wouldn’t make it much further and I didn’t have a plan in place for another vehicle swap.  About this time, Emily came out of a side door and lit a cigarette, apparently leaving for the night.  She walked over to me as I was crawling out from under the trailer.  “Looks like you’re having a crappy night as well.”

“Yeah, the part that holds the tire on needs to be re-welded.”

“Is there anything that I can do?  My cousin has a shop right down the road.”

“I have to do something.  I’m a long way from home.”

She looked at the California license plate.  She smiled, and in a joking manner said, “Ever heard of preventative maintenance?”

“Yeah….  The jackass that I got this from got one over on me.”

She frowned.  “I know how you feel.”

I leaned against my bike and lit a cigarette.  “Having a bad night?”

“More like a bad couple of years.”

“Sounds like you need help more than me.  Anything I can do?”

She gazed at me with a sad expression as her eyes teared up.  “No one can help me.”

“I can help you in ways you can’t even imagine.”

She started to speak but I interrupted.  “If you had the chance to vindicate yourself against anyone, would you be willing to do it?  And could you live with yourself?”

She began to speak again, but I continued.  “What I’m asking is very important.  Could you live with yourself, and would it make a difference in your life?”

She began to get a little upset.  “Who are you and why are you asking me this?”

I got back on my bike and started it.  “Sorry.  Just forget I said anything.”

She walked in front of my bike and grabbed the handlebars.  “No.  I need to know what you mean.”

I killed the ignition.  “First answer my question.”

“I don’t understand why you’re asking.  Do you know something?”

“Just passing through.  Didn’t mean to upset you.”

She stepped away from my bike and faced away from me as she held her hands over her face.  “I used to pray every night.”

She stopped talking, so I got off my bike and eased up behind her and put my hand on her shoulder.  “How do you feel about a person who takes the law into their own hands and punishes the wicked for the crimes they have done to others?”

She turned and faced me as she wiped her tears.  “A long time ago I would have disagreed with that.”

“But now?”

“Things are different.”

“Now back to my question.  Would it change your life in a positive way if you were vindicated outside the law?  And would that be something you could live with?”

She stared at me for a moment with a serious look.  “I’m still not sure who you are or why you’re asking, but I’ve been thinking about some bad things.  I’m okay with living the rest of my life in jail, but I couldn’t do that to my parents.  They don’t deserve that.  That’s…. that’s….”

She began crying again.  “That’s what?  It’s okay to tell me.”

“You’re a stranger.”

“The pawns of evil are the ones we have to be wary of.”

“She crossed her arms as tears ran down her face.  “I don’t mean to sound rude, but are you one of those Bible thumpers?  I lost my faith a long time ago.”

“I have my beliefs.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s a long story, but I know God is disappointed in me right now.  I’m not standing here passing judgment.  I am simply offering help the only way I know how.”

She looked at me for a moment.  “That’s why I haven’t taken my own life.  I just keep living this miserable existence so I don’t hurt my family anymore.”

I knew I needed to do it even if it jeopardized my existence.  I walked over to the back of the trailer.  “One of two things is going to happen when I open this.”  I unlocked the lid.  “I’m either going to leave this trailer behind and you can call the police, or you can let me re-weld the spindle at your cousin’s shop without him knowing, and then I will continue down the road with this trailer.  The choice will be yours.  Do what you can live with.  And something else, this all falls on my shoulders and not yours.”

She moved closer, then paused.  “You’re starting to scare me.”

“Be strong.  This can be a life changing event for you.”  I opened the lid.

Her eyes grew big when she noticed there was someone tied up in the trailer, then she became uneasy and began looking around as if she wanted to run, so I stepped back to give her space.  “It’s Fabian.  It’s your choice if you want me to take him with me and make him pay for his actions, or you can run and I will leave him behind.”

She began panicking.

“I’m not going to harm you.  Just take some deep breaths and try to calm down.”

She looked at me like I was crazy.

“I know this is really fucked up.  I didn’t plan on running into you.  I especially didn’t plan on getting you involved.”

She calmed down a bit, but was still cautious as she looked over into the trailer and noticed it was Fabian.  “Oh, shit!  Let me think.  I don’t understand why you have him.  You don’t know me.  Did someone pay you to do this?”

“This is what I do.  I take the law into my own hands and punish the wicked when our judicial system fails.”

“How do you know me?”

“I know all the victims of the scumbags that I go after.”

She still exhibited a worried expression.

“This isn’t something I’ve ever done before.  There must be a reason why it’s turning out this way.”

She gave me a weird look.  “I don’t understand.”

“Well, either Fabian has a guardian angel looking out for him, or you do.”

She looked at me with a strange expression that I hadn’t seen from her before.  “Close the lid and follow me.  My cousin is at work for a few more hours.”

I was a little cautious as I followed her out into the country.  She finally pulled onto a gravel road and drove up to a small wood framed house with a couple of old wooden buildings in the back.  She got out of her car and pointed to a lean-to type of structure.  “I think he has a welder in there.”

I pulled up to the building and got out.  She didn’t say anything as she sat on the hood of her car as I welded the spindle.  When the repair was completed, I got on my bike and started to pull away, but I stopped next to her car.  “Don’t let Fabian, or my encounter with you, ruin your faith.”

She gave me a partial hand gesture to say goodbye before I disappeared into the dark.  When I got back home, I dragged Fabian into the chamber and threw him into the small room with his perverted buddy Curtis, who had acquired a taste for bugs and rats.”

Seth could tell Dicky had something on his mind.  “What is it, pal?”

“The girl knows who you are.”

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

He began to speak again, but Seth interrupted.  “I get really tired of explaining shit to you.”

Seth leaned forward and tossed another picture into the cell.

He picked it up and noticed that Emily looked like her old self.  “Okay.”

Seth walked over and stood by the bars.  “She went back to school to become a veterinarian.  I decided to go back and check on her toward the end of her first year.  I was leaning against a tree on campus talking to a couple of shithead freshmen when she and her friends ambled by.  She gave me a smile.  I nodded toward her.  At that moment, I knew running into her at the diner was fate and I had done the right thing.  That was quite a few years ago.  She now operates a small animal clinic back in her hometown.  If I ever do get busted, I hope it’s because I chose to do something good for someone instead of getting caught when I am out nabbing scumbags like you.”

“Do you think it was appropriate to drag this girl into your twisted world of bullshit?”

“She never knew what I had planned for Fabian.  Punishment to her probably meant beating the shit out of him, or killing his ass.  Only fuckheads like you get the pleasure of seeing this hellhole and all the shit that goes on, you fucking smartass.”

“Fuckhead, huh?”

Raping the Rapist

Dicky was still mad about being called a fuckhead.  Seth could tell he was pouting.  “Don’t get your panties in a wad.  And let’s get back to the story of the two scumbags.  Over the course of several weeks as the two rapists fought over the remaining insect snacks, I worked on a unique device for them.  When I was done, I gassed the room and dragged the two unconscious and nude rapists, or according to Fabian’s psychiatrist, a power-assertive rapist, and an anger-retaliatory rapist, into the chamber so I could install a custom-made chastity belt on both of them.  When they finally awoke, one was happy about being out of the small room and the other one was scared shitless and wanted to hide, but they were both chained to the floor in the center of the chamber.  Fabian stood up and stared uncertainly at the strange device around his waist and crotch.  The chastity belt resembled a metal jockstrap, but instead of having his dick locked inside like most chastity belts, it hung out through a hole in the front.  His ball sack was hidden inside the belt and his ass crack was exposed.  The front portion of the device, just below his belly button, stuck out a few inches—it housed mechanical parts.

Fabian finally saw me sitting across the chamber.  “What the fuck!?!  I demand you release me at once.  You don’t know who the fuck……”

Zap!

He fell to the floor and screamed at the top of his lungs as he pounded on his chastity belt.  After a few seconds, I released the button on a remote that I was holding.  He stopped screaming, cupped his crotch and began bawling.  Inside his metal jockstrap were electrodes that encircled his balls, which I had activated when he was running his mouth.  While Fabian was bawling like a baby, Curtis wasn’t making a sound as he sat on the floor covered in filth.

A few minutes later, Fabian apparently wanted more shock therapy because he stood back up and shouted, “Who in the fuck do you think you are?”

Instead of shocking Fabian, I shocked Curtis, and after several seconds I released the button.  “Curtis, rape Fabian in the leg.”

Curtis jumped to his feet.  “I’ll do whatever you want!  Please don’t hurt me anymore.”

“Go get ‘em then.”

When he started moving toward Fabian, I pushed another button on the remote control.  A slide gate opened on Curtis’ chastity belt where the mechanical section was housed, then a one-inch diameter by six-inch long telescoping pole with a sharp point extended out through the opening.  Curtis stopped walking and looked down as he and Fabian stared in horror at the pointed pole.

“What’s the problem, pal?”

Curtis looked at me and held his hands out, gesturing he didn’t know what to do.

I locked the ball-shocking button on Fabian’s remote to immobilize him.  He fell to the floor and began shaking.  I eyed Curtis.  “Stick him in the leg, then stick your dick in the hole.”

Curtis was hesitating, so I zapped his nuts for a few seconds.  He jumped on top of Fabian and drove the sharp six-inch long telescoping pole that was sticking out the front of his chastity belt into Fabian’s thigh muscle.  As soon as the shaft completely sank into Fabian’s leg, I pushed a button on the remote and retracted the telescoping pole.  Blood was squirting out of Fabian’s wound as he laid shaking on the floor.  Curtis looked puzzled as to what to do next.

“Treat that bloody hole the way you like to treat women.”

He looked at me with disbelief, and as he stood over Fabian with a facial expression like he wanted to vomit, I pressed his ball-zapping button until he stuck his dick into the hole in Fabian’s leg.  Fabian was screaming, and Curtis was gagging as he held his limp dick inside of Fabian’s wound, and after a short period of time, he pulled it out and began throwing up all over Fabian’s head.  As soon as he finished up chucking the last partially digested insect, I zapped him again.  “You’re not done until you’re done.”

Over the next several minutes, Curtis would slide his limp penis into the bloody meat hole, but it would fall out when Fabian moved around.  The electric current from Fabian’s ball zapper was immobilizing him so he couldn’t fight back, but he was still able to move around slightly as he screamed.  The remote control allows me to adjust the current flow anywhere from a slightly immobilizing level to a horrendous and barbaric please kill me now level.

Curtis looked at me with disgust as his metal chastity belt and limp penis dripped with blood.  “I.  I can’t.  This is fucking sick.  You’re a crazy motherfucker!”

Curtis started to walk toward me cursing, so I lit his nut sack up on the horrendous and barbaric please kill me now level.  He laid on the floor trying to scream while pissing all over himself.  The arcing inside of his metal jockstrap was echoing throughout the chamber, and I could see blue arcs jumping inside the space around his penis.  Up to this point Curtis had been easygoing and hadn’t been hostile; I guess everyone has his or her breaking point.  I disengaged Curtis and Fabian’s nut-zappers and went upstairs.

Later that day when I came back into the chamber, Curtis and Fabian were sitting on the floor with their backs resting against each other.  Fabian was holding his hand over his wound trying to stop it from bleeding, and as I stood next to them, he looked up at me.  “You’re not going to get away with this.  You have no right to do this to me.  I demand you release me at once.”

I tossed a couple of pills over to Curtis and Fabian.  “Take ‘em.”

They hatefully glared at me.

I held up the remote.  “Do it or I’m going to burn your balls off.”

They swallowed their pills as they continued to stare at me.

When their dicks began to get hard, I glanced at Fabian.  “You didn’t have a problem violating and forcing yourself on….  How did you phrase it?  Low-income pussy…  So you…”

He interrupted me.  “You, you had no right!  That’s my personal thoughts.  What the fuck!?!  You sorry cocksucker!  You went through my stuff.”

Fabian started to get up, so I kicked him in the face so hard that I knocked out some of his front teeth, and as he rolled around on the floor yelling, I walked over and sat on a table.  A couple of minutes later when Fabian regained his awareness, he became violent, and after he jumped to his feet, he ran toward me until his chain jerked him back several feet away.  He cursed me as he pulled against his chain like a pit bull that wanted to tear me apart.

I looked at Curtis.  “Looks like the Viagra is working.  You know what to do.”

Curtis wouldn’t move off the floor, so I gave him a quick zap for motivation.  Fabian was too preoccupied with me to notice Curtis was walking up behind him with two erect poles, and before he knew what happened, Curtis had thrown him on the ground and punctured another hole in his leg with the telescoping rod.  Fabian was trying to pull away, so I activated his nut-zapper so he would be immobilized as I retracted Curtis’ pole.  Curtis was dry heaving, and Fabian was screaming and staring in horror as Curtis pounded Fabian’s thigh snatch like a savage.  To make it even sicker, I decided to shut off Fabian’s nut zapper so he wouldn’t be immobilized, which would allow him to fight back.  The two rapists fought each other as Curtis held Fabian on the floor and treated him as he had treated the helpless women he had raped.

Curtis fell back to his knees and glared at me as he shouted out.  “There, you sorry son of a bitch!  I did it!”

I activated Curtis’ nut-zapper and Fabian’s telescoping pole.  Curtis screamed out as I forced Fabian to return the favor.  A few minutes later, a bloody and humiliated Curtis was vomiting, and a bloody and ashamed Fabian was weeping.

I strolled over to them.  “Being raped is a physically and mentally humiliating violation, and because neither one of you had any regard for inflicting that on your victims, I shouldn’t hear any complaints as both of you will rape each other the same way every day until you die or I run out of Viagra.”

While the two men held their heads down, and as blood and sperm oozed from their wounds, I forced them, still chained together, into the small stone room.”

Dicky held his mouth open as he was listening to the story.  Seth rubbed his head for a second.  “I think you get the picture of what those two assholes had to do to each other.  There is some sick shit that goes on in here sometimes in the name of justice, but I think in their case they got exactly what they deserved.  They were forced to feel the same humiliation, violation and pain day after day as their victims did.

A few weeks later as I was forcing Curtis to rape Fabian in his side, Fabian did something surprising.  Up to this point Curtis had been the aggressor.  I had also been sensing that Fabian was getting more upset about the whole situation.  I didn’t have either of their ball zappers engaged and Curtis was holding Fabian down, preparing to stick his dick in the bloody wound that he had just punched in Fabian’s side.  Fabian’s eyes turned red with rage.  He grabbed Curtis by the neck, flipped him to his back, then began beating him in the face and head ground and pound style.  When Curtis was dazed, Fabian stood up with Curtis’ left leg.  He was holding Curtis’ foot in the air, staring back at me with an unusual look.

I was looking at him trying to figure out what he wanted.  “Watcha doin’, Robert?”

He didn’t speak.  He thrust his crotch toward Curtis’ leg a couple of times while making a grunting sound.

“Okay.”  I activated his telescoping pole.

He pulled Curtis’s leg close, then rammed the pole into the flesh and muscles of his calf.  The pole entered on the outside of Curtis’ leg and exited the inside of his leg, just behind his fibula.  He pulled the pole out, then looked back at me.  I retracted the pole.  He didn’t hesitate as he shoved his dick into the bloody wound.  He looked like a savage as he aggressively thrusted his dick inside the hole, and each time he shoved his crotch forward, he pulled Curtis’ leg to him.  It was a disturbing sight.  Fabian’s dick was above average in length, and each time he pushed it into the wound, blood would gush out the other hole when the head of his dick exited.  Curtis had a grimace of terror while Fabian was making fuck-faces like a porn star as he slowly stroked his muscle snatch.  Suddenly, Fabian slung Curtis’ leg down, then stood over his head and blew his load all over Curtis’ face.  I was sitting in shock and Curtis was bawling.

Fabian looked over at me, breathing heavy as his dick dripped with blood.  “Did that make you happy?”

I shook my head.  “Only when Curtis gets to return the favor.”  I glanced at Curtis.  “Get your ass in rape mode.”

He was still crying while lying motionless.

Fabian sported a cocky look.  “Fuck you!  I ain’t playin’ your games no more.”

Over the next twenty-four hours, I forced Curtis and several of the other rapists—some were willing participants, by the way—to pound Fabian into a bloody and cum oozing pulp.  After that Fabian never went back into rape mode.  I broke him of that nasty habit.

After a few more weeks of the gruesome and unnatural forced love fests, they banded together one night and tried to tear their dicks off.  Unfortunately for them, I was able to repair the damage.  To prevent future attempts, I modified their chastity belts with automatic sliding doors that covered their penises.  Outside of the scarring and the extra Viagra it required to get them hard, their Frankenpenises were functional, and they were forced to continue for many years.  It finally got to the point that every time that they were doing the deed, they tried to rip off the other’s dick, so I had no choice but to amputate their arms at their elbows.  Then they resorted to kicking each other in the dick, so I amputated their legs at the knees.  After that, they began biting each other, so I had to knock out all their front teeth.  They have been living in the small filthy room ever since, and they will live the rest of their lives chained together.  Every so often I will drag their asses out and make them do the meat-hole deed just to remind them of their past indiscretions.”

Seth was getting a little tired, so he slouched in his chair and lit a cigarette.  He sat quietly smoking as he listened to Dicky cry.

Forever Silent

Several hours later, Seth sat up in the chair, and after he rubbed his face and stretched, he stood up and ambled over to the cell.  “Hey fucker, naptime is over.”

Dicky sat up on the floor from where he had been sleeping, and as he stared at Sandy’s rotted corpse and all the gruesome things around him, he began weeping again.

Seth noticed he was getting emotional.  “Stop being a bitch.”

“Why are you so fucking cruel?  All I see and hear is suffering.  Don’t you have any compassion?”

“I’m all out of compassion for scumbags because they don’t have any for others, but if you have a problem with what you’re seeing and hearing, then maybe you need to see the alternative.”

Seth walked across the chamber to the opposite side.  He began moving stuff around along a cluttered wall, and as he relocated the clutter, a large rectangular box that was leaning upright against the back wall began to appear.  It was covered with dust and seemed it had been there for long time.  The box was made of wood and was about seven-feet long, three-feet wide and two-feet deep.  Seth wiped some dust off the front of the box and revealed the words ‘Forever Silent’.  The writing appeared to be written in human blood.  Seth unlatched a couple of rusted latches, and when he opened the lid, a foul odor filled the area.  Dicky stared with uncertainty.  He could see there was a naked man lying in the box.  The man’s arms, legs, torso, and head were bound tightly to the back of the box with leather straps.  His eyes were missing, revealing his dark empty eye sockets.  The man’s mouth was hanging open and his tongue was missing.  His body was extremely thin and he looked like a bag of bones.  Sores covered his entire body and some of them were oozing with pus.  His hair was gray and very long, covering most of his face and chest.  He was extremely pale due to lack of light, more so than an albino.  Because his skin was so pale, his bluish colored veins could be seen throughout his body, which caused him to look kind of like an alien out of a science fiction movie.  The only color the man had on his body was his bruised skin around the leather straps, the grotesque sores that oozed with pus, and the dark scar tissue around his eye sockets.  The man’s body appeared to be in a state of decay.  The bottom of the box and his lower legs and feet were covered with dead skin that had flaked from his body.  There was an intravenous bag hanging on the wall beside the box.  A plastic tube ran from the bag through a small hole in the side of the box and then to his neck.  The man had a large tube coming from his abdomen and it ran through another hole in the side of the box, then over to a trench in the floor.  The end of it was oozing feces.  He had been catheterized, and the small tube ran through a hole at the bottom of the box and over to the same trench.  Electrical wires were running across his body to numerous electrode pads that were stuck on his chest.  The wires ran out the side of the box and over to a control box that was mounted on the wall.

Seth thumped the man on the forehead.  “You still alive?”

The man began moving his mouth slowly as if he wanted to speak, but all he could do was let out a faint moan.

Seth looked at Dicky.  “This is David.  I read about him in the newspaper after he tragically altered a family’s life.  On a Friday evening, he and his friend were cruising around while drinking.  It was around seven o’clock when David misjudged a corner and ran his truck through a picket fence and into a yard.  Per a neighbor’s testimony, David spun out backwards, and when he reached the pavement, he burned out down the street.  Later that evening, the police found David at a dance hall and arrested him.  His buddy had turned him in—they had run over a young child when the truck ran through the fence.  The four-year-old had been sitting in her front yard playing with her Barbie doll.  David tried to lie to the police by saying he didn’t know anything about it.  His buddy testified against him and said they both knew what had happened, but David had the attitude that no one could prove it.  His buddy had led the police to a car wash where they found rags in the trash.  David had used them with some solvent to remove the white paint from the picket fence from his front bumper.  When this evidence was shown, David tried to flip the situation on his buddy and said he had loaned him his truck and he was probably the one that did it.  That backfired on him when several people who had been in the area testified they had seen David driving the truck.  At the time, he was very recognizable.  He always wore his ball cap backwards, had hair past his shoulders and sported a long goatee.  His buddy was clean shaven and had short hair. The article stated he never admitted to anything during his trial, and he showed absolutely no remorse.  He was found guilty of manslaughter and the judge gave him eight years in prison.  The article also mentioned the father of the child became hysterical when David screamed at the judge saying eight years in prison would ruin his life.

After I did a little research on him, I found out this was not his first time in an alcohol-related incident.  Back when he was in high school, he had run a car off the road while driving drunk, seriously injuring the guy in the other vehicle.  He only received a slap on the hand because he was just a minor.  Since then, he had been arrested and charged six times for driving while intoxicated.  The first five times he only paid a fine and was released back onto the street, but the last time his driver’s license was suspended.  It was still suspended when he ran over the girl.  Four years later he had been released on early parole.”

Sideshow Freak—The Human Slug

Seth walked over to Dicky and grabbed the rusted bars.  “I don’t think serving four years in prison is fair, do you?”

“The man served his time, according to the law.”

“What about the girl and her family?  The sentence that he handed down to them is for life.  Everyone forgets about the innocent victims and their families.  Some of our society is so worried about the criminal’s rights, that any punishment beyond a cozy little cell and three meals a day is cruel and unusual punishment.  What about the victim’s rights?  Does the young girl get to continue her life after four years?  Do the parents get their daughter back after four years?  Does the older brother get his sister back after four years?  Do the aunt and uncle get their niece back after four years?  Do the grandparents get their granddaughter back after four years?”

“Hey, I get it, but…”

“Shut the fuck up!  I’m talking.”

He shook his head.

“Our society seems to forget how many lives are affected beyond just the victim.  I believe the girl is in a better place now, but she was still robbed of her childhood and life here.  This world is full of wickedness, and every time that I look out the window, I see a glimpse into hell.”

“I understand.  But the guy still paid his debt to society.”

Seth shook his head.  “You think so?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Do you think his punishment of four years in prison was enough of a deterrent to prevent him from doing it again, or others from doing the same thing?”

“Probably.”

“Really.”

“Yeah, I do.”

Seth sat next to the cell.  “Are you familiar with the Haseir shooting?”

He shook his head to indicate yes.  “He shot a bunch of soldiers at a military base.”

“Correct.  He did it in the name of his religion.  He was found guilty of that crime.  His jury had two options of punishment: life in prison or the death penalty.  This caused a stir around the Internet.  Half of the people thought life was sufficient, the other half thought death was appropriate.  What did you think?”

He sat forward as he was sitting on the floor.  “The jury made the right decision of death based on the two options they had.”

“Maybe.  Being caged like an animal for the remainder of your life would suck, but most of these lowlifes adapt and prison becomes their home.  Life in prison or the death penalty is not enough of a deterrent to stop these kinds of assholes.  Same goes for the school shooters as well.”

Dicky looked confused.  “How do you figure the death penalty is not a deterrent?”

“The actual procedure of being put to death would be terrifying as shit, but not painful. After you get your arm wiped down with alcohol to prevent an infection from the needle, you simply go night night.”

“So, you’re not for the death penalty?”

Seth laughed.  “I would be if I had my choice of the way these assholes were put down.  But there is one good thing about our system—which most pro-capital punishment people don’t like but I do—the fact that these lowlifes have to sit on death row for years.”

He looked even more confused.  “Wow.  I figured you would want them to be dragged out into the street and killed as soon as the jury found them guilty.”

“Only if it was in a barbaric way.”  Seth laughed.  “What I like about our system, thanks to the far left, is the real punishment, or terrifying part of being on death row, is the psychological part, the anticipation of death.  These lowlifes have to sit in their cell for years, in some cases decades, knowing at any time their number is up.”

Dicky leaned his back against the wall.  “The longer the duration the better.  There are people on death row that are innocent and that gives them time to be freed.”

“There have been people released from prison, but not because they were found to be innocent, but because there was not enough evidence to prove their guilt in the first place.”

He made a hand gesture to indicate, what.  “What’s the difference?  You have a problem with that?”

Seth leaned forward.  “Let’s put it this way.  If a person is a productive member of society, it would be difficult for them to be put in a position where they could be blamed for something in the first place.”

A confused expression came over him.  “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It fucking means if I went to work every day, respected and took care of my family, socialized with decent people, didn’t participate in illegal shit like drugs, stealing and acting like a gangbanger fool, or a punk that ran the streets all hours of the night, it would be hard to convict me of a crime that I didn’t commit.  Most of these lowlifes that are released due to being supposedly innocent lived a lifestyle that simply made it easy to implicate them in the first place.  They might or might not have done that particular crime, but most likely they already had a long criminal record, and as far as I am concerned, they were simply paying for shit they had been getting away with.”

“Well, I think…”

Seth interrupted.  “We got way off track.  I wanted to know if you thought Haseir’s punishment of death will be a deterrent to other assholes who are thinking about shooting up a bunch of people.”

He thought for a moment.  “No one wants to die.”

“Incorrect.  Most of these shooters do.  Haseir asked to be executed from day one.  The punk ass school shooters killed themselves so they couldn’t be captured.”

Dicky was getting aggravated.  “Then what the hell would you like to have seen done to him?”

“Definitely not make him a martyr as he wanted.”

“I’m sure it’s going to be some drawn out and gruesome story where you tortured him forever like the rest of your victims.”

Seth started laughing.  He laughed so hard that he almost pissed on himself.  When he calmed down, he smiled at him.  “I’m glad you started paying attention to my stories.  And it’s obvious they are not bullshit because I have a whole room filled with show and tell items.  You would actually be surprised what I would do to Haseir if society allowed it.  First thing I would do is amputate all his limbs.”

He shook his head.

Seth stood up and grabbed the bars.  “Hey, pal.  You asked.”

He took a deep breath and looked down.

“I would cut the fucker’s nose off, amputate his penis and attach it to the stub on his face.  I would remove his ball sack and attach it to the bottom of his chin, or pull it over the top of his head.  I would also remove his eyelids and pin his eyeballs so he was forced to look straight.  I would fabricate a glass box a little larger than his limbless body, and the nude slug would be strapped on his back in the bottom of it.  There would be a hole cut in the top of the box right above his face.  Leading up to this was just foreplay.  The real punishment would come next.  For the rest of his life he would be taken around the country, displayed like a sideshow freak.  During this slug show, willing individuals could pee or defecate on his face, or they could simply point and laugh, or curse at him.  Being a human slug that is humiliated every day until dying of old age is worse than death or any other type of punishment that could be bestowed on this piece of shit.  But of course, the criminal rights activists would definitely scream cruel and unusual punishment, so I’m just dreaming.”

Dicky looked up at Seth and made a gesture with his hands to indicate, that’s it.

“Yeah, that would be his punishment.”

“That’s fucked up, but not as bad as what you did in here to these people.”

“They’re not people.  They are the scum of the earth that chose to harm innocent people.  And you might think Haseir’s punishment might not seem as bad compared to the shit that goes on in here, but you must remember he killed those soldiers in the name of his religion, the same religion where being dismembered and humiliated as I described would be an abomination.  Giving him death would make him a martyr; my punishment would be an abomination to him and his religion, especially since the limbless fucker would have a dick hanging off his face.”

He just glared at Seth.

“Now tell me this.  Would my punishment be a deterrent?  A punishment designed to fit the person and their crime in the most barbaric and gruesome way that a twisted and sick fucker like me could conjure up.  You think these lowlifes would commit these heinous shootings if they knew without a shadow of a doubt if they were caught alive, they would have to endure such a punishment?”

He continued staring at Seth while remaining silent.

Seth glared at him.  “Fucking speak!”

He took a deep breath.  “Of course, it probably would make someone think twice.  But it’s not going to happen in this country.”

Seth looked around the chamber for a second, then back at Dicky.

He noticed Seth had glanced around the chamber.  “Not outside of your twisted world.”

Seth smiled.  “I need to get back to David’s story.  We’ve wasted enough time debating punishments for assholes that I can only dream about fucking up.”

Dicky sat quietly with his head down.

Seeing Blind Man

Seth strolled over and sat down on top of an old wooden casket that was around twenty feet from Dicky’s cell.  “It took me a couple of years after David was released from jail before I found him in Mississippi.  He was living in a small town and working as a bouncer in a beer joint on the outskirts of the town.  The joint was more of a biker and trucker bar where a bunch of rowdy thugs hung out.  After a short time in the hot and smelly town, I learned he spent most of his waking hours working and hanging out at the bar, so I decided I would rent a room at a run-down motel next to the bar so I could observe him for a few days to see what kind of person he was.  I wanted to try something different this time, so I disguised myself as a wandering blind man, dressing in a worn black trench coat, black jeans, old dingy white shirt, raggedy boots and a worn-out black cowboy hat.  I disguised my face using prosthetics, foundations, texturing, shadowing, and highlighting to create wrinkles and sagging skin.  Under the hat, I wore a thinned out gray wig and dark shades.  I also wore contacts that changed the color of my eyes to a light bluish tint; they kind of looked like wolf eyes.  I hid my car in an abandoned building a few miles down the road from the bar and hitchhiked from there.  I told the guy that picked me up I had been getting a ride from a truck driver, but he threw me out to pick up a female hitchhiker.  When we arrived at the motel, the guy helped me to the office, and from there I had the desk clerk take me to my room.

That evening I left the motel room and headed across a gravel road to the bar.  The parking lot was filled with bikers and truck drivers.  I waved my cane in front of me while taking slow steps as I was imitating a blind man.  Through my shades, I could see some of the assholes in the parking lot were making fun of me.  When I walked into the bar, I asked a waitress to sit me in the back.  She asked me a few questions like where I was from and where I was headed.  I told her I lived here and there, and I had lost my eyesight in Vietnam, and I had been pretty much a wanderer ever since.  She said I looked like I was down on my luck.  I told her I had seen better days, but if she’d bring be a beer, everything would be all right.

A few hours later, David finally came into the bar.  He looked a lot different than the old photos I had of him.  He was a lot beefier, and now he was bald on top and had a thick handlebar mustache.  I casually observed him to see what kind of person he was over the next couple of hours.  One thing I quickly noticed was he would joke around with his friends and be a smart ass to everyone else.  Around midnight, David approached me and sat in the chair across the table.  He leaned his chair back and threw his feet up on the table right in from of me as he sat with a chicken-shit grin.  “Hey old timer, I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“Just passing through.”

He had a cocky look on his face.  “How do you know if you’re coming or going, chief?”

I smiled.  “I have a Braille compass.”

He crossed his feet.  “Braille, huh?  I bet I can stick that compass up your ass.”

About that time a scuffle broke out in the bar.  He huffed over to where the two guys were fighting.  While he harassed the two men, I left and went back to the motel.  For the rest of the evening, I sat on a bench under a canopy, and as I chain-smoked, I kept an eye on the bar so I could see which vehicle he drove.  Around two in the morning, he finally came out and swaggered over to a motorcycle.  Without hesitating, he threw on his helmet and took off down the highway toward the east.

At the crack of dawn, I checked out of the motel and hitchhiked back to where my car was hidden, then drove several towns away and rented a hotel room.  I went back to the bar the next night just before closing time and sat in the parking lot in my car.  Just like clockwork, David came out at 2 AM and hauled ass on his motorcycle.  He was swerving all over the road and riding his bike like a maniac as I inconspicuously followed the drunken bastard.  Around ten miles down the road he pulled into a run-down piece of shit trailer park.  I would have followed him in, but there were a bunch of backass swamp fuckers hanging out by a grill, grilling gator dicks.

The next morning when I drove back through his trailer park, I noticed there were too many snaggletooth dogs and welfare recipients for me to grab him without being seen, so I went back to my hotel.  Later that night, I snuck up to the bar and poured some sand into his gas tank.  I also pissed in his helmet.  While I waited for two o’clock, I tied a long rope to the back of my car and I tied a large ice hook to the other end, and when I got back into my car, I pulled the slack up in the rope through my driver’s window so it wouldn’t drag the ground.  A little after two o’clock, David jumped on his bike and took off down the highway.  The first part of my plan had failed.  I was hoping he wouldn’t wear his helmet because of the urine, but he was either too drunk to notice or just fucking nasty.  After a mile or so down the road I noticed he was pulling over—the sand had clogged his fuel filter and restricted the flow of gas to his engine.  I passed on by and went about a half a mile up and turned around.  When I came back, I pulled into the oncoming lane and parked where my driver’s side window was right next to him.  “Hey, you need a hand?”

He seemed agitated as he slurred his words.  “I don’t know yet, I might need a ride.”

He paused for a moment as he glared at me.  “Hey man.  I thought you were blind.”

I pointed out the window toward his engine.  “Hey dude, there’s something leaking out the bottom of your engine.”

He forgot about me and kneeled between my car and his bike so he could locate the leak.  “Man, I don’t see anything leaking.”

Before he had a chance to get up, I leaned out my car window and drove the ice hook into his back just under his shoulder, then stomped on the gas pedal.  I could hear him screaming as I drove down the highway.  A quarter mile or so down I turned onto a narrow gravel road, and after a short way I stopped the car and jumped out.  When I ran to the back, I was surprised to find he was getting up off the gravel.  He looked like he had been playing in flour—he was covered from head to toe with dust from the road base.  He was enraged as he was trying to figure out what the hell had just happened, and as I approached him with a club, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to knock him out because he was wearing the helmet, which was the reason I had pissed in it.  He was still stumbling around as I began hitting him in the stomach and crotch, but the bastard was tough, and the club wasn’t doing much damage.  The only reason he wasn’t able to fight back was because he had dust in his eyes, but he did do plenty of swearing and threatening.  He finally pulled out a knife, so I jumped back into my car and took off down the gravel road again, and I didn’t take my foot off the accelerator until the screaming and yelling stopped.  This time when I ran to the back of my car his helmet was missing and he was unconscious.  I quickly stuck him into my trunk, tied him up with duct tape and injected him with a sedative.  Before I headed out I found his helmet—it would suck to be connected to a kidnapping from DNA that was recovered from my piss.  I also wanted to mess with the police, so I drove back to his bike and put several rotted limbs and body parts in his saddlebags.  The limbs and parts belonged to a murderer that I had run across ten years prior.

When I got back home, I dragged his unconscious body into the chamber and tied him inside this wooden box.  I removed his clothes and ran an IV to his arm.  He had obtained some serious scrapes during the dragging, so I treated and bandaged them.  He also had bruising and probably a mild concussion, and maybe whiplash, and the best way to treat those was rest, so I closed the lid and left him in the dark.

Several days later I opened the lid.  He was obviously upset.  I didn’t disguise myself like I had with most of the other ones.  I simply wore a skull mask with a ragged leather cowl.  I also had him positioned in the chamber so he couldn’t see any of the horrific sights—I wanted him to remember other things instead of the monstrosities in the chamber.

He squinted as he tried to focus on me.  “What the fuck are you doing, man?  What the hell!?!  Why the fuck do you have me tied up?  Untie me, man!  What am I doing here?  Why the fuck am I naked?  Are you some kind of fruitcake?”

I showed him a picture of Anna, the little girl he had run over when he was drunk.

He stopped trying to get loose as he focused on the picture.  “Why are you showing me that?  That’s….  That’s the girl….  I…  Why am I here?  Are you going to kill me?”

I lowered the picture.  “There are many things much worse than being dead.”

He looked at me with uncertainty.

“I assure you that you will understand this in due time.  But first you need to tell me what happened.”

“Fuck you, dude!  I don’t know shit.”

“If you say so.”  I shut the lid of the wooden box.

Ten days later I opened the lid.  A foul odor poured out and engulfed the surrounding air—he had defecated and pissed all over himself.  He was asleep, and when he awoke, he immediately began jerking around.  “You sick and twisted son of a bitch!  Is this your idea of payback for the girl?  Just wait until I get out of here!  I’m going to fucking kill you, you cocksucker!”

I started to close the lid, but he quickly changed his attitude.  “I did it.  I did it.  Please don’t close me up in here anymore.  I ran over the girl because I was drunk.”

Wow, I thought.  I’ve never had a confession that quick.  It usually takes a lot of pain and suffering before these scumbags tell on themselves.  I scratched my head as I looked at him.  “So, you have a phobia of what?”

He stared at me.

“Claustrophobia?”

He didn’t respond and just continued to stare.

“Of the dark?”

His facial expression still didn’t change.

“You don’t like to be alone.”

His facial expression changed.

“That’s it, pal, monophobia.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond.  “I…  You know…”

“It’s okay, pal.  We’re going to see if we can break you of that nasty disorder.”

“This is why you have me in here?  Is this your sick way of trying to help me?”

“Yeah, that’s it, pal.  I’m just a weirdo that goes around and tries to fix other people’s problems.”

The dumbass thought I was serious.  “First, I’ve sought help, and this type of sick shit’s not going to help.  Who put you up to this?  And who in the fuck do you think you are?  You have no right to do this.  I am going to have you arrested.  And why the fuck are you wearing that stupid mask?  How do you know me?  Do I know you or something?”

I just stood there and remained silent.

“Answer me, you fucking idiot!”

“It apparently didn’t work.  We’ll see.  No one.  Your worst nightmare.  And you had no right to kill that girl.  Really.  Cause I can.  From what I read about you in the news.  No.”

He looked at me like I was crazy.

“I’m not repeating that shit, but basically your ass is going to pay for what you did, and in the process, we’re going to rid you of that phobia.”

“He started getting upset as he glared me.  “You better back the fuck off and let me go before I …”

“Before what?”

“You’re not going to get away with this shit.”

“And you’re going to be locked in this box for the rest of your life.”

“You motherfucker I am going….”

I took a cattle prod and shoved it into his mouth, and when I pulled the trigger, his body shook violently as blue arcs jumped around between his teeth, gums, and tongue.  Thirty or forty seconds later, he starting foaming at the mouth, then his body went limp.  I quickly checked his vitals—for a second there I thought the pussy had died.  When he finally came around and regained his composure, he began cursing me again, so I started shocking him in the face and eyes with the cattle prod.  The blue arcs were jumping around his face as he begged for me to stop, yelling that he would cooperate and do whatever I wanted him to do.  I shut it off.

He was breathing heavily as he stared at me.  “Why are you fucking doing this to me?”

I zapped him in the mouth again.  “Watch your tongue.”

“Fuck you, motherfucker!  I’m going to fucking kill you!”

He continued to scream out profanity and threats as I grabbed a pair of wide nose Vise Grips off a nearby table covered with tools and unusual items.  He quickly saw the tool in my hand when I came back, so when I tried to open his mouth, he threw his head around to stop me; he looked like a kid that was being punished by having to lick on a bar of soap.  I finally got a good grip on his chin, but I couldn’t pry his mouth open—he had strong jaw muscles.  Before I lost my temper and broke every bone in his face with a hammer, I walked off so I could think of a more rational way to make him submit.

Later that day as I was walking by him, he spit at me.  “Yeah, that’s right.  Fuck you!”

I had gotten sidetracked and was doing some other things around the chamber, so I strolled over to a table and grabbed a hammer and a nail, and when I approached him, I smiled.  “You must need some fucking attention.”

He fought to hold his mouth closed as I stood in front of him holding a sixteen-penny nail, but as soon as I drove the tip of it into the front of his chinbone he screamed, and he continued to scream with every blow of the hammer.  It took about ten good whacks to get through the bone.  The nail had penetrated a couple of inches and was poking the end of his tongue.  When I grabbed the nail and pulled down, his stubborn ass lowered his head to prevent his mouth from opening, so I drove long nails under his scalp and into the bottom of the wooden box.  When I pulled down on the nail again, he opened his mouth wide open.  I took the Vise Grips and positioned its knurled jaw tips in the center of his tongue.  He wasn’t fighting me too much until I smashed the shit out of his tongue.  The tool was so tight that his tongue had ruptured on each side and blood was gushing out of the open wounds.  His eyes looked as if they were going to pop as I let go of the Vise Grips, which stay latched until they are unlatched.  I could hear his teeth grinding against the metal as I walked over to a table and grabbed a comealong.  He was trying to scream, but his mouth was full of nickel-chromium steel, and as he squirmed around, gagged, and moaned, I secured the comealong to a nearby post, then pulled the cable over to his mouth.  He tried to speak as I secured the cable to the Vise Grips, but all he was able to do was mumble unrecognizable words.  He had a grimace of terror as I began ratcheting the comealong, and as the slack in the cable was being taken up, I could see the desperation in his eyes as he stared at me with fear.  He started to make a howling sound when the cable became tight, and with every ratchet his tongue came farther out of his mouth, and with each click he howled louder.  Not only was the cable applying a great deal of tension to his tongue, but it was also causing the long nails that were driven under his scalp to tear from his flesh as his head was being forced away from the back of the wooden box.  Blood was pouring from around the nails and the sides of his tongue, and he had begun to vomit, piss and shit at the same time.  When his tongue was stretched about three times its normal length his body went into convulsions and he passed out.  There was no sense in continuing if he couldn’t feel it, so I relieved the tension on the cable and left the room for the night.

The next morning David looked exhausted.  His tongue was extremely swollen and appeared infected.  The flesh around the nails was swollen and his hair was matted and covered with clotted blood.

I leaned up against the box.  “Hey, pal, your tongue is getting infected.  We have two options for treatment.  I can remove the Vise Grips, clean the wounded areas, and give you antibiotics, or I can continue with the comealong and rip your tongue out of your mouth, and then treat the nub.”

He didn’t seem like he was paying much attention as he laid in misery, so I jerked on the Vise Grips.  He tried to mumble something as tears rolled down his cheeks, but I really couldn’t tell what he was trying to say.  It sounded like, help me pee, but I don’t think that was it, because when I had pulled on the Vise Grips, he pissed on himself.  I repeated myself again about the condition of his tongue and the options in treating it.  He became excited when I had mentioned ripping it out, so because I couldn’t understand what he was trying to say, I went with his reaction.

I moseyed over to the comealong.  “If you wish.”

He was mumbling something as he stared in horror.

“Okay, okay, I’m hurrying.”  I began cranking on the handle.

His tongue came out of his mouth about eight inches before it popped like a rubber band.  Blood was squirting out of the stub and his eyes were rolled into the back of his head as his body jerked around.  A few seconds later he fell unconscious, so I took advantage of the peace and quiet and cut out what remained of his tongue, cleaned and stitched the wound, and connected him to an intravenous bag filled with antibiotics and nourishment.

A few days later when I came back into the chamber, I found David asleep, so I slapped him in the face to wake him.  “Today is the day.”

He looked at me with relief—he was ready to die.

The physical pain was bad enough, but he also couldn’t stand not having attention.  He had a bad case of monophobia, which was unfortunate because he really wasn’t going to like what I had in store for him.  His relieved look changed to a worried look as I stuck a homemade firecracker deep into each of his ears.  He mumbled out loudly and stared in disbelief as I lit the fuses.  “The last thing you will hear will be,” I paused for a second or two, and then I clearly said, “Anna.”

POW!  POW!

He screamed at the top of his lungs as his eyes rolled around in their sockets.  While blood ran out of his ears, I grabbed a large syringe and stuck the needle into his right eye.  He screamed out louder as I pulled back on the plunger and sucked the fluid out of his eyeball.  His eye looked like a shriveled-up raisin when all the fluid was drained.  His body was shaking and he was dry heaving as I pulled his deflated eyeball out of his eye socket with a pair of needle nose pliers.  He was in excruciating pain and about to pass out, so I quickly held the picture of Anna right in front of his left eye.  A couple of minutes later, he finally calmed down and was lying motionless as he stared at the picture, and as he focused on nothing else, I took a metal rod with a sharp hook on the end and tore into his left eye.  He passed out about the same time that intraocular fluid started dripping from his face.  While he slept, I removed the nails from his head, washed him down and treated his wounds.  For sanitary reasons, I redirected his large intestine to an ostomy baseplate that connected to a hose instead of a bag, and I also catheterized him.  Both of the waste hoses ran to a trench drain outside the box so I wouldn’t have to clean up after him.

Over the next several weeks I treated his wounds to help prevent them from getting infected.  As time passed, I opened the box less and less.  David has been bound inside this wooden box for years, laying in total darkness with no ability to see, hear or speak as he is forced to think about what he did to Anna.  Occasionally I will wash his body and the inside of the box with a water hose and treat any sores or infections that he gets.  Sometimes I have to place foam blocks under different parts of his back so I can elevate and treat the portions that get pressure ulcers.”

Seth shut the lid on the wooden box, then strolled over to Dicky.  “Death is sometimes better than being alive.”

Human Shit Factory

Dicky remained silent after hearing the story about David.  He had been hearing one sadistic story after another.  Seth grabbed the bars.  “Wow!  No fucking comment?”

He started to speak, but then shook his head and looked down.

“Say it!”

He raised his head.  “It’s horrible what you did to that man.”

“You continue to surprise me with your fucking comments.  You know…”  Seth paused for a moment.  “Fuck it!  Let’s move on.”  Seth spun around and walked over to a torso of a man hanging a few feet from the ceiling.  He was suspended horizontally and face down by large cables that were secured to four large hooks that were stuck through his flesh.  The hooks were driven under each of his shoulder blades and one in each side of his buttocks.  The man’s legs and arms had been cut off, and his stubs were still wrapped in blood-covered gauze.  To prevent his head from hanging, he had a medium sized hook driven into each of his temples, and there were cables secured to them that attached back to the main cables that were connected to the hooks in his shoulders.  The man’s penis had a large piercing ring stuck through the head.  The ring had a small diameter chain hanging from it that was connected to a set of weights.  His urethra had been cut and pulled out at the base of his penis, and as it hung out to the side, urine was slowly dripping from it.  The man’s intestines had been pulled out through a hole in the middle of his abdomen, and it was sewn to the flesh of his body.  His intestines ran up his right side to his back, then across his back and over to his head.  The end of his colon was sewn to his forehead.  Feces was oozing out and running down his face before dripping to the floor.  There were two intravenous bags hanging above, which were secured to one of the larger cables that were suspending him, and tubing ran from the bags to butterfly needles that were inserted into the sides of his neck.  The man had a human foot inserted into his ass, and the attaching leg had the knee bent so the upper portion of the leg was toward his left ass check where it appeared to be permanently connected to his flesh.  Blood-covered gauze was around the joint, indicating it had been recently done.  There were fresh wounds that had been stitched around the upper portion of the leg, and all the stitching and wounds looked to be recent as well, and the coloration of the flesh on the leg indicated it was circulating blood.

Seth sat in a chair next to the suspended man.  He started to speak, but then looked down at a pile of feces on the floor that had dripped out of the man’s colon.  He stood back up and moved to a pile of cinderblocks that were a few feet away and sat down.  “David reminded me of this piece of shit.  Not sure why, maybe because they both liked to drink beer, or because I rerouted their intestines.  But anyway, his name is Jerry, and he has only been in here for a few weeks.  I found out about him on a chat line when his ex-wife was discussing how she was terrified him.  She said he was going to kill her and her kids when he got out of prison, which was within a few weeks.  She said he wanted revenge because she had turned him in when she found out he had been molesting their two-year-old daughter and five-year-old stepson.  She and her son testified during trial and he was livid at them.  She believed his threats were real because he had sent his brother to kill her while he was in jail awaiting sentencing for the molestation, but the moron went to her original address and was shot and killed by the new homeowner as he was kicking in the backdoor.  The jackass also blamed her for the death of his brother.  Jerry received a twelve-year sentence for the molestation and an additional two years for the conspiracy to commit murder.  He was going to be released only after serving seven years in an Alabama prison because it was overcrowded and they needed to make room for the bad criminals, such as the marijuana smokers.  Before I decided if I was going to go after….”

Dicky interrupted.  “You went after this guy because of a chat line discussion?”

“It’s not like these assholes are listed on some vigilante website.  And it isn’t like I just take someone’s word.  That’s just a starting point.  I still have to investigate shit for myself, like with this jack wagon.  I examined the court records of his trial.  Evidence did indicate that the two children had been sexually molested and he had conspired with his brother to kill his ex-wife and stepson.  He apparently didn’t want his daughter to be harmed.  His plan was to make the killings look like a random robbery that had gone wrong, and his brother and his wife, who couldn’t have children, would become the girl’s legal guardians.  From the chat line conversations, I knew the time and date that he was going to be released.  I also learned Jerry didn’t have any family or friends left that would claim him, so most likely he was going to have to walk from the prison or call a cab when they let him out.

A week before his release, I bought a black, late seventies Smokey and the Bandit type Pontiac Trans Am from a dude on Craigslist several counties over.  Over the next couple of days, I did some general maintenance on the vehicle to ensure it would be mechanically sound, I modified it like I usually do with my other vehicles.  I also swapped out the tires with a new set and replaced the Texas license plates and registration sticker with a fake set.  I would install an Alabama plate and sticker once I got there.

It was about a twelve-hour drive, so I left at 11 PM.  I arrived an hour early at the prison, and as I sat in my car, I admired my disguise through the rear-view mirror.  I looked like a drugged out, crazy ass lowlife.  I had a long, black wig that almost reached my ass crack, a thick mustache, facial prosthetics, and makeup that gave my face a rough look with a lot of scars and pock marks.  I wore a rebel flag do-rag, my blue jeans had holes and were extremely worn, and I was wearing an old Mӧtley Crüe T-shirt that had the sleeves torn off.  I had wide-band leather cuffs around both of my wrists, and tattoos covered both of my arms.  I had skull and other medieval-looking rings on my fingers, and I wore a heavy looking chain necklace with an anarchy medallion.  When a taxicab arrived, I asked the driver who he was picking up.  He told me a guy named Jerry, so I told him I was going to give him a ride instead.  I paid the driver for the fare, then went and sat back in my car.

Fifteen minutes later, a white guy exited the gates of the prison, and as he was walking with a ghetto strut, I recognized it was Jerry.  He was a lot older than the pictures I had of him; he was now in his late thirties.  I exited my car and leaned against it while smoking a cigarette as he made his way through the parking lot while looking around for his ride.  When he came close enough to where he could see me, I nodded in his direction as to say, ‘what’s up’, and as I expected, he sauntered up to me and asked if he could borrow a smoke.

I handed him one.  “No problem, dude.”

“Cool.”

After he took a long drag, he blew smoke out of his mouth, then sucked it back through his nose.  While the dude was trying to be cool, I asked, “Here visiting someone?”

“Naaaw, just did hard time,” he replied with a look as if he was trying to come across as a badass.

“Cool.”

“What about you?”

“Just here to pick up someone, but gonna head the fuck on.  Got better shit to do than hang around this joint.”

He flicked his cigarette butt.  “It doesn’t look as if I have a ride.  Mind if I tag along with ya?”

“Let’s roll.”

When he got in the car, he noticed there was a big bag of weed stuffed next to the console and several six packs of beer sitting on the rear seat.  When he was done scoping out all the goodies, he looked at me like a kid in a candy store.  “Looks like I picked the right ride, baby.”

When I nodded toward the beer, he didn’t hesitate to grab one, and as he chugged it like a teenager at a frat house I shifted the car into drive, power braked for a few seconds, then burned rubber out of the parking lot.  “You ain’t gonna want no part of my world.  This ride will take your ass straight to hell.”

He nodded his head and cut his eyes at me as he tried to act cool.

I glanced at him.  “I’ll just drop you off somewhere safe.”

“Dude, I’m down with the shit.  I ain’t plannin’ on being no fuckin’ productive society motherfucker like them parole board bitches think.  All I cares about is causin’ some fuckin’ chaos for some motherfuckers.  The big house ain’t nutin’ but a thang.  Shit, three meals a day and a roof over my head.  Fuck, better than havin’ to flip patties at Mc-Fucker’s.  Just making this a field trip to motherfuckin’ payback land.”

After listening to his ramblings for several miles down the highway, and two beers later, I knew that the woman’s life and her kids’ lives could be in jeopardy as she predicted.  I also knew he could just be blowing off steam, or just trying to act like a badass.  I needed to find out what his true intentions were.  “You got what it takes to kill someone?”

He opened his third beer.  “Hell, yeah!  I’ll get medieval on someone’s ass.”

“Reeeally?  How medieval?”

He chugged the beer, then tossed the empty can out the window.  “Shit…  I….  I’ll mess someone up.”

I lit a cigarette.  “Shit.  You got me in the mood to fuck someone up now.”

He threw his feet up on the dash.  “I’ve got someone in mind if you’re serious.”

“Who?”

“My ex-bitch and her sorry ass son.”

I flicked some ashes out the window.  “How medieval we gonna get?”

He pulled his feet from the dash, and as he leaned toward me, he had a serious look on his face.  “Slit her throat.  And as she gasps for air I will piss on her face.”

I started laughing.

He leaned away, and with an aggravated tone said, “What the fuck is so funny?”

Now that I had a gut feeling he was serious about getting revenge, I popped in a CD of Metallica, and as the song Seek and Destroy played, I said, “You don’t know shit about revenge.”

He laughed in a smart-ass way.  “Then show me how it’s done because you’re apparently so skilled.”

“I looked over at him for a few seconds, then nodded my head.  “You’re on.  But it isn’t as easy as you think.  You just can’t go in half-assed and unprepared if you want to get away with it.”

“Then explain it?”

“I have a twenty-step system.  So, pay attention.”

He turned sideways and faced me.

“Step one; investigate.  Stake out and learn absolutely every possible thing about your victim.  You want to make sure you have the right person and they are truly deserving of what you’re going to bestow on them.  They have to be a real lowlife piece of shit that’s a parasite to society.”

“She is.”

I pulled a revolver out from under the seat and handed it to him.  “Step two; always be prepared for absolutely anything that could possibly arise at any time, any place.”

“I am now.”

I pulled a full-face mask out from the center console and tossed it into his lap.  “Step three; wear a disguise.  Master the art, and make it so authentic looking that you could fool your own mother.”

“That’s weird, but okay.”

We had driven to the crappy part of town, and as I slowly cruised down a street where thugs and hookers hung out, I said, “Most of these people are lowlifes.  Some are just down on their luck.  Pick one.”

He became excited, and several blocks down he pointed at a lady walking down the sidewalk with a grocery bag.  “Yeah.  She’ll do.”

“Why her?”

He grabbed his crotch.  “Why not?  She looks like easy pickens.”

“How do you know she deserves it?”

“Who gives a fuck?”

“You didn’t listen to step one, pal.”

He became a little cocky.  “What, you just all talk?  I’ll nail that bitch.  I don’t give a shit.”

About that time a cop passed by and I could tell by his facial expression that we interested him, so I took the next left turn, and before we had a chance to disappear I looked back and noticed he had made a quick U-turn.  Without hesitating I got up to the thirty miles an hour speed limit, and about two blocks down I saw that the cop had turned down the same street.  I could tell by the way his car was speeding up that he planned on pulling me over, so I made the next turn onto a two-lane highway and showered down on the throttle.  When I hit fifty, I flipped a yellow switch on the dash and injected the engine with nitrous, which accelerated the car to a hundred and thirty within seconds.

Jerry was really excited and was waving his pistol around as if he was ready for a showdown, but I ignored him and concentrated on driving.  I usually don’t do foolish shit that will draw attention to me, but that’s what I get for trying to fuck with Jerry.  I had almost two miles on the cop and I could see his lights flashing in the distance.  I knew he was already radioing in the pursuit, and because I had enough distance on him, I took the next exit, then turned down an alleyway.  Just in case he picked up my trail, I flipped a blue switch that was mounted with other switches in the dash and engulfed the alleyway with a thick cloud of smoke.  This would serve two purposes; if the cop did come down the alley it would slow him down due to a lack of visibility, and it might also get him to stop and investigate, thinking it was something on fire.  I also have the option to release hundreds of hollowed spikes that stand up right in the road, but I usually don’t use them unless I am being tailed closely so I know I won’t waste them.  When I reached the next road, I took another right and a couple of blocks down I took a left.  A mile or so further I entered a freeway and brought the car up to the speed limit, and because I could take one of my hands off the wheel now that I didn’t have to drive aggressively, I did a channel search on my police scanner and turned on my GPS.  When the scanner finally located the shit I was involved in, I learned the cop had been advised to back off due to the high rates of speed during the pursuit.

Jerry was full of piss and vinegar.  “Man, that was fuckin’ awesome.  You showed them.”

I lit a cigarette and took a couple of long drags to calm my nerves.  “Fifty-fifty chance they will call off a pursuit because they don’t want to risk danger to others, but we’re still not in the clear.  There will be an A.P.B. out on this car, so were going to have to get out of Dodge.”

He patted the dash.  “Shit yeah, this bitch will fly.”

I smiled.  “Like I said in step two; be prepared for anything at anytime.  I modify all my cars to give me a little advantage just in case.”

“Fuck, yeah.  That’s what I’m fuckin’ talkin’ about.”

He was having a good time as we cruised down the highway, and as he examined all the colored toggle switches installed in the dash, he pointed to one that had a skull.  “What the fuck does this one do?”

“It ignites enough explosives to blow us and this car sky high.”

Jerry pulled back his finger and had a confused look on his face.  “You’re just fucking with me.”

“Nope.”

He reached for the switch.  “Let’s see what it does.”

I quickly pulled out a switchblade, flipped out the blade and, without hesitating, jabbed it through his hand.  He screamed out as he pulled his hand back while the blade was still protruding out his palm.  He was grasping his wrist and staring at his blood and the knife as I said, “You’re a fucking idiot!  Don’t you ever doubt what I am capable of doing!”

He gagged as he pulled the knife from his hand, and after he tossed it on the floor, he pulled out the revolver that I had given him and pointed it at me.  “I’ll fuckin’ kill ya.”

I reached over and backhanded him across the face.

He became angry and yelled out while still pointing it at me.  “You’re fucking dead!”

I nodded toward the gun.  “That’s a Ruger Black Hawk single action revolver.  You have to cock the hammer first.”

He cocked the hammer.  “I’ll do it!”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

He pointed it at me for a few more seconds, then he lowered the hammer and put the gun back into his waistband.  “You’re fucking sorry.  Look what you did to my hand, you fucking asshole.  You’re lucky I don’t put my foot up your ass.”

I looked over at him as he was wrapping a piece of cloth around his hand.  “Look under your seat.”

He was still whining about being stabbed as he bent down to look, then his angry facial expression changed to an ‘oh shit’ expression when he noticed several pounds of explosives that was secured under his seat.  When he sat back up, he didn’t say a word as he looked at me with a disturbed facial expression.

“First off, I only take out lowlifes that deserve it.  Also, I am not a cop killer, and I’m not going to prison.  Like I said earlier, this ride will take your ass straight to hell.”

He leaned back in his seat.  “I’m still down with the shit.  So, let’s go get a lowlife.”

I nodded toward the back of the car.  “Pull the back seat forward.  I’ve modified it so I could have access from inside the car, which is part of step two.”

He was being very attentive now and he was absorbing everything that I was saying, and when he crawled into the back and pulled forward the rear seat he yelled out, “What the fuck?”

I laughed.  “That’s step four; be inconspicuous.  Your victim shouldn’t have a clue until it’s too late.”

He crawled back into his front seat and looked at me with disbelief.  “Who in the fuck is that?”

“Someone who deserves what’s coming to them.”

A few minutes later, we arrived at a warehouse that was way out in Bumfuck Egypt, and after I cut a lock and opened an overhead door, I got back in my car.  “Step five; find a very secluded place that you have already staked out to bring your victim to.”

I drove into the abandoned warehouse, and after I parked, Jerry and I shut and secured the door.  While he followed me back toward my car, I pointed across the building to a door located on top of a mezzanine.  “Step six; have an alternative escape route and a backup plan.  That door up there leads to a lower rooftop, and on the other side there is a ladder that goes to the ground.  Two hundred yards to the north is a storm drain that runs under a set of railroad tracks.  A hundred feet past that is a wooded area where I’ve hidden a motorcycle.”

He stopped in his tracks.  “You got to be fuckin’ kidding me.”

I turned around.  “Like I said in step two, always be prepared for absolutely anything that could possibly arise at any time anyplace.”

When we approached my car, I opened the trunk and pulled a lowlife out onto the concrete floor.  He was tied up and gagged with duct tape, so he was only able to flop around and moan as I dragged him across the floor.  When I reached the center of the building, I stopped and kneeled on top of the man’s chest, and as I cut his arms lose Jerry asked, “Who is he?”

“His name is Chris.  He’s a child molester that I found on one of those sex offender websites.”

“What are we going to do to him?”

“Nothing more than he deserves.”

He started to speak again, but he stopped as he watched in disbelief as I nailed Chris’ right hand to the floor using concrete nails while continuing to hold him down with my knee.  When I was done with that hand, I pulled his other arm away from his body so both of his arms were being stretched outwards, and as I held his hand to the floor, I drove a couple of nails through it as well.  Jerry was speechless as I stood up and wiped blood from my hammer with a rag.  “Step seven; disable your threat.”

“Dude.  You could have simply left him tied up.”

“Where’s the fucking excitement in that?”

Jerry just stood looking dumbfounded.

I did my hands to gesture, ‘what the fuck’.

He remained silent.

I tossed my hammer on the floor, then kneeled and ripped the duct tape from Chris’ mouth.  Jerry started to ask why I removed the tape, but he stopped when I began sewing the man’s mouth closed with a needle and some thread.

When I was done, he stepped forward and gazed at Chris’ stitches.  “Fuck, dude.  You already had his mouth taped.  Why….”

I interrupted him.  “What the fuck is exciting about duct tape?  And besides, that’s step eight; silence your victim.  It’s a lot more painful to rip out stitches than it is to pull the tape loose.”

While Jerry watched Chris, Chris was looking back at him with a terrified look on his face, and as Jerry looked as if he wanted to throw up, and as Chris was moaning and squirming around on the floor, I glanced down at Chris and said, “I think I’m going to grab a pair of pliers and smash each of his balls until they’re drained of all their sperm, and then I am going to take the pliers and pull this fucker’s dick off.  And most likely before that I might do some really fucked up shit.”

Jerry followed me to my car, and as I gathered some tools out of the trunk he stood next to me with a disgusted look on his face.  “Man.  That’s some really barbaric shit.”

I closed the trunk.  “The barbaric shit comes later.  That was just step nine; mentally torture your victim.  You have to think up some sick and unnatural shit to accomplish it.”

He grabbed his nuts.  “That shit makes my balls ache.”

I smiled, then walked back over to Chris.

Jerry was still holding his nuts.  “Now ya gonna kill him?”

I didn’t respond as I reached down with a knife and sliced Chris’ stomach wide open, and as Jerry watched with wide eyes and gasped, I began pulling Chris’ intestines out of his stomach cavity.  He stepped back and started vomiting as I took the intestines, while still attached to Chris, and began jump roping with them.  He vomited even more as fluids slung from the intestines as I swirled them around and around, and as they began to tear and come apart, blood and feces were covering everything in sight.  Around two minutes later, I tossed them on the ground.  My body was covered in filth from head to toe as I stood staring at Jerry.  “That was step ten; endurance.  You must be physically fit, or you might get your ass kicked.  Also, a good work out gives you an energy boost and an adrenaline rush.”

He was speechless as he was squatting down while trying to recover from being nauseous, and as he looked at me with disgust, I strolled over to Chris and jabbed the needle of a syringe in to one of his eyes.

Jerry began pacing back and forth and yelling to himself, “Oh, shit!  Oh, shit!  This is some really fucked up shit!”

I sucked the fluid out of Chris’ eye, then squirted it out of the syringe and across the floor.

Jerry walked over and stood by me.  “Dude.  What the fuck?  That’s some sick shit.”

I sucked the fluid out of Chris’ other eye, then glanced up at Jerry who looked repulsed.  “Step eleven; make sure your victim can’t point you out in a line up.”

He held his hand over his mouth as I cut the stitches apart from Chris’ lips.  He started gagging when I cut the guy’s tongue out, and after I tossed it across the floor I yelled over Chris’ screams, “Step twelve; make sure they can’t describe you.  Cutting off their hands also helps so they can’t write.”

Jerry began pacing back and forth again while talking to himself, and after a minute or so, he crept up to me.  “Why didn’t you just cut his tongue out after removing the tape instead of going through all the trouble of stitching his mouth closed?”

I stood up and faced him.  “This is a crash course.  Usually there are hours, days, or even weeks or months between these steps.”

Chris was still screaming muffled sounds as I poked a small diameter rod into each of his ears.

Jerry had a disturbed facial expression.

“Step thirteen; make sure your victim can’t be questioned.”

Jerry followed me closely as I ambled back toward my car.  “Shit, you’re one sick and crazy motherfucker.  I’m glad that shit is over.  Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

I grabbed a pair of pliers out of the trunk.  “Step fourteen; follow through with your threats, and then do some real medieval and barbaric shit that not even your worst nightmare can conjure up.”

Jerry started gagging as I smashed the sperm out of Chris’ balls, one at a time, and as he screamed at the top of his lungs, Jerry began vomiting again.  To Chris’ horror, I grabbed ahold of his penis with the pliers, then ripped it off.  I glanced over at Jerry while he was standing off to the side with a grimace of terror.  “Where’s the gun I gave you?”

He was shaking as he pulled it out of his waistband.  “Make sure it’s loaded.”

He flipped out the cylinder, then flipped it back in.  “It is.”

I turned and faced him.  “Point it towards me.”

He was confused and didn’t move.

I shouted, “I said point it at me!”

Jerry quickly pointed the pistol toward me as he was trembling.

“Step fifteen; you must be willing to go the distance.  So, now’s your chance to be a productive member of society as you led your parole board to believe, or you can take the path to hell and pop a cap in this dickless piece of shit.”

Jerry smiled, then he pointed the gun toward Chris and pulled the trigger.  Fire came out of the gun and a loud crack echoed throughout the building, but he missed.  The bullet had left a mark on the floor about a foot from Chris.  He started to re-cock the hammer.

I held my hand out.  “Stop!”

“Why dude?  Let me take this fucker out.”

I shook my head.  “No.  Step sixteen; work alone.  I did make an exception in this case, and besides, this is my deal.”

Jerry was excited and prancing around as I poured gas all over Chris.  “Hey!  I want to toss the match.”

“Like I said, this is my deal.  Also, it’s step seventeen; finish what you started.”

After I lit Chris on fire, I picked up my tools and checked the immediate area to ensure I wasn’t leaving anything incriminating behind.  While we sat and watched the flames from the car, I took Jerry’s revolver and tossed it out the window.  He sat up in his seat.  “Wait.  That’s got my prints on it.”

“That’s why I wear gloves.  Step eighteen; don’t leave behind any incriminating evidence.”

He started to open the door, but it was locked.  He looked at me with a confused expression.  “I need out so I can get the gun.”

“Step nineteen; do the unexpected, or sometimes do something so blatantly obvious by doing it right in the open as if you own it.  And remember, things aren’t always what they seem.  People will usually not pay attention to shit around them if everything seems normal and not out of place.  There’s a lot to explain with this one and it takes years to perfect, so just take it as it is.”

He was still looking for the door lock.  “I understand all of this, but I need to get the gun.”

I smiled.  “Step twenty; if need be, set up some other lowlife by planting false evidence.”

He stopped looking around and gave me a confused look.  “I don’t fucking understand.”

“Understand what?  That you’re already at step number four.”

He started to get upset when he realized what I was talking about, so I quickly jabbed a needle into his chest and injected him with a paralyzing agent.  His body quickly went limp, but his eyes still had a terrified look as I said, “Now that was step seven; disable your threat.”

He couldn’t move, but he could still understand what I was saying as he drooled at the mouth.  “Unfortunately for you, being a child molester and a threat to society, we will perform the rest of the steps when I get you back home, especially nine and fourteen, and a whole bunch of other creative shit.”  I put the shifter in drive, then looked back over at him.  “No need to worry about steps eleven, twelve and thirteen, where you’re going there is no need to be concerned about someone finding your ass.”

Seth walked over to Dicky.  “I try to do something different for each one of these scumbags.  It takes a lot of creativity to come up with some non-repetitive shit.  And believe it or not, I have something special saved just for you.”

Dicky yelled out for mercy as Seth exited the chamber.

The Shattered Reflection of the Crescent Moon

The next day, Seth walked over to Dicky and leaned up against the cell bars.  He pulled out a bone handle knife and began cutting his fingernails.  “See the two assholes hanging in the center of the ventilation shaft right above me?”

He looked down and nodded his head as to say yes.

Seth slid his knife back into its holster, then strolled over to a winch secured to a wall.  With each rotation of the handle, a bizarre contraption that bound two men started to exit the dark, rock ventilation shaft above.  Dicky stood to his feet and eased backwards until his back touched the rear wall of his cell.  He didn’t take his eyes off the barbaric and gruesome sight as it slightly spun around at eye level in front of his cage.  Dicky jumped when one of the men in the contraption screamed as he made eye contact with him.  He was speechless as he stared at the horrendous sight.  He noticed the two men were sewn to themselves in such a way that not even the most demented thoughts could conjure up.  The men were bound in a grotesque cradle of rotting bones that were covered in dry blood and rotting meat.  The cradle was made up of small and large bones and they were tied to each other with long strands of hair.  Each of their legs and arms were like limp noodles, and they were sewn together in a bizarre way.  Their feet and hands had been cut off, and their legs were bent backwards in a horseshoe shape back toward their chests, and the ends of their legs were sewn to the ends of their arms.  The skin at the joints, where their legs and arms came together, was covered with huge scars from where they had been stitched.  Each man’s arm and leg intertwined with the other man’s arm and leg; they kind of looked like a pretzel.  Each of them had massive scars covering their entire chest and rib areas, and the pumping of their hearts and the movement of their lungs could be seen grotesquely moving under their skin as if they didn’t have any bone structure.  Their skin tone was so pale that the scarring looked alien-like, and their veins could be seen throughout their entire bodies.  They had electrical wiring coming out of their skin by their hearts and the wiring ran across their chests to a small plastic box mounted on the bone cradle.  Each man had a tracheotomy, and their bottom jaws had been completely removed, exposing their top row of teeth and tongue.  There were multiple IV bags that hung from the bone structure, and each man had numerous plastic tubes that were running to different parts of their bodies.

Seth spun the contraption like a merry-go-round.  “Before I tell the story of these two pieces of shit, you need to meet their other buddy, Wayne the Bruiser.”

Seth walked to another winch secured to a wall and cranked the handle, and after a few seconds another gruesome sight began to emerge from the dark ventilation shaft.  Dicky watched in horror as another twisted-looking being hung in front of his cell, and as his eyes focused in on the monstrosity, he noticed it was a torso of a man that was hanging by a leather harness; he seemed dead.  The harness had curled, flat, leather-looking material covered in dried blood and rotting flesh hanging on each side of the man where his arms should be.  The curled material was about three feet long and it was attached to the harness.  The same curled material was hanging from the harness at each place where his legs should be.  The man had huge scars where his extremities had once been, and his jaw had been removed like those of the two men in the bone cradle.  His penis had a large hook through the head.  A cable was secured to the hook, and on the other end were heavy looking weights.  The weights had stretched his penis so unnaturally it was about seventeen inches long and thin as a noodle.  His urethra had been cut from his penis and it was hanging off to the side where it exited the base.  Urine was slowly dripping from the tube and it was forming puddles on the floor as he was slightly swinging back and forth.  A rusted pole connected to the back of his harness held an IV bag a few feet above his head.

Seth strolled over to Dicky.  “Bruiser looks like he’s dead, but he’s just pouting.  He hasn’t made a sound in years.”

Seth sat on the edge of the bone cradle and lit a cigarette, and as he took a long drag, Dicky started vomiting from the gruesome sight.  When he was done vomiting, he then began dry heaving as he kneeled on the floor with one of his hands over his mouth.

“I’m sure that dead rat will taste better the second time.”

He knew he better do what Seth asked, so he scooped up the pile of vomit with his hands, and as he ate the half-digested rat, he gagged and made a weird moaning sound.  When he had licked up all the smaller particles like Seth requested, he ran over to where water pooled in a corner of his cell and started sucking it into his mouth.  While Seth watched him, some tiny ripples in the water caught his eye, triggering his memory of the time he had met Ashley at their secret place by the creek.  He thought back to when he had built a small fire next to the creek bed for them, and he could still feel the warmth of the fire as he closed his eyes.

The secret place was very peaceful for them.  It seemed to be a magical place that allowed them to forget about the cruelty of the world.  A place where they could be together and feel good about being alive.  While they had held each other next to the warm fire, Seth had told her he wasn’t going back to the boys’ home.  He leaned into her ear and whispered how much he loved her and that he wanted to marry her one day.

She gripped his hand.  “Let’s not wait.  We can go to a place far from here and leave all these bad things behind us.”

Seth smiled. “We’ll go tonight.”

They held each other tight as they gazed up at the crescent moon and the stars.  An hour later, Ashley had fallen asleep and Seth was staring at the sky when three men came walking up out the dark.  Before he could react, one of the men knocked him unconscious with a club.  When Seth came to, he found himself tied to a tree.  His eyes were fuzzy for a short bit, and when he was finally able to focus, he saw that Ashley was weeping while sitting between two of the men by the campfire.  They were both wearing ski masks to hide their identity.  The tallest of the men, who was standing next to the fire wearing a swine mask, looked over at Seth.  “It’s about time you joined the party.”

Seth was still a little dazed and confused as he gazed at the man with blurred vision.  “Please don’t harm Ashley.  I will do anything or give you anything you want.”

The man laughed as he picked up a large hunting knife that had been lying in the fire.  The red-hot blade lit up the dark as he sashayed over to Seth.  He took the knife and began to cut open Seth’s shirt.  The metal was so hot that smoke billowed from the blade as the fabric melted onto it.  Seth was closing his eyes tightly—they were burning from the smoke.  Suddenly, the man pressed the blade flat ways across his chest, and as it burned into his flesh, he screamed so loud that the pain in his voice echoed throughout the woods.  The other men restrained Ashley as she tried to get to Seth, and when she yelled out to the tall man to stop hurting him, one of the men next to her slapped her to her knees.  The taller man threw the other men a rope, then pointed above the river.  Seth watched helplessly while the men tied Ashley up with the rope.  He begged and pleaded, but they ignored him.  Anger overcame him as they tied one end of a rope around her ankles.  His anger changed to horror when they threw the other end of the rope over a limb that was above the creek.  A tear ran down his face as he watched them hoist her up into the air just above the water.  Before he could scream out, the men dropped her into the water, and as she fought for air, they laughed like a bunch of hyenas and danced around like demented souls.  Over the next few minutes, which seemed like an eternity, the men would raise and lower Ashley in and out of the water.  Seth became hysterical and began screaming pleas of mercy to them, pleading for them not to hurt her.

The tall man grabbed Seth’s throat.  “We’re not, you are!”

“I will die first!”

The tall man untied one of Seth’s arms and forced him to take the end of the rope.  When Seth grabbed it from the man, he noticed a tattoo on the guy’s upper arm when his shirtsleeve pulled up.  “You won’t get away with this.”

The man took his knife and drove it into Seth’s stomach, and as he twisted it he said, “You think so?”

Seth was in an extreme amount of pain, but his adrenaline allowed him to hold onto the rope, which held Ashley just above the water.

The man laughed, then leaned toward Seth’s ear.  “Let’s see how much you love her.”

“Take my life…  I will not beg…  Just let Ashley go.”

The man spun around and ambled over to the other men, and as they began walking away, Seth shouted, “Please don’t do this!  I beg for you not to do this to Ashley.  Please don’t do this!”

One of the men turned around and grabbed his crotch.  “We’re done with her.  Now she’s all yours.”

A moment later, the men disappeared into the dark woods, leaving Seth and Ashley to their doomed destiny.  Seth held the rope with everything he had as he struggled to get his other arm free, but the ropes were too tight.  He fought at the ropes for what seemed to be for hours as he helplessly watched Ashley hang above the reflection of the moon in the water.  He knew that he couldn’t hold on much longer as his muscles were giving out and his blood-covered hand was losing its grip.  The wound in his stomach was losing blood and he could feel his body becoming weaker.  Eventually, the rope starting mutilating his skin where he had wrapped it around his hand, and as his arm was giving out, Ashley softly spoke, “It will be all right, Seth.  I love you.  I love you so much, and I know I will see you again in a better place.”

Before he had a chance to say anything, the rope started slipping.  He screamed as her fall shattered the reflection of the crescent moon.

Seth turned his head and wiped a tear from his eye while Dicky was dry heaving from throwing up a second time.  When Seth regained his composure, he walked over to a mirror and pulled up his shirt so he could see the scar on his chest that was left by the hot blade.  In a bizarre way, the scar tissue had created an image that resembled an upside-down skull’s face.  This is the symbol that was bestowed upon him, so he bestows it on all the wicked that cross his path to vindicate the day when his soul died by the creek so many years ago.  His symbol is a tribal-looking outline of a skull with the letters S.C. inscribed on the forehead.  The letters represented his initials, Seth Coker

Seth walked back over to the cradle and sat down.  Dicky had finished eating the rat for the third time, and now it seemed he was going to be able to keep it down, so he went and sat next to Sandy’s corpse because it was the only place left in his cell that wasn’t covered in piles of shit.

Seth held his hands out, palms up.  “Can we continue on?”

He nodded his head as if to say ‘yes’ while he covered his mouth.

“It was quite a few years ago when I read about Wayne in the newspaper.  He made headline news for beating his youngest three-year-old son, Devin, to death with a piece of broom handle.  I followed the trial for months, and during that time I learned he had abused all three of his kids from the day they were born.  His first two children had been taken from him for child abuse a few years before Devin’s birth.  When he went back to prison for aggravated assault, his common-law wife divorced him and somehow regained custody of them.  According to testimony and prison records, she continued to see him in prison and have conjugal visits.  A couple of years later, Wayne moved in with his ex-wife after he was released from prison, then they had Devin shortly after.  When Devin was three, Wayne had beaten him so horribly that the child suffered a broken arm, leg and four cracked ribs.  The child died several days later in the hospital from hemorrhaging in the brain.  The paper stated throughout the trial that his common-law wife had defended Wayne.  She told reporters that Devin’s death was an accident and she forgave her husband.  Wayne received twenty-five years in prison and I figured I would be dead of lung cancer by the time he was released, so I forgot about him until about four years ago when he popped up in the news again.  He had served nine years and was released on early parole for good behavior.  This time he, along with these two assholes, was being accused of killing and mutilating fifty-three dogs and cats at an animal shelter.  The paper stated the three men had broken into the shelter in the middle of the night to steal drugs, and for no reason at all they tortured and killed all the animals.  The owners of the shelter said some of the animals had been burned alive in their cages, and the others had been beaten so badly with baseball bats that they were unrecognizable.  Some of the animals had been tied to chairs so they couldn’t move, and their heads had been almost knocked off with the bats.  The three men were out on bail waiting for their trial, and because there wasn’t much time, I quickly gathered everything that I thought I might need and hauled ass to Arkansas.

During the drive, I used my laptop and researched the other two men.  I needed to learn as much as possible about them to determine if I needed to bring them back with Wayne, or just torture the shit out of them as they did the animals and leave them in a ditch.  The online information stated Mark was twenty-eight and Jack was twenty-four, and they both had spent most of their early teen years in and out of juvenile camps or on juvenile probation for a combined list of crimes such as assault and battery, car theft, robbery, drug possession and sales, DUI, shoplifting and attempted rape.  Both punks had spent even more time in jail after the age of eighteen for the same type of crimes; they were apparently career pieces of shit.

That night I stayed in a motel about fifty miles away from where Wayne lived in a crappy mobile home park, and for the next several days I drove back and forth from the motel so I could case out the area at a couple of hours at a time to avoid drawing attention to myself.  After a short time of snooping around, I found out Mark and Jack spent a lot of their time in a run-down bar that was located on a wooded highway a little way outside of town.  Wayne spent most of his time, when he wasn’t drunk or high, at his buddy’s auto shop located in the center of a wrecking yard.  When the two punks weren’t at the bar, they would hang out at the wrecking yard with Wayne.  All three had become acquainted in jail and were now friends.  Wayne was known as the town thug and hot-rodder who liked to street race.  He was also known as ‘Bruiser’ because he was constantly in fights.

When I decided to make my move, and before I went into town, I pulled my car into a wooded area so I could disguise it a different way because it was my personal vehicle.  My car is a modified 1967 Pontiac GTO.  I use it when I think that I might need the additional horsepower or for the protection.  My car is painted midnight black, so I re-painted it white with temporary auto paint using rattle cans.  It’s the same stuff I used on the Crown Victoria when I went after the rapist.  It wasn’t the greatest job, but it was better than having my car pointed out in a line up.  While the paint dried, I changed its appearance by swapping out the rims and tires with a different style.  I changed out the style of my taillights and added fog lights.  I also added peel and stick vinyl strips to the top, which give my car the appearance of having a vinyl top.  I always keep exterior accessory parts in the trunk and backseat, which I’ve pre-fitted, so I can change the appearance of it quickly.  It’s too easy for the police to trace tire tracks, so I always have an extra set of tires and rims, which I dispose of afterwards.  My car would only be seen at a distance, and it would also be dark, so I doubted anyone would notice the paint job or the seams in the vinyl top.

When the sun set, I left the wooded area and headed down the highway.  On the way into town, I made a pass by the run-down bar to see if Jack’s girlfriend’s truck was in the parking lot.  Mark was a free loader and always rode with Jack, who wasn’t much better, because his only transportation was his girlfriend’s truck.  When I drove by, I noticed the truck wasn’t there, so my odds increased in getting all three.  My main goal was Wayne, but three would be a charm.  When I approached the gate that entered the wrecking yard, I could see light coming from the shop, so I slowly drove down a gravel road through stacks of wrecked vehicles.  The road made a circle in front of the shop, and as I slowly drove by I revved my engine, then I casually drove back toward the gate.  While I drove away, I could see through my rear-view mirror that Wayne was watching me as he stood at an overhead door wiping his hands with a rag.

Thirty minutes later while I was cruising around town, a lime green, early seventies Chevy Nova began following me, and when I stopped at a red light, the car pulled up next to me on my driver’s side.  Through my tinted windows, I could tell Wayne was driving and his two bitches were with him.  Wayne honked the horn while Mark held his arm out and signaled for me to roll down my window.

When I rolled it down, Wayne yelled out, “You must want an ass whippin’, boy?”

I held out a huge roll of one-hundred dollar bills as I revved my engine.  “Anywhere, anytime.”

Wayne laughed in a smart-ass way as he said, “If you got the balls, follow me.”  He spun his tires and took off.  I carefully watched where I was going as I followed him into the country so I could find my way back.  It seemed he was leading me to a secluded area as we drove down a narrow two-lane farm road.  I wasn’t sure what he had up his sleeve, but I figured he was up to something when we headed down a gravel road—street racers usually like to race on pavement.  After about three more miles we finally pulled up to a gate that entered a pasture.  While Mark opened the gate, Jack ran up to my car.  “The local police have been cracking down on racers, so we’re going to an old section of abandoned highway that is down in the pasture.”

“Sounds great,” I replied.

I watched Mark shut and locked the gate behind me.  I had a gut feeling these assholes were up to something.  The pasture was pitch-black as I followed them down a dirt path, and as we got further from the farm road, I thought to myself I couldn’t have picked a better place to take out these idiots.  I knew there was a fifty-fifty chance things could go severely wrong because there were three of them against me.  I wasn’t too worried about the two bitches, but Wayne was a huge, muscled thumper and I was going to have to knock his lights out before he knocked mine out.

Finally, after a half-mile or so, Wayne came to a stop on an old, paved road, and after all three of them got out of the car, I turned off my engine and got out.

When I walked over to them, Wayne adjusted his balls.  “We’re doing this for pink slips and that wad of cash you got.”

I adjusted my balls.  “You got the cash to back up my wad?”

Wayne laughed as he pulled out a large pistol.  “No.  I spent it all on this hand cannon.”

While Wayne held me at gunpoint, Mark jumped into my car, and as he spun a cloud of dust into the air, Jack swaggered over to me.  “You’re pretty stupid fella.  Now, how’s about giving me that roll.”

I handed him the rolled-up bills, then he tossed it to Wayne.  When Wayne felt the roll, he noticed something wasn’t right, and after examining it closer, he pulled a cylindrical object out of it.  About the same time, he said, “What the fuck?” I covered my eyes, and a second later there was a loud bang, the ground shook, and the dark instantly became bright as the sun for a fraction of a second.  I immediately ran to the side as Wayne screamed while shooting in the direction I had been standing.  Seconds later as Wayne and Jack stumbled around as they tried to regain their sight and hearing, I quickly ran up behind Wayne and knocked him in the head with a Billy club.  When his muscled body hit the asphalt, I kicked Jack in the nuts and finished him off by stomping on his head.  I removed some earplugs from my ears as the two ass clowns laid on the ground.

The flash and bang had come from a homemade flash grenade that Wayne had triggered when he pulled it from the roll of money.  The grenade didn’t affect me because I was farther away from Wayne and I had covered my eyes, and I was also wearing industrial-grade earplugs.  Time was ticking, so I quickly injected them with sodium thiopental and tossed them into Wayne’s car, then drove toward the gate.  A few hundred feet down the dirt road I came up on Mark as he was walking back toward us.  When I pulled up next to him in the dark he said, “The fucking car just died and won’t start.”

“It has a kill switch on a delay relay that cuts power to the ignition system.”

He was startled for a bit, then took off running when he realized Wayne wasn’t driving the car.  He was heading toward the gate when I ran smooth over him.  I could feel the car bounce as the tires ran over his body.  When the car smoothed out, I stopped and got the key to the gate out of his pocket, loaded him into the trunk, then drove on down toward the exit where I found my car stalled out.  After I parked next to mine, I opened both trunks.  I was surprised to find Mark still alive, so I injected him with sodium thiopental, hog-tied and gagged all three of them, then moved them to the trunk of my car.  Since the area was secluded, I wiped the temporary paint off my car using shop towels and a special paint remover that is designed for the temporary paint.  I also removed the vinyl strips from the roof and all the added parts, but I left the tires and rims on and would dispose of them when I got home.  Before I left, I put a gas can and a leaf blower in Wayne’s car, then drove back to where the flash grenade had gone off and cleaned up the area.  I doused his car with gas and set up a long, slow burning fuse.  My car was around two hundred yards away, so I used the leaf blower to erase my footprints and tire tracks as I walked back to it.  I waited at the gate until Wayne’s car burst into flames, then I took off for home.

The next morning when I pulled into my garage, I dragged the three stooges into the chamber and stuck them into some stockades until I could decide what to do with them.  Since they were unconscious, I supported their bodies with ropes that were hanging from the ceiling so their necks wouldn’t be in a bind.  I didn’t want them to see the monstrosities in the chamber at first, so I set up six-foot-tall dividers around the front of the racks where their heads were.  When I removed their clothes, I noticed all three of them were covered with tattoos.  Jack had full sleeves and forty percent of his body was covered with them.  He had some cool ones.  Wayne had a large piece on his back and a few on his arms and legs.  Mark’s ink looked like crappy prison tattoos and they were scattered across his body in no particular order, rhyme, or reason.  He looked like stereotypical white trash from the trailer park.

Later that day, an extremely aggressive and hostile Wayne regained consciousness, and as he hung in the stockade, he cursed and threatened me more than anyone else I had ever brought into the chamber.  The huge muscles in his arms were flexing and the veins in his neck protruded out as he fought at the stockade.  The other two pricks whined and cried for me to release them, which aggravated the shit out of Wayne.  He cursed them for being pussies as they begged for help, and he threatened to beat the shit out of them when he got loose.  He was making me laugh as I stood in front of him, and as I was heckling, he raised his head up as much as possible and stared directly into my eyes.  “I’m going to fucking kill you!”

I stuck my hand next to my mouth and gasped.  “Oh, my!”

He smiled with a chicken-shit grin.  “You have no idea who you’re fucking with.”

I kicked him under his chin as hard as I could.

He spit out some blood, then gave me a death stare. “I’m going to prison rape you, boy!”

I kicked him again, and this time he spit out two of his top teeth.  He became so infuriated he started violently jerking around inside the stockade as he tried to break himself loose, and as he ferociously fought at the replicated torture device, I could hear the wood crack and pop as if it was going to shatter into pieces at any moment.  Before he had a chance to break himself loose, I began kicking him over and over in the face and didn’t stop until he was dazed.

Jack looked up at me.  “Why are you doing this?  You got your car back.”

I walked off and came back with a picture that I clipped from the newspaper regarding the animal shelter incident.  I held it out in front of him so he could see it.  “Recognize this bullshit?”

“Are you one of those animal activist guys?”

“I’m a guy who takes up for the innocent, humans or animals.”

“That wasn’t me.”

“Really?  So, it wasn’t you that tortured and killed all those helpless animals?”

“Nope.”

“I guess you’re just into creating havoc for innocent people.”

He thought for a moment.  “People?  I’ve never done anything to anyone.”

I held out his criminal history report so he could see it.  “That’s not me.”

I opened his wallet and pulled out his driver’s license.  “Matches, pal.”

“That’s fake.”

I examined it closer.  “Nope, it’s real.”

“Actually, it’s my brother’s.”

I had to think for a moment as I flipped his license between my fingers.  “Here’s how it’s going to go down.  I’m not going to torture the shit out of the wrong person, so I’ll run your prints for verification.  If you’re not the asshole responsible for these crimes I will simply cut your hands off and let you bleed to death for trying to steal my car.  If I find out that it’s you, I will…  Here, let me just show you so you can have an idea of what it will be like.”

Wayne had a full back piece tattoo—a scene of hell—and it looked like it was inspired from Dante’s Inferno.  I really wanted it hanging on the wall, so I walked to his side while he was still dazed and began cutting into the flesh on his back with a box knife.  He quickly regained his composure and screamed and jumped around as I cut around the outline of his tattoo.  He really screamed when I ripped the large piece of skin from his back.  In fact, he had screamed so loud that my ears were ringing.  Blood was running down both of his sides and down his backside, so I took a large medical pad, which looked like a puppy pad, and laid it over the wound.  When I walked back in front of them, Wayne was foaming at the mouth and Jack was crying.  I hung the artwork on the partition in front of them, then strolled over to Jack.  “I like all of your tattoos as well.”

He quickly weighed his options, then blurted out, “I lied.”

“No, I think it was your brother who did it.”

Jack begged and pleaded as I stood in front of him cleaning the blood off my razor blade.  I knew he didn’t have a brother because I had looked up that information on the Internet.  I wanted him to admit to what he had done.  “If you really did it, then give me details.  And I also want to know everything bad that you have ever done.  And remember, I know a lot more than you think, so I really want you to lie so I can have some more tattoo wall art.”

Over the next hour or so his recollections matched everything on his criminal report and coincided with the information in the news article regarding the animal cruelty.  He even told on himself about other things where he didn’t get caught.”

Human Octopus

Seth looked at the two men that were lying next to him bound in the bone cradle, then laughed.  “These two are some real dumb asses.”  He glanced at Dicky.  “I almost feel sorry for them.”

“But that didn’t stop you from being cruel.”

Seth picked up a picture that was lying in the bone cradle and tossed it in his cell.  “That’s what I consider cruel.”

He picked it up and noticed it was a picture of the animal shelter aftermath.  “They’re just animals.”

“Wow!  You are a piece of shit.”

He started to speak, but changed his mind.

“That comment is definitely going to cost you later.”

“But I….”

“Shut the fuck up!  You already opened your mouth.”

“But…”

Seth pointed at him.  “Do I need to come over there and treat you like an animal?”

He looked at Seth with a confused expression.  He didn’t know if he was supposed to respond.

“Well?”

“Uh, no.”

“Good answer.  I don’t torture animals.”

He rolled his eyes as he shrugged his shoulders.

“That’s gonna cost you also.  And keep the fuck quiet.  I want to finish story time.”  Seth laid back on the cradle next to one of the men to get comfortable.  “Around this time, I noticed Mark was in bad shape and getting worse from the shattered bones in his left leg.  He would die from an infection if I didn’t operate immediately.  Since he probably had other severe injuries, he was most likely going to die even if I amputated his leg, so I planned on doing some experimental surgery on him before he did.  He didn’t fight as I dragged him across the chamber and over to the operating table—he was pretty much in and out of consciousness and didn’t notice all the barbaric shit around him.  I needed him to be in a deep sleep, so I anesthetized him with sodium thiopental through an intravenous catheter.  Ten minutes later, I began the grueling surgery.  I began by slightly cutting him from his waist to his ankle, and as I made pass after pass, cutting deeper and deeper into his muscle, I made sure that I didn’t cut into the larger arteries and veins.  It took hours before I finally exposed his trochanter, femur, fibula, and tibia, and as the flesh on his leg laid wide open, I removed his bones one at a time as I cut them from the muscles and ligaments.  I wasn’t sure what to do with the muscles in his leg because they weren’t attached to anything anymore, so I sewed each end of a muscle to other muscle, technically making one long muscle from his hip to his ankle.  Most of the surgery was spent on controlling the massive amount of bleeding.  The traditional methods of clamping, cauterization, vasoconstriction and such perform well, but at that time I had started using an experimental solution containing peptides that worked wonders, saving time in the process.

During the entire long and grueling operation, I had to bear the sound of Wayne’s loud and obnoxious mouth; he was screaming curse words and threats at me and Jack for what had happened to his back.  So, when the last stitch was sewn, I marched over to Wayne and shoved a large knife into the side of his cheek, through his mouth and out the other cheek, then cut outwards from his mouth, which cut his top and bottom lips apart.

He tried to scream, but the large amount of blood that was gushing from his mouth caused him to gag as he fought for air.  I quickly used a hemostatic agent on his cuts to stop the bleeding—it would be a shame if he died from a couple of gashes.  Now that Wayne was quiet, I went back to the germ-free tent and monitored Mark’s vital signs.  I wanted him to recover, so I administered antibiotics and a sedative through his intravenous catheter.  The antibiotics would help with infections, and the sedative would help him rest so he wouldn’t agitate his leg by trying to move it.  And to help it heal faster, I covered his leg with a plastic bag and filled it with pure oxygen.  If he didn’t die, I planned on administering the topical oxygen therapy for sixty minutes a day for four days, followed by a short resting period, and repeating the cycle as needed.

When I checked on Wayne a short time later, I found him passed out—the big tough guy must have had a glass jaw.  It’s funny how some of the weaker ones can take a horrendous amount of pain, but the big bad asses faint at a sight of a needle.  While I knelt in front of him and checked his wounds, Jack cried out, “Please let me go.  Wayne made me do it all.  I didn’t want to rob you.  I think you’re cool.”

I ignored the suck ass as I was trying to wake up Wayne.  He was in a deep sleep, so I slapped him across the face, and when he finally awoke, I started pulling out his teeth with a pair of pliers.  By the time I had pulled three or four of them, he had passed out again.  I waited several minutes until he regained consciousness before I started back, and I was only able to pull two more before he went unconscious again.  I only pulled his teeth when he was awake, and it took hours of him screaming at the top of his lungs and passing out before all of them were lying on the floor.  It had been a long day, so I picked up his teeth, and after I slapped the shit out of Wayne’s face a couple of times, I headed upstairs for a quick nap.

Several hours later when I came back into the chamber, I strolled up to Jack and hung a tooth necklace around his neck.  Wayne looked over at the blood-covered necklace and became instantly hostile.  Even though it was extremely painful for him to move his mouth, his absolute hatred for me allowed his anger to boost up his adrenaline enough to overcome it as he cursed and made threats.  Clots of blood and snot were dangling from his mouth and face as he snarled like a pit-bull.  I began laughing at him because the cuts in his cheeks and the swelling around his gums prevented him from pronouncing his words correctly; he sounded retarded.  He became violent as I stood next to him laughing.  He glared at me with hate in his eyes.  “Ib gon ta ill ya, den rison uk ew n da ash.”

I looked at Jack.  “To translate, he told me he is going to kill me, then prison fuck me in the ass.”

I reached over and slapped Wayne across his swollen and ravaged face.  “What are you, some type of sick homo?  All you do is talk about fucking someone in the ass.”

“Ib gon ta kill ya.”

I slapped him again.  “Do you want to fuck me or kill me?  Or maybe you just like to butt fuck dead people.”

“Uck u and your mama… Bitsh.”

I walked over to the dividers and moved them out of the way.  Wayne’s facial expression went from an aggressive look to a terrified one, and Jack began bawling.  Wayne started to say something, but I grabbed the top of the stockade and inserted the end of my boot into his mouth, then pushed the weight of my body upwards using his lower jaw as a step.  To his horror, I began bouncing up and down, and with every thrust, the cuts in his cheeks tore deeper as the joints in his jaw cracked and popped.  Finally, his jaw snapped, causing my boot slipped out of his mouth.  When he finished screaming, he tried to close his mouth, but it wouldn’t move.  I had stretched and torn the ligaments and tendons in his temporomandibular joints.  I bitch slapped him across the face again, then sauntered over to where Jack was being quiet as a mouse.  “You want a TMJ disorder also?”

He held his head down and didn’t say a word.

Over the course of several hours as I tortured a few others in the chamber, I would occasionally look across the room toward Wayne and ask, “Did you say something?” and when he wouldn’t reply I would say, “I didn’t think so.”  Before I left the chamber for the evening, I inserted an 18th-century Roman medical instrument called a vaginal dilator, or speculum, in the ass of Wayne and cranked it until he almost tore.  He was weeping as I walked in front of him, and as tears ran down his face, I slapped him a couple of times across his bloody and swollen cheeks, then exited the room.

Mark’s heart monitor continuously alerted me throughout the night.  The tent he was in was made of clear plastic, so he was able to see the outlines and shadows, and hear the gory sounds, of some of the monstrosities that surrounded him.  His erratic heartbeat was a combination of his leg hurting and his fear.  Every time I went down to the chamber to check on him, and each time I left, I would slap Wayne across the face.  He wouldn’t even look up at me as I slapped him, but I could sense he was cursing me in his head.

A few days later, I had to amputate Mark’s foot due to an internal infection caused from his shattered metatarsal bones.  He wasn’t very happy about losing his foot.  He was really going to be upset when he found out what I had done to his leg.  Up to that point he had thought I had repaired his broken bones.

It was late in the evening a couple of days later when Mark started screaming, so I went over to check on him.  He was frantically feeling his leg through the bandages.  “What’s wrong, pal?”

He looked up at me with fear and uncertainty.  “There’s something fucking wrong.”

I laughed.  “Yeah, you’re in the middle of a fucking torture chamber.”

“Look!  My leg is wiggling around and it’s killing me!  What’s fucking wrong with it?”

While I watched, I noticed it was slightly moving around as his muscles contracted, and because there wasn’t any bone structure, it was wiggling around like a slug.  This hadn’t happened until now.  The only thing I could figure that was causing it was I had stopped his muscle relaxers a day earlier, and now with each passing minute it was getting worse.  Around fifteen minutes later, he started screaming as his leg began to violently twist and bend in all directions.  He tried to hold it straight, but it was moving in too many places.  “My bones!  The car must have crushed my bones!  Please make it stop!”

While he freaked out, I grabbed a box and dumped its contents onto his stomach.  He just sat dumbfounded as he stared in horror at a pile of blood-covered bones.  “There’s your problem, pal.  Your damn bones have fallen out.”

He glanced up at me and started sobbing as I was throwing them back into the box.

“Don’t be so sad, pal.  I could have cut your leg off.”

Over the course of several weeks Mark required intravenous antibiotic therapy to control the internal infection in his leg.  It took a couple of months for him to fully recover, but for some reason he would scream from the pain in his leg.  I’m not sure why having no bones in your leg is painful, but every time his slug of a leg would move, he would scream at the top of his lungs.  It was so damn hideous looking, and the way it moved around was so unnatural, that I decided to perform the same surgery on his other leg and both arms.  Wayne and Jack watched me for months as I worked on Mark and tortured others in the chamber.  I pretty much ignored them, except for the slap across Wayne’s face as I came and went and the occasional crank on his vaginal dilator.  Over the course of ignoring them, Wayne didn’t make a sound, but Jack begged and pleaded most of the time.  I could tell he was getting antsy from being bound in the stockade for such a long duration.

Months later when Mark made a complete recovery, I hung him in front of Jack and Wayne on a ceiling support beam.  I mounted an electric fence controller on the opposite side of the beam, then connected a pair of positive electrodes to his arms and a pair of negative electrodes to his legs.  The electric fence controller was an old-style type that sent out pulses of current and was easy to modify because it didn’t have solid-state circuitry.  I rewired the controller and installed time-delay relays so it would send out a current for two seconds every eight seconds.  The cycle ran for fifteen minutes at a time, then it would shut off for two hours before starting the cycle over.  When I turned it on, Mark’s arms and legs moved around like octopus’ tentacles each time the current went through his body.  His screams were almost ear piercing, and they seemed to drag on forever.  As Jack and Wayne stared in horror, I turned and faced them.  “Your turn is coming.”

Wayne began breathing heavy and Jack started bawling.

I walked away, leaving them staring at the barbaric sight.  Every so often when I would walk into the chamber, I would stop at the stockade while holding a scalpel or some other type of tool, and I would make some kind of comment like, it’s time, or, you ready, or, I needs some bones, or some other comment, and then I would act like I would get distracted with something else and walk away.  I left them alone for months, only aggravating them with the comments.  I wanted the anticipation of being turned into human octopuses to torture them mentally.

The Gruesome Torture Device

About two months later while I was in the back of the chamber, I overheard Mark and Jack arguing and cursing each other.  Wayne and Jack were still bound in the racks and Mark was still hanging on the ceiling support beam.  The pain in Mark’s extremities finally went away and the electric fence controller no longer had an effect.  He had become extremely upset about how I had treated him, and he would curse me every time I walked by.”

Seth strolled over to the bars and leaned up against them.  “The human mind and spirit is so unpredictable I gave up years ago trying to figure them out.  At first, Mark was scared and cowardly.  Now he was begging for more pain.  The anxiety of being bound and forgotten about is excruciating to the point that some people want any kind of attention or acknowledgement at any cost.  In some cases, a person is so angry at how they had been humiliated and violated against their will, and the fact they will never be the same again, gives them a burning desire to die.  A few have become impervious to pain and their minds have gone into some type of vegetative state, and the ones who have reached this type of mental state are hanging from the ceiling with intravenous bags.”

Dicky didn’t say anything.

Seth walked back over and sat on the bone structure.  “While the two argued, I casually crept closer to hear what was so important that it couldn’t be said when I wasn’t in the chamber.  As I listened, I heard Jack say, “Fuck you bitch!  That’s why you’re all fucked up looking!”

Mark responded, “You’ll be the bitch when you’re screaming like an ass fag!”

Jack laughed sarcastically.  “Not by you…  You fucking slinky bitch!”

I strolled over to the two dip shits.  “Do y’all need some attention?”

Without hesitation Mark yelled out, “I want that motherfucker over there to be fucked up like I am!”

Jack didn’t say a word as Mark hung on the beam smiling like a possum eating shit.  I shook my head.  “You two must be retarded.”

Out of curiosity, I turned to Mark as he cheesed.  “How do you want me to fuck him up?”

“Cut his head off and sew his neck to his asshole!”

I tried to keep from laughing as I looked at Jack.  “Jack, do you want to shit down your neck every time you take a crap?”

Jack stared hatefully at Mark.  “Shut the fuck up, Mark!”

I turned back to Mark.  “If I cut his head off, he would die.”

He thought for a second.  “Then just fuck him up like me.  I don’t give a shit anymore.”

I glanced at Jack.  “Any last wishes?”

He began crying as snot dripped from his nose.  “Please don’t hurt me.  I’ll do whatever you want!”

“Anything I want?”

“Yes sir.  I’ll do whatever you ask if you won’t hurt me.”

I handed his left hand a two-foot-long metal rod.  “Okay then.  I will make it simple.  All you have to do to prevent yourself from being turned into a human octopus is to poke both of your eyes out with the rod.”

He looked at me like I was crazy.

“You have until midnight, which is about three hours away.”

Three hours later, I dragged a one-eyed screaming and begging Jack into the operating tent, and sixteen hours later the surgery was complete.  When I was leaving the chamber, Mark blurted out, “I told that motherfucker!”

I stopped and looked up at him.  “Your turn will be tomorrow.”

His possum eating shit grin turned upside down.  “My turn?”

“You didn’t think you were just going to hang there forever, did you?”

His face turned pale as I walked out of the chamber.

Two days later, I removed most of Mark’s ribs and amputated his other foot and both of his hands, and for the hell of it I connected the end of his left leg to the end on his right wrist, and vice versa for his other leg and arm.  His legs were so flexible from the lack of bones that they had bent backwards into a horseshoe shape with ease.  The longest part of the operation was connecting hundreds of blood vessels between his legs and arms, ensuring that I wasn’t mixing up veins and arteries.  Mark and Jack didn’t say a word while they laid next to each other as they recovered from their surgery.  Jack healed extremely fast, and within seven weeks I was able to connect his arms and legs together and remove most of his ribs.  There is something I forgot to mention.  Before I sewed Jack’s limbs together, I intertwined his arms and legs in with Mark’s.  Lucky for them they had different blood types, or I would have connected them to each other.  I used their bones and hair to make the basket, then hoisted them up into the ventilation shaft.  I was really surprised they didn’t die from an infection.  I never know how far I can push the limits.  Sometimes, I can completely destroy a person’s mind and body and they keep ticking like a Timex, and sometimes the simplest operation or common cold will cause someone to keel over.”

Seth went over to a large mechanical machine covered with dried blood, vomit, shit, piss, and rotted meat, and as he rested his arms on it, he said, “I built this for Wayne.  I didn’t feel like repeating the bone removal surgery, which would be too easy of a punishment for him anyway.  I wanted him to feel helpless, the same way his son did every time he beat him, and I wanted him to feel overpowered by something larger and stronger as he screamed for mercy.  I designed the mechanism in CAD, and rounded up the parts at some local salvage yards.  It took about four full days to build it.  The machine had to be disassembled in my shop and reassembled in the chamber due to its size and weight.  To ensure that it would work correctly, I tested it on a corpse, and after I made some adjustments, I removed Wayne from the stockade and tied him down in the center of it.  He really didn’t fight too much because his body was extremely exhausted from having to endure such a long duration in the stockade, but he did curse me the entire time.  His jaw had somewhat healed crooked and the rear portion of the gashes in his cheeks had healed together unevenly.  He had to curse and make threats out the side of his mouth.”

Seth sat on the edge of a table mounted in the center of the machine.  “This thing is one of the most gruesome torture devices in the chamber.  Unfortunately, you might find yourself strapped in it one of these days, so you might want to listen closely.  The part that I am sitting on is a stainless-steel tabletop with arm and leg attachments; it’s shaped like a human body.  It’s approximately forty-eight inches long and eighteen inches wide.  The leather straps connected to the tabletop held Wayne’s torso so tight that he couldn’t move an inch.  His extremities were supported by these four metal extensions that are secured to the main table.  The top two extensions held his arms perpendicular to his body and the bottom two extensions held his legs flat and spread eagle.  These one-and-a-half-inch solid steel rods ran down each side of his arms and legs, and their height is adjustable where they are connected to each end of the table extensions.  These paired rods were adjusted to where they were slightly above his extremities.  I fabricated a trolley out of a steel plate and two-inch pipe by sliding a twelve-inch piece of the two-inch pipe on each of the one-and-a-half-inch steel rods, then welded the steel plate to the two-inch pipes.  Each of Wayne’s extremities had one of these trolleys installed on the pair of steel rods that were located above that limb, and the trolley would slide up and down from the end of his hand or foot, to where that extremity was connected to his body.  On top of each trolley there’s a large electric winch-like device and a set of industrial-type rollers that faces toward the table.  The rollers are sixteen inches long and spaced two inches apart.  The winch device is made up of an electric motor, a gearbox with a 400 to 1 ratio and a small rotating input drum.  The rotating drum is a two-inch solid steel rod by twelve inches long, and a small hole is drilled in the center of it for the connection of a steel braided cable.

While Wayne laid cursing on the table, I grabbed his left hand and tied a one-eighth inch steel cable to each of his fingers and thumb.  I had secured the cables at his last joint on each of his fingers and thumb so they wouldn’t slip off.  The five cables then joined together with a larger cable. The larger cable ran between the two rollers, then to the drum of the winch.

He stared in horror.  “I don’t deserve what you have done!”

“Then tell me, what does a thief, animal abuser and child killer like you deserve?”

He became outraged, and because I had been ignoring his cursing and threats over the last year or so, he misconceived my tolerance for weakness, so he became more aggressive and spit at me.  Before his spit had a chance to soak into my shirt, I pulled a knife out of my sheath and cut off his lips, and as he screamed, I grabbed his tongue and sliced it off as well.  While he spewed blood and saliva all over himself and the table, I took a torch and started cauterizing his wounds, and as his blood and spit sizzled, foul-smelling smoke bellowed out from his mouth and cuts in his cheeks.  As predicted, he passed out.  While he slept, I went ahead and connected his other hand the same way as I did his left hand.  I couldn’t do the same thing with his feet because his toes would pull off before his feet and ankles could be broken into pieces by the rollers.  To resolve the issue, I waited until he had regained consciousness, then took a long awl and pushed it into the bottom of his right foot, between his metatarsal bones, then out the top of his foot.  After I poked about thirty holes through each of his feet, I ran three-sixteenth inch steel cable in and out of the holes with a large knitting needle, then connected the end of the cable to the winch that was above that leg.  Wayne had screamed so hard during the foot poking and knitting session that he screwed up his jaw again.  He also tore the healed portions in his cheeks, which were bleeding profusely.

The next part was going to be a blood bath, so I hung several bags of blood above the machine and connected them to his jugular vein in the side of his neck with an intravenous catheter.  I knew what was about to happen was going to get real messy, so I threw on a jumpsuit and a face shield.  Wayne was acting like an idiot and slamming his head against the table when I started the winch that was connected to his right hand.  A few seconds later, he began screaming as the winch pulled his hand through the rollers.  The rollers weren’t really doing any damage, unlike the ones designed for his feet, which are set up to crush his bones.  Their purpose was to keep tension on his hand and arm before they reached the winch, which would ensure that his entire arm from his fingertips to his shoulder would tightly wrap around the narrow drum.  I specifically installed a narrow drum so his bones would shatter like glass as they wrapped around it.  The anticipation of the obvious must have been what he was screaming about, because as soon as his fingers started wrapping around the drum backwards, his eyes began rolling around in his head and his body started shaking.  While the winch moved very slowly, the drum broke his bones at every fraction of an inch, which was causing horrendous pain.  Even though he was screaming at the top of his lungs, I could still hear his phalanges making a popping sound as they broke, and I could hear the ligaments between his finger joints making a snapping sound as they tore loose from the ends of their bones.  When the palm of his hand started wrapping around the drum, his metacarpal bones and their muscular attachments sounded like popcorn popping.  As the winch rolled his hand tightly around the drum, the trolley moved toward his body, which allowed the winch and drum to move forward as well.  The winch rolling his arm was actually causing the forward motion of the trolley.  By the time the drum reached his wrist, he had begun vomiting all over himself and the table.  When the head of his radius and ulna bones entered the drum, they popped so loud it sounded like small firecrackers going off.  A few seconds later, blood and meat began flowing out from around the winch as it broke, flattened, and wrapped his forearm around the drum.  He passed out when the drum was only a few inches up his forearm, so I turned it off and poured a hemostatic agent all over his open wounds to slow down the bleeding.

An hour later, he regained consciousness, and as he laid on the table breathing erratically, I leaned toward him and whispered into his ear, “The animals that you hurt must have felt the same way, and your son felt as helpless as you do right now as he endured the pain you bestowed on him.  There is no way that I can inflict as much pain on you as you did your own son.  Can you imagine what it must feel like to have your life taken at such an innocent age by the one who created you?  You should have been the one protecting him.  You betrayed your son.”

He didn’t say a word as I flipped the switch.  He screamed the entire time as the winch ravaged the rest of his arm.  When the rollers reached his shoulder, the winch didn’t even flinch as it tore the remaining portion of his arm from his body.  His body violently shook as the few remaining muscles, tendons and veins stretched like rubber bands between his body and the drum, and as the winch rolled up the last portion of his arm, his eyes rolled to the back of his head.  Shortly after his muscles, tendons and veins snapped in two, he passed out.  Before he bled to death I cleaned, cauterized, and bandaged his wound.  I let him lie on the table for a few weeks so he could stare at the cables that were between his left hand and the winch.  The anticipation of repeating the horrific torture was unbearable to him.  He did everything possible to kill himself, from beating his head on the tabletop to holding his breath.  He continuously fought at the cables to pull them loose from his fingers.  And surprisingly he accomplished one of his two attempts.  He had pulled his fingers off in the middle of the night when I was out, and when I came in and found him, I noticed he had been beating his bloody nubs on everything in sight in hopes they would keep bleeding so he would die.  Unfortunately for him I had a blood-clotting agent in one of his IV bags.

A couple of days later, Wayne endured the horrific pain of having his left arm mutilated the same way as his right arm.  His missing fingertips didn’t affect anything—I simply tied the cables to the next joint.  A week later, I did the same thing to his right leg, but it was a little more intensive than his arms.  His foot was literally crushed as the winch pulled it through the narrow opening of the roller, and he passed out before it ever reached the drum.  Each time he passed out I would turn off the machine, and when he regained consciousness, I would start it back up.  I did this so he would have to feel every square inch of his leg break into pieces as it went through the roller, flattening out as it wrapped around the drum.  When the winch finally started rolling up the upper portion of his leg around the drum, his femur sounded like wood going through a chipper as it shattered.  The drum was pushing blood and tons of gross stuff out of his leg and onto the floor.  He was in such shock that his heart stopped and I had to use a heart defibrillator to restart it.

It was several months later when he became strong enough that I could finally finish off his other leg.  He had screamed so much during his excruciating torture he damaged his vocal cords and wasn’t able to make a sound.  His heart had become extremely weak, so I had to install an internal heart defibrillator that would shock his heart automatically when he went into cardiac arrest.  When his wounds completely healed, I secured him in a custom-made harness and hung what was left of his extremities on it, then hoisted him up into the ventilation shaft so he could be with his two minions.  Over the first couple of years, I would occasionally hear the two numbnuts arguing.  They are, by far, the biggest morons that I’ve run across.  Telling their story makes me laugh.  Eventually I had to install an internal heart defibrillator in each of them.  The device has become the norm in here.  It really prolongs life.”

Dicky looked solemn as Seth hoisted the three men back up into the ventilation shaft.

Doctor of Death

Seth locked the last hoist, then walked over to the opposite side of the chamber from Dicky.  After he moved a few things around, he rolled a large wooden rack out of a dark area and into the center of the chamber.  The rack was about seven feet tall by ten feet wide, and it was framed with steel tubing around the outer edges.  There were wooden planks that were secured horizontally to the tubing.  The rack stood in an upright position, supported at the bottom by four braces that stuck outwards, and the braces had wheels mounted on the ends.  The rack resembled a beefed-up roll-around chalkboard.

Dicky stared in horror as Seth turned the rack sideways.  As the dim light from a nearby wall-mounted lantern revealed a ghastly sight, he gasped with disbelief.  He held his mouth open as he gazed with wide eyes, looking upon the bizarre monstrosity.  There was a decayed body mounted on the rack that had been gruesomely dissected and cut into pieces.  All the body parts and pieces were secured to the wooden planks by nails.  The man was cut open from his neck to his pelvic area.  His chest and abdominal cavities were being held open by his abdominal skin as it was being stretched away from his body, which was being bound to the planks by rusted nails.  His cavity was empty and all his shiny and preserved organs were hanging around the perimeter of his body.  His intestines completely outlined his body first, then his other organs encircled them.

A portal with a clear lens was secured to the left side of the man’s chest, and from his open cavity, a yellow hose hung loose as if it had been connected to something at one time.  The dissected man had long scars throughout his body, which appeared to be gashes that had been sewn closed, and some of the old scars still had their thick, black stitching.  The man’s eyelids had been sewn to his eyebrows, and his eyes had a disturbing look to them as if they were staring into hell.  His mouth was hanging wide open as if he had died screaming.  His limbs had been cut off and were extended away from his body on the rack.  Every joint in his extremities had been severed.  His hands were cut into sections at each finger joint.  His arms were cut into sections at his wrist, elbow, and shoulder.  His legs, one of his feet, and his toes, were sectioned in the same way.  The segmented limbs laid out from his body in an anatomically correct way, with about four inches of gap between them, and their ends had been sewn closed with the thick, black thread.  The man’s right foot was missing, and there was a black outline drawn on the planks where the foot should have been.  The body and segmented parts were glossy in color, appearing as if they had been preserved.  There were four intravenous bags that were nailed above the dissected man, and they were full of moldy fluid and the hoses that ran to the preserved body were tarnished yellow.

Seth sat down Indian style on the floor in front of the rack and lit a cigarette.  He looked over at Dicky.  “This guy here I like to call the Doctor of Death because he killed innocent people for profit.  His real name was Mr. Blackwell.  He lived in New York and was a doctor until he lost his medical license for malpractice.  Newspapers, TV, and the Internet have been my main source in learning about the scumbags that I go after; it was no different in his case.  I first read about Mr. Blackwell in the New York Times years ago.”

Seth could tell that Dicky had something to say.  “What’s on your mind?”

“I kind of remember the story; he was selling human organs illegally, then skipped bail and left the country.  That’s what the paper stated anyway.”

“You’re partially right.  He didn’t leave the country, obviously, but he was busted for selling organs on the black market.  He would persuade homeless people to come to his house by telling them he would give them free medical treatment and food.  After he lured them into his basement, he would put them into a coma-like state so he could remove their organs.  He sold them on the black market for an extremely high price.  His customers were very wealthy people that were dying and needed an organ transplant to survive, and because they were too far down on a donor list to receive their vital organ in time, they were willing to pay huge amounts of money for vitality.  The unknowing organ donors were homeless people that had no family and would most likely not be missed by anyone.  Blackwell had been getting away with the taking and the giving of life for years until he picked up the wrong homeless person one day.  He had picked up an undercover journalist who was doing a story on how the homeless lived.  The journalist had hidden cameras in an alleyway where he lived and interacted with homeless people for his research.  The police found the cameras after the journalist had been reported missing by his news firm.  One of the cameras had filmed Blackwell’s license plates on his Suburban, and another one filmed the reporter talking to Blackwell, then leaving with him.  When the police searched Blackwell’s house, they found two people in an operating room who were in a coma and a large cooler full of body parts.  The police dug up numerous bodies in his backyard, which sadly included two infants.  Autopsies revealed all of them had organs removed.  Most of the ones who were identifiable were homeless, except for the infants and a medium sized body, which turned out to be the body of a young girl who had come up missing years ago when she didn’t return home from a basketball game.

A few weeks later, I read in the newspaper that Blackwell had been released from jail on a five-million-dollar bond and he had to wear a tracking device around his ankle so the authorities could keep track of him in case he tried to leave the country.  This was really disturbing.  It seems money or connections can get you out of anything in this country, except for this chamber.  Before he had a chance to disappear or go to prison, I needed to find out as much as possible about him.  I went on the Internet to a news page and printed out pictures of him, his house, cars, and I also found a couple of articles that gave decent details about his entire life.  I also did a complete background check on him, his family, friends, and business associates.  He was about twenty-six hours away, and hauling his ass back on a plane was going to be impossible, so I packed several times more stuff than I usually do, and I quadrupled everyone’s IV bags.  When I arrived in Montgomery, I rented a motel room so I could recuperate from the trip.  Over the next few days, I had a difficult time staking this guy out because the police had seized his house and most of his assets.  He was staying in a hotel next to the Hudson River where a couple of police officers were guarding his room.  They were protecting him from any kind of vigilante act because he had apparently been getting death threats.  It really irritates me when I think of how sorry our judicial system is, but I guess I could look at it as job security.  The two officers weren’t the only problem—a camera system and a doorman guarded the main entrance of the hotel, and the other doors were protected with sensors that would activate the fire or security alarm.  He was going to be a difficult catch with all the extra security protecting him, but I wasn’t going to let that discourage me because his victims and their families deserve more than what our judicial system offered.  The worst thing about prison is getting butt fucked, but he probably wouldn’t have had to worry about that, because he could afford a good defense team and they most likely would have pulled an O.J., or at least found a way to have him sentenced to a mental hospital.

Time was crucial, so I made a plan on how and what I was going to do.  I knew I would have to be patient if I wanted to get this lowlife.  The first thing I did was check out of my current motel and rent a room on the second floor in a hotel that was located across the street from where he was staying.  After I settled in, I discreetly watched out a window to see if he had any regular routines of leaving the hotel.  He would most likely be driving his older tan Mercedes because the police had confiscated his Suburban.  Several hours after dusk I decided to call it a day because I hadn’t spotted him.

The next morning around seven-thirty as I was sitting in a café eating breakfast, I saw an older tan Mercedes pull out of a parking garage that was next to his hotel.  I couldn’t tell if it was him or not as the car drove down the street.  When I finished, I went back to my hotel room and watched to see if the Mercedes would return.  After about two hours the car finally pulled up in front of his hotel.  This time I could tell it was Blackwell.  When he pulled into the parking garage, I noticed the garage had security cameras and a set of automatic security gates that protected the entrance.

Over the next several days, I learned he had a regular routine of leaving the hotel around 7:30 AM, and he would always drive north on Jasper.  He would also leave sporadically throughout the day.  The fourth day, which was Saturday, I checked out of the hotel and rented a room in another town so I wouldn’t be seen as much.  Now that I had his basic routine down, I planned on placing a tracking device on his car so I could keep track of his movements, which would give me a chance of snagging him.  I went to a gadget store and bought a GPS tracking system, then glued the transmitter part to a magnet so I could quickly stick it under his car when I had a chance.

The next Monday, I waited for him at 7:30 AM a little way down on Jasper in a parking area, and when he finally drove by, I followed him several miles until he pulled into the parking lot of a golf course.  Instead of turning in behind him, I pulled into a restaurant parking lot that was across the road from the golf course.  Through a pair of binoculars, I watched as he and another man talked in the parking lot.  After a few minutes, they met with a third man, then all three of them went into a clubhouse.  When I scanned the parking lot, I noticed there was a security office with a security guard, and I also spotted another guard roaming around on a golf cart.  I knew I wouldn’t be able to put the tracking device on his car there, so I went into the restaurant and grabbed something to eat.  After a couple of hours Blackwell left the golf course, and as I followed him, I hoped he would make a quick stop somewhere so I could stick the tracking device under his car, but he drove straight to his hotel.

The next morning, I dressed in some raggedy old clothes and rubbed dirt all over myself so I would look like a homeless person, and to help conceal my identity, I wore a dirty wig, an old head rag, a fake beard and some facial prosthetics and makeup.  At 7:30 AM, I was standing at the corner of Forty-Second Street and Jasper at a red light, which was the intersection that Blackwell drove through on his way to the golf course.  While I waited at the corner, I watched my plan foiled as he drove through a green light.  For the next couple of hours, I walked around the sidewalks as I waited for nine-thirty, which was when he usually came back through the intersection, and when he finally arrived, the same damn thing happened, except he ran the red light so he wouldn’t have to stop.  He didn’t show up the next day, which started causing my patience to run thin.  It was aggravating to stand around the street corner with people staring at me with disgust.

The following morning, I waited again for him at the intersection.  I was just about to leave around eight o’clock when I saw his car coming down the street.  The light was red, causing him to stop a few cars back.  He was talking on a cell phone and not really paying attention, so I scurried over to his car and began cleaning the passenger side of his windshield with a rag and a spray bottle filled with water and piss.  He honked his horn as I walked in front of his car, and as I was bending down pretending as if I was cleaning his headlights, I stuck the tracking device under his bumper.  Once it was firmly attached, I moved on around and began cleaning his driver side windshield, and as I smeared dust and bug guts all over the glass, I yelled at him for a dollar.  The light had turned green, and as he drove off, he yelled out his window for me to go get fucked.  I laughed as I walked across the busy road and back onto the sidewalk.  I was walking off when I heard someone yell, “Hey you, stop,” and when I turned around, I saw a bicycle cop riding in my direction.  He was pointing at me and yelling for me to stop, so I quickly turned down an alley.  After about a hundred feet or so he caught up and stopped me by cutting me off with his front tire.  Before I had a chance to speak he grabbed my dirty jacket and arrogantly shouted, “Are you fucking deaf, asshole?  I told you to stop!”

I glanced at his badge.  “What’s wrong, Officer Wilcox?”

He held onto my jacket as he got off his bike, allowing it to fall to the ground.  “I’m sick of trash polluting the streets of my city.”

When I started to speak, he threw me up against a brick wall in the alley.  I remained silent.

“What, you got something to say, hotdog?”

I just stood there as if I was scared shitless as he held his forearm against my throat.  Spit was flicking out of his mouth and drool was running down his chin.  For no reason at all, he threw me to the ground and kicked me in the stomach.  “Come on you piece of shit, I know you want to hit me!  Take a swing at me!  Please take a swing so I can bash your head in, you worthless fuck!”

I was down on all fours holding my stomach with one hand as he smiled at me with a cocky grin.  I smiled back.  “Wow!  Female cops kick harder than that.”

He became infuriated, and with a look of vengeance on his face he grabbed my hair with both of his hands and jerked my head back.  He bent down and stared into my eyes.  “You fucked up now, cocksucker!  I’m gonna make you wish you were never born after big Bubba gets through with you in the slammer!”

I started laughing.

He lifted me up into a kneeling position and screamed out.  “What the fuck is so funny, dumbass?”

I smiled as I said, “I guess you stupid fucking bicycle cops aren’t taught to check for weapons.”

He released my hair as his facial expression went from aggressive to startled, and as he started to take a step backwards, I drove my sharp sickle up into his crotch.  His screaming echoed throughout the alleyway as I cut into him with all my strength.  I could hear the blade as it dragged across his pelvic bone, and the upward force of it was lifting him to his tippy toes.  When I pulled the blood-covered blade out of his abdomen, his intestines began to fall out of his wound as he stepped backwards, staring in horror.  He tried to hold them in with his hands, but the blade had ravaged his insides and pieces were slipping through and around his fingers like spaghetti.  When he finally realized what had happened, he frantically went for his gun with his right hand as blood gushed out between the fingers on his left hand, and as he pulled it out of its holster, I lunged forward with the sickle.  Before his gun and hand hit the ground, I had already swung again and scalped the right side of his head.  The cop fell backwards against a brick wall and screamed out for help as he slid down to his knees.  The blood-covered cop stared at me with fear and disbelief.  As his eyes were filled with fear, I began to swing again, but I withdrew.  I decided not to kill him, and as I looked around, I noticed there were a couple of people at the end of the alley who were staring in horror.  The spectators ran as I turned toward them while holding the blood-covered sickle.  When they scattered, I quickly looked around to make sure I didn’t drop anything out of my pockets that could lead the cops to me, then emptied the contents of a zip lock bag on the ground.  The items included several hairs, a comb and a lighter.  The items were from a lowlife that I ran across several years back.  I took off down the alley the opposite direction from where the spectators had been, and before I turned the corner, I noticed five burly dudes.  I think they were some workers from a nearby construction job that had entered the alley.  They were running toward me with hammers and other kinds of tools.  Only one of them stopped to help the asshole while the others continued on, so I pulled out my XDM .40 caliber pistol equipped with a sixteen-round magazine and popped a couple of rounds into the air in an attempt to get them to retreat.  They quickly took cover behind a dumpster, and as I cautiously looked around the corner, I noticed two of them had pulled out handguns.  It really caught me off guard that construction workers would be packing, and they apparently weren’t going to retreat either, because I could hear the excitement in their voices as they told each other how they wanted to fuck me up.  I didn’t want to stand around and have a shootout until the police arrived, and I couldn’t have them chasing me all over town while we exchanged rounds, so without hesitating I ran over to a gas meter about fifty feet further down from me.  I could hear their whispering voices echoing in the alley as I quickly wiped my pocket torch down, removing my prints.  I could see their shadows getting larger on the walls as they approached the corner, so I quickly ignited the flame and locked the trigger in the open position.  I set the torch on the ground directly under the piping of the meter, then backed away and blew a hole in one of the pipes with my pistol.  I didn’t look back as I ran another twenty feet.  As soon as I turned a corner, I heard a loud boom, then a large fireball engulfed the alley behind me.  As soon as I turned a corner to another alley, I quickly removed my bloody jacket and turned it inside out, then wrapped it around the bloody sickle.  I could hear the roaring sound of the fire as I knelt and washed the blood off my face and hands in a puddle of dirty water.  My heart was pounding as I ran on down the alley, and when I came to a street, I mixed in with people that were running chaotically in both directions on the sidewalk.  The people on the streets were too distracted from the explosion to pay any attention to me.  While smoke poured into the air, I calmly walked several blocks with the jacket under my arm until I came to the parking lot where my car was parked.  Unfortunately, there were people standing around and talking about the explosion, so I walked on by until I came to another alley.  There were a couple of large dumpsters in the area, so I hid behind them and removed my dirty shirt and pants I was wearing over a clean set of clothes, then removed the wig, head rag, fake beard, facial prosthetics and wiped off the rest of the dirt and makeup with wet wipes.  Luckily, I had thought ahead and I had stuffed a few items in the pockets of my jacket, which included a toboggan, sunglasses, and a fake goatee.  After I disguised myself differently, I grabbed a box out of the dumpster and put my items inside it.  I could see smoke pouring into the sky over some buildings and I could hear emergency vehicles in the distance as I walked back toward my car carrying the box.  When I finally came to the parking lot where my car was, most of the people had moved toward the street so they could get a better view, so I ambled up to my car and calmly got in.  I was a little uneasy as I drove off, thinking about everything that had happened.  I kept going over every step, trying to reassure myself I hadn’t been seen or left anything behind.  I’m sure that the people at the end of the alley and the construction workers got a good look at me, but I was disguised as a homeless person.

On the way back to my hotel room, I removed some fake items from my car such as pin-stripping, a sunroof, antennas, bumper stickers, fog lights, and a decal that went across my back window that made the glass look like it had a really bad crack.  I also swapped out the untraceable license plates, fake inspection sticker, tags, and vehicle identification number with another fake set.  I stopped at the first carwash I came to and washed off the temporary primer-colored paint I had painted on the front passenger side fender.  It seemed like a lot of work just to hide the identity of my car, but every detail and every possible scenario had to be thought out and well planned because of today’s technology and forensic science.”

The Many Faces of a Vigilante

Seth walked over to Dicky and showed him his hands.  “I burned my fingerprints off years ago with acid.  I also remove the hair off my body before I execute any of my plans so I can reduce the chance of leaving any incriminating evidence behind.  The clothes and shoes that I wear when I make my move on a lowlife are new from the store, which I order over the Internet and don’t remove from their bags until I’m completely shaved.  In fact, everything from my clothes to my disguises is ordered from the Internet, and they are all sent to one of my untraceable mailboxes I have in several different cities.  I have a hidden clean room between my house and a hidden garage where I keep my car.  The clean room is about eight-feet by ten-feet in size, and there are two doors on opposite sides, one for entering and one for exiting.  The door on the house side is hidden by a sliding bookshelf.  There is a door on the other side that enters the hidden single car garage. The interior walls and ceiling of the clean room are lined with waterproof material so I can wash it down into a floor drain.  I have a shower stall in one corner and some shelving with airtight containers in the other.  Against one of the walls, I have a table with a mirror where I put on my disguises.

Before I enter the room, I remove all my clothes and put them into a container, which I leave outside the room.  If I think the job will be risky, I will shave my face and head with a razor, and I will use hair remover on the rest of my body.  The only hair that is left on me when I am done is my eyebrows and eyelashes, which I coat with a gel.  I also scrub down with an abrasive pad to remove loose skin.  When I’m done shaving and scrubbing, I wash really good to make sure all my hair and skin flakes have been washed off, and before I step out of the shower, I use a hose connected to the faucet to wash down the walls and floor area outside the shower stall.  I dry off using a fan that is mounted on the wall so I don’t have to use a towel that could leave lint.  When I’m dry, I open the airtight containers and put on the clothes and shoes that are in the sealed bags.  In some cases where I think I need to be extra cautious, or when I don’t remove my hair, I wear a wetsuit under the new clothes to help prevent the loss of such incriminating evidence.  After I’m dressed, I sit at the table and put on a disguise.  My disguises include fake beards and moustaches, wigs, makeup, wrinkles, scars, birthmarks, tattoos, colored contacts, and I use prosthetics to change the appearance of my nose, cheekbones, chin, forehead, ears, and neck.  I also use colored makeup and dyes so I can disguise myself as a black or Hispanic person.  In some cases, I wear custom-made lead plates under my facial prosthetics and makeup when I think a high security area might be using a 3D biometric facial identification system.  Over the years, I’ve created and perfected many disguises to hide my identity.

When I’m finished, I load my pockets or a duffel bag with different supplies I might need.  So many things could go wrong, and I try to plan for all the possible scenarios that could play out, and I equip myself for any kind of circumstance that could arise.  I have a normal two car garage where I keep my work truck for everyday use.  The hidden garage is where I keep my car that I only use for staking out or retrieving lowlifes.  It’s filled with large cabinets, and they are packed with supplies that I might need, including fake parts for my car.  The hidden garage opens into the back of the two-car garage through a hidden door.  The hidden door from the two-car garage side looks like a normal wall covered with pegboard, and the pegboard has tools and such hanging from it.  I drive out of the hidden garage and into the two-car garage, then right on out the overhead door.  I’ve designed my house with the hidden rooms and compartments just in case it was searched.  I’ve spent numerous hours on my car because I use it sometimes when I stake out or retrieve scumbags.  Most of the time I use throwaway vehicles that I’ve hidden in different areas.  My main car is an important tool in what I do, and I’ve modified it in numerous ways.  I chose a 1967 Pontiac GTO because it’s a solid car with a lot of room.  The windows are tinted dark enough so no one can see who is driving.

I have a path I use that goes from the side of my house over to the cemetery, and from there I exit the cemetery on a two-lane country road that doesn’t have much traffic.  If anyone saw me, it would appear I was coming or going from the cemetery.  The interior of my car is vinyl so I can wipe it down and vacuum it after every mission just in case I lost some loose fibers, hairs, or cross contaminated blood.  Leather would have been nice, but it stains.  I have a specially built trunk that has a hidden compartment for storing supplies and lowlifes.  I had to modify my car to accommodate the size of the special trunk by removing the existing gas tank and fabricating four smaller ones, which I installed away from the back of the car.  The taillights, brake lights, side indicators, and interior lights are on individual switches so they can be turned on or off as needed.  I can turn off the headlights and drive by a pair of small spotlights that are mounted in the center of the front grill—this helps hide the movement of my car from behind.  I keep a pair of night vision goggles in the car so I can drive with no lights if needed.  I have a global positioning system installed so I won’t get lost or have to deal with maps.  Time is a key ingredient in what I do, but I only use the GPS when absolutely necessary because I know Big Brother can keep track of me through it.  My car looks like an ordinary vehicle, but it produces about seven-hundred and fifty horsepower with a top end of about a hundred and sixty miles an hour.  The exhaust is extremely quiet so I can discreetly come and go without being heard.  I rebuilt the entire car to be fast, but also dependable.  Just in case I have a mechanical breakdown, I keep a set of basic tools and some basic spare parts in a compartment that I’ve built under the back seat.

The car has some special features such as a switch that will drop several hundred custom made spikes out from the back in increments of twenty-five.  The spikes stand upright in the road, and if run over, they will flatten tires on another vehicle.  I’ve installed a smoke system that will reduce the visibility of a pursuer.  I can also blow a tar mixture from the back that can coat the front of a vehicle, and hopefully the windshield.  If the pursuer tries to use their windshield wipers with or without fluid it would only smear the mixture and make visibility worse.  The tires are run-flat tires, which will allow me to drive up to two hundred miles with no air pressure.  The best part about the run-flat tires is if I get into a situation where my tires are shot out, or I run over stop sticks, I still have a chance to escape.  The interior portion of my car is protected with bulletproof material that is hidden between the interior panels and outside metal panels of the car, and the windows are made of bulletproof glass.  I have a trap door under the passenger side floorboard where I can crawl in and out from under my car if need be, and I could possibly crawl into a manhole if I parked over the top of one.  If I was surrounded by police and didn’t feel like surrendering, I have two other options.  There is a set of canisters under the car, and when mixed through an automated system, the mixture will create a massive amount of toxic gas that will visually impair my attacker and/or knock them unconscious if breathed.  The gas would not bother me because I would be wearing a full-face respirator.  The second option is the car is packed with enough explosives that afterwards there wouldn’t be much left to send to the metal scrap yard or to the morgue.  The explosives are also tied to a transmitter and receiver so I can blow up the car from around three hundred feet if I see someone tampering with it.  I spent years building that car just in case I needed the extra protection.

My car isn’t the only thing wired with explosives, my entire house is wired with such a massive amount that if triggered by me or anyone else, it would not only level the house, but would probably leave a huge crater where it was sitting.  The explosives are hidden throughout the house in the finished walls, and there are secret triggers throughout that will detonate them if moved or tampered with.  The triggers can be turned on or off as needed from a central location, and they are as simple as opening a certain door, moving a bookcase, or even turning on a light switch; that’s one of the reasons why I don’t drink.  I also have multiple triggers in the passageway leading to this chamber that I have to bypass every time I come in here.  If triggered, there will be a three-minute delay with a loud audible alarm and flashing warning lights, then gasoline will start flowing into the room from a three-inch pipe that is hidden somewhere in this chamber.  An electronic ignition system will ignite the flammable liquid as soon as it starts to exit the pipe.  When a sensor detects that the gas has been ignited, a large pump will be activated, which will increase the gas flow to such a tremendous rate that the fifteen-hundred-gallon tank will empty in less than a few minutes.  The purpose of igniting the gas as it first starts to exit the pipe, then kicking up the pressure, is to help prevent an explosion.  I want the gas to disintegrate the entire chamber and the house that sits on top of it.  I don’t want an explosion that would send evidence all over the neighborhood.”

Seth looked over at Dicky and noticed he had fallen asleep with his head down as he leaned back against the wall of his cell.  While Dicky snored, Seth went over to a climate-controlled cabinet and grabbed a plastic container, and when he came back to the cell he threw the contents on him.  After a few seconds, Dicky jumped to his feet and began screaming as he franticly slapped at his body to knock away scorpions, and as he ran around his cell like a crazy person, Seth walked over and grabbed the bars.  “You didn’t hear a damn thing I said, but in short, no one will probably come looking for you here because I’m very cautious and plan out every step.  So, if you were hoping that I had left a fingerprint or something else behind that would bring the police to your rescue, I suggest you don’t hold your breath.”

Dicky was standing in the water that was pooling in his cell as he kept an eye on the scorpions.  “Eventually you’re going to get caught.”

“Maybe, but I can promise you one thing.  You’re going to burn to death if someone enters this room and sets off a trigger.”

He looked nervous.  “What trigger?”

Seth shook his head.  “You should have been paying attention instead of sleeping.  And the next time that you fall asleep when I am talking, you will wake up on fire.”

Seth slid the chair that was next to the bars over to the rack with the dissected man, then sat down in it backwards and rested his arms against the back of it.  “I didn’t like slicing up the cop, but that’s what he gets for abusing his authority.  I also read the asshole did survive.  He has been the only encounter with the police where I had to use deadly force.  I’ve had a few other encounters, but I used non-lethal means to evade them.  The police have their non-lethal weapons and I have my own.  One of my special devices came in handy one time when a cop had pulled me over.  He was adamant about searching my car, and unfortunately, I had a scumbag in the trunk.  Several years ago, as I was traveling through Kansas in a car that I had taken from a lowlife, I was pulled over for some bullshit reason.  I knew the asshole in the trunk was wanted by the police for the same shit that I went after him for, so before the cop came up to the car, I put on an oxygen mask.

He marched up to my window.  “I need your driver’s licenses and insurance.”

I handed him my fake license.  “This isn’t my car.  I can check to see if the owner keeps the insurance in the glove box or above the visor if need be.”

“Who’s the car registered to, Sir?”

I knew he already ran the license plate.  “Brian Tubbslin.”

“Do you know the whereabouts of Mr. Tubbslin?”

“He’s tied up right now, but earlier he was telling me he wanted to turn himself in.”

He had been watching my eyes to see if I was lying, but I hadn’t been.  Brian actually told me he would turn himself in if I let him go.

The cop sat his hand on his firearm.  “Please exit the vehicle.”

“Can I bring my oxygen tank?”

“Is it medically needed?”

I looked at his gun for a second.  “Sure is.”

He nodded for me to get out.  When I stepped out with the oxygen tank, I flipped a switch on it.  A few seconds later, I was hauling ass back down the highway and the cop was lying in the ditch unconscious.  I had modified the medical tank just for that situation.  The top half is filled with air and the bottom with an odorless gas that can knock someone unconscious, released though a hidden switch.  I’m not affected because I am breathing the air from the top portion of the tank.”

Seth pulled out a small cylinder from his pocket.  “This is an emergency oxygen cylinder I began to keep on me.  It holds about twenty breaths and I carry it alongside a glass vial with the gas.  You never know, it might save my life one of these days.”

Dicky had a don’t-give-a-shit look on his face, so Seth tossed the glass vial toward him, and it shattered when it hit the floor.

Four hours later, Dicky awoke with a bad headache, and as he sat up, he could hear the song Beth by the band Kiss playing loudly in the chamber.  Seth was across the room, and when he noticed Dicky was awake, he walked over to his cell.  “See what I mean?  You didn’t even know what had happened.  Much less the tattoo I gave you across your face.”

He crawled over to where water pooled on the floor, and as he stared at his reflection, he noticed he had a fresh tattoo on his face that replicated Gene Simmons’ Kiss makeup.  He looked back at Seth.  “What the fuck!?!”

Seth laughed.  “You’re lucky I wasn’t listing to Rammstein.  I might have gotten carried away and did something really fucked up to you.”

Dicky gritted his teeth.

Fucking Fuck

Seth walked back over to the rack and sat down.  “Let’s get back to Blackwell.  Now that I had the tracking device planted on his car….”

Dicky was furious.  “Hold the fuck up!  You can’t just do some fucked up shit and go on like nothing fucking happened!”

Seth looked at him like he was crazy.  “What are you crying about now?”

He pointed to his face.  “Look at my fucking face!”

Seth sauntered over to the bars.  “You know you’re in a torture chamber where fucked up shit happens, right?”

He just stared back.

Seth looked around as he spoke out loudly.  “Does anyone in here want to trade places with this fucker?  He apparently feels he has been mistreated.”

He quickly calmed down.  “Hey, I didn’t mean what I said.  I’m okay with….”

Seth turned back and faced him.  “Hush!”

He stood quiet as Seth turned and glanced back at all the people in the chamber.  A few seconds later he turned back around.  “Damn!  No one took me up on my offer.”

He looked relieved.

“Don’t take that as a good thing, pal.  They just don’t want to be in your shoes.”

Dicky eased up to the bars and stared at all the gruesome shit in the chamber.  He remained quiet.

Seth reached down and pulled Sandy’s broken bone from the lock.  When Dicky noticed, he become worried—he was busted for trying to pick the lock back when Seth and Ozy had played the trick on him.  Seth used the bone to pick his teeth, then tossed it on the floor.  “Can we get back to Blackwell now?”

He looked down as he nodded his head to say yes.

Seth walked back over to the rack and sat down.  “Now that the tracking device was mounted under the front of his car, I went back to my motel room.  The GPS receiver indicated his car was at his hotel, so as I waited, I watched the local news about the explosion on television.  The live news footage stated the gas line had been shut off and there hadn’t been any real damage.  The fire department was still investigating the cause, but there was an indication of foul play due to the surrounding circumstances.  The construction workers were interviewed by the news crew, and they all stated they had seen a homeless person attack the cop in the alley before the explosion, and they were pretty sure he’s the one that caught the gas line on fire.  Of course, the assholes didn’t mention they had shot at me.  For the rest of the day, Blackwell’s car didn’t move from the parking garage at his hotel.

The next morning, the newspaper said the police officer who had been attacked was in stable condition.  I was relieved to read that no one else was injured or killed from the explosion, and there was little damage done to the surrounding buildings.  The police described the attacker as a vagabond, and they really didn’t have much more detail other than the man was dirty and stood a little over six-feet tall.  I tossed the paper on the table and turned on the tracking device to see the whereabouts of Blackwell’s car, and it showed he was at the golf course where he usually ate breakfast with friends.  An hour later he was back at his hotel.

Around nine o’clock that evening, the GPS indicated his car had left his hotel and was heading west across town, so I quickly drove to a secluded area and disguised my car.  About an hour later, I found his car parked in a Hooters parking lot on the edge of town.  The area was dimly lit and I knew it would be an excellent location to nab him if he was alone.  Around fifteen minutes later, the guy that was parked next to Blackwell’s car left, so I took advantage of the opportunity and moved from my spot to there.  About two hours later, Blackwell came out of the club alone, and I knew this was my chance.  While he walked across the parking lot, I quickly slipped under my car through the trap door on the passenger side floorboard.  I could feel my heart beating viciously as I watched between our cars, and as he unlocked his door, I reached out with a syringe and injected a tranquilizer into the calf of his leg.  He didn’t even know what hit him as he fell to the ground.  There were a few people in the parking lot as I pulled him under my car and up through the trap door, but they were too drunk to notice.  He still had the tracking device around his leg, so I cut through the cartilage of his ankle with a knife and amputated his foot.  He was bleeding profusely and I had two options; cauterizing or pressure.  Time was crucial, so I quickly tied a tourniquet around his calf and wrapped the nub with a large dressing.  Before I left, I cut my signature mark into the bottom of his foot, then threw it and the tracking device down the trap door and onto the asphalt.

When I got back…”

Dicky interrupted.  “That doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t make sense?”

He moved close to the bars.  “The newspaper article stated he had skipped bail and disappeared.  The police should have found his foot when they located his tracking device.”

Seth nodded to agree.  “You’re right.  That was my intention.  I wanted them to know I was responsible for his disappearance.”

“Well, what happened?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.  I’ve tried to analyze that myself.”

“Do you think the police kept that information classified?”

“Possibly.  But over the years I’ve hacked into their databases, and I’ve eavesdropped on them through electronic surveillance, and there has never been any evidence that led me to that conclusion.”

Dicky looked confused.  “Eavesdrop on the cops.”

“Sure.  They do it to us.”

“Why do….”

Seth interrupted.  “Listen, pal, I do a lot of things that would surprise you.  It’s not like I only hang around in here all day.  And believe it or not, I do have a normal social life.”

He smiled with a sarcastic grin.  “I doubt that.”

Seth strolled over to the bars, pulled out his wallet, then opened it and showed him a picture.

Dicky grabbed the bars, and in an angry voice said, “What the fuck!?!  Why do you have a picture of her?”

Seth put his wallet back in his pocket.  “We went out a few times.”

He became hostile.  “That’s my fucking sister, you sick and twisted fuck!”

Seth walked back over to his chair and sat down.  “Listen, I didn’t know she was your sister at the time.”

“Fuck you!”

Seth laughed.

“No, you fucker.  I will kill your fucking ass!”

“You have to see the funny side of it.  I met her at a dance hall when I was staking you out.  And I had no clue she was related to your sorry ass.  She’s a lot younger with a different last name.”

“Fuck you!”

“Don’t worry, pal.  I was a gentleman.”

“Fuck you!”

“And the funniest part was she had made several comments how her older brother was a piece of shit.”

“Fuck you!”

“When I put two and two together, I laughed my ass off when I realized she had been talking about you.”

“Fuck you!”

“I also learned some really fucked up shit about you as well.”

“Fuck you!  He paused for a moment.  “Like what?”

“You know what.”

He put his face between the bars to get a better look at Seth.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, you do.  You hated your wife and had her committed to a mental institution.”

He lowered his head.

“That’s not why you’re in here.”

He looked back up.

“You’re in here for some other fucked up shit that you did.  Now that the subject has been brought up, let’s talk about it.”

“I can’t recall what else you think I did.”

“No, fuckhead, your wife.  The other we will discuss in depth, later.”

He eased back into his dark corner and sat on the floor.

Seth lit a cigarette.  “Okay, let’s hear it.”

He knew he had to tell the truth.  He knew lying didn’t work for the others.  He sat forward, Indian style.  “Well, I….  I had…”

Seth blew a smoke ring, then looked at him.  “Like I said, you’re not in here for that shit, and it’s not going to make a difference in what I have in store for you.  That’s inevitable.”

He lowered his head.  “My wife was bipolar.  I hated her and made it appear worse than it was so I could have her locked away.”

“That was nice of you.”

He remained quiet.

Seth walked over to the bars.  “How long had you been married before you did this?”

“Fourteen years.”

“How long has she been in there?”

He hesitated.

“Go ahead and say it.”

“She…  She was in there for ten years until she….  She died.”

Seth grabbed the bars.  “How did she die?”

He looked up.  “The autopsy report stated it was from complications due to pneumonia.”

“You sure?”

He looked confused.  “Of, course.”

Seth pulled out his wallet again and tossed a picture into his cell.  “Check it out.”

He eased over and picked it up.  Confusion came over him.  “I…  I don’t understand.”

“Understand what?  Your wife is alive and well.”

He jumped to his feet and ran over to the bars.  “I don’t understand.”  He looked at the picture again.  “I had her buried next to her parents.”

Seth noticed Dicky was staring at the picture.  “That picture was taken a few years ago at the Ayers Rock in Australia, where she now lives.”

He held the picture up.  “I….  I don’t…”

Seth smiled.  “Keep it.”

Seth started to walk off, but Dicky yelled out, “I don’t understand.  What’s going on?”

Seth turned around.  “You’ve done enough shit in your life.  At least this makes up for part of it.”

“No.  You need to tell me what you did.”

“If I do, will you shut the fuck up for a while?”

He grabbed the bars.  “Yes.  I need to know.”

Seth sat down, then crossed his feet as he leaned back.  “When I figured out Missy was your sister, and what you had done to her sister-in-law, your wife, I faked your wife’s death and established a new identity for her.”

He thought for a moment.  “How did you fake her death?  How did you fool all of us?  Does she know who you are?  Did she go along with it?”  He paused for a moment.  “Does she know I am in here?”

Seth took a deep breath.  “I’m not going into detail about it.  All you need to know is she hates your ass and was very glad to have an opportunity to start over.  She doesn’t know me or our little secret.”

He became enraged and began pacing back and forth.  “This is fucked up!  You dated my sister.  You’re some type of fucking hero with my wife while I’m locked up in this fucking hell hole.”

“Ex-wife.”

He stopped and glared at Seth.

“You divorced her while she was locked up.”

He walked over and grabbed the bars.  “Fuck you!”

Seth smiled.  “No, the fucking is coming later when you find out the reason why you’re in here.”

“Fuck you!”

Seth laughed.

“Fuck you!”

Seth pulled a glass vial out of his pocket.

Dicky noticed, but he didn’t care.  “Fuck you!”

Seth tossed the vial toward him.

“Fuck…”  He passed out.

Later that evening as Seth was walking past the cells, Dicky shouted, “Fuck you!” as he was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall.

Seth stopped and grabbed the bars.  “Wow.  If I had known that would have pissed you off so much, I would have told you at the beginning.”

“Fuck you!”

Seth shook his head.  “You’re sure obsessed with fucking today.”

“Fuck you!

Seth walked off.  A few minutes later, he came back with a large, nude, black man.  He was leading the man with a chain that was secured to a metal collar around his neck.  The man’s hands and feet were shackled.  Seth stood next the bars and eyed Dicky.  “Since fucking is on your mind so much lately, I decided if you say the word fuck, or any variation of it, for the remainder of the day, I will gas your ass, and speaking of ass, while you’re asleep, ol’ Jimmy here will have his way with you.”

“Fu……”  Dicky paused as he looked at Jimmy, noticing his dick was getting hard.

Seth secured the end of Jimmy’s leash to one of the bars.  “Jimbo.  Have a seat.”

Jimmy sat on the floor, then leaned against the bars while keeping his eyes focused on Dicky.

Seth sat next to the dissected man, then laughed.  “I think ‘ol Jimbo has takin’ a likin’ to ya.”

Jimmy was playing with his dick while he stared at Dicky, and as Dicky stared back, he exhibited a look of disgust.  Seth shook his head.  “Hey, Jimbo, not while I’m present.”

Jimmy frowned, then winked at Dicky.  He then looked at Seth as he put his hands by his sides.

Dicky raised his knees to his chest, shivering at the thought of being raped.

Dissecting the Living

Seth propped his feet up on the side of the rolling rack.  “When I got back home, I restrained Blackwell’s arms and legs tightly to this rack using large two-hole conduit straps, and I used leather straps to hold his chest and abdomen to the planks so he couldn’t move around.  He was still bleeding, so I used a hemostatic agent on his nub, then wrapped it up with sterilized gauze.  I connected him to some intravenous bags filled with nutrients and antibiotics, and laid out all the books and medical instruments that I would use on a stainless-steel table next to him.

About an hour later, he started coming around, and as he opened his eyes, he appeared distraught as he stared with uncertainty and confusion. While he looked upon the ghastly sight that was in front of him, he rolled and blinked his eyes a few times as he strained to focus in on the image—he was still a little dazed from the tranquilizer.  Suddenly, he let out a gurgling moan when his eyes finally focused in on the horrifying image.  He was staring at the reflection of his nude body in a large, antique mirror that I had rolled in front of the rack.  When he looked around the chamber, fear overcame him as he stared at all the horrifying images that even his worst imagination of hell couldn’t conjure up.  As he hung helplessly, he was forced to smell the foul odor of misery and death that he would dreadfully become part of.  From across the room, hidden by the dark, I could see he was shaking with fear and uncertainty as he didn’t know what his destiny would be.  I could see the fright in his eyes as he knew he would probably join the ranks of the others that had come before him.  After I let him look around for about five minutes, I discreetly crept over to the entry of the room and turned off the lights, then headed down the tunnel leaving him with his fear in total darkness.

Four days later when I came back into the chamber, I found the doctor unconscious.  It appeared he had banged his head against the planks in some attempt to end his life.  The days and nights must have run together making it seem like an eternity as he hung helplessly on the planks in total darkness with only the images of the horrific sights he had seen around him.  The long duration of having to bear the sounds of torment and the unknown must have rattled his mind with anxiety.  He was in a deep state of unconsciousness and my basic attempts to revive him failed, so I jabbed a long needle into his heart and dosed him with adrenaline.  A few seconds later, he started to come around, and as he stared at the syringe that I had left sticking out of his chest, he began talking to himself as if he had gone mad.  It was a while before he finally saw me, and as he began to tremble, I could see the blood leave his face as if he had seen a ghost.  I did something special for him.  Instead of dressing in my normal disguise, I took considerable time and flawlessly applied all the tricks of the trade using layers of latex and makeup to create rotting flesh over my face and neck.  I dressed in some raggedy clothes stained in blood, and I wore a long dirty wig.  My disguise gave me the appearance of a homeless person from hell, or a homeless zombie.  I really didn’t give-a-shit either way, as long as it terrified him.

He gasped and tried to speak as I walked up, but he was only able to get out a faint, “Oh…  Oh…”

I remained silent as I stood next to him.

He wanted to speak, but his fear and uncertainty of what was going to happen to him would only allow him to mumble quietly to himself as if he was insane.

I began cleaning some surgical instruments with alcohol.  He could only hang helplessly as he watched in horror.  He continued to mumble for a few more minutes, then he blurted out, “Am I in hell?”

I continued to look down while cleaning the instruments.  “Not yet.”

He started mumbling again to himself, and after thirty seconds or so he asked, “Then, where am I?”

I looked up at him.  “On the way to hell.”

He let out a deep moan.  “What are you going to do to me?”

I pushed the stainless-steel table close to the rack.  “Take back all that you stole before you go to hell.”

He had a confused look on his face.  “What did I steal?”

After I showed him a couple of pages that were highlighted in an old medical book, he understood what I meant and began sobbing and begging for his life.”

Seth walked over to the bars.  He tossed the old book on the floor next to Dicky’s feet.  “Check it out.”

He opened the old book and noticed it had pictures and procedures explaining how to do different types of surgery.  The book was probably over a hundred and fifty years old and was extremely inaccurate compared to today’s technology.

“I wanted to mess with him.  I wanted him to think I was absolutely clueless.”

“You’re definitely good at fucking with people.”

“What?”

After Dicky said the word fuck, Jimmy grunted as his dick began to swell.

Dicky quickly looked up.  “Oh, shit!  Did I say that out loud?”

Seth laughed.  “No.  I can read your mind.”

Dicky looked at Seth with a strange facial expression.  “Huh?”

Now sporting a full erection, Jimmy was getting antsy as he looked at Seth, then Dicky, back at Seth, and so on.

Seth tossed Jimmy a key.  “Later, when I’m gone.”

Jimmy smiled as he stuck the key on the top of his ear for safe keeping.

Dicky stood to his feet.  “No!  I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean for that to slip out.”

Seth walked back over to the rack and sat down.  “Blackwell cried and begged as I asked him which procedure he wanted to start with.  I asked him what he would do first since he was a doctor and he knew best.”  Seth noticed Dicky was still standing while exhibiting a worried expression.  “I have a suggestion for you.”

“I’ll do anything.”  He looked down at Jimmy as he was staring back at him, smiling, with an erect penis.  He glanced back at Seth.  “Please tell me how I can fix it.”

“The big guy likes shoulder massages as much as playing hide the snake with older white dudes.”

Dicky took a deep breath, then knelt behind Jimmy.  He reached through the bars and began rubbing his shoulders.

Jimmy closed his eyes as he held his head down.

Seth laughed.  “Anyway, Blackburn didn’t have any suggestions on which procedure I should start with, so I decided I would start off by learning how to stitch up a wound correctly.  I figured I would start simple, especially since I was in no hurry, and the doctor and I had nothing else better to do anyway.  He screamed out like a little bitch as I sliced his arm open from his elbow to his wrist with a scalpel—he apparently had a low tolerance for pain, which was unfortunate for him.  The wound was lying wide open and gushing with blood as I began stitching it.  After the third or fourth stitch, I gave up because he was making it difficult to suture his wound due to his jerking around and hollering.  I temporarily covered the gash with gauze.  “I will make a deal with you.  I will connect you to a homemade intravenous PCA system if you will instruct me in the medical procedures that I plan on doing to you, starting with proper suturing techniques.”

“I will do whatever you ask if you stop hurting me.”

I removed a PCA system from a corpse that was tied to a wall.  After I cleaned and sanitized it, I connected it to Blackwell, and when I handed him the remote, he didn’t hesitate to push the button, which immediately caused his facial expression to go from a jack rabbit caught in the head lights look to as if he had smoked a rock.  After about three minutes he was feeling relaxed, so I started back on my previous job of sewing the gash in his arm.  When I had stitched up half his arm, I asked him if he thought I was doing it correctly, and when he didn’t respond, I glanced up and noticed had fallen asleep.  The sorry bastard must have pressed the button so many times that the overdose of analgesia knocked him unconscious.  The homemade PCA system had a broken overdose safety switch, which allowed him to pump his body full of morphine.  A large dosage could be fatal, so I covered his wound, then took immediate action.  I got on the Internet and researched the options for a morphine overdose.  Most of the Internet sites I reviewed suggested an intravenous bolus of Naloxone, which I didn’t have.  I didn’t want him to die, so I had to quickly give him a blood transfusion that night, which was another option.  The transfusion was fairly simple.  I used a set of winged infusion kits to run a plastic tube from the black guy in the Gibbet to the doctor’s right arm.  I inserted an infusion needle in the doctor’s left arm to let his contaminated blood drain out onto the floor.  Luckily for me, and unfortunately for him, I know everyone’s blood type, and I have a cooler full of blood, and a cabinet full of infusion and blood type kits just for such an emergency.  I was out of type B-positive, and fortunately for the guy in the Gibbet, he was the only one in here with that blood type and now he’s dead.”

Dicky looked confused.  He stopped rubbing Jimmy’s shoulders.  “You meant unfortunately?”

“You’ll understand what I meant later.”

Jimmy jerked his shoulders around and made a grunting noise.

Dicky took a deep breath and continued rubbing.

Seth slouched in his chair to get comfortable.  “Back to the doctor.  The next morning, Mr. Sneaky-pants was wide-awake and staring at me with disbelief—I think he had planned on overdosing.  The look on his face also told me he still wasn’t sure about his situation—he still hadn’t figured out if he was in hell or if I was just a psychopath.  When I started cleaning my surgical tools with alcohol he asked, “Can I not die?”

“Sure, you can, but hopefully not anytime soon.”

With his last question, I now knew he had attempted to kill himself with an overdose of morphine; probably in hopes to save his mind and body the unbearable pain that laid ahead, but I spoiled his plan.  He had a worried look on his face as I rolled the cart close to him.  He stayed silent as he stared in horror at the shiny and sharp instruments.  I picked up two scalpels.  “Should I gash your flesh with a convex or pointed tip blade?”

“Please don’t hurt me.  I’m sorry for everything.”

“I will accept your apology and set you free right after the black guy in the Gibbet accepts your apology.”

He looked over toward the black man and noticed the plastic tubing hanging from the man’s arm.

“Yeah, because of you, your buddy got off easy, and now you’re going to have to fill in for him every other morning when I burn him with a torch for murdering his wife.”

He didn’t respond, so I sat down next to his thigh, and as I held the scalpel next to his skin, he began fighting at his restraints and yelling for me not to hurt him.  He freaked out when I began rubbing alcohol on his leg, and he really began freaking out and screaming as if someone had stolen his nut sack when I rubbed the alcohol from his hip to his knee.  He must have thought if he acted like a bitch that I would just go away, but instead, I slowly sliced a deep gash from his crotch to his knee, which literally took about two full minutes.  He had pushed the PCA button a whole bunch of times, but quickly realized instead of it injecting morphine into him, it was now injecting him with sodium, which was severely burning his veins.  I didn’t wait for him to stop screaming as I began stitching his wound, but just like with his arm, his jerking around from every poke made it difficult to sew.  After several more minutes of listening to his weird howling sounds and dealing with his jerking leg, I set the needle and thread down and went and grabbed a propane torch.  I lit the torch head and looked at him.  “I don’t mind the screaming and howling, but if you don’t stop jerking around, I’m going to give you something to really freak out about.”

As soon as I picked up the needle, he started fighting his restraints again, so I grabbed the torch and burned him across the chest until his skin looked like charcoal.  I waited about fifteen minutes for him to stop screaming and crying before I attempted to stitch again, and before the needle penetrated his skin he shouted out, “Oh, shit!  Please don’t do this to me!  I can’t take the pain!  I will do anything you want if you will stop!  Please, I beg you for some analgesia!  I beg you for anything!  If you give me some painkiller, I promise I will do whatever you ask.”

“Your next few doses of morphine are lying on the floor mixed in with your blood, and I don’t believe in wasting things.”

As soon as the needle poked his skin, he began jerking around and screamed worse than the first time.  I became so irritated that I grabbed the torch and started burning his only foot.  I held the torch on it for so long that the rancid fumes of burning flesh engulfed the chamber.  He finally passed out when his flesh started dripping onto the floor.  It was nice to practice stitching without him moving around so much, but that really defeated the purpose of why he was in here.  After I finished, I stood back to admire my work, and I thought to myself I would try something different tomorrow.

The next morning, I found the doctor in a severe state of pain.  His foot was grossly discolored and swollen, and as I examined it he sarcastically popped off, “Good job Einstein.  The infection will definitely end this very soon, dumb ass.”

I started laughing as a cigarette hung out of my mouth. “You’re awful cocky and chipper this morning for a man who’s about to have his foot amputated.”

He seemed different this morning.  He wasn’t his usual sissy girl self, crying and begging; he actually told me I could go fuck myself.  I’ve seen this type of reaction before in some of the other ones when they realize they’re going to die.  They become angry because of the fact they have no control over what is happening to them.  While I laid out everything that I would need on the stainless-steel table, he cursed, threatened and spit at me.  As soon as I was done, I took a hammer and knocked out his front teeth.  He hung silently and cried as I prepared for the procedure by cleaning the area around his ankle with alcohol.  To prevent a large amount of blood loss, I tied a tourniquet around his thigh.  When I began cutting through his ankle with a hacksaw, he took the pain quite well; he only bitched about my secondhand smoke and how I was a sack of shit.  Every muscle in his body was tight, and the veins in his neck were sticking out as he ferociously fought to hide the pain.  I knew he was desperately fighting the urge to scream so I wouldn’t get the satisfaction of his suffering, and as he looked down at me as I was sawing away, he said, “You will not get off on me begging anymore, you worthless fuck.”

“I’m not trying to make you beg.  I’m saving your life, you ungrateful bastard.”

A few more strokes and his foot fell to the floor, and as blood gushed from his leg, I quickly used a torch and cauterized the stump.  He stared at me with anger as I stood up and cleaned his blood from my hands and arms, and as he was still pumped up with adrenaline, he glared at me with a chicken-shit grin.  “Look, no tears.  Disappointed I didn’t scream?”

He was smiling like a possum eating shit, so I made a hand gesture that implied, ‘what the fuck’.  “Why would you scream?  I numbed your leg with anesthetic.  What, you didn’t notice?”

He rolled his eyes.

“I promise begging will come later when I cut you into pieces at every joint without the painkiller.”

I reached down and picked up his foot.  “Nice souvenir.”

“You can shove that up your ass!”

I nailed his foot on the planks next to his head so he could see it, then began cleaning my surgical tools.

He glared at me, then his foot, then back at me.  “You son of a bitch!  I wish you would fucking die!  You’re a fucki ……”

I took the syringe that I had used to numb his leg and jabbed the needle into his left eye.  Before I walked out the door for the night, I turned around and faced him.  “Tomorrow I’m going to see what a pancreas, optical nerve, and a kneecap look like.  What do you think about that, pal?”

He wanted to look in my direction, but the needle had poked all the way through his eyeball and into the tissue behind it, so all he could do was look straight ahead.  “Get it out!  Please get it out.  It’s fucking killing me!”

I laughed as I walked out of the chamber for the night.

Cancer Sticks

The next morning when I came in to check on Blackwell, I noticed he had somehow un-lodged the needle from his eye.  He didn’t speak, but only stared at me with hate as I stood next to him while getting some surgical stuff ready on the table.  When I lit a cigarette, he popped off, “Get that nasty cancer stick away from me, you cocksucker.”

I blew smoke into his face.  “What?  You think secondhand smoke is going to kill ya?”

He gritted his teeth.  “I hope your rotten lungs are full of cancer.”

That comment made me curious about the effects of cigarettes on the lungs.  Of course, I knew they caused lung cancer and all other kinds of health problems, but I was curious if the example of black lungs used to scare the shit out of people were from actual smokers.  A few years ago, I remembered seeing on television how some researchers installed a clear portal in a cow stomach so they could observe its nutritional elements.  I couldn’t find one of these devices on the Internet that would work for my situation, so I built something from scratch.  It was going to be a delicate procedure and I couldn’t have the doctor jumping around and screaming, so I put him in a state of unconsciousness.  This was going to be a complicated surgery with a high rate of infection and complications, so I rolled the doctor into my operating room where I would have a higher chance of success.  The first thing I did was open his chest, and unlike the normal procedure that you would receive at a hospital, I removed the ribs on his left side and threw them in the trash—he wouldn’t need them anyway.  The device I built was made from two-inch flexible tubing, kind of like plastic dryer vent, and on each end I had installed two-piece flanges.  One of the flanges had to be installed on his lung, which was going to be risky.  His lung was inflating and deflating as I quickly cut out a two-inch hole in the side of it.  Time was crucial, so I had to move fast while I tried my best to reduce contaminates.  The flange had a ring that was inserted on the inside of his lung and it was secured to the outer ring with stainless steel screws.  The flexible tubing attached to the outside of the flange with a plastic strap.  I then installed another two-piece flange on the left side of his outer body and secured the tubing from his lung to it.  After I washed out his chest cavity and sewed him closed, I removed a baffle from the inside of the first flange, then secured a clear lens on the outer one.  Everything seemed to be working fine, and if an infection didn’t set in the procedure would be a success.

It was several weeks later before I secured him back on the rack.  He wasn’t happy with what I had done to him, and the portal seemed to gross him out—he refused to look at it.  Now that I had my guinea pig, I was ready for the experiment, and it was time to install a specially made glass hood over his head.  The hood was all glass and was shaped like an antique diving helmet.  The lower part sat on his shoulders, and it had straps that ran under his armpits so it wouldn’t fall off his head.  The helmet had an automatic suction device that would draw the smoke from a row of fifteen cigarettes and inject it inside the helmet.  It was designed to deplete one cigarette at a time, then move to the next one in line.  It would take about an hour and twenty minutes to completely burn up all fifteen Marlboros.  The doctor despised the smell of cigarettes, and when I flipped the switch on the auto-smoker, he screamed, bitched, and gagged at the same time.  The helmet muffled his voice, and it was funny to watch his mouth move as he looked around inside the glass helmet.  By the time that the fourth cigarette was lit, his face was flushed, and before it was depleted, he had thrown up all over the inside of the helmet; it looked like a head floating in a chocolate shake.  He was breathing in a lot of carbon monoxide, and I almost couldn’t see him bitching from the thickness of the smoke, so I opened a vent on the top of the helmet.  I thought I had laughed earlier, but seeing his head jerk around while moving his mouth inside the vomit covered glass helmet with smoke pouring out the top was hilarious.  When I finally got control of myself, I peeked through the portal.  With every breath he took, I could see smoke entering and exiting his lung.  Because this was actually an experiment, I took a digital picture of the inside of his lung with plans on doing it one a week as long as he lived.

Over the course of a few years, I did various operations on the doctor from inspecting his organs to simply cutting deep gashes into his flesh and sewing them back together.  I also would tear sections of his skin from his body so I could transplant them to a different area where I had torn that skin away.  He had a patch on his stomach covered with the long hair from his back, and his neck had a patch that was covered with pubic hair.  His right knee had a nipple from his chest, and his other nipple was on his forehead.  The patch around his lips was covered with ass hairs, and each of his cheeks had an armpit hair patch.  After years of playing musical skin patches with his body, he looked like a hairy patchwork blanket.  I eventually amputated his limbs at every joint one at time, and as I cut each of his joints apart, I would secure them to the planks away from his body in an anatomically correct way with about four inches of gap between them.  I also kept my word and he was burned every so often as he took the place of the black man in the gibbet.  I filled the auto-smoker several times a day and he was forced to inhale cigarette smoke continuously for years, which really set me back financially.

Years later, his tolerance for pain increased so much that I lost interest in the procedures, and he had pretty much become a living torso that was covered with scarred flesh.  The Doctor lived for almost a decade as he hung on the rack, and over those years he never said another word, but occasionally I would catch a glimpse of a tear running down his face.  He spent his remaining years staring at his horrendous image in the antique mirror that I kept in front of him.”

Seth grabbed a picture off the rack.  He tossed it into the cell and told Dicky to look at it.  “That’s the last one I took of the inside of his lung.  It made me want to quit smoking, but there is too much stress of having to deal with all you scumbags.”

Dicky just glared at Seth as he rubbed Jimmy’s shoulders.

Seth started to walk away, then turned around.  “I’ll be back in a few hours.  Try to get some rest after you take care of ol’ Jimbo there.  You’ll need it later.”

Dicky had a sneaky look on his face as Seth disappeared into the darkness.  Jimmy was sound asleep, and now that Seth was gone, he pulled the skeleton key he had made from Sandy’s rib from his waistband.  He knew there were cameras, but he had to take the risk.  The key slid in the hole perfectly, but it wouldn’t turn the locking mechanism, so he pulled it out, then ground it on the side of a stone to make some adjustments.  The second time he could feel that the locking mechanism was turning.  He looked around, knowing if Seth entered, he could use his knife made from a rib to attack him.  He took a deep breath, looked at Jimmy to make sure he was still asleep, then turned the key the rest of the way.  His heart seemed to stop when he heard a click.  A feeling of salvation overcame him as he pushed on the door, but when it didn’t open, his heart seemed to stop again.  He pushed harder, then started jerking on it, but it still wouldn’t budge.  He stopped and listened.  He could hear a faint rumbling sound above his cell.  He started jerking on the door again, but it still wouldn’t open.  The rumbling sound was getting louder as the seconds passed.  About the same time that he looked up, sewage came gushing out of some spray nozzles that were mounted in the ceiling.  He took off running, but slipped in the brown liquid and fell on his stomach.  He covered his face as it was raining shit and piss in his cell.  The nastiness was drenching him and everything in his cell and it finally became so bad that he crawled to his corner and began weeping.  It seemed as if it was never going to stop, and it was coming down so hard that the two floor drains in his cell were barely keeping up.

Jimmy was standing as far back as his chain would allow him.  He reached to his ear and grabbed the key that Seth had given him.  He unlocked the chain that was secured to the collar around his neck, then threw it on the floor.  He started to walk away, but Dicky shouted out, “Hey, please unlock my door.”

Jimmy turned around, looked at the key, then back at Dicky.  “You just ain’t never gonna learn, is you?  You be lucky yous covered in all dat shit.  Dats all I has to say about dat.”

Dicky remained silent for a moment as he thought about how the sewage had actually saved him from an unpleasant situation.

Jimmy started to walk off.

“Where’re you going?”

Jimmy turned around again.  “Back to my holdin’ cell.  Dat white man is fuckin’ crazy.”

Dicky covered his head as the filth continued to rain down on him.

Jimmy walked across the chamber and disappeared into the dark.

Demented Minions

Dicky sat up from a deep sleep after being awakened by the loud sounds of screaming and begging, and as he looked around, he noticed that there were creepy-looking beings throughout the chamber who were torturing people.  The beings had no legs, and they were moving around by their arms, which were restricted by chains.  They were covered in worn and grungy clothes and their heads were hidden under hoods.  Their faces were hidden behind a rusted steel device shaped like a medieval mask.  The masks were solid except for the cutouts around their eyes and mouths.  The cutouts had small diameter steel rods welded in place a quarter of an inch apart.  On the right side of each of their masks were two ninety-degree brass fittings, and each of the fittings were connected to steel braided hoses that ran downwards from their masks and across the room where they were connected to a galvanized control box.

Dicky stared in horror as he watched the beings torture people.  One of the masked beings was using a wooden tire thumper to beat the toes, feet, ankles, and knees of several people chained along a wall.  The chained victims’ lower torsos were covered with huge knots and massive bruising from years of apparent torture.  The bones in their legs, ankles, and feet had been broken so many times that their lower extremities were unimaginably deformed.

A second being was torturing a man, who was lying on the floor, by sticking a long needle in and out of the man’s ball sack.  The man’s legs were being forced back toward his chest, and his ankles and lower legs had been broken and they were wrapped around behind his neck.  At the back of the man’s neck, his feet overlapped each other and they were sewn together, and his hands were sewn to each of his butt cheeks.  The man had been sewn in that position for such a long time that his legs and body had become unnaturally deformed.  While the being punctured the man’s sack, the man was squirming around on the floor in a faint attempt to escape the horrific pain.  Sperm and blood were oozing out of the puncture wounds and the mixture was running down the crack of his ass, forming a puddle on the floor.

A third being was using a razor blade mounted on the end of a plastic doll arm to slice the flesh on a man bound inside a steel cage.  The cage was covered with spikes that pointed to the inside, and as he frantically moved around to evade the razor, he was pushing against and dragging across the spikes, which were gouging and tearing puncture wounds in his flesh.  The man’s body had thousands of old scars from previous cuts, and his flesh throughout his entire body looked like alligator skin.

A fourth being was forcing what appeared to be a large letter opener under the skin of a man nailed to a table.  After the being jabbed the pointed end of the letter opener into the man’s skin, he would then slowly slide the flat piece of metal seven to eight inches under the man’s flesh as he worked it around.  The man had thousands of small punctures and scars all over his body, and at the newest of the puncture wounds he had a long bruise under his skin where the letter opener had torn his flesh loose from the underlying layers.

The screaming and begging sounds of the people being tortured was almost deafening.  Dicky sat on the floor with his hands over his face to block out the horror.  A few minutes later, one of the beings waddled over to him with a water hose and stood next to the bars.  He stood up and started to speak to the cloaked being, but before he had a chance to say anything, water come shooting out of the hose, spraying him.  The pressure was intense, and the water was stinging his skin.  He covered his face as the being washed the sewage from his body.  He stood quietly in his dark corner as the being washed down his cell, and as the last part of the filth was washed down the floor drains, Seth entered the chamber.  “I see you’ve met one of my minions.”

Dicky walked out into the center of his cell, and as he stood dripping and barefooted on the wet stone floor, his face held a grimace of terror.

“What’s wrong, pal?  Cat got your tongue?”

He looked over at the being that had washed down his cell as it was rolling up the water hose.  “I don’t understand.”

“It’s simple really.  Every couple of weeks they inflict pain upon others to redeem themselves for past indiscretions and poor decisions.  They also clean up the mess around here when I’m out.”

He looked confused.

“What?  Do I look like your maid?

He remained quiet as he looked at the other beings.

“No need to worry.  They’re only allowed to come out of their room every so often.  I wasn’t planning on telling their story, but since you apparently had some kind of accident in your cell, they were compelled to come out and clean up the joint.”  Seth looked back at some of the beings as they were still torturing people, then turned back to Dicky and laughed.  “And they get so bored they look for any excuse to come out.”

Dicky moved backwards until his back touched the wall, then he slid down to his backside.  He really didn’t know what to think.  He thought he had witnessed some barbaric and strange things before this.

Seth leaned against the bars.  “Their story is the most unusual.  You shouldn’t have a reason to doubt what I did to them because it’s obvious that I am capable of doing some unimaginable and unthinkable things.  You should have come to know this by now after listening to my stories, not to mention you’re in the middle of a torture chamber filled with the most horrendous and gruesome things that not even the worst thoughts or dream could conjure up.”

Seth yelled out at the being who was torturing the man on the floor, and when it looked, he called for it to come over to where he was standing.  The being left the needle sticking in the guy’s balls and started crawling toward Seth.  It stopped several feet away from Seth when there was no more slack in the steel braided hose.  The being sat upright on its stub, sitting silently with its head down.  Seth asked for the being to introduce itself to Dicky.  It raised its head for a few seconds and made an eerie sound.  Dicky noticed the being was a man without legs because it was dragging its callused penis around on the floor.  He could see short chains were restricting his arm movement—they were connected between his wrists and a metal band that went around his waist.

Seth pulled the hood off the man’s head and revealed the mask.  It looked more like a medieval helmet, covering his entire head.  Seth unlocked the mask portion and removed it from the helmet.  The cloaked man reached up and held it next to his head.  While the dim lighting of the chamber revealed his face, Dicky could see that the legless man’s face was grotesquely covered with nasty looking warts, knots, and sores and some were oozing with pus.  The skin around his eyes and mouth was porcelain-white, looking like Vitiligo.  The rest of the skin on his face and neck was covered with patches that had no pigmentation, and he also had some type of fungus infection that was causing reddish-brown spots, resembling Tinea Versicolor.  The de-pigmentation and infections were most likely caused by his unhygienic and unhealthy way of life.  The man had to hold the mask close to his face because there were two small polyethylene tubes that were connected between the mask and a hole in the side of his cheek.  When Seth told the cloaked man to open his mouth, Dicky stared with uncertainty as he noticed he had something entangled in his rotted and discolored teeth.  Every tooth had a small hole drilled through the center, and small copper tubing was woven in and out of all his teeth through the holes.  The holes had been filled in around the tubing with what appeared to be gold.  Two pieces of polyethylene tubing were connected to the ends of the copper tubing, then they ran through a hole in the side of his cheek, from there they connected to two brass fittings on the inside of the mask.  The braided hoses connected to the other side of these fittings.

Seth secured the mask back on the man’s helmet, then walked over to the cell bars.  “Back in the late sixties a man named Chuck Woodall came upon a young couple parked in a wooded area.  While the couple was making out, Chuck pulled the boy from his car and knocked him out with a club.  When he regained consciousness, he found himself tied to a tree.  Chuck forced the young man to watch as he raped and stabbed his girlfriend, then stabbed the boy thirty-six times and left them for dead.  The girl miraculously lived, and Chuck was tried and given the death penalty.  The United States Supreme Court abolished capital punishment in l972, commuting Woodall’s death sentence to life imprisonment without parole.  He was released in the eighties when the prison system became overcrowded.  Shortly after being released, Chuck abducted, raped, tortured, and murdered five women.  He was tried and found guilty, and by this time the death penalty had been reinstated and he was sentenced to death.  Our judicial system did what it should have done years ago—he was executed by lethal injection.  Since I don’t have the ability to resurrect and torture the shit out of Chuck, which would have actually been a good thing for him because Satan is really fucking him up way beyond anything that I can come up with, I decided that all the members of the parole board who had let him out of prison were the next best thing.  They are partially responsible for the brutal deaths of those five women, and because of them, the women’s families are left suffering while the members of the parole board continue with their lives.  I understand Chuck is the one who did the horrific crimes, but you wouldn’t release a vicious pit bull with a history of aggression into a playground filled with kids, then say it wasn’t your fault that the dog mauled a couple of them.”

Dicky stared at Seth for a few seconds, then stared at the four cloaked beings.  He had a look of disbelief on his face.

“That’s right.  Members of Chuck’s parole board.  Or what’s left of them.”  Seth covered the man’s head up with his hood.  “This is Mr. Goodman.  He was the Presiding officer.”  After Seth told the cloaked man to continue with his duties, he walked over and leaned up against the bars.  “I knew abducting the original members of Chuck’s parole board was going to be extremely difficult and risky, and I was either going to get all nineteen of them or none of them.  Some of them were retired and the others were still working as attorneys, teachers or employed in the justice system, but luckily, they were still living within a fourteen-hundred-mile radius.  During my extensive surveillance and research, I discovered that sixteen of them were still living in Texas; eleven in the Dallas-Fort Worth area, one each in Waco, Round Rock, McAlister, Austin, and San Marcus.  The other three lived out of state: Tulsa, Denver, and Las Vegas.

It took a while to figure out how I was going to deal with the eleven in the Dallas-Fort Worth area without causing an alarm before I could get all of them.  Luckily, I stumbled across the fact that a Mr. Lawson, who replaced Mr. Goodman as the Presiding Officer, was having a retirement party in a couple of weeks.  Mr. Lawson took the position shortly after Woodall was paroled, and the eleven individuals in the DFW group had been involved with him either at one time or another through the judicial system or through the university where he worked as a professor.  To make a long story longer, I called the eleven individuals that were still in the DFW area, and the one in McAlister because it was fairly close, and told them I was with a company hired to create a collage for Mr. Lawson’s retirement party.  I asked them if they would like to participate in having their pictures taken, as well as sign their signature on a scroll, which would be part of the collage.  I stated Mr. Lawson’s associates wanted to create something special for him so he could have a way to proudly display his contribution to society.  I didn’t elaborate, so everyone assumed the contribution was related in the area they were associated with him.  It’s funny how people won’t hesitate to jump on a bandwagon when it makes them feel important.  By stating associates, they wouldn’t be able to make a simple phone call for verification.  Associates could be anyone that is or has been associated with Mr. Lawson, and any inquiring individuals would be able to verify that he was having a retirement party.  And by using this guy, the others that were outside the DFW area wouldn’t be tipped off when I made my move because most of them were never associated with him.  Surprisingly, all twelve were interested, including the one from McAlister who had only worked with Mr. Lawson for a few days during a charity event.  I told everyone that I would notify them at a later date to schedule their appointments.  Because the other seven were scattered around, I came up with a different plan that was suitable in abducting each of them.  There were twelve commissioners in all, six board members and Mr. Goodman.  The fabricated story about the collage would allow me to abduct twelve at the same time so no one would catch on until it was too late.  It only took me a few hours to drive to Desoto.  After I studied the small town, I rented a suite at a strip center using fake information.  The strip center that I decided to use was located away from the busier area, and most of the other suites were empty.  A few days later, I furnished the waiting area with the usual items associated with that type of business, and I hung a sign on the door that read Reed’s Custom Photography.

On the next Monday the 23rd, I called the eleven people, plus the one in McAlister, and scheduled them on the following Thursday morning between 7 and 8 AM.  It was early, and because most of them worked in this group, it would allow a little more time before their families realized they were missing, and I knew their co-workers and employers wouldn’t be as concerned.

On the morning of the 24th, which was on a Tuesday, I left Dallas in a throwaway car and headed to Nevada.  On the morning of Wednesday the 25th around 2 AM, I was in Las Vegas dragging Richard, who was one of the parole commissioners, out of his bedroom window.  Thirteen hours later at 3 PM I was in Denver Colorado cracking Mr. Stoneroad over the head while he was starting his car.  Eleven and a half hours after that, at 2:30 AM on Thursday the 26th, I was in Tulsa, Oklahoma injecting a sedative into Brian’s calf as he was sleeping in his recliner.  Four hours later at 6:30 AM I was back in Dallas at the makeshift studio.  It only took forty-six and a half hours to make the round trip from Dallas to Las Vegas, then to Denver, Tulsa then back to Dallas.  I had a box truck parked at the studio, so I moved the three parole members from the throwaway car over into the back of it.  Then I got rid of the car.

The DFW group began showing up a little before 7 AM.  When each one of the twelve arrived, I took them in the back and simply knocked them in the head with a club.  I tied them up with duct tape, injected them with a sedative, then tossed them into the box truck that was backed up against the rear door.  The whole process was an aggressive and ballsy move, but I was able to abduct the fifteen in thirty hours and they were all snug as a bug in the back of the truck.”

Dicky started laughing.

Seth glared at him.  “What the fuck is so funny?”

He smiled.  “You’re definitely not a math professor.”

Seth shook his head.  “What are you talking about?”

“First, you said it took forty-six and a half hours to abduct them.  Now you say it took thirty hours.”

Seth smiled back.  “You’re a no listening fuck.  I said the round trip took forty-six and a half hours.  The first abduction was after the initial eighteen-hour drive from Dallas to Las Vegas.  And I stayed at the studio until 8 AM when the last person showed up.  That’s thirteen, plus eleven and a half, plus four, plus one and a half hours.  That’s thirty hours from the time I abducted Richard until the last one named Marsha came strolling in the studio at the last minute, around 8 AM.”

He lowered his head.

“You better hope I don’t give you a comprehension test later like I did with Brian.”

He mocked Seth under his breath.  “I got your comprehension test.”

“I’m going to have so much fun with you later.”

He looked up.  “I didn’t say anything.”

“Sure, you didn’t.  Now back to the story.  Before I left the makeshift studio, I cleaned up to ensure I wasn’t leaving anything incriminating behind.  I also planted hundreds of different hairs.  The hairs were from different barbershops that were located in about fifty different cities across the country.  Over the years when I would travel, I would take hairs out of barbershop trashcans, and anytime that I see one when I’m in another state I will collect it for just such an occasion.  I left the furniture and décor because I had bought most of it from a few Goodwill and Salvation Army drop-off sites when I was disguised as a piece of white trash.  A few of the items that I had left behind were also from Judge Terryhole’s house and the cabin where I had found Dickhead Terryhole.  To create a little confusion, I stuck a sign on the front door that read Sorry for the inconvenience.  The photos will be taken at the Southwest Royal Center Mall this afternoon.  Please come to the second entrance to the right of the main entry.  This would give me a little more time when people came looking for the missing individuals, and it would cause confusion and a goose chase as they searched, because Southwest Royal Center Mall is a combination of two malls; the Southwest Center Mall and the Royal Shopping mall.  They would think their co-worker, friend or family member was simply lost due to the inaccurate directions that some idiot wrote, and it would take a little time before they realized something else had happened.”

Seth sat down next to the cell.  “As I’ve mentioned a few times before, I do everything that I can to prevent being caught.  The police have no idea who I am; my fingerprints aren’t even on file.  I couldn’t care less if they think every lowlife’s disappearance or death is of my doing; in fact, it’s kind of fun jacking with the law.  I have absolutely no pattern except that I only deal with the scum of the world, and I always leave my mark somewhere at the crime scene.  I hope with all the marks that I’ve left through the years, the police will have enough common sense to know what kind of scumbags that I go after and won’t blame me of things I didn’t do.”

Dicky was sitting on the floor with his back against the stone wall as he listened to Seth’s story, and when Seth paused to take a drag from his cigarette, Dicky popped off, “You’re going to get caught eventually because it takes only one slipup.”

“Maybe so, but you’re going to scream a thousand times between now and then.  And how many damn times are you going to mention that.  And I know, I know.  Maybe you have a chance to be rescued.  If that keeps you quiet while I tell my stories, then fine.  As soon as I’m done, I’m sure the scumbag patrol will break down my front door.”

Seth looked over at Mr. Goodman as he was fucking around with his mask.  “Hey.”

Mr. Goodman glanced over at Seth.

“Do you want somebody finding this shithole?”

The man kind of shrugged his shoulders as he looked at the open end of a steel pipe sticking out the wall.

“Yeah, you’re ready for this to be over.  I guess burning to death would be better than the shit you’re going through.”

Dicky looked troubled.

Seth glared at him with an aggravated look.  “You had your chance to know, so keep wishing someone tries to find you.”

He didn’t say a word as he held his head down while gritting his teeth.

“Hey, Gene Simmons, let’s get back to the story.”

Dicky had a pitiful look on his face as Seth made fun of his tattoo.

“After I left Reed’s Knock you in the Head Custom Photography, I stopped a little way outside of the city and removed the fake ‘T.B. Arnold’s Construction Co.’ signs that I had mounted on the sides of the truck with another set that read Orsek’s Carpet Service.  The signs were five feet tall by ten feet long, and they were made of paper that was glued to a sheet of Wilsonart Laminate.  They simply attached to the sides of the truck with self-tapping screws, and they were easy to roll up, store and dispose of.  I also swapped out the fake license plates with another set.  I had to move quickly before someone realized the individuals were missing and alerted the others.  But first they would have to learn they were abducted, put two and two together, then figure out that it was related to the Woodall Case, which would take a long time because the eleven from the Dallas-Fort Worth area and the one from McAlister had served on numerous committees with different individuals, and Mr. Lawson wasn’t part of Woodall’s case.  The other three were out of state and that would take time as well to put the pieces together.  Most likely there would be a general warning issued to all individuals in the judicial field, but that type of approval would take a while, but in any case, I moved quickly.  During my original investigation, I learned that Scott, who lived in Waco, always ate a late breakfast in a park while feeding the ducks.  I was dragging him up through a trap door that was in the bottom rear section of the truck around 10 AM.  When I entered Temple, I hid the box truck in a storage facility and gave everyone a quick injection.  I used another throwaway car from that point on.

At 1 PM I was in a parking garage in downtown Round Rock snagging Kathy while she was exiting her car and heading back to work after lunch.  Around 1:45 PM I was in Austin dragging Blackburn through the rear entrance of his office.  At 4 PM I was in San Marcus in Mr. Goodman’s house waiting for him to return home from playing golf.

Dicky frowned.

“Go ahead and say it.”

“Sounds like you simply got all those people without a hitch.”

“Story time can’t last forever.  And no, it didn’t go without a hitch.  During my original investigation, Kathy always went to lunch by herself and came back at 1 PM, but that day she had two co-workers with her, so I had to shoot both of them with a paralytic agent using my dart gun.  Richard’s wife was a light sleeper and I had to knock her out right along with him.  My dart gun misfired with Blackburn, and the short struggle caused his secretary to run out the front door and take off across a parking lot screaming.  The sedative I injected into Brian’s leg took a while to react, so I had a brief struggle with him as well, which awoke his boyfriend.  The boyfriend had managed to dial 911 before I was able to sedate him, and as I was leaving the area, a cop passed by with his lights on heading for the house.  And speaking of cops, I had to shoot a security guard in the face with my dart gun when I was walking around Goodman’s house, which was located next to a fancy golf course.  His subdivision was protected by security guards that roamed around on golf carts.  The carts were battery operated and extremely quiet.  I didn’t even know he was behind me until he spoke.  I had to make several appearance changes to the throwaway car to evade detection by the cops because they were looking for it in the Austin-Round Rock area.  The car I used before on the way to Las Vegas started having mechanical issues.  I had to do some minor repair work on it in an Advance Auto Parts parking lot.  So no, it didn’t go without a hitch.”

Seth did a hand gesture that indicated okay.  “Need more details, or can we move forward?”

Dicky remained silent.

Seth took a deep breath.  “When I got back to the storage facility in Temple, I moved all of them into the back of a pickup truck that had a camper shell.  I gave each one another sedative injection to ensure they would remain asleep.  I cleaned up the box truck and throwaway car, then disposed of them.  When I got home, I backed up the truck to the rear entry and dragged the parole board members into my house.  I planned on sticking them in…”

Suddenly, Dicky rushed to the front of his cell and grabbed one of Seth’s feet as they were being propped up against the bars.  Seth’s chair slid out from under him as Dicky pulled his leg between the bars.  Seth looked up the same time Dicky pulled his knife from his waistband and jammed it into his leg.  Seth began laughing as he laid on his back.  Dicky pulled back the knife and stared at it.  Seth laughed hysterically as he looked at him while he held a rubber dick with a bone handle.  Dicky was shocked.  Somehow Seth had replaced his bone knife with the fake one without him knowing.

Mask of Horror

Seth was still laughing as Dicky released his leg.  He knew he had made a terrible mistake, so he eased back into his dark corner and sat down.  Seth stood up and set his chair upright, then spun it around and sat in it backwards.  “After I got the group back to my house, I planned on sticking them in a stone room that is located off the tunnel that enters this chamber.  At the time, I didn’t want them to see any of the horrifying things until I could decide exactly what do with them.  The stone room isn’t as disturbing as the chamber; it’s actually disturbing in a nice way.  It has a bright red couch and a bright blue one, a couple of Scooby-Doo bean bag chairs, a yellow table covered with toys, and the walls are painted in several bright colors.  Cartoon characters are painted on all the walls and ceiling, and there are a couple of shelves lined with stuffed animals.  I had built the room for interrogation purposes.  In some cases when I have doubts, the room allows me to hold a person without letting them see, smell, or hear what’s around the corner.  If I was wrong about them, I can simply gas the room and put them back where I had abducted them.  The only thing they would be able to tell the police is they were locked in some type of Disneyland room, which would make their story seem a little fishy, and it would also make the cops think they had smoked a rock or something.

The next morning, the group had awakened, and they were extremely upset and confused.  While I watched them through a one-way mirror, I spoke over an intercom and told them there was a stack of questionnaires on the table.  And that everyone must fill one out.  I told them to push the completed sheets under the door.  And when that was done, I would explain why they were here.  The group yelled and became disorderly instead of doing what I had asked.

A week later, and after everyone had to either shit on the floor or in their pants in front of their peers, they decided to fill out the questionnaires.  Over the next several days I studied the forms to determine who I was going to send into the chamber.  The questionnaire asked questions about different cases where a criminal was paroled, including Woodall’s case, and if that criminal killed, raped or molested again after he was released.  It also asked questions about cases where criminals have been denied parole.  The form asked if they were present at the time of the decision, and which way they voted.  The form stated it didn’t matter what their vote was, because I could be a pissed off family member of the victim, or the pissed off family member of the criminal who was denied parole.  After I read over their questionnaires, I decided that every one of the sorry bastards needed to be in the main chamber.  All of them had voted to release Woodall, and they all had voted at one time or another to release other pieces of shit, who then went out and committed other horrible crimes when they were set free.  It really irritated me how these far-left fuckers would rather kill an unborn child than keep a murderer or child molester behind bars for the duration of his or her sentencing.

The next day I gassed the cartoon room, and when all the members were out cold, I dragged them into the main chamber.  While they slept, I divided up the nineteen members between three cells, and as I waited for them to regain consciousness, I did a few things around the chamber.  Several hours later, most of the group had awakened, and they were each responding in a different way to being locked in a cell in the middle of a torture chamber.  Some cried, some screamed for help, others sat on the floor with their heads down while shaking with fear, and a few were hostile.  Some were covering their private parts because of the embarrassment of being nude in front of their peers.

A couple of days later, I explained to the group why they were here, and I gave each of the nineteen people a choice to live or die.  Instead of giving me an answer, they yelled and threatened for me to release them.  The individuals I bring here usually show fear the first time they see the inside of the chamber, but the board members were being aggressive because they were a group.  That’s why I have that comical sign on the wall that reads, Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups.  After about fifteen minutes of listening to the unruly crowd, I became irritated and entered one of the cages with a large club covered with spikes.  After I ravaged the face and head of a couple of the more aggressive ones, the others ran to the opposite corner.  While I kept the group at bay, I dragged the most hostile and loudest-mouthed person out of the cell.  The remaining eighteen people, including the less aggressive ones, held onto the bars of their cage as they yelled, cursed, and threatened me.  Some were screaming for me not to harm Richard, who was the one I dragged out of his bedroom window in Las Vegas, and while they acted like savages, I laid Richard’s unconscious body on a worktable.  After I secured him to the wooden tabletop with rope, I stuck his head, face up, into a large vise that was mounted on the end.  When he finally awoke ten minutes later, I tightened the vise on his head until his skull cracked.  As he screamed, I inserted a pair of dental calipers in his mouth, then sewed his tongue to the bottom of his mouth so it wouldn’t get in the way.  The group watched in horror as I began drilling through the front of Richard’s teeth with a three-sixteenth inch drill bit.  He screamed as loud as a person could possibly scream, and his eyes looked like they were going to explode.  The muscles in his neck were bulging out like a bodybuilder’s as he strained with intensity.  His heart was pumping so hard it looked as if it was going to tear out of his chest.  He passed out after only drilling a few teeth, so I stopped until he regained consciousness.  I only drilled while he was conscious, and he eventually endured the pain of about twenty of his teeth being drilled.  I also pulled out one of his upper and lower molars on the same side.  Now that all his teeth had a hole through them, I took some one-eighth inch copper tubing and weaved it in and out through the holes.  The tubing in his upper teeth was separate from the tubing in his lower teeth.  I cut the ends of the copper short where they would be inside his mouth, then secured polyethylene tubing to each of the copper pieces using a fitting.

I also connected one end of the upper and lower sets of tubing together to create a series flow.  The other ends exited his mouth.  To prevent him from biting the tubing, I ran them through the gaps where I had pulled his teeth, securing them with dental glue.  The poly tubing is more durable, and its flexibility is needed between his mouth and the medieval-looking close helmet that I had built, which was designed to keep him from grabbing the tubing.  I pulled the helmet over his head, then connected the other end of the polyethylene tubing to the inside portion of the brass fittings that are mounted to the mask portion of the helmet.  The outside part of the brass fittings are connected to braided lines that run across the chamber to a control system and a galvanized tank.  I also melted gold around the copper tubing where they went through his teeth to fill in the gaps—this was to reduce tooth decay and to increase heat and cold transfer.

Richard now had a cool looking grill.  He looked like a badass as his gold and copper glistened in the light.  I looked down at him as he stared back.  “Sweet grill, pal.”

He moaned.

I secured the mask of horror to his helmet.  “You definitely earned it.  My ears are still ringing from all your screaming.”

One of the parole board members named Scott grabbed the bars of his cage and shouted.  “Get away from him, you antagonistic son of a bitch!  You’re going to pay for what you have done, you twisted bastard!”

I looked toward him.  “What I have done is the least of your worries.”

Scott’s voice was annoying, and as he continued yelling at me, I entered his cell and beat him unconscious with a club, then dragged him out of his cell and chained him to the bars.  One of the women in his cell reached through the bars and held her hand on his head to help stop the bleeding, and as I stood looking into the cells I noticed Brian, the gay dude from Oklahoma, was still lying on the floor unconscious and profusely bleeding from when I had beaten him with the spiked club earlier.  I didn’t want him to die, especially in front of the others, so I dragged him out of the cell and into another area of the chamber.

A few hours later after I had finished patching up Brian, I noticed that Scott had awakened and was sitting down with his back against the bars.  When I walked up to the cell, some of the board members asked about Brian.  I told them he was dead.

Scott looked up from where he was cuffed.  “You’re one sorry piece of shit.”

I pulled an ice pick from my pocket.

He threw his arms up to protect his head as he shivered under them.  “Please don’t hurt me!”

I started cleaning the shaft of the pick with an alcohol pad.  “I’m not.  Richard is.  He is going to stab you with this ice pick a whooooole bunch of times.”

Scott looked puzzled as he peeped between his arms.  “You’re mistaken.  Richard is a good friend.  There is no way he would harm me.”

I released Richard from the table and tossed the ice pick onto his stomach.  “Stab Scott until he passes out.”

Richard was in so much agony he just laid motionless in his own piss, shit and snot.

I repeated myself.

He remained still.

I pulled a remote-control device out of my pocket and pushed a button.  A fraction of a second later, the control box connected to the braided hoses that ran to his helmet started humming, then shortly thereafter he grabbed his helmet and screamed out loudly.  While the tank hummed, he violently threw his head and body around until he fell off the table, and after he rolled around on the floor and screamed at the top of his lungs for a little while, I clicked the remote again, which shut off the control system.  The group of board members stared in horror as Richard laid squirming on the floor while saliva and blood ran out of his helmet, and as he laid twitching, a person yelled out, “What’s happing to Richard?”

I walked over to their cells and showed them the gadget I had in my hand.  “This device remotely activates a custom designed system that circulates chilled and heated water through the braided lines that are running over to Richard’s helmet.  Once the fluid reaches the headpiece, it runs throughout the copper tubing in his teeth.  The system circulates below-freezing water for about ten seconds, then instantly changes to hot water for ten seconds, then back to freezing water.  I would imagine the pain must be horrendous, because allowing a cold beverage to flow around a cavity is fairly painful.  I can’t comprehend having a large hole in every tooth, which would be like having a cavity in each one, then swishing around ice-cold water in my mouth.”

Surprisingly they remained quiet as they looked at each other.

I turned around and eyed Richard as he was sitting on the floor.  “You have two choices.  I can turn on the tooth chiller for several hours, or you can take the ice pick and stick your buddy Scott a whole bunch of times.”

Richard rolled over and grabbed the pick off the floor, then he started to get up, but he quickly changed his mind and sat back down.  After he tossed the pick back on the floor, he glared at me through the bars of his close helmet.  “I’m not doing it.”

Scott looked over at him.  “It will be all right, Richard.”  He turned and glared at me.  “You sick bastard!  Why don’t you leave him alone?  He has suffered enough.”

I glanced at Richard.  “The pain will stop when the suffer monitor over there has about a hundred holes in him.”

He didn’t move, so I activated the tooth chiller.  The unit hummed and the braided hoses vibrated as Richard rolled around on the floor and screamed while he frantically tried to remove his helmet.  Some of his peers were freaking out and hitting their cell bars as they watched in horror while the weaker ones were hiding in the back crying.  When Richard realized the helmet was not coming off, he then began reaching under and through the grill of the mask in a desperate attempt to grab the tubing.  Suddenly, he jumped to his feet and began pulling on the braided hoses that ran from his helmet to the metal tank, and when the hoses and fittings withstood the punishment, he then took off running while gripping the hoses, and when the hoses and fittings didn’t break, he found himself face up on the floor after he almost jerked his head off.  By this time most of the board members were gripping the bars and screaming at me to stop.  Scott starred in horror as Richard jumped to his feet while gripping the ice pick, and as he approached him screaming and stumbling around, Scott yelled out, “Please don’t!  I beg you not to do it!”

Richard lunged forward and tried to stab him, but Scott grabbed his arm, then the two fought each other as they tried to gain control of the weapon.  The excruciating pain that Richard was enduring caused his adrenaline to overpower Scott and he was able to pull the ice pick free.  Scott screamed as Richard drove the pick into the side of his neck.  Richard stood up, then started pounding away as Scott tried to protect his body with his hands and arms.  A minute or so later, Scott’s arms fell to his side—he had sustained debilitating trauma to his muscles and ligaments.  Most of the members were covering their faces and sobbing as Richard continued to violently jab the ice pick deep into Scott’s body, and with every stick, Scott would make a deep moaning sound.  When I shut off the tooth chiller, Richard immediately fell to his knees and rolled onto his back from exhaustion, and as he lay next to Scott in a pool of blood, he opened his hand and let the blood-drenched ice pick roll onto the floor.  Most of the members had cried as they watched the barbaric event unfold and they continued to cry as Scott lay on the floor with about three hundred blood-oozing holes.  I needed to take care of something urgent, so I cuffed one of Richard’s wrists to the bars so he could hang out with his buddy, then left the chamber.

Killing a Killer

A couple of days later when I checked on the group, I found Richard sitting on the floor next to Scott, holding Scott’s head in his lap.  Scott’s body was extremely swollen, but remarkably he was still breathing.  While I stood over them, Richard raised his head and stared at me with hate as he looked through the holes of his close helmet, and after a few seconds he tossed the ice pick by my feet.  The group of board members remained silent, and some of their shoulders dropped as if they were disappointed.  I think Richard had planned on sticking me with the ice pick, but he must have changed his mind when I had walked into the chamber with an axe.  When I started to walk away, a woman named Kathy spoke out, “Please let me go.”

One of the other board members yelled at her.  “Be quiet before you cause trouble for the rest of us.”

She snapped back.  “It’s inhumane what he’s doing to us.”

I turned around and grabbed the bars.  “You must be one of those people who think murderers, rapists, and child molesters should have more rights than their victims, and anything less you would consider cruel and unusual punishment.”

She stood covering her private parts with her hands and arms.  “I don’t want to discuss my concerns about human rights.  I just want to go home to my family.”

I laughed.  “I’m sure Chuck Woodall’s victims would like to go home to their families as well.”

She stared at me with disgust.

“This might be your lucky day.  You will never leave this chamber, but I will not give you the same treatment as Richard or Scott if you punish Bob the rapist over there.”

She looked confused.  “I can’t hurt anyone.  Just forget I said anything.”

“You moved yourself to the top of the shit list when you opened your mouth, so I suggest you make a decision—punish Bob for sticking his dick into someone, or be the next in line for some creative shit I’ve been wanting to try out.  You have less than a minute to decide, and if anything else comes out of your mouth other than your decision, I will drag your sorry ass out of the cell and make Richard and Scott’s suffering look like a massage.”

Without hesitating she quickly said, “I will do whatever you want.”

The others didn’t say anything as I opened the door and let her out.  She crept cautiously as I led her over to where Bob the rapist was hanging naked by his wrists.  When she approached him, she noticed his arms were being bound upwards by a chain that hung down from the ceiling, and his feet were secured to the floor with shackles.

While she stood frightened next to him, I said, “Ol’ Bob here is absolutely horrified of needles.  In fact, he has the worst case of trypanophobia that I’ve ever seen, so your job is to stick this syringe into every portion of his body.  I want the four-inch needle inserted and extracted slowly so he can feel every stick, and I want him to watch as you stick him.  If Bob refuses to watch, I want you to stick the needle in and out of his left eye until he cooperates.”

Bob was staring at me with horror while she was staring at me with disgust.

I handed her the syringe.  “Get to sticking.”

Bob immediately started begging her not to stick him as she stood in front of him holding the syringe, and when she started to poke him, Bob farted loudly, which caused her to stop.  “I don’t think I can do it.”

Since she was going to be difficult to work with, and I didn’t have time to hold her hand, I chained her right ankle to the floor next to Bob.  “I’m leaving for a while, and when I come back, he better have several hundred holes in him.”

As I left the chamber, I could hear Kathy and Bob whispering to each other.

Several hours later, I found Kathy lying on the floor asleep next to Bob’s feet.  I woke her by jamming the syringe into the side of her neck.  She jumped to her feet and gagged as she pulled the long needle out.

“Why isn’t Bob full of holes?”

“I’m sorry…  I can’t hurt another human being.”

While she continued to make excuses, I walked over to a wooden table and dragged it over next to Bob, and as I was gathering things from, it I asked her, “What blood type are you?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s all right.  I did a blood type on all of you when you were first brought here.  Good news, you’re the same as ol’ Bob here.”

Kathy begged and whined as I forced her to sit in a large steel chair, and as she pleaded for me not to hurt her, I chained her torso and legs to it.  I slid the chair to where she was right in front of Bob, then anchored it to the floor so she couldn’t turn it over.  She fought like a crazy woman as I tried to insert a butterfly needle into the side of her neck, and because she was making it difficult, I injected her with a sedative.  Now that she was being cooperative, I inserted a butterfly needle into her external jugular vein.  I connected a plastic tube to the needle, then ran it down her back and across the floor to a control box with a pump that was mounted to a ceiling support beam.  I ran another plastic tube from the control box, across the floor and up Bob’s back to a butterfly needle I had inserted into his jugular vein.  To prevent Kathy from jacking with the needle and tubing, I installed a medieval-looking neck brace that was covered with sharp spikes around her neck.

An hour later she came to, and as she fought at her restraints, I turned on the power to the control box.  When a green pilot light turned on, a pump began sucking blood from her neck and pumping it into a small holding tank, and from there, another pump forced the blood into Bob’s neck.  The control system would reverse the flow of the blood every thirty minutes for two seconds at a time to prevent blood clots in her needle.  The system monitored the blood flow and ensured a constant ten cc flow every two minutes for five hours, then it would shut off the flow for eight hours.  The system had a readout that showed the number of ccs that were transferred, and a remote reset button she could reach.

I handed her a ten-cc syringe.  “If you don’t want to die from a loss of blood, you will take the syringe and suck out ten ccs of blood every two minutes from your buddy Bob, and then inject it into yourself.  And make sure you reset the counter so you don’t lose track of the CCs.”

She became angry.  “You’re a sick bastard!  I refuse to play your game!  I will let myself die before I give you any satisfaction!”

“I can really care less if you live or die.  Your destiny, as well as Bob’s, depends on you.”

I spun around and started walking away when she yelled out, “I will not play your fucking game!”

Several hours later when I walked over to Richard, I noticed Scott’s body looked like a swollen animal carcass.  “How’s your buddy doing?”

He held his head down and didn’t say a word, so I kicked the shit out of Scott.  The same time Scott moaned, Richard shouted out, “He’s fucking had enough!  Leave him alone!”

“Just checking to see if he was dead, and if you weren’t pouting like a little bitch and answered my question, I wouldn’t have had to kick the bastard.”

It was going to be a crappy TV night, so instead of watching reruns, I decided to discreetly leave the center cell’s door unlocked.  When I finally left the chamber for the night, I went upstairs to my living room and sat on the couch with a bag of popcorn.  All the TVs in my house are connected to the camera DVR, so I was able to watch the group on my big screen as I relaxed on the couch.  At first nothing was really happing that was exciting.  The more aggressive men were just pacing back and forth, the sissy men were sitting on the floor with their hands over their face or lying down in the fetal position, and the women were hiding in the corner.  Eventually one of the men leaned against the door and almost fell on his ass, and without hesitating, he closed the door, then quickly marched over to the others.  Two of the men who were sitting on the floor jumped to their feet and ran toward the door, but instead of opening it, they turned around and walked over to the group—it was obvious that someone had told them to stop.  After a short conversation, one of the men went over to the cell bars so he could keep an eye out while the others huddled in the corner and talked amongst themselves.  I’m sure they were contemplating if I was setting them up, or if I had forgot to lock their door.  The cells are divided by stone walls, so the board members in the other cell had no idea what was going on.  A few minutes later, one of the men who had been involved in the discussion walked over to the right front corner of the cell, then began talking around the stone wall to some of the others in the next cell, and after a few minutes, he went to the other side and talked to the other group.  After about twenty minutes of looking around and discussing what to do, they finally stormed the door.  Three of the men quickly ran toward some tables in the chamber where I had some weapons.  While the three men were handing out the weapons to the others who were still locked up, a man and a woman ran over to a wall and grabbed the key that went to the other cells.  When all the doors were unlocked, the entire group ran to the center of the chamber with their weapons.  They seemed well organized and aggressive, like they wanted to kill someone; the women even had the lust of revenge in their eyes.

I went down to the tunnel and released Brian from a small vault.  I tossed him one of my old, hooded trench coats.  “Cover yourself.”

He tried to speak as he put it on, but his mouth was stitched up.

I pulled the hood over his head.  “Go back to your cell.”  I pointed down the tunnel.  “Head down to the faint light, then turn left.”

When he disappeared into the dark, I took a hidden passage that led into a dark and cluttered area of the chamber.  I could see the group was huddled as they were apparently discussing their next move.  Suddenly someone in the group screamed, “There he is!”  As quick as the scream stopped echoing, most of them were already stabbing and beating Brian; they were viciously and barbarically swinging their weapons like savages.  After a few minutes, most of them had stopped.  Each one was reacting in a different way.  Some of them were gagging, some were vomiting, some were screaming, and some were sitting on the floor with their heads down.  A couple of the women were yelling incoherently as they walked around in circles.  Four of the more aggressive men were still kicking Brian’s body as he laid dead, and they were screaming out profanity.  Someone was yelling out that they told me so.  Finally, a man who was sitting on the floor yelled out for the others to stop, but they ignored him as their exhausted bodies pounded away on the body.  Eventually the four men calmed down, and as they came off their adrenaline rush, they paced back and forth like wild animals.  While everyone else was freaking out, a couple of the headstrong had went and found a hacksaw and cut Richard and Scott loose, and after they helped the two injured men back over to the group, one of the men yelled, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Suddenly I heard someone say, “Oh, fuck! What have we done?  It’s Brian!”

Two of the men who were sitting on the floor ran over to the dead body.  “It’s Brian.  Oh, shit, he’s still…”

The lights went out in the chamber.  I could barely hear their screams as I revved up a chainsaw with no muffler in the total darkness, and it was echoing throughout the chamber so much that no one could tell where I was.  The chamber was pitch black as I crept around with night vision goggles and scared the shit out of the parole board members.  I had them pissing on themselves as I would ravage parts of their bodies in non-vital areas with the chain, and as they frantically ran around in the dark, they were cutting themselves to pieces as they ran into sharp objects.  They were slipping around on the floor and tripping on everything in the room.  They were doing more damage to themselves than what I was doing with the chainsaw.  After about ten minutes, I locked the trigger on the saw wide open and laid it on the floor.  The echo was so loud, I couldn’t even tell where the sound was coming from as I moved around the chamber.  When I came up on each person, I would knock them to the ground, then I would drive a meat hook under their armpit where the pointed part was buried deep under their shoulder bone.  To their horror, I hoisted them up to the ceiling with ropes and pulleys that were mounted on the ceiling beams.  Since Brian and Richard were too weak to run, I had left them lying on the floor in the center of the chamber.  Eventually the saw ran out of gas and the ear-piercing sound of the engine echoing changed to the horrific sound of screaming and moaning.

For two days, I left the board members hanging in complete darkness.  When I finally entered the chamber and turned on the lights, I was surprised to find three of them had pulled themselves from their hooks, and they had found their way through the darkness to their cell where they were huddled in a corner.  Richard also found the group and was lying on the floor next to their feet.  I could tell five of them hanging were dead just from the coloration of their skin and from the large pools of blood below them.  The others that were still hanging were going to live for now, but they looked like they were in excruciating pain.  When I walked over to check on Scott, I noticed he had died as well.  I went over to the cell where the group was huddled and dragged Richard out of the cell.  After I reconnected the braided lines that his co-workers had cut, I told him to bring Scott’s body over to a wooden table and lay him on top of it.  While I was setting up a propane camping stove that was next to Scott’s body, one of the board members who was hanging from the ceiling cried out, “Please have mercy!  Please let me down.”

Before I had a chance to reply, the other seven began to beg as well for me to help them.  I looked up at them.  “I can’t help you if you can’t help yourself.  Get your own ass down.”

An older guy named Blackburn yelled out, “I’ve not done anything to deserve this.  What more do you want?  You have robbed me of my dignity.  I demand you stop playing games and either kill me or release me.”

I walked off and came back with a propane weed burner.  “You have done plenty.  Outside of your total lack of respect and concern for the victims of the scumbags that you voted to release, you’re also a murderer.  And as far as I see it, you have been getting off easy compared to all the other lowlifes in here.”

“Murder?  I’ve done no so such thing.”

I lit the torch head.  “So, that was some other guy with salt-and-pepper hair and a Wilford Brimley mustache beating the shit out of Brian with an axe handle?”

Before he had a chance to say another word, I took the weed burner and started burning the bottom of his feet.  He screamed as he kicked around like a drowning person.  In less than a minute, he began swinging his body like a kid on a swing to evade the flame.  Suddenly his arm tore from his shoulder and he went flying across the chamber and splashed into the cesspool.  In a matter of seconds, he disappeared under the thick sludge, so I walked back over to the propane camping stove, and after I lit the burner, I glanced at Richard.  “Your job will be to feed everyone in the chamber.”

Richard looked confused for a second, then gazed at me in disbelief when he realized I was talking about using Scott as food.

I handed him a knife.  “Once you finish with Scott, then you can start on your dead co-workers who are hanging from the ceiling, and as the other ones die off you can cut them up as well.”

Richard stood silently as I checked on the three members that were huddled up, and after I locked their cell door, I left the chamber.

The next morning, I found Richard dead.  He had committed suicide by cutting his throat.  One of the hanging board members had also died in the night.  Blackburn had somehow survived, and he was holding onto Sandy’s corpse.  I walked over to the three board members who were in the cell.  “One of you is going to take over Richard’s job.”

All three stuck together and stated they would rather die.  Needless to say, all three of them and Blackburn were equipped with the tooth chiller and were forced to take turns in cutting up the others while being supervised.  Two more of the last four members that were hanging died a few weeks later and were cut up as well.

Eventually I installed the tooth chiller on the last of them, then forced all of them to torture others in the chamber.  A few months later, the group banded together one night and took turns helping each other break the braided hoses from the chiller control tank by playing tug of war with their hoses.  Two of them died in surgery when I removed their legs, and another one died shortly after from a severe infection.  The four that lived were not happy when they had to cut up their amputated legs and feed them to the others in the chamber.  Kathy died years later after she developed some type of disease, and Bob had been punctured so many times that his skin became leather-like.”

Dicky looked at Seth with disbelief.  “I see there is no limit to how far you will go for what you think is justice.”

Seth grabbed the bars.  “You will see the outer limits soon.”

The Reaper

Later that night, Dicky was awakened by some loud heavy metal music.  He looked around, noticing Seth was across the room lifting weights.  He remained still—he didn’t want to hear any more of the dreadful stories.  As he laid motionless, he could see Seth was doing bench presses in a bizarre way.  The Olympic bar had a chubby person on each end instead of weights.  They were hog tied and hanging like pigs over a fire.  Each time that Seth lifted the bar, one of the men would count off the number of reps.

Around an hour later, Seth walked over to Dicky while wearing a black muscle shirt and sweatpants.  He was covered in sweat and his muscles were pumped.  Dicky noticed Seth’s arms were completely tattooed with black and gray artwork, which he had never seen before because he had always worn long sleeve shirts.  Seth had a tattoo of a large cross that was behind a stone wall on one side of his forearm and a large Grim Reaper on the other side that was behind gates that were wide open, and there were large angels on the other arm.  He could see smaller images of lightning bolts, a moon, cemetery, fog, flames, skulls, swords, tribal and some writing.  These images joined everything together to create artwork that went from his wrists to his shoulders on both arms.  Seth noticed Dicky was staring.  “Every one of these has a meaning to me.  The side with the cross behind the stone wall represents that the path to God’s kingdom is narrow and the only way is through Christ.  The Grim Reaper and the skull means that death is inevitable.  The open gates represent that the path to hell is wide.”

Seth looked at Dicky’s Kiss tattoo.  “I do have a few that I regret on my back and legs—they were spur of the moment, kind of like yours.”

Dicky frowned when he was reminded of what Seth had done to him, and before he thought he blurted out, “You’re a dick!”

“You want a dick?”

Seth walked over to the side of Dicky’s cell and pulled a chain hanging from the ceiling.

Dicky became frightened as a cloud of gas came blowing out of a pipe above him.

Three hours later, Dicky awoke on the floor, and as his head throbbed, Seth was standing outside of his cell asking if he liked his new tattoo.  Dicky noticed the skin around his mouth was tender, so he crawled over to where the water was pooling and looked at his reflection.  He became instantly angry as he stared at a set of dick and balls that had been tattooed next to his mouth, and as he stood up, he shouted, “You’re a sick and twisted asshole.”

Seth pulled the chain again.  Three hours later when Dicky awoke, he had a tattooed image of a butt hole around his mouth, and the hair on his face had been shaved except for around his mouth, which gave it the appearance of a hairy asshole.  Seth grabbed the bars and stared at him.  “Now your mouth looks like a hairy asshole that is being pounded by a big dick.  Doesn’t quite go with the Kiss tattoo; Gene would be outraged.”

He started to say something while still hunched over his reflection above the water, but Seth interrupted.  “I have a whole cabinet full of ink and absolutely nothing else to do, so be very careful with what comes out of your mouth.”

He decided to hold his head down and remain silent.

“Now that we’re done jacking around with the fun stuff, it’s almost time for your worst fear to come true.”

He began pleading and begging.

Seth shook his head.  “If you had been listening an inkling to my stories, you would know that crying, begging, whining, and pleading will not keep justice in your new world from being served.”

Dicky got up on his knees as he knew his fate, and as he exhibited a pitiful look on his face, he softy said, “Whatever I’ve done, whatever reason you have me here, I will accept.”  He knew he had only one way out that would save him from the horrifying things that lay ahead.  While he looked at Seth with tears running down his face he said, “Save me the suffering and I will not beg for my life.  I only ask that you to let me take it myself and give you your justice.”

Seth stood back and held his arms out.  “Look around, you wishful man.  Justice is not taking the easy road here.  It’s screaming, agony and suffering.  These are the things that bring justice in here.”

Dicky fell to his side and cried as he was horrified and speechless.

Seth walked over to the man who had a cloth sack over his head and was hanging on the wall by chains.  It was the same man he had beat days before, and after he grabbed a severed arm from the table, he began hitting the man across his chest.  The man only let out faint moans with every blow.  When Seth became exhausted, he looked over at Dicky.  “I never told you about the Reaper, did I?”

Seth began beating the man again with the arm.  “This guy here, who I like to call the Reaper, was the first one I brought into the chamber.”  After Seth tossed the arm back on the table, he started burning the man across his chest with a lighter.  The man just hung motionless and only moaned as his singed hair and burning flesh filled the air with an unpleasant smell.  Seth tossed the lighter onto the table with the severed arm and other torture devices, then picked up a cardboard box and walked over to where Dicky was curled on the floor like a baby.  After he sat down in a chair made of bones that was next to the bars, he dug through the box and pulled out a few rusted darts, which he laid on the floor, then dumped the rest of the darts onto his lap.  Seth began cleaning the tips with alcohol.  “The Reaper over there is a real piece of shit.  He likes to make a sport out of being one.  It’s a long story on how I ran across this guy, and because you’re out of time, I’ll jump over a few chapters and start with his first day in Unpleasantville.”

Dicky just looked down as Seth started throwing darts at the man called the Reaper, and as he threw them, he said, “It’s amazing how long someone will live if you sterilize your instruments of torture and pump them with a bunch of antibiotics and steroids.”

He threw his last dart, striking the man in the face.  The man let out a faint moan as bloodstained the cloth sack that was over his head.  Seth looked at Dicky.  “Do you want a turn?”

He didn’t say a word as he held his head down.

Seth continued to stare at him.  “Come on, don’t be a party pooper.”  Seth reached onto the floor, grabbed one of the rusted darts, and hit Richard in the ass.  “Remember how much fun Dickhead had playing darts?”

Dicky mumbled out as he continued to hold his head down.  “Your games are not entertaining.”

“Even though I’m surrounded by all these assholes, it still gets lonely in here.  That’s why I do some weird shit—it’s my form of entertainment.”

He just shook his head.

Seth threw his feet up on the bars of the cell as he slouched in the chair.  “It’s been a busy day and it’s getting late, so let’s get on with the story about the Reaper.  It was years ago when I dragged his unconscious body into the chamber, and at the time I wasn’t too sure what to do with him, so I stuck him in the same cell that you’re in.  I removed his restraints, gag and blindfold.  For nourishment, I left a large bag of dog food and a bucket of water in his cell.  At the time the chamber was a lot smaller, and it didn’t have as many of the awesome torture devices as it does now.”

Dicky shook his head as he looked at Seth.

“I know you don’t like the dog food, but it’s better than….”

“That’s not it.”

Seth made a hand gesture that stated, what.

“You have become so irrational from your hate that you think torture devices are a good thing.”

“You don’t?”

“Of course, not.  Why would I?”

“Not only do I bet that you will change your mind later, but after I show you your surprise, you will be drooling and fantasizing about sticking me in one of these things.”

He started to speak, but Seth interrupted.  “You know, I figured with your occupation that you would have been intrigued with some of my stories.”

He’s eyes got large.  “How much do you know about me?”

“Outside of having a sister who likes to dance and a wife you had committed, absolutely nothing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.  Now let’s get back to the Reaper.  Since it was probably going to be a while before he awoke, I went upstairs to….

He stood up angrily.  “Hold up!  You mean to tell me I’m in here for no reason at all?”

Seth just looked at him.

“Well?”

Seth continued to stare.

“Tell me, damn it!”

Seth crossed his feet as they were resting on the bars.  “How many stories have I told you?”

Dicky sarcastically pretended to count on his fingers, then he looked up at Seth.  “Too damn many!”

“Okay, smart ass.  Of those stories, how much did I know about the assholes I went after?”

He quickly popped off.  “Every fucking thing.  You’re obsessed with this shit.”

Seth made a hand gesture that stated, duh.

He looked confused for a moment.  “You, you lied.”

Seth shook his head.  “You just don’t fucking learn.  Now sit your ass down.”

He gritted his teeth as he went back to his dark corner and sat down.

“As I was saying earlier, I had gone upstairs since the Reaper was still unconscious.  Later that evening as I was watching TV, the doorbell rang.  When I looked out the peephole, I could only see the top of somebody’s head.  After I stood quietly for a few seconds I heard, “Come on and open the door.  I know you’re in there.”

When I opened the door, I found a kid standing on my front porch wearing a black hood over his head, his face was painted white, and his eyes and mouth were outlined with black paint.  As soon as he held up a bag, I remembered that it was Halloween.  While I looked at the kid, I thought how he looked kind of scary, you know, for a kid.

He had a cheerful smile.  “Trick or Treat.”

“Sorry kid.  I don’t have any candy.”

He looked down as he started to walk away.  “Wait a second.  I like your face paint.  Where did you get it?”

He turned, and as he looked up at me, he pulled some face paint out of his pocket.  I traded him a twenty for it.  The little guy was happy as he skipped down the sidewalk.  As I looked at the paint, I thought to myself, this would make the Reaper a little more terrified if I looked more like a psycho.  I went down in the basement and sat at an old desk, and as I gazed into the mirror, I tried to perfect my makeup.  It took several attempts to get it to look somewhat decent.  When I was done, I dug through some boxes of clothes and found my old black jacket with a hood.  I threw it on and went over to a mirror.  As I stared at my reflection, I thought to myself how much of an idiot that I looked like.  The makeup looked all right for a Halloween party, but the outfit wasn’t working—it looked as if I was trying to be scary.

The next morning as I was sitting at the kitchen table thinking I should blow off the whole idea, it dawned on me as I noticed a new car ad in the newspaper.  I went out in the back yard and looked in some old junk vehicles that were against the back fence.  After I tore the black leather off the seats of an old car, I went inside and sat down at a sewing machine; I worked the entire day making a long trench coat with a hood.  When the task was completed, I threw on the coat and went over to a mirror.  I was amazed with my work as I stared at my reflection.  The black coat was long and almost touched the floor.  The leather was weathered and roughly worn with small tears from years of use.  I had sewn it all together using thick, black thread, which made it look heavy and rugged.  The hood was made of the same leather, and it hung down just below my eyebrows.  I was so pleased that I worked into the night and made a pair of pants to match as well.

The next morning, I went upstairs to take a shower and get ready for work.  At that time in my life I owned a furniture shop and worked long hours.  As the days passed, the Reaper had been left in the chamber all alone.  I left him in there so his anxiety would build up, wondering how he got there and where he was.  The last thing he would remember before I shot him with a tranquilizer gun was sitting on the hood of his car drinking a beer.

The day had come for him to meet his new keeper.  He had been locked in his cell for almost a week.  Before I went into the chamber, I put on the leather pants that I made, tucked in an old black tee shirt, put on heavy black boots, then went down to the basement and sat at the desk with a mirror.  While I stared at my reflection, I painted my face a dull white, then painted my eyelids, around my eyes, and lips black.  I used a brush and worked with the paint to add shadowing, which gave my face the appearance of being dead.  I also inserted theater contacts that changed the color of my eyes to a yellow tint that was outlined with green.  I put on the long leather coat and threw the hood over my head.  I walked over to a mirror, and as I stared at what the Reaper was going to see, I knew it would be rattling for him not knowing who or what I was.  Dust stirred up behind me as I slipped through the secret passage of the old furnace, and as I walked down the stone tunnel, I could feel my heart beating with excitement.  When I stepped into the light at the end of the tunnel, I stopped and stood under it as I peered toward his cell that was across the stone chamber, which at the time was almost empty.  He immediately noticed me, and as I stood motionless and silent, he mumbled for a moment, then paused—he was unsure about what he was going to say to the frightful looks of me.  After I stood there for a few more seconds, I spun around and walked out of the light and back down the hall.  I left him in there a few more days to ponder what he had seen, not knowing where he was or what was going to happen to him.  I knew that leaving him alone in a bizarre room with gruesome torture devices would be horrifying, especially since they were empty and waiting for their victim.

A few days later when I put on my disguise and went back down in the chamber, I found him asleep.  He was lying on the damp, stone floor of his cell rolled up on his side like a baby.  I noticed he was dirty and dried blood covered his body.  I could tell he had been frantically digging at the concrete and stones below the bars of his cell to get free.  His cell reeked of a foul stench, like that of a homeless person, and he had been urinating and shitting in one corner.  All the dog food was gone and the water bucket was empty.  He had torn the plastic water bucket into pieces as he had tried to use it to dig out.  While he slept, I grabbed a dead rat out of a mousetrap and threw it on his head.  Before the rat had a chance to slide to the floor, he jumped to his feet and ran over toward me like a crazy man.  He grabbed the bars, begging for me to tell him what was going on, but I just stood back and looked at him, not saying a word.  A few seconds later, I turned around and walked off, and as I disappeared into the dark, I could hear him screaming out and begging for answers.  I kept that up for years, only going down in the chamber every few days to feed him dog food and dead rats.  I would occasionally have to give him water in an old bedpan when the water would stop seeping from the wall.  As the years went by, I checked on him less and less, which caused him to become extremely violent and irrational.

Over those years, not once did I ever speak to him, which was creating enormous torment for him.  His mind had become so irrational that when he wasn’t screaming and cursing at me, he would talk to the dead rats and play with his shit.  Not only did he act like a wild animal, but he also looked like one too.  The hair on his head had grown several feet past his shoulders and it was extremely dirty and matted; in fact, his entire body was so filthy and his body hair was so unkempt, he looked like a caveman.  Every portion of his body was covered with shit, snot, dirt, vomit or piss, and he smelled worse than an outhouse that was on a job with several hundred wetbacks.  He spent most of his days painting incoherent pictures on the wall with his shit.  Around this time is when I had brought Larry into the chamber, and as I would torture him and a few other lowlifes that shortly followed, the Reaper would watch in horror, and after he had seen what I did to them, he calmed down quite a bit realizing he wasn’t in all that bad of a position.

A few months later when I went down in the chamber to strangle someone, I found that the Reaper had almost dug out of the cell.  He had dug through the weaker part of the concrete under the front bars, and he was trapped by a piece of rebar that had torn into his right arm.  While he had been frantically trying to escape, his adrenaline rush must have masked the pain as he mutilated his body and jammed himself into a bound position.  When I had walked up to him, I could see the shock in his eyes as he knew he had been caught.  He probably felt like a kid who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar.  He had a hateful look on his face as he stared up at me while being trapped under the bars.  “Fuck you!  Fuck you!  Fuck you!  You crazy motherfucker!  You have no fucking right to do this to me.”

To his surprise, I kicked him in the face with my boot, then stomped on his head until blood and teeth were all over the floor.  I could see the fear in his eyes as I stepped back and kicked him in the mouth, which knocked him unconscious.  Blood was running out of his face as I tried to drag his ass out from under the bars.  He was bound too tightly, and I quickly realized pulling on him was no use—a piece of rebar was stuck all the way through his arm.  I had to use an acetylene torch to cut him free, then I tied him up on top of a large wooden table.  His arm was infected where the rusty rebar had torn through his flesh and I didn’t want to risk losing him, so I decided to wait until he came around to amputate it.

Thirty minutes later, he began waking up, and as I was standing beside him cleaning a hacksaw with alcohol, he looked over at me with his bloody face.  “What the fuck are you doing, freak?”

“About to saw off your arm.”

He looked at me very rattled, not for what I had said, but for hearing me speak to him for the first time in years.  When I cut through the top layer of his skin with the first stroke of the blade he yelled out, “Fuck!  What are you doing?”

I took the saw and struck him in his bloody mouth.  “Shut up, asshole!  I’m cutting your arm off.”

He began jerking around and screaming for me to stop as I slowly sawed into his right arm.  When I made it to his bone, his wiggling around and deafening screams made it difficult to saw, so I hit him in the face a couple more times with the bloody blade.  “Be still or I will cut your other arm off when I finish with this one.”

It didn’t work.  He jerked around more and screamed even louder.  He finally passed out from the pain as I was cutting past the bone and into the other side of his arm.  When his arm fell to the floor, I used the acetylene torch to cauterize his bloody stump.

For the next few days, he slipped in and out of consciousness from the traumatic experience.  I tried to give him antibiotics, but he would spit out the pills and say he wanted to die.  I would have to punch his bloody stump to get him to swallow the pills, then he would deliberately throw up in an effort not to get well, or simply to rebel.  A few days later, I had to connect him to an intravenous bag filled with an antibiotic and nutrient solution to keep him alive.

A few weeks later, he had made a full recovery and became his old, loudmouthed self.  In fact, he was a little worse because I had sawed off his arm, and all he would do is rant and rave about it the entire time I was in the chamber.  One morning I came in and found him tangled up in the ropes and hanging off the side of the table.  All he seemed to do when I wasn’t in the chamber was try to escape, and I had become so irritated at his attempts I decided to hang his sorry ass on the wall.  While he hung off the side of the table, he glared at me, cursing and making threats, as I mounted two large anchors in the stone wall; they were about five-feet apart and seven-feet from the floor.  After I cracked him over the head with a club, I hung him on the wall with a chain.  The chain ran from an anchor, under his stub armpit, across his chest, under his left armpit, then to the other anchor.  Another chain ran across his back, secured on each end to the chain that went across his chest.  I ran a third one from the center of the chain at his back, between his legs, and to the center of the chain across his chest.  He was hung low enough to where his feet could touch the floor, allowing him to stand and ease the pressure of the chain across his chest and his nut sack.  To prevent him from escaping from the top of his restraints, I secured metal straps around his ankles, then secured a chain from the straps to some anchors in the floor.  I also hung his intravenous bag on a lamp fixture that was mounted on the wall beside him.

Over the next several days he tried to scheme a way to get free when I wasn’t around, and he would curse and taunt me the entire time when I was.  He had become extremely aggravated as he was being bound against his will, and he was furious that I had cut his arm off.  Just to piss him off even more, I would ignore him like usual, and the fact that he couldn’t do a damn thing about it was even more infuriating to him.

One day I finally had enough of his shit when I saw he had ripped the intravenous bag from the wall and torn the needle from his arm.  I was so irritated that I grabbed his severed arm out of a trashcan.  “You want your arm back?  Here it is, asshole!”  I violently beat the shit out of him with his own arm, and as I swung away, I repeated, “Why are you hitting yourself?”  I beat him for so long that I finally became too weak to even pick the arm up, and as he hung weeping with snot and slobber dripping off his face, I tossed the arm on a table, then walked off leaving him a bloody and bruised pulp.

The next day I came into the chamber with a device that would shut him up for good, and as I showed it to him, I told him that it was called a Spanish pear and I explained how it worked.  The medieval torture device is kind of round, and after it’s inserted into the mouth, the handle is cranked.  The more that the handle is turned, the wider its jaws are expanded.  When the jaws are fully opened, they lock behind the victim’s front teeth.  The device has a spike that protrudes out between its jaws, and when its victim tries to speak or scream, the spike gouges their tongue.”

Seth looked at Dicky.  “By the way, where is that device?”

“What device?”

Seth glared at him.  “I tossed it into your cell a few days ago.”

“I don’t know.”

Seth pulled a glass vial out of his pocket.  “That’s fine.  I’ll get Jimmy to look for it.”

Dicky jumped to his feet and ran over to where his shit was piled in the corner.  He started digging in a large pile, then pulled out the Spanish pear.  He stood up, holding the device with shit covered hands.

“That’s okay, you can keep it.”

He looked at Seth for a moment, then dropped the device.  He stood silently looking at his hands.

“After I explained to Reaper how the device worked, I held it in front of his mouth.

He glared at me with a hateful expression.  “You go to hell, freak.  I’ll shove that up your ass.”

When I tried to get the device in his mouth, he grabbed my arm and fought me with everything he had as he threw his head back and forth, and after a short period of time, I became so mad that I began punching him with everything I had, and I didn’t stop beating his face until he was unconscious.  Now that he was dazed and not fighting back, I secured his left arm to the side of his body by going around and around his torso and arm with the duct tape.  I went from his shoulder down to his wrist with several layers, and after I was finished, his arm was so tightly bound that all he could do was wiggle his fingers.  When he started to come around, I grabbed the thick black thread that I used to sew my coat together and a large, curved needle.  I waited until he was fully alert and talking shit again before I began.  “I know you have a death wish, but cursing and taunting me is only going to make you wish for death even more.”

He glared at me with hate as I squatted down by his hand.  “You can go fuck yourself!”

I poured alcohol on the needle and thread.  “This is going to hurt me more than you.”

His facial expression change to a puzzled look as he looked down at me.

I looked up at him and laughed.  “I’m scared of needles.”

He screamed out as I pushed the needle through one of his fingers and into the flesh of his thigh, and after the needle exited about a quarter of an inch from his finger, I tied the thread in a knot.  It took about two hours for me to sew his hand to his thigh.  I had outlined the outside of his entire hand and up and down each finger and his thumb with the thread.  He had screamed so much he was now hoarse, and when I removed the tape from his body, pulling out most of the hair on his chest and back, all he could do was moan.  When I poured alcohol on his hand and thigh, he let out a muffled holler.  He was in extreme misery as he hung on the wall, and he was as pale as a ghost as blood and sweat dripped from his body.

I held the Spanish pear in front of him.  “Open up wide or I’ll sew each side of your nut sack to a leg.”

He didn’t fight me as I inserted and cranked open the device inside of his mouth, and as he made gagging sounds I said, “Now let’s test it to see if it really works.”

He could only stare at me in fear as I began beating him with his severed arm.  Every time he tried to scream out the spike would jab a hole into his tongue.  After I beat him for a few minutes, he began choking on his own vomit and blood, so I had to quickly remove the device before he had a chance to asphyxiate.  After he spit vomit and blood all over his chest and the floor he yelled out, “I’m sorry!  I’m sorry!  I’ll keep my mouth shut.  Please don’t hurt me anymore.  I’ll do whatever you want if you won’t hurt me anymore.”

Two days hadn’t passed before he began cursing me again.  I think the agony of him being bound to the wall was so unbearable that he was hoping he could agitate me enough to the point that I would just kill him, but instead his worst nightmare was going to come true.  Over the course of several hours, I beat, burned, shocked, skinned, cut, stitched, stabbed, and choked him until he became so exhausted he couldn’t even moan.  After several days of the same treatment, he couldn’t even hold his head up and he was beginning to choke on his vomit from not being able to lift his head.  He was also having a hard time breathing from his esophagus being pinched.  I didn’t want to grant him his wish of death, so I grabbed his long hair and pulled his head back, and as I held it against the wall, I tied his hair to a spike above him.  He became aggressive and somehow mustered up enough strength to tear the hair out the back of his head to be defiant.  It was obvious he was going to continue to be difficult, so I came up with an idea that would support his head, preventing him from choking to death.  I went and grabbed an offset shark hook.  The hook was very large; it had a five-inch opening and was fourteen inches long.  He noticed it as I walked up with it, and right when he opened his mouth to speak, I grabbed his face and shoved the pointed end of the hook under his chin, and as his eyes widened, I grabbed the shaft of the hook with both hands and pulled upwards as hard as I could.  He screamed raspy sounds as the barbed point ripped through his flesh and into the bottom of his mouth.  I left the hook in him as I climbed a ladder and ran a rope around a ceiling support beam above him.  He moaned as I tied one end of the rope to the hook.  He screamed as I pulled on the other end of the rope, pulling his head upwards from his body as far as it would go without breaking his neck.  He was screaming and gagging at the same time and his eyes were bulging out of their sockets as I tied off the rope.  Now that I didn’t have to worry about him choking, I left him bound in the agonizing and barbaric position as I went and did some other stuff around the chamber.

That evening after I wrapped up some needed tasks, I pushed a cart loaded with a few tools and parts up next to him, and as I stood beside him sorting them, he tried to speak, but he couldn’t open his mouth.  Over the next few minutes, he could only stare in fear as I stood in front of him and cleaned my surgical tools with alcohol.  When they were all sorted and cleaned, I took a scalpel and began slowly cutting deep into the flesh of his jaw.  He viciously fought at his restraints and screamed as I cut a fist-sized piece of flesh from his left and right cheeks.  The holes left in his face revealed the inside of his mouth and exposed his teeth.  His wounds were bleeding profusely, so I had to work quickly as I stitched around the bleeding edges, and as I worked, he was weeping so much that my hands were covered with his tears.  When I had his bleeding under control, I released the rope and pulled the hook out.  He immediately lowered his head and gagged from the blood that had pooled inside his mouth.  He was in real need of a haircut, so I took my torch and lit his hair on fire.  He threw his head around and screamed as smoke and flames blazed from his head.  The holes in the side of his face were making his screams sound strange.  When the flames finally burned out, he had only a few patches of scorched hair left and some second-degree burns.  He was breathing erratically and foaming at the mouth as I screwed stainless steel eyehooks into the side of his head just above his ears, and to ensure that the threaded part didn’t penetrate his brain, I measured the thickness of one of the skulls that was lying around.  He was covered in sweat, blood, vomit, tears and snot, and he was white as a ghost as I tied a rope to each of the hooks.  He didn’t make a sound as I pushed his head backwards and slammed it against the wall, and as I held his head back, I tied the ropes to the spike that was covered with his hair.  He remained silent until I took the scalpel and cut the flesh from the bottom of his mouth, which was the portion that was under and behind his chin bone where the hook had penetrated.  He had only screamed a few seconds until he passed out from exhaustion, so while he slept, I cleaned the wound and stitched around the hole just like I did on the ones in the sides of his face.

A few days later, I took a piece of one-inch diameter stainless steel rod and cut a piece eight-inches long and one at ten-inches long.  I drilled and tapped a three-eighths hole in the center of the eight-inch piece, then drilled and tapped one end of the ten-inch piece.  I screwed a three-eighths by one-inch-long piece of all-thread into the end of the ten-inch piece of rod.

That evening I walked up to the Reaper with the rods in my hand.  “Open your mouth or I will cut your jaw from your face.”

He didn’t argue and immediately opened his mouth.  I pushed the eight-inch piece of rod through the hole in his right cheek and centered it in the middle of his mouth.  I took the ten-inch piece and pushed it up through the hole in the bottom of his mouth until it came in contact with the center of the other piece of rod, then screwed the pieces together.  The two pieces of rod formed the shape of a T, and the horizontal part of the T was running through his mouth and the ends were sticking out the holes on his cheeks, and it was positioned between his upper and lower teeth, kind of like a horse bit, and the vertical part of the T hung out the hole in the bottom of his mouth.  After I untied the ropes that were holding his head back, he tried to let his head fall forward, but the bottom end of the vertical rod hit his chest and held his head in the upright position.  While he tried to find a comfortable spot to rest his head I said, “What do you think of that, pal?  Now you won’t choke to death, and you can’t run your mouth.  I’d say that I killed two birds with one stone.”

The next day I caught him banging his head against the wall to cause damage, so I ran a wire from the bottom end of the T to a handful of fishhooks that I had inserted into his scrotum sack and dick.  A few weeks later, I noticed he was getting pressure ulcers from being bound to the wall.  I must reposition everyone from time to time to heal these types of sores, and in his case, I used fishhooks and steel twine to pull him from the wall so his back could heal, and I also adjusted the chains that were holding him so they would lie across a different part of his body.  After I repositioned him, I stood back to look at what a ghastly sight he had become.  I was very surprised a human could endure such horrific brutality and still be alive.  Over the years, he would hang on the wall and watch me bring other lowlifes into the chamber for their punishment.  I would occasionally torture him by beating him with his severed arm, whipping, burning, and throwing darts at him or whatever else that came to mind.  As the years went by, I would put him into a cell for several months so his body and mind could heal, then would hang him back on the wall kicking and screaming.  It was extremely torturous for him to be bound to the wall, and every time he came out of the cell he would fight at his restraints and curse me under his breath.”

Dicky just glared at Seth after hearing the detestable story about the Reaper.  Seth started to get up, but paused.  “There is something else you need to know about the Reaper.  Up to this point everything I had done to him has been just foreplay.  His punishment hasn’t even begun yet.”

Dicky looked sad as Seth pulled out the darts that were stuck in the Reaper’s body.  Seth pulled out the last dart, then glanced back at him.  “Your turn is in the morning.  That ought to be something you can sleep on tonight.”

After Seth walked out of the chamber and disappeared into the dark, Dicky began weeping from the fear that laid ahead.  All through the night he tried to kill himself by banging his head against the stone wall, but it was no use for he would only knock himself unconscious.

The Day of Vengeance

Early the next morning, Seth came into the chamber to find Dicky unconscious and his head and face covered in blood.  He threw a bucket of water on him.  “Rise and shine.”

After Dicky stirred around for a moment, he rolled over and sat up on the floor, then scooted back so he could rest his back against the stone wall of his cell.  Seth grabbed the rusted bars as he looked at the blood that covered Dicky’s face.  “Death is something you have to earn in here.”

He held his head down and began crying.

Seth tossed a rag through the bars.  “Wipe your tears.  I’ve been saving something special just for you.”

Seth walked over to the Reaper and pulled the bloodstained cloth sack off his head, then looked at Dicky.  “What do you think?”

He continued to hold his head down and wouldn’t look up.  Seth parted the Reaper’s long hair and revealed his face, then yelled out.  “I said look!”

He raised his head.

“Well, what do you think?”

He quietly replied, “Think about what?”

Seth looked at the Reaper’s face.  “Well, I guess with all the dried blood, bruises, scars, disfigured face, and this contraption in his mouth, he would be hard to recognize.”  Seth let go of the man’s hair and walked over to the table with the assortment of torture devices and grabbed the severed arm, then walked over to the cell and tossed the arm next to Dicky.  “Check it out, pal.”

Dicky just sat and looked at the discolored limb.

“Get out of that damn corner and look at it.”

He looked down and started staring at the floor, so with a more aggressive voice Seth yelled out, “I’m not going to tell you one more time before I get Mr. Propane Torch.”

After he took a deep breath, he reached over and picked up the arm, then looked at Seth with confusion as what to do next.

“Look at it closely.”

He noticed a tattoo of a Grim Reaper on the arm.  “I don’t understand.”

“Understand what?  Your worst fear.”

Dicky started to get upset.  “How did you get this arm?”

Seth grabbed the bars.  “If you were listening to my story about the Reaper, you would know I sawed it off him while he was bound to a table.”

He became frantic as he held the arm, then jumped to his feet and stumbled over to the bars.  Fear filled his eyes as he shoved his head against the bars so he could get a good look at the man called Reaper, and after a few seconds he said in a troubled voice, “It can’t be.  My son died years ago.  I buried him myself.”

Seth walked over and stood by the Reaper.  “Buried whom?  A burned-up body that was unidentifiable except for a tattoo and a wallet.”

Dicky fell to his knees as his hands slid down the bars, and as he looked toward the Reaper, he yelled out, “Jason, Jason my son!  What has he done to you?  Oh, Jason!”

Seth walked over as he was sobbing.  “So, Dicky, or should I say Chuck, you had no idea that I knew it was Jason that left me on that tree to die?”

He glared at Seth with anger etched into his features.  “I know who you are now.  You’re that piece of trash from the boys’ home!”

“I know you covered up the evidence of what your son did to Ashley.  And you need to remember who you’re fucking talking to, Sheriff.”

A strange expression came over his face.  “Wait…  I don’t understand.  You were killed in a car wreck a few years later.  How is that possible?  I don’t understand.”

“I’m glad you checked on me, pal.  Maybe I was wrong about you.”  Seth laughed, then threw a dart at Jason.  “And how many times have I told you that things are not always what they seem?”

Chuck jumped to his feet and grabbed the bars.  “I should have killed you myself and finished what my son started!  You sorry sick son of a bitch!”

Seth reached in through the bars and grabbed Chuck around his neck, then slammed his head against the bars.  He tried to pull back, but Seth was too strong.  Seth leaned in toward his ear.  “You robbed me of my justice.  As a father, I could understand, but as an officer of the law you chose a killer over innocent victims.  And one other thing, I’m not some young kid you can bully anymore.”  Seth bit into Chuck’s ear, and as he pushed him backwards, he tore a piece off.

Chuck fell to the floor, and as he held his ear he shouted out, “You will not get away with this you fucking psycho!  You will die in the fucking electric chair!”

Seth spit the piece of ear at him.  “Die?  I’m already dead.  My spirit died on that tree years ago, and if you had been paying attention to my stories you would know what kind of predicament you’re in.  And as far as getting away with this, that’s self-explanatory, you fucking idiot!”

He jumped to his feet.  “Open the door like you did for that fucking pervert and let’s finish this like men.”

Seth unlocked and opened the door, then stepped back.  “Your wish has been granted.”

Chuck didn’t hesitate as he charged through the opening, knowing this would be the only chance he had to save his son and himself from the horrors that lay ahead, and with everything he had he swung at Seth’s throat.

The lights above were blurry as Chuck found himself dazed and lying on the cold, stone floor.  Seconds later he regained his composure and jumped to his feet, and as he looked around, he saw Seth standing a little way away.  Seth nodded in his direction with a facial expression of, come on, don’t be a bitch, so Chuck did a karate motion as he got into a fighting stance.  When Seth saw the move, he began laughing, but he stopped when Chuck charged him, then Seth did the unexpected.  To Chuck’s surprise, Seth had quickly dropped to the floor and spun around and kicked his legs out from under him, and when Chuck fell to the floor, Seth jumped on top of him, then choked him into unconsciousness with a rear naked choke.

A few minutes later, Chuck found himself lying on the floor again, and when he regained his composure, he jumped to his feet and ran for a table covered with tools and weapons, and right before he reached it, Seth pushed him, causing him to fall to the floor.  Chuck didn’t hesitate to get to his feet, and as he lunged toward Seth, Seth used Chuck’s momentum to his advantage and threw him back on the floor.  When Chuck lunged toward Seth again, Seth grabbed him by the neck, and as he tightly squeezed his throat, Chuck fought at Seth’s hands as he desperately tried to relieve the pressure so he could breathe.  To his horror, Seth lifted his feet off the floor and carried him back to his cell, then pushed him backwards so hard that he fell to the floor.  He rolled to his side as he gasped for air while holding his throat.  Seth locked the door.  “That was for your satisfaction.”

Chuck crawled on the floor over to the bars, and as he laid on his side, he stared with sadness at his son.  “Oh, Jason.  I’m so sorry for what he has done to you.  Can you hear me, Jason?  It’s your dad.  Jason!  Can you hear me?  It will be all right, Son.  I’m here with you now.”

A tear ran down Jason’s face as he stared back at his dad.

Seth walked over to Jason and kicked him in the nuts.

Jason let out a deep moaned.

Chuck cried out.  “Please stop hurting my boy!”

Seth put his finger to his mouth as a gesture to be quiet.  “I will tell the beginning of his story now that you know who he is.”

“You can go fuck yourself!  I will not listen to your bullshit anymore!”

“Oh, you think so.”

“I fucking know so!”

Seth walked over to the table with the torture devices and grabbed a long pole that had electrodes on one end and a cord that ran to an electrical control box on the other end.  The electrodes were spaced about five inches apart, and after Seth pulled the trigger, a blue arc filled the air gap between the electrodes, and the sound that the arc made was almost deafening.  Seth held the end of the custom-made device an inch or so from Jason’s head, and when he pulled the trigger, blue arcs completely covered Jason’s face, and after a few seconds his body began violently shaking.  When Seth pulled the electrodes further away, the arcs began jumping around Jason’s head like a Tesla generator.  After a few seconds, Jason begun to scream as smoke started to pour from his flesh.  When Seth released the trigger, the deafening sound of the shocker was replaced by the sound of Chuck as he was screaming for Seth to stop.  Seth laid the shocker back on the table, then looked over at Chuck.  “Now that I have your full attention, I will tell you the chapter that I originally skipped over.”

Smoke was still floating around Jason’s head as Seth sat next to the cell.  Chuck slid down the bars to his knees, and as he sat on the floor, he gazed at his son with sorrow.  Seth pulled a dart out of his pocket and threw it at Jason, striking him in the chest.  “I’m over here.”

Chuck turned around with tears in his eyes as Jason let out a faint moan, and as soon as Chuck looked at Seth, a dart stuck him in the neck.  He gagged while he pulled out the dart.

“I have a pocketful to keep you from getting sidetracked.”

Chuck knew he had no choice but to listen, so he leaned over and rested his head against the bars as he looked at Seth, and as he wiped the tears from his face, Seth lit a cigarette and took a long drag.  “Let’s get on with story time.  And I am going to tell it from the beginning—when I was left to die in the woods.  I hung on that tree until a hiker found me several days later.  I was air rushed to a hospital several towns away because the small podunk town only had a small medical facility.  The doctors there said I should have died from my knife wound, but the blade was still hot when Jason stuck me with it, which cauterized most of the cut blood vessels.  The next day I was questioned by a few detectives on what had happened.  I told them everything I could remember about the horrible night.  I told them about the Grim Reaper tattoo I had seen on the taller man’s arm when his sleeve had pulled up, and I told them he had disguised his voice as he talked, but the other men didn’t, and one of them sounded familiar, but I couldn’t put a face with his voice.

When I was released from the hospital a few weeks later, I was sent back to Saint David’s to finish recovering in the medical ward, and around this time is when I found out that Ashley’s father had already buried her at Grape Vine Cemetery next to her mom.  I was very sad and distraught that I had missed her funeral, and for the next few days I stared out a window and thought about her.

After a week or so, the detective that was investigating my case came to Saint David’s and told me they had no leads to the crime.  He said the rope, knife, or any other kind of evidence could not be found at the crime scene.  He said it looked like the perpetrators had come back and gotten rid of all the evidence.  He stated that whoever it was knew what they were doing, for not even a shoe impression was found.

A few days later when I was able to walk, I went to her grave to tell her goodbye and that I was leaving the dreadful town.  While I was sitting on the ground beside her grave, her father came out of nowhere; he was extremely drunk.  He stumbled in my direction, screaming out for me to get away from her and that it was my fault she was dead.  When I stood up, he grabbed my neck and tried to choke me, but I shoved him backwards and he fell onto Ashley’s headstone, knocking it over.  While he laid on the ground, I pointed at him and said, “One day I’ll be back for you,” then I turned and walked off.  Later that day, I went to the bus station to buy a one-way ticket out of town.  Any place that I would end up would be better than that place.  After the attendant at the bus station asked where I wanted to go, I handed him most of the money I had saved up.  “As far as this will take me.”

He handed me a ticket.  “Sorry son.  I don’t blame you for wanting to leave.  This bus ride should get you far enough from here.”

I stared out the window and watched as I left the town behind.  A few miles out, a pickup truck was passing the bus.  As the truck drove by, I noticed Jason was sitting on the passenger side like a punk with his arm hanging out the window, and as the wind was blowing up his sleeve, a cold chilling shock fell upon me as I noticed a Grim Reaper tattoo on his arm.  When the truck passed, I held my head back against the seat and shook with anger.  I tried to remain calm the rest of the trip.

Hours later when the bus came to a large city, I immediately went to a payphone to call the detective that was investigating my case.  I told him about the passing truck and that it was Jason’s tattoo that I had seen.  I told him I now recognized the other man’s voice as being one of Jason’s friends.  The detective said he would check into it and he would contact me when he found out something.  I told him I would contact him because I had left town and I didn’t have a phone.  I wandered around most of the night trying to figure out what I was going to do.  I only had enough money for a couple of weeks, and I had brought just a few of my belongings with me in a bag.  Early the next morning I called the detective and asked him if Jason had been arrested, and as soon as I heard him say that he had a good alibi, I slammed the phone down, and when my knees hit the ground, I screamed.”

Seth glared at Chuck with anger etched into his features.  “I knew at that moment you had something to do with that.”  Seth pulled a handful of darts out of his pocket, then began hitting Jason in the chest.

Chuck screamed out as the darts penetrated his son’s flesh.  After Seth threw the last one, he walked over to Chuck as he was lying on the floor.  “How did you do it?  How did you get that piece of shit off?”

He wiped some blood off his lips.  “I will tell you anything you want to know if you please don’t hurt my boy anymore.”

Seth went over to Jason and pulled the darts from his body.  “Let’s hear it, but remember as you tell the story, Jason spilt the beans a long time ago.  He told me every detail during a beating, and if you leave out or twist the truth in any way, I will punish him for it.  I want you to admit what you have done.”

Chuck sat up.  He wiped his tears, and after he looked down, he said, “Jason was scared he could go to prison for what he and his friends had done.  He told me everything that happened the night before.  He said it had gotten out of hand and one thing led to another.  I told him to keep his mouth shut and to go find his friends.  I told him I wanted all three of them, and whatever they had been wearing that night, back at my house as soon as possible and to keep quiet until I got back.  While Jason was rounding up his buddies, I went back to where you were hanging on the tree unconscious and cleaned up the area so nothing incriminating would be found.”

Seth glared at Chuck.  “There weren’t even footprints left behind.  And what about the rope that was tied to Ashley?  You must have found her because it was missing.”

Chuck hesitated for a second.  “I got in my trolling boat and went down the creek like I was fishing.  If anybody saw me, they wouldn’t think anything of it because it was Saturday, and I fish on that creek almost every other weekend.  I started up creek from where you were, and as I went down stream, I made a stop at the crime scene.  This is when I cleaned up the mess.  When I was done, I used a rake and erased all the footprints as I walked backwards, toward my boat.  I then went on down the creek and found, you know, Ashley, washed into some brush.  After I cut the rope loose and dragged it into the boat, I went back upstream to where I had parked and loaded up my boat.  When I got back home, I burned the rope, their clothes, shoes, and anything else the boys had on them, and I took the knife and melted it down with an oxygen acetylene torch.  That night I sat Jason and his friends down at the table and we went over an alibi just in case anyone asked.  A few days later, Ashley was found when you told the investigators what had happened in the woods.  I was with them since I was the town’s sheriff.  I wasn’t worried about DNA contamination, because it didn’t exist at the time, and anything that could be incriminating would have been washed away.

About a month later, an investigator came back to town and asked me questions about the incident with the Sullivan girl.  It caught me off guard when he asked about Jason’s alibi and the Grim Reaper tattoo.  This must have been when you told them about the tattoo.  I told him Jason and his buddies had been with me that night playing cards.  I informed him I had run a vagabond out of town around the same time the incident happened, and the man had a Grim Reaper tattoo on his arm.  Before he had a chance to ask if he could talk to Jason, I told him Jason was on a hunting trip, but soon as he got back, I would set up a time and place to meet.”

Seth walked over to the bars.  “I definitely like the next part.”

Chuck looked up at Seth for a moment.  “I didn’t know what to do.  I knew the investigator was going to question Jason, and most likely check to see if he had a Grim Reaper tattoo.  At this point I had limited options.  I could have killed the investigator, making it look like an accident, but another one would have most likely taken his place.  Jason could have left town, but he would be on the run for the rest of his life.  So, the only choice I had….”

Seth interrupted.  “I’m sure it wasn’t going to be the right thing.”

He looked at Seth.

“You can continue.”

“The only choice I had was to get this boy named Barry to stand in for Jason.  Barry lived at the boy’s home.  They looked a lot alike and were about the same height.  Only their ages differed.  Jason was almost twenty-one, this kid was seventeen.  But side by side they could pass as brothers.  I knew the investigator most likely didn’t have any pictures of Jason, so the chance of this scheme working was high, and if not, I would have resorted to more drastic measures.  Jason wasn’t hunting.  He was at his girlfriend’s house.  I drove over and picked him up, then went and found Barry at the park.  Barry was hesitant at first, but I threatened him, leaving him no alternative.  Of course, he didn’t know any details.  All I instructed him to do was say he and his friends were with me playing cards at the time of the incident.  Barry and I met with the investigator at my office.  I had Barry wear a muscle shirt.  The meeting went fairly quick.  The investigator shook Barry’s hand, looked at his right arm, then stated he would get back with me if he had any further questions.”

“And you say I’m slick.”

Chuck lowered his head.

“You can look down after you tell me what you did next.”

“I had another dilemma.  I had to worry that Barry, and possibly Jason’s friends, would say something.  A few days later, I had Jason and his two friends meet me in the woods.  When they arrived, I had Barry tied up, lying on the ground.  I explained to them if one of us talked, we would all go down.  I knelt next to Barry and stuck a knife into his stomach.  I stood back up and handed the knife to Jason.  He drove the knife into Barry’s side.  The other two boys then took their turn.  I tossed Jason a shovel and told him and his buddies to bury the body.”

Seth stood up.  “What happened to the body?  I couldn’t find it.”

Chuck was looking down.  “I went back and moved it in case one of Jason’s friends decided to rat on us.”

Seth laughed.  “I thought Jason had lied about the location of the body.  He got his ass beat because of your lack of trust.”

Chuck looked as if he wanted to cry.

Seth walked off and came back with a folder.  He tossed it next to him.

Chuck just sat on the floor.

“Open it and take out the papers.”

He opened the folder and took out a stack of documents.  He looked confused as he flipped through the pages.  “What are these?”

“They’re legal documents.”

“For what?”

Seth tossed him a pen.  “You’re going to sign your shit over.”

Chuck got a little upset as he read through the papers.  “You want me to sign my house over to Saint David’s Home for Boys?”  He looked up at Seth.

Seth nodded yes. “And your retirement over to your sister.”

He glanced back at the documents.  “You’re fucking nuts.  And what’s this overseas account?  You think you’re entitled as well?”

Seth smiled.  “That’s where your savings is going.  It’s for your ex-wife.  All I’m entitled to is a pound of your ass, including screams and begging.  You get the picture.”

Chuck tossed the documents on the floor.  “You’re crazy.  I ain’t signing over shit.”

“Okay.”  Seth walked off.  A moment later he came back pushing a cart covered with tools and unusual items toward Jason.

Chuck quickly grabbed the documents and began signing them where Seth had stuck yellow arrow tabs.  When he finished, he tossed the papers out between the bars.

Seth picked them up, then held them outward.  “Is this how you received them?”

He gritted his teeth as he took the documents and stuck them back in the folder.  He shoved it between the bars.  “Take the damn thing!”

“What about the pen?”

He held it up.  “You have robbed me of absolutely everything.”

“Fucking sucks, don’t it?  Now you know how the rest of us feel.”

“Yeah, you fuck.  You got me back, didn’t you?”

“Not yet.  That’s coming up shortly.”

An angered expression came over Chuck.

Seth walked over to the two men that were sewn together in the sixty-nine position.  “Before I forget, these are the two little bastards that were with Jason that night.”

Chuck looked up with disbelief, not knowing what to say.

Seth sat on the table covered with torture devices.  “Now where was I…?  Oh yeah, I had hung up the phone and screamed when I heard the detective say Jason had a good alibi.  The next hour or so I walked around gripping my fist and yelling out like a crazy man.  I was drawing attention from everyone around until an old homeless woman grabbed my arm.  “Hey there, sonny, it can’t be that bad.  You’re still young and have your whole life ahead of you.  Whatever the problem is, time can heal your wounds.”  While the old woman walked away, I sat on the ground and leaned back against the wall of a building, and as I closed my eyes, I thought to myself, I will get my revenge one day no matter how long it takes.  I knew that if I had patience, bided my time, and controlled my anger, I would have my day of vengeance.

Over the next few days, I looked for work, and at night I slept in an alleyway where there were other homeless people.  During that time, a few homeless people took me in and would give me pointers on how to survive on the streets.  Some of them were good people that had fallen on bad times, but most were drug addicts, perverts, crooks, con artists, and lowlifes.  I learned very quickly to watch my back on the street, and I became streetwise quickly.  After a short while I found work at a construction site.  It didn’t matter that I looked like a homeless person because all I did was clean up at the site.  It was a shitty job, but eventually I was able to rent a room at a run-down motel.  As the years went by, and as I went from construction job to construction job, I learned more and more about the different trades.  I finally got a job at a cabinet shop where I would learn the trade of woodworking.  After a few years, I made enough money to buy this old house.  During the day, I worked at the cabinet shop and at night I would dig this chamber under my house.  I stayed busy working during these years so I could control my anger.  My anger was the driving force that made me work hard.  Eventually I opened my own wood shop so I could have more freedom.  As the years went by, my eyes were opened more and more to the fact that the world is filled with worthless human beings.  At any time of the day a person can turn on the news or open a newspaper and find that they are filled with violence.  It seems that most people are not concerned about what happens to other people, and as long as their little world isn’t bothered, they can care less.  During the years that I built the chamber, it seemed to get bigger and bigger every time I read about a vicious crime against an innocent person; before I knew it, the chamber was huge.

The day finally came when I had finished.  I already had an idea of how and what I was going to do from years of planning.  Death would be too easy for guys like Jason and his buddies.  I wanted to rob them of everything just like they did me.  I wanted them to suffer their entire life as I would.  My first lowlife that I reaped justice on was a paroled child molester.  He had only served eight years for raping a twelve-year-old girl in the ass.  I knew the girl’s sentence that the molester bestowed on her would be with her for the rest of her life, so why should he be set free in the world to do as he pleased and to move on with his life, and most likely raping someone else in the ass?  Over the course of several weeks, I staked out the molester so I could get familiar with his daily activities.  I decided to make my move on a stormy night when he was at his favorite run-down strip club.  The rain gave me a good advantage because it kept the drunks and perverts out of the parking lot and allowed me to pick the lock on his car without being seen.  I hid in the backseat of his smelly piece of shit car until he came out an hour or so later.  A couple of miles down the road I sat up and put a gun to his head.  The molester begged and whined as I forced him to drive to the outskirts of town.  When we came to a secluded area by a river, I took his wallet and made him get out of his car and lay face down on the ground.  Before I knocked him in the head with a crowbar, I looked at his driver’s license to make sure that he was the right guy.  After I knocked him unconscious, I dragged him over to where my car was hidden in some nearby brush and threw him into the trunk.  I got rid of his car by pushing it off a cliff and into the river.  Before I left, I did a sweep of the area to ensure I wasn’t leaving anything incriminating behind, and I used a rake to remove all the tire tracks and footprints.  When I got back home, I dragged him kicking and screaming into the chamber, and after I removed his clothes, I chained him to the floor.  While the molester fought at his restraints, I measured his body to confirm he was close to the same build and height as Jason, which was one of the main reasons I had picked him.

The next day I tattooed the same Reaper tattoo that Jason had on his right arm on the molester’s right arm.  I needed the tattoo to completely heal, so I threw him into a cell for several weeks.  Jason’s medical records showed he had broken his left leg below his knee when he was a teenager and he had broken a rib on his right side when he was twenty-two.  When the molester’s tattoo healed, I dragged him out of the cell and chained him back to the floor, and as he desperately fought at his restraints, I took a propane flamethrower and began burning his torso.  He was screaming so loud I had to put in earplugs as the flames engulfed his body.  After I destroyed the front of his body, I flipped him over, then burned his backside.  I finally shut off the torch when he was as crispy as a piece of burnt toast.  He was burnt so bad that his skin had cracked open and some of the fluids inside of him had boiled out.  I made sure I kept the hottest part of the flame away from the Grim Reaper tattoo so it wouldn’t be disintegrated, and even though his skin was slightly burnt in that area, the ink could still be seen.  After he stopped smoking, I chained his arms and legs to anchors that were in the concrete, then covered certain parts of his body with sheet metal.  I made sure I left his fingers, all birthmarks and any identifiable markings exposed.  I left part of his left leg, a section of his chest and his neck exposed.  Before I left the chamber for the night, I released some hungry dogs from their cages.

The next morning the dogs had done exactly what I was hoping they would do.  Every part of the thug’s body that I had left exposed, the dogs completely ravaged.  The thug’s leg bone, where Jason had his bone broken, had been completely chewed through, and his ribs where Jason’s rib had been fractured had been eaten as well.  The dogs had eaten most of the flesh from around the thug’s neck and pretty much the only thing remaining was his spine.  All the identifiable marks including his fingerprints had been eaten as well.  After I removed all the sheet metal, except a piece that was covering the Reaper tattoo, I pulled off the thug’s head.  The body had been eaten only in certain areas, so I released another set of dogs so they could ravage the rest of his body.  When they were done, I loaded the body into the hidden compartment in the trunk of my car.  Before I left, I threw several gas cans and other supplies in the trunk on top of the hidden compartment lid, and I swapped the tires and rims with a different set.  I would change the tires again after the trip, which would prevent me from leaving any tire marks that could be incriminating.  I drove through the night and the next day until I came back to that horrid town.”

Seth tossed a dart at Jason and struck him in his crotch.  Chuck jumped up and grabbed the bars. “Please stop hurting my son!  I’m doing what you ask.  I’m listening to your dreadful story.”

Seth laughed.  “It’s just a habit.”

He started weeping.

Seth got off a table and walked over to Jason and pulled the dart out.  “I had been staking out you and your son for years.  I would disguise myself and sit at the local diner and eavesdrop on conversations.  People in that town like to gossip and talk about everyone.  I found out a lot sitting there as I read the newspaper and ate meals.  I found out that Jason was still a troublemaker and most of the people in town despised him.  And for the record, they really didn’t care for you too much either.  And what really pissed me off is you made your son a deputy—he should have been in prison instead of enforcing the law.  One of the interesting things I had overheard in the diner was Jason liked to go out to the town hang out, which was called ‘Dead Man’s Bluff’, and cause trouble for teenagers that went up there to party or make out.  I heard this key information from some teenagers in the diner one night when they were bitching about Jason.  They were saying if Jason saw any lights on the bluff, he would drive up there in his patrol car and harass them.  He would take any alcohol or drugs from them for his own use, and he would threaten to throw them in jail if they didn’t pay him a fine for trespassing.”

Seth looked over at Chuck as he sat on the floor of his cell.  “Maybe I was wrong about ol’ Reaper as well.  He seemed to be a really good and decent person.”  Seth laughed as he jabbed a dart in the top of Jason’s head.  “Yeah, right.”

Jason moaned as a thin trail of blood ran down his forehead.

Chuck just looked down knowing that pleading with Seth would do no good, and as he sat on the floor while holding the bars, Seth walked over and kicked one of his hands.  “Your son is a piece of shit, and I did the world a favor.”  Seth walked over and sat back on the table.  “It was about 10 PM when I was on the last stretch of road, and before I entered the city limits, I changed the license plates on my car with another set that were untraceable.  A mile or so outside of town I took a winding road that went around a side of a mountain to where Dead Man’s Bluff was located.  The road going up the mountain had dangerous corners, and a few feet from the corners there were deadly cliffs that dropped for several hundred feet.  When I finally reached a narrow dirt road, I drove down about a hundred feet, then pulled into a wooded area.  Dead Man’s Bluff was probably about five hundred feet further down the dirt road.  This way if anyone came to the bluff, I could drive away without being seen.  After I parked my car, I snuck through the dark wooded area, and after several hundred feet I came to an open area.  The area was Dead Man’s Bluff that sat on the edge of the mountain.  It was almost pitch black, and as I knelt, I looked through a night vision scope that was mounted on a tranquilizer gun to see if anyone was there.  The area was clear, so I ran over to a fence that protected people from the cliff.  My heart pounded rapidly as I quickly hung two large flashlights five feet apart on the fence with tie wraps.  After I positioned the lights so they faced out over the cliff toward the town below, I turned them on so it would look like a car was sitting at the edge of the bluff.  The town was several miles away, but headlights from a car could be seen at night from the town.  While the decoy lit up the dark, I hid in the woods and waited to see if numbnuts would show up, and if anyone else came or if something went wrong, I could slip through the woods to my car.  I could drive out of the wooded area and onto the main road without anyone knowing that I was there, and I could do this I figured in less than a minute.  If someone found the flashlights, they would most likely think some teenagers were playing a prank.

After about three hours the batteries in the flashlights went dead, and it didn’t look like Jason was going to show up, so I loaded everything up and drove several towns away.  That night I stayed in a motel room.  The next evening, which was Friday, I drove back to Dead Man’s Bluff and set up the same way that I had done the night before.  I knew Friday night would be better because teenagers would be running the streets and Jason would be out and about.  I was patiently waiting with the tranquilizer gun when a car pulled in with its lights off and parked a little way from the bluff.  I watched through the night vision scope as a guy got out and walked over to the flashlights, and after he cut them loose, he went back to his car and showed them to a girl who was inside the car.  I could barely hear them as they were talking and laughing about the funny joke that someone had played on the deputy.  They seemed to be high school kids that were just out messing around.  I was a little irritated because they had spoiled my plan, and as I was waiting for them to leave so I could leave as well, another car pulled up.  I could tell the headlights looked like a patrol car.

While I watched cautiously through the scope, a man got out and walked up to the car with the teenagers, then I heard the teenage boy say, “Oh great!  It’s deputy dog Jason,” and then I heard another voice say, “Don’t get smart with me boy, you know you’re not supposed to be up here.”  Over the next few minutes, I watched as the teenager and Jason had a conversation, then I saw the boy give Jason the lights—I guess he was explaining why he was on Dead Man’s Bluff.  Jason tossed the lights in his patrol car, then searched the boy’s car.  He took some beer that was in the trunk, then I heard him tell the boy to get lost as they got back in their cars.  When the teenagers drove off, Jason drove over to the edge of the cliff.  He turned his lights off and got out of his patrol car.  I could see he was sitting on the hood and drinking a beer while watching the lights of the town below, so I quietly snuck up in the dark behind him to get a better shot.  Around fifty feet away I knelt on one knee, then shot him in the back, knocking him off the hood and onto the ground.  While I laid on the ground hiding in the dark, he got up and stumbled around with his pistol, and then a few seconds later he fell back to the ground.  I waited about a minute longer to ensure he was completely out, then ran over to him and double-checked to make sure he wasn’t playing possum.  Without hesitating, I dragged him into the backseat of his patrol car, then hauled ass to the wooded area where mine was parked.

Before I made another move, I walked back to the bluff and used a cordless leaf blower and a flashlight to blow away all the tire tracks and footprints in the dirt that Jason, the teenager, or I had left.  It was a pain in the ass job, but it was essential for my plan to work.  I continued to use the blower to erase my footprints all the way back to my car.  Now that I was in the wooded area, I felt more comfortable.  The dead leaves and twigs would make enough noise that I would be able to hear someone if they were trying to sneak up on me, which was a good thing because I needed to take my time with the body swap to help reduce the risk of screw ups.  The area was dark, so I set up a couple of lanterns, which would be better than the bright vehicle lights.  To help contain evidence, I laid down a large sheet of plastic on the ground, then dragged everything out that I was going to need.  After I pulled Jason out of the back seat and onto plastic, I removed his clothes, then searched his body with a flashlight to see if he had any more tattoos or birthmarks that I didn’t know about.  He only had the Reaper tattoo on his arm and the one small birthmark that was on his back, which I already knew about.  I tied, gagged, and blindfolded him, then threw him into the hidden compartment of my trunk along with the tranquilizer gun and dart.  I also removed the flashlights from his car, the ones that he took from the teenager, and put them in the trunk of my car.  To jack with the investigating team, and to make the teenager’s story sound fishy if he was asked anything, I took two vintage lantern type searchlights that hadn’t worked for over seventy years and threw them into the back seat of Jason’s patrol car, and I also tossed several gay porno magazines into the trunk.  I put Jason’s clothes on the molester’s decapitated and burnt body, then took a special steel tool that I had built that resembled a set of dog’s teeth and ravaged the clothing until they were in shreds.  When the clothes were mutilated enough to where they matched the ravaged body, I loaded the thug’s corpse and a gas can into the passenger side of the patrol car.  I rolled up the plastic that was on the ground and loaded it and everything else that I had into the trunk of my car.

I sat on the hood of the patrol car and waited until one-thirty in the morning before I moved to the next step—at that time of morning there would be little if no traffic.  The next step was the most crucial if I wanted my plan to work.  I pulled his patrol car out of the wooded area and onto the main road.  I drove back to Dead Man’s Bluff, and when I came to the spot where Jason and the teenager had parked, I did about twelve donuts, then drove back out.  This would serve several purposes.  First it would leave Jason’s tire imprints because he was spotted there.  The dirt being thrown all over the place would cover any footprints or tire tracks that I may have missed.  The last impression I wanted to make was Jason was being irresponsible and driving aggressively.  When I came back to the asphalt, I power braked for a few seconds, then burned down the road to leave tire marks and a continuation of aggressive driving.  I drove up the mountain about a mile until I came to a sharp corner, at which I continued straight until I came within a few feet of some wooden guard poles.  This was one of the most dangerous corners on the mountain—there was a cliff that dropped into a canyon on the other side of the guard posts.  I began ramming the patrol car into the poles, and after the fourth or fifth time they broke off at the ground.  To prevent leaving any footprints in the dirt, I backed up and parked on the pavement.  From this point on time was going to be very crucial—a vehicle could come driving up and spoil my plan.  Everything that I was planning to do was going to have to be carried out quickly without any screw-ups.  First, I used the leaf blower and blew away the car’s tire tracks that were between the road and the broken guard posts.  I did this so after the car went off the cliff there would only be one set of tracks instead of several from when I had rammed the posts.  Next, I slid the decapitated body over into the driver’s seat and strapped it in with the seat belt.  I also made sure that Jason’s wallet and deputy badge were still on the body.  The car needed to appear that it had been running when it went off the cliff, so I turned the ignition key to the run position with the engine off and put the shifter into drive.  I rolled down the driver’s window and poured gas all over the body, then lit it on fire.  The area was heavily wooded and I knew that no one could see the fire except from the road on the mountain.  Only a few cabins sat off in the near valleys on the same side of the cliff, but it was early in the morning and I hoped they were asleep.  My plan was to let the new clothing on the burnt body burn as long as possible before I pushed the car off the cliff.  While the clothing burned, I watched closely for headlights.  The good thing about the location that I had picked was I could see a vehicle’s headlights from miles away because of the winding roads of the mountain, and if I did see lights in the distance, I would have enough time to push the car off the cliff before anyone had a chance to see me.  After a few minutes the fire went out, and the inside of the car didn’t catch on fire as I would have expected it to—the material was fire retardant.  The clothes weren’t burnt as badly as I needed them to be, so I soaked the inside of the car with the several gallons of gas, and when I lit it, the interior became completely engulfed with flames.  Within less than a minute, the fire inside the car was getting out of hand, and the clothing was burned beyond recognition, coming to match the thug’s burnt body.  The flames were starting to pour out of the window and I began to worry that the gas tank could ignite, so I ran to the back of the car and pushed it until the asphalt ended.  The car had been easy to push because the road and the ditch sloped toward the cliff.  I watched with excitement as the car disappeared over the cliff.

Before I took off, I used a flashlight to quickly look around to make sure I wasn’t leaving anything behind, then ran as hard as I could while lugging the blower and empty gas can.  My heart was pumping so hard from the adrenaline rush that it seemed it was going to tear through my chest.  While I ran, I could hear the loud crashing sound of the patrol car as it tumbled down the side of the mountain.  It seemed like it was going to last forever, but finally the noise stopped, then ten paces later I heard a loud explosion that echoed throughout the mountains.  The explosion was the icing on the cake.  If it didn’t happen, that would indicate that the gas tank didn’t get ruptured, which would cause suspicion because the inside of the car was covered in gas.  I continued to watch for headlights as I ran down the last stretch of paved road so I could dive into the woods and hide.  When I finally reached my car, I was terrified but relieved at the same time.  The way my heart was pounding it seemed like I had been running for an hour, but it had only been a few minutes.  After I pulled my car onto the road, I ran back to where it had been parked in the woods and used the leaf blower to blow away the remaining footprints and tire tracks.  The ground was dry and hard as a rock, so when I was done, there were no signs that anyone had been in the woods.  I used night vision goggles as I drove off down the road in the opposite direction.  I couldn’t really go that fast or I would end up off a cliff myself, but luckily, I made it to the main highway without seeing any other cars.  Several miles out of town I pulled over on a side road and swapped out the license plates and a few fake parts on my car just in case I had been seen.  Halfway home I stopped at a car wash and rinsed the underside of my car to remove any dirt or grass that I might have picked up at Dead Man’s Bluff, and I also gave Jason another tranquilizer shot to ensure he would remain asleep until I could get him in the chamber.  When I got home, I dragged him into the chamber and threw him into the same cell you’re in.”

Chuck was lying against the bars of his cell sobbing as he listened to Seth tell the story about his son.  Seth walked over and stood next to Jason.  He struck a match on the contraption that was sticking out the side of Jason’s mouth, then lit a cigarette.  “I read about Jason’s death in the paper several days later as I ate breakfast in the diner.”

He glared at Seth as he pumped his fist.  “You got balls coming back after what you did!”

“I had to come back.  This was before the Internet, and because it was local news, I had to if I wanted to stay informed.  You’re just lucky I didn’t bring you back with me, but what I’ve planned in the long run will be your worst nightmare.  And besides, I had all these years to get to know Jason on a personal level.”

“I should have killed you when I had a chance!”

“That’s one of the reasons why I faked my death.  If there was a minute suspicion that your son’s death could have been foul play, I would have been a suspect.”

He gritted his teeth and remained quiet as he glared.

“Anyway, the newspaper article stated that a young deputy had been killed when he had run off a road in the mountains, and that the car had been totally destroyed and the fire had burned the body to the point it was almost unrecognizable.  The deputy’s head had been torn off from the crash and it had not yet been found.  The investigators said wild animals had ravaged the body and most likely they had dragged the head off into the woods.  The body had been identified when the mortician found the deputy’s wallet, badge, and an identifying tattoo on the man’s body.”

Chuck began bawling like a baby as he fell to the floor on his knees.  Seth went over to the bars.  “I’m really surprised you fell for it.  What a dumb ass.  All this time you thought your son was dead, you’ve been wishing he were still alive.  Now that you know he’s alive, you’re wishing that he was dead.  Also, you were glad your wife was dead, but she is alive, and doing very well.”

He sat up and wiped his tears.  “You can go fuck yourself!  There is nothing that you can do to me, you fucking freak, that will make me beg!  Fuck you and all your fucking stories!  You can torture me and you can kill me, but I will not give you the satisfaction of begging!”

Seth laughed.  “You thought I was going to torture you like the rest of these assholes?  I’m not going to touch you.  And as far as the stories that I’ve told, that was so you will know the kind of sadistic shit that I am capable of bestowing on others.”

He looked at Seth with confusion.

Seth squatted down so he could make good eye contact with Chuck.  “There is nothing that I can do to you physically that would bring you more pain than having you watch your son suffer.”

Chuck’s screams for mercy echoed throughout the chamber as Seth walked out of the room and disappeared into the darkness.

The next morning Seth was awakened by someone knocking on his front door, and he was a little irritated as he walked down the stairs in his pajamas.  When Seth opened the door, he stood in shock as he stared at a man standing on the front porch.

“Sorry for interrupting you.  I’m detective Davis and I would like to ask you a few questions.”  The detective noticed Seth was acting strange.  “Are you all right?”

Seth caught his composure.  “Yeah, I’m okay.  You just woke me up from a deep sleep.”

The detective smiled.  “For a second there it looked like you had seen a ghost.”

“Not quite a ghost, but anyway, how can I help you?”

The detective flipped open a notebook.  “I apologize again for the inconvenience, but I would like to ask you a few questions?”

Seth looked at the man with caution.  “Sure.  You’re more than welcome to come on in.”

The detective walked through the door and stood in the entryway.  “My partner JT and I have been investigating a series of murders that I believe you were involved in.”

Before Seth closed the door, he looked to see if there was anyone else outside.

The detective noticed Seth was acting weird.  “I know it’s hard to talk about, but it could help me with this case.”

Seth looked puzzled, thinking “this guy is crazy”.  “You know about me and you’re just going to stand there?”

The detective looked back at Seth as he was equally confused.  “What do you expect me to do?”

“I don’t know.  Hit me with your nightstick.”

The detective looked really puzzled at that comment.  He shrugged his shoulders.  “Why would I do that?  And besides, I don’t carry a nightstick.”  A few seconds later, the detective had a sympathetic look on his face.  “Those guys must have really messed you up.”

“What guys?”

“The guys that tied you to the tree and left you for dead.”

Seth sighed in relief.  “Yeah, sometimes I think I’m still tied there.”

When Seth noticed the detective was staring at the bandage on his forehead, which was covering the carving, he rubbed it.  “I gashed it when I slipped in the tub.”

The detective lost interest.  “Are you comfortable talking about what happened?”

Seth replied jokingly, “Sure, as long as you don’t hit me with your nightstick.”

The detective smiled as he sat on the couch.

Seth sat in a nearby chair as the detective pulled a pen from his pocket.  He flipped through a couple of pages of his notebook.  Your case shares a few similarities to some of the murders that I’ve been investigating.  An old photo shows the marking that was left on you is similar to the markings that the killer is leaving on his victims, and your attacker or attackers could be the same one doing the killings now.”

Seth looked down as he rubbed the scar on his chest.

“I’m sorry.  This must be hard for you.”

“They left me with this reminder of how cruel the world can be.”

The detective gazed at him with sympathy.  “You know, I’m getting closer to finding out who this person is.  Maybe one day you will get your justice.”

Seth looked up with a death stare.  “I never got your first name.”

“It’s John.”

“Get my justice, you say.  How do you know about justice with your judicial system?”

John’s eyes opened wide as he looked upon Seth.  It was as if he had awakened the devil.  Seth lunged from where he was sitting and broke his chair over John’s head.  John struggled to get his gun, and as he was pulling it from his holster Seth struck him in the face with a broken leg from the chair.  While John laid dazed, Seth took his gun and threw it across the room as he walked behind the couch.  When he came up behind him, he held the broken leg against his throat, and as he restrained him from moving, he leaned into his ear.  “Where did you get that scar across your face, the one that looks like a backwards question mark?”  Seth knew John was the man who had run his parents over many years ago—the shape of the scar was unmistakable proof.

John was gasping for air.  “From a car wreck many years ago.”

Seth remained quiet for a few seconds, then he smiled.  “What a small, shitty world we live in.”

To be continued...

Book Two – The Angel of Death

Room 1822

The curtains were whipping around from the storm.  Wyatt Carter jumped out of bed and shut the window before the carpet became drenched.  It was early in the morning, around 2 AM, and from his third-floor hotel room, he could see that a tavern across the street was still open.  He felt a little out of place as he gazed out the window, watching cars and people as they went about their business.  This was the first time that he had been to New York.  In fact, this was his first big city experience.  He wasn’t used to seeing people out and about this early in the morning, especially in the rain—nightlife doesn’t exist in his small hometown.  He began to close the curtains, but something caught his eye; a cloaked man was standing at the end of an alleyway, slightly hidden by shadows.  He had a sick feeling when he noticed he seemed to be staring back at him.  The man flicked a cigarette butt to the ground, then turned and disappeared into the dark.  Wyatt pulled the curtains closed.

His heart was beating fast, and he was beginning to feel uneasy.  He strolled over to a nightstand and picked up a glass that was sitting next to a bottle of whiskey and a thirty-eight special.  He poured a shot of whiskey, and then sat on the edge of his bed.  Sweat was dripping from his forehead as he glanced at his watch, wondering how much longer he had to wait.  About the time he started to take a drink, a ring from his cell phone broke the silence of his small room.  He set the glass down as he stared at the phone, debating if he should answer it.  The ringing continued to echo out as he strolled over to a wall mounted mirror.  As he stared at his reflection, he thought to himself how the call could change his life, for better or worse.  He was now at a crossroad in his dead-end career.  He had been a reporter as far back as he could remember, but his mediocre job at the local newspaper never gave him the big break.  He was now in his mid-thirties, widowed, a single parent and didn’t have a pot to piss in.  He glanced back at the phone, knowing it would be a once in a lifetime opportunity, but he also knew there could be a hefty price to pay.  He looked into the mirror again, and as he stared at his thinning hair, wrinkles, and dingy white tank top, he knew what he had to do.  He quickly walked over to the phone and picked it up.  He remained quiet, not knowing what to say.

There was a short period of silence, and then a man with a deep voice spoke.  “A person’s character is truly judged when they are faced with fear.  The hardest part was picking up the phone.”

Wyatt slightly pulled back the curtain and gazed out the window.  “Are you in New York?”

“Obviously, you already know the answer to that question, so there is no need in asking.”

“Do I need to be concerned?”

“That’s another question you already know the answer to.”

He was unsure what to say.  “I…  Uh…  I’m not sure if I want to do this.”

“You can simply say no.”

Wyatt wiped the sweat from his forehead with a rag.  “How does this go down if I decide to move forward?”

“Take a cab down 9A to Hamilton Heights.  Head southwest down 145th.  Get out on the corner of 8th avenue.  You will have further instructions once you arrive.”

“What time do you want to meet?”

“Now.”  The phone went dead.

Wyatt washed his face, and as he peered into the mirror, he knew he was embarking on a journey that could lead him straight to hell.  The phone rang again, startling him.  He quickly walked over and picked it up.  “Yeah.”

“Have you made contact?”

“Yes.”

“Time?”

“Now.”

The caller hung up.

Wyatt quickly put on a pair of worn blue jeans, a hunter green button-down shirt and brown western boots.  He tucked in his shirt, then put on a black jacket.  He threw a couple of items into a duffel bag, then strolled over to the nightstand and picked up his revolver, putting it on top of the other items in his bag.  Right before he walked out, he clipped a small electronic device to the inside of his jacket.  When he got outside, he noticed it was a little cold, but the rain had stopped. 

A few minutes later, a taxi came driving down the road.  He waved it down, then got in the back.  “Take me to the corner of 8th and 145th in Hamilton Heights.”

The driver looked into the mirror and gave Wyatt a stare.  “This time of night, pal?”

“Is there a problem?”

“Not at all.”

Wyatt laid his head back and closed his eyes. 

An hour later, the driver pulled over.  “Hey, buddy, we’re here.”

As soon as he got out the cab sped away.  Wyatt was nervous as he looked around, not knowing what to do next.  He walked over to a dimly lit area and sat on a bench.  A few minutes later, two black men came walking toward him; they appeared to be gangbangers.  Wyatt reached into his bag and grasped his firearm as they ambled up.  The taller of the two men nodded toward Wyatt.  “You lookin’ fo’ sumpin’?”

“Just waiting on someone.”

The shorter man pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Wyatt.  “Does that mean anything to you?”

Wyatt examined the paper and noticed a tribal skull with the letters S.C. inscribed on the forehead.  He glanced up at the man.  “Yes.”

“Follow us.”  The two men began walking off.  The taller one stopped after a few steps and turned around.  “You comin’?”

Wyatt was still sitting on the bench, hesitant to go.  “To where?”

“Miller Building.  A couple of blocks down.”

“Is it safe?”

The man opened his jacket, brandishing his Mac 10.  “As long as yo’ white ass is with us it will be.”

Wyatt grabbed his bag and took off with them.  He was nervous as he followed them through a housing complex lined with rundown multifamily buildings.  A few minutes later, they came to a tall building.  Wyatt noticed there were several people lying on the ground by the front door; they appeared to be passed out.  “What is this place?”

The short man laughed.  “Da projects.”

He started to feel uneasy as he was led through a hallway filled with lowlifes and thugs.  He felt out of place as they stared at him and made rude comments.  When they came to an elevator, the shorter man pushed the up button.  “After you get in here, you’ll be on your own.”

Wyatt was worried.  “What do I do?”

The elevator door opened.  “Go to da eighteenth floor, room 1822.”

He walked in the elevator.  “Maybe y’all should come with me.”

“Naw, dog, that wasn’t the deal.”

“What if someone tries to mess with me?”

The men laughed as they sauntered away.  Wyatt noticed several thugs were heading his way, so he quickly pressed the eighteenth-floor button.  His heart was pounding as he watched the indicator as it slowly moved from floor to floor.  Suddenly, the elevator stopped at the ninth floor and the lights went out.  A moment later, an emergency light came on.  Wyatt didn’t like confined spaces and began to panic as he pressed the emergency button, but nothing happened; the control panel was dead.  He dropped his bag and leaned back against the rear wall.  He peeked at his watch; it was now 4:12 AM.  A few minutes later, he tried to pry the door open, but it wouldn’t budge.  Suddenly, he heard two gunshots, then shouting and cursing broke out on the other side of the door.  It sounded like some of the rowdy-types were getting disorderly.  He didn’t feel comfortable with his situation, but being on this side of the door, even locked in the elevator, was better than on the ninth floor with all the commotion, he thought.  The elevator was hot, and he was starting to feel nauseous as sweat dripped from his face.  He sat down and leaned his back against the wall.

Wyatt awoke as the elevator started back up—he had fallen asleep.  He was feeling nauseated and lightheaded as he stood to his feet, and then without warning he vomited.  He wiped his mouth with a rag and thought how he needed to stop drinking.  Relief overcame him when he noticed the floor indicator was moving past the thirteenth floor.  He glanced at his watch; it was now 4:38 AM.  When the door opened, he walked into a hallway, noticing it was vacant and dimly lit.  The structure looked outdated and had a musty smell.  He wasn’t sure which way to go, but there was only one light burning at the end of the hallway, so he headed in that direction.  Most of the room numbers were missing, or missing one or more digits.  He began to have second thoughts as he cautiously walked toward the light, so he made a deal with himself; if room 1822 was missing any numbers he would leave.  His heart seemed to stop when he reached the end of the hallway, noticing 1822 was handwritten on the last door.  It also appeared to be written in dried blood.  He stood motionless for a moment, debating if he should walk away.  Even though he was terrified of the horrors that could lie ahead, he managed to overcome his fear and knocked.  His heart was racing as he waited for a response, but no one answered.  He knocked again, but still no answer.  The door didn’t have a knob, so he pushed it halfway open.  The room was dark except for a small amount of light coming from a floor lamp that was next to a chair.  He started to step back, but someone spoke.  “Have a seat.”

He glanced back down the hallway, debating if he should run.

“There’s nowhere to run my friend.  And if I wanted you dead, there were numerous opportunities before this.”

He cautiously crossed the threshold.  “Where are you?”

“Please close the door.”

Wyatt quickly analyzed the situation, knowing that he had already crossed over into a horrifying world of no return.  He shut the door, then walked over and stood next to the chair.  “I can’t see you.”

A cigarette lighter lit up the dark, revealing a man sitting in a recliner around eight feet away.  As he lit a cigarette, the flame slightly lit up his face, allowing Wyatt to see that the man had a goatee, a thin face with a strong jawline and strange looking eyes.

The man took a drag.  “Go ahead and have a seat so we can get started.”

Wyatt sat in the chair, then opened his duffel bag and pulled out a recorder.

“Let’s do this the old fashion way.”

Wyatt tossed the recorder in his bag and pulled out a pen and notebook.  “How do you want to begin?”

“The floor is yours.  Ask anything you want.”

Wyatt noticed a bottle of Evan Williams and a glass were sitting on the table next to him.  “Is the bottle for me?”

“Get relaxed if you wish.  It’s gonna be a long day.”

“How did you know that’s what I drink?”

“I know everything about you, but we’re not here to discuss that.”

Wyatt looked troubled.  “You’ve been watching me?”

“You wanted a story; I needed to know if I could trust you.”

He seemed a little nervous as he glanced at his watch.

“It’s 4:43 in the morning.  You have somewhere to be?”

“No, just writing down the time for my notes.”  Wyatt quickly wrote the time down in his notebook.

“Proceed when you’re ready.”

He was sweating and his hands were slightly shaking.  “What do you want me to call you?”

“Seth.”

“Only Seth?”

“That should be sufficient.  You’ve already learned more about me in the last two minutes than the police have in two decades.”

Locked and Loaded

A black van pulled into the parking lot of the Miller Building.  The driver parked, then went to the back of the van where another man was sitting at a console with computer monitors and electronic equipment.  The driver, Ron Serbanic, and the man at the console, Jim ‘JT’ Thompson, were undercover FBI agents assigned to a special task force investigating a serial killer known as The Angel of Death.  They were both in their mid-fifties and had a lot of experience under their belt.  A third man, Thomas ‘T-cat’ Arnold, was sitting quietly in the very back.  He was a lot younger, a rookie, and this was his first stakeout.

Ron sat down next to Jim at the console.  “Do you still have Mr. Carter?”

“He’s in room 1822 on the eighteenth floor, but I’m only receiving static and some garble from his wireless transmitter.”

Ron picked up a corded microphone and keyed up.  “The house rat is on the eighteenth floor, room 1822.”

A person replied over a speaker.  “ETA fifteen minutes.”

“Ten-four.”  Ron tossed the microphone back on the console.  He looked at Jim.  “We’re going to get him this time.”

Jim appeared nervous.  “This is the closest we’ve come.  We can’t take a chance of him escaping.  I need every exit covered when we move in.”

“How do we know Mr. Carter is still alive?”

“The transmitter is still indicating body movement.”

“Any confirmation that the target is in the room?”

Jim began pressing buttons and adjusting knobs on the recording equipment as he listened through his headset.  A few seconds later, he pressed pause.  “Here it is.”  He rewound the recording a little, then pointed to another headset.  “Put those on and listen to this.”

Ron put it on.  “Go ahead.”

Jim started the playback.

Ron gave a thumbs up.  “That’s him.  It’s not much, but that definitely sounds like our target.”

Thomas chambered a round in his AR15.  “Locked and loaded.  He’s not getting away this time.”

Jim shook his head.  “Don’t underestimate this guy.  And you’re only here for backup and to follow my lead.”

Ron shined his flashlight at Thomas.  “Son, make sure your safety is engaged.”

Thomas smiled.  “This ain’t my first rodeo.”

Ron turned off the light.  “It is in this unit, so drop the cowboy bullshit.  It’s only going to get you killed.”

“I can handle myself just fine.”

Jim turned and faced Thomas.  “How much do you know about this man?”

“I’ve been briefed.”  He smiled.  “And who hasn’t heard about this piece of shit.”

“You only know what’s been released to the public and local police departments.  There’s a lot that has been kept classified.”

Thomas popped off without thinking.  “Like how your partner came up missing?”

Jim started to get up, but Ron grabbed his shoulder.  “He’s just a punk!  He’s not worth it.”

Jim glared at Thomas.  “You don’t know shit, boy!  Keep your fucking mouth shut!”

“Sorry, Sir.  No disrespect intended.”  Thomas looked down.  “No one talks about what happened.”

Ron was glaring at him.  “And now’s not the time.”

Jim glanced at Ron.  “Maybe I need to bring him up to speed on things.”

“Is that a good idea?”

“For his safety, he needs to know who we’re dealing with.”  Jim peeked at his watch.  “We have ten minutes.  Keep track of what’s going on and let me know if there’s any change.”

Ron slid up to the console.  “Will do.”

Jim leaned forward in his chair, facing Thomas.  “I’m sure you’re aware of the nightclub that burnt down a couple of nights ago.”

“Sure, it was in the newspaper.  It happened a few blocks from here.”

“Our target did it.  He tortured and killed nine people.  That’s how we know he’s here in New York.”

“Have you gotten this close before?”

“No, and I’ve been on this guy’s trail for a long time, just short of twelve years.  My partner John came up missing eight years and two months ago.  John and I had been overseeing the crime scenes left by this individual and we never found anything that led us to his identity.  Back then, the newspapers called him The Angel of Vengeance, now they refer to him as The Angel of Death.  He is known to us as Skull due to his signature mark that he leaves behind.”

Thomas sat forward in his chair.  “A skull with the letters SC.”

“That’s right.”

“So, what happened to John?”

“During an investigation at one of the crime scenes, John had told me that he had found something in an old case file.  He came up missing the following day.  The information he had stumbled across was also missing.”

“What do you mean the information was missing?”

“The folder was on his desk, but the original contents were gone.  All we had were the case number and date, but no information to go with it…  Skull came and got it.”

“Why would you assume that?”

“The folder contained several pages of Xeroxed images of John’s hand in the shape of a birdie, and each page had Skull’s signature mark hand drawn on them.”

“What do you mean Xeroxed copy of John’s hand?”

“Skull apparently held John’s hand on a Xerox machine and made several copies of him throwing the bird.  He then hand wrote his mark on them so we would know it was him.”

Thomas was angry.  “I can’t believe that bastard had the nerve to come into one of our buildings!”

“There’s more.  He didn’t just swap out the contents of the folder, but we believe that’s where he abducted John.  Forensics verified that the images of John’s hand had been photocopied on our copy machine, and it was John’s pen that was used to draw the marks.”

“You got to be fucking kidding me!”

“No.  That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you.  This guy shows no fear and will do the unexpected.”

“His MO shows that he is an out-of-control vigilante.  Why would he go after John?”

“Apparently, he got too close.  And I wouldn’t say he’s out of control.  Skull is one of the most calculating and deceiving individuals that I have ever investigated.  He’s always several steps ahead of us, and he plants false evidence that leads us on nothing but goose chases.  John was the only one that had apparently stumbled across something that could have led us to him.”

“I still can’t believe he had the balls to do that.”

“That’s why we’re having this conversation.  I want you to know who we’re dealing with.  Skull will do the unexpected, and he’s extremely dangerous.”

“I know.  I’ve read about some of the barbaric shit that he’s done.”

“Barbaric is an understatement.  I have been on thirty-seven of his crime scenes, and the things that I have seen are indescribable.  He also likes to make a sport out of his killings, turning them into a game.”

Thomas was intrigued.  “How does he make a game out of them?”

“There’s one particular murder that I can’t get the images out of my head.  All of Skull’s murders are gruesome and sadistic, but what stands out more with this one is the time he invested in building and setting up this contraption just to torture this man.  It took place a few years back in Weslaco, Texas; it’s a small town on the Texas/ Mexico border.  When I got there, Skull’s victim was still chained to a concrete wall inside an abandoned warehouse.  He was nude and hanging by his wrists, his body was covered in blood and he had been severely burned.  In front of him was a large rotating contraption.  It was powered by a pulley system that was connected to a twelve-volt DC motor.  The rotating contraption had a long boom, and on the end of the boom was a propane torch head that was connected to a twenty-pound propane tank.  The boom with the torch head rotated horizontally, like a merry-go-round.  It rotated slowly, about one rotation every fifteen seconds or so, and every time the boom came around the torch would burn the man’s body.  When he stood, the flame was positioned about the height of his thighs.  Since his restraints held his arms right behind his head, he could stand or squat, or even turn his body around.  It was apparent that he had moved around in a desperate attempt to avoid the flame, because his skin was charred from his upper legs to his chest all the way around his body, and his private parts had almost been disintegrated.”

Thomas was sitting on the edge of his chair.  “Who was this man?”

“Dan Johnson.  He had just gotten out of prison and was on parole.”

“What did he go to prison for?”

“Rape.”

“Is that why Skull killed him?”

“Probably, but we’re not sure.  A lot of Skull’s victims have been sex offenders, so most likely, that was the reason.”

“So, what happened to Mr. Johnson?  Was he burned to death?”

“Yes and no.  He probably would have died from his third degree burns anyway, but he actually bled to death first.”

“Why did he go through all that trouble to build the contraption when he could have done the same thing with a hand-held torch or gasoline?”

“Like I said, Skull likes to make a sport out of his killings.  He had set the contraption up to where Mr. Johnson had the choice to be burned to death slowly, or stop the machine.”

“How could he stop it?”

Jim shook his head while exhibiting a look of disgust.  “During the autopsy the examiner found a small plastic box that had been surgically implanted inside the man’s scrotum.  It contained a transmitter that sent a signal to the rotating contraption.  If the signal stopped, the contraption would stop.”

Thomas was confused.  “How was Mr. Johnson supposed to stop the signal?”

“By allowing the flame to melt the circuit board that was contained in the plastic box.”

Thomas grabbed his groin area.  “Oh, God!”  He thought for a moment.  “How would you know that?”

“Because I have learned how Skull thinks.  And it only makes sense when factoring the design of the contraption and transmitter.”

“Do you think Mr. Johnson knew that was an option?”

“Absolutely.  I have no doubt that Skull explained that to him.  Mental torture is something he gets off on.”

“How did he get the transmitter inside his ball sack?”

“The medical examiner found an incision that had been recently sewn closed on the backside of his scrotum.”

“That’s freakin’ sick.”

“That’s the kind of things that Skull does to his victims.”

“So, what happened?”

“Well, as far as he could tell, it was obvious that Mr. Johnson resisted as long as he could due to the severe burns on his body.  The investigators determined he had been trying to avoid the flame between two and three hours based on the speed of the contraption and the degree of burns.  His entire body had bruising and scrapes from where he had rubbed against the concrete wall as he hysterically moved around.  The pain must have become so intense that it became less painful to let the flame burn his privates.  And desperation probably played a large role in that as well, knowing he had no other choice if he wanted the pain to stop.”

“Or maybe he knew his only chance at survival was to do it.”

“Of course.  People can do some amazing things when they’re desperate and scared.”

Thomas was eager.  “Well, what happened next?”

“The flame had burned his testicles until they ruptured, and his penis was charred and basically shriveled into a stub.”

“Was he able to stop the machine?”

“Yes.  Some of the components on the circuit board had been melted.”

Thomas looked confused.  “Then how did he bleed to death?”

“The flesh around his wrists had been severely cut by his restraints from jerking around.”

Thomas shook his head.  “What an unlucky bastard.  Were Skull’s other victims tortured this bad?”

“Some were, some were worse.”

Thomas had a horrified look.  “Some were worse?”

Jim nodded his head.  “This one was a game that was designed to last a short period of time.  Some of his other victims had been tortured for days.  And something else: unlike a serial killer, there is no repetition in the way he tortures and kills his victims.  Every one of them that I have investigated were tortured and killed in a different way.  It’s almost like he does it on purpose.”

“Are there any similarities?”

“Yeah, they’re gruesome.”  Jim thought for a moment.  “Well, there are some similar things.”

“Like what?”

“Pulling out his victim’s intestines, sewing their eyes open, securing their tongues with long piercing rods, removing the sides of their face, cauterizing wounds with a torch…”

Thomas interrupted.  “Oh, my God!  Really?  What a sick fuck.”

“Oh, yeah.  That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

“You said he wasn’t repetitious.  Sounds like he is to me.”

“Some of the things he does I said were similar.  And even then, they’re done in different ways.”

“How?”

Jim paused for a moment.  “I’ll tell you more about that later—the SWAT team will be here shortly, so we need to get ready.  And remember, we’re dealing with a calculating and sadistic killer, so follow my lead.”

Thomas nodded.  “I understand.”

Jim leaned forward in his chair.  “One more thing; I know he’s watching us, and he probably already knows who you are.  I need you to heed this warning: stay close, and don’t do any Rambo shit.”

Thomas had a look of concern as Jim went back to the console with Ron.

Product of Pain and Suffering

Seth reclined back in his recliner to get comfortable as he smoked a cigarette.

Wyatt poured some whiskey into the glass.  He started to take a drink but paused.  He examined the glass, then glanced at Seth.

“Trust.  You must have trust, Wyatt.  If I wanted you dead, I would come up with something more creative than poisoning you.  You should know that.”

Wyatt took a small sip.  “I’m not really in the mood for whiskey this early in the morning.”  His eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting conditions of the room, and he could see that Seth was staring at him.  He changed his mind and finished off the whiskey.  He set the glass down.  “I have so many questions and don’t even know where to begin.  He pulled a folded-up piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it.  He glanced at it for a second.  “I guess one of the most unanswered questions is why do….  You know, do the things you do?”

Seth laughed.  “Fuck up lowlifes?  You don’t have to beat around the bush with me.  There is nothing that you’re gonna ask that will be upsetting.”

“Really?”

“Yes.  If I don’t want to answer, I will tell you so.”

Wyatt sat forward in his chair.  “Okay.  Why do you take the law into your own hands and what caused you to start doing it in the first place?  Why do you punish your victims so gruesomely?  Why do…”

Seth held his hand out to get his attention.  “Slow down a bit.  We have all the time in the world.”

Wyatt glanced at his watch.

“You’re making this more difficult than it needs to be.  And I also have a question for you.”

Wyatt looked up with a surprised expression.  “Uh, okay.”

“What’s the deal?  Why are you so nervous?”

“Anyone would be nervous in my position.”

“You know I only go after lowlifes, so you shouldn’t be worried.”

“I know, but for curiosity’s sake, who is considered a lowlife in your book?”

“They are the parasites of our society that prey on innocent people; sex offenders, murderers, abusers, the occasional gangbanger and street trash.”

“Why have you taken it upon yourself to punish them?”

“Why not?  You should appreciate that someone is willing to bestow justice as I do.”

“But we have laws.”

Seth extinguished his cigarette in an ashtray, then glared at Wyatt with a serious expression.  “Should I turn a blind eye to what I see as most of society does?”

“Of course, not.  That’s what our judicial system is for.”

“Is our system fair?”

“It’s all we have.”

Seth lit another cigarette.  “You’re right.  So, what do you think about a child rapist that serves less than five years for his offense?”

“What can I do about it?  He served his time, according to the law.”

“Typical answer.  What if it was your seven-year-old daughter that he raped?”

Wyatt sat forward and glared at Seth.

Seth leaned forward in his recliner and stared back.  “What if this guy had broken into your house in the middle of the night when you were away and raped your daughter; would five years in prison be satisfactory for ya?”

Wyatt gritted his teeth.  His eyes were filled with anger.  “I’d kill that son of a bitch!”

Seth leaned back in his recliner.  “See, now you know how I feel.  Your attitude is what’s wrong with society.  People don’t give a shit what happens to others just as long as their little world isn’t interrupted.”

Wyatt filled his glass with whiskey.  He took a drink, then stared at the floor.  Seth could sense he was upset.  “I know what happened to your wife two years ago.  I’m sorry for your loss.”

Wyatt took another drink, then looked up at Seth.  “We had only been married seven years.”  A tear ran down his cheek.  “The investigators said the cause of the fire was suspicious.  They said I was a suspect.  I have no idea how the fire started, but it’s heartbreaking to be accused of such a horrible thing—I would never harm my family.”

Seth stood up.  “Cops blame everyone; don’t sweat it.”  He walked over to a window.  He pulled a curtain slightly back so he could see out.  “The important thing is you got your five-year-old daughter out of that fire.”

Wyatt wiped the tears from his face with his thumb.  “I didn’t know where my wife was at.  When I awoke and found the house was on fire, I reached over to wake her, but she wasn’t next to me, so I immediately ran to Laura’s room to get her out of the house.  The next thing I remember was waking up in the hospital.”

“That’s right.  You got your daughter to safety and went back in for your wife.  You passed out due to smoke inhalation.  You were rescued by the fireman.”  Seth let go of the curtain, turned, and faced Wyatt.  “Your wife was found on the couch in the living room.”

Wyatt exhibited a saddened expression.  “She sometimes had a hard time sleeping and would watch TV in the living room so she wouldn’t wake me.”  He took a drink from his glass.  “I should have checked there.  It’s my fault she’s gone.”

Seth sat back in his recliner.  “You have to stop blaming yourself.  It wasn’t your fault.”

Wyatt looked down.  “I’ve tried to convince myself of that.”  He peered at Seth.  “I have a daughter I need to raise, so I force myself to go on with life.”

“As time goes on, the pain will dull, but it will always be with you.  That’s one of the reasons why I inflict such a horrific amount of misery to the ones who cause pain to others.”

“Did something happen to you that caused you to do this?”

“I’ve had some traumatic experiences in my life.”

“Would you tell me about them?”

Seth reclined back.  He took a long drag from his cigarette.  “When I was a young man I was forced to watch as my fiancée was killed by some ruthless thugs.  When I was a child, I witnessed my parents get run over and killed in our front yard by a drunk driver.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.  Is that why you became a vigilante?”

“I didn’t set out to be such.  I just wanted to punish the assholes that had taken my loved ones.  One thing led to another, and I became what I am.”  Seth smiled.  “I’m a product of pain and suffering, and I’m very happy to share the savings.”

Wyatt smiled back.  “Somehow in all this, you still have a sense of humor.  And you seem very normal.”

“Well, I’m not one of those fuckers that sits in the dark putting on lipstick if that’s what you mean.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “Not at all.”

“That’s good, because I wear lipstick during the daytime.”

“Huh?”

Seth laughed.  “Just joking, pal.”

“So, I assume you found your parents’ and fiancée’s killers?”

Seth nodded to indicate yes.

Wyatt pulled out a binder from his bag.  He opened it.  “I have numerous news articles and police reports about the people that you have killed.”

Seth interrupted.  “Refer to them as scumbags, lowlifes or parasites.  Assholes will work too.”

“Okay.  I have all the articles about some of the scumbags that you killed.”  He held up the binder to show how thick it was.  “You have been creating quite a stir for the last eight years now.”

“Nice scrapbook.”

Wyatt frowned.  “It’s not a scrapbook; it’s my research.”

Seth laughed.  “Okay.”

He flipped through the pages.  “Which one of these scumbags killed your fiancée?”

“No one in that folder.  And there were three of them.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “Why didn’t they make the news?”

“You only read about the ones I left on the streets.”

“I have a few older reports and articles; are these related?”

“No.  The three assholes got to visit hell on earth and were never found.”

“What do you mean?”

“Back then I was into long-term punishment.  I did occasionally leave a scumbag where they could be found, but most were taken to my house to a hidden chamber.”

Wyatt’s eyes opened wide.  “You mean there are more than what’s in this binder?”

“Yes.”

Wyatt was intrigued.  “How many did you take to your house?”

“Three hundred forty-two.”

His mouth fell wide open.  “What?  I don’t understand.  How many?”

“You heard me correctly.  During those years that’s what I did.”  Seth laughed.  “Now I make house calls.”

Wyatt leaned forward in his chair.  “Wow.  I didn’t know.”

“Of course, you didn’t—no one knew the extent of it.  The cops only knew about the ones I left here and there, or when I occasionally left my signature mark behind when I took an asshole.  But they did have a suspicion that I was responsible for more than what they could prove.”

Wyatt looked eager as he flipped through the binder.  “There are only a handful of articles dating back further than eight years.  They add up to about thirteen killings.”

“In total I left forty-seven scumbags on the streets.”

“Did the cops know about all of them?”

“Yes, I left my mark on each of them.”

“Why did you leave it?”

“It was supposed to set an example to the other scumbags, but the police, or I should say the FBI, classified most of the things I did back then.  Also, I didn’t want to get blamed for shit that I didn’t do.”

“Speaking of classified, that explains why the public didn’t have access to that information and why I only have some of the things you have done.”  Wyatt stood up and went over to the window.  “What happened eight years ago?”  He turned and looked at Seth.  “If you were originally taking lowlifes back to your house, then why are you now leaving them on the streets?  And it seems you are on a crusade.  You have committed an act of vengeance every month or two for the last eight years.  Something must have changed.”

“Part of it was because it was time to move on.  Also, the FBI was getting too close.”

Wyatt glanced at his watch, then started to move the curtain so he could look out the window.

“Are you expecting someone?”

Wyatt released the curtain and gawked at Seth.  “What do you mean by hidden chamber?”

Seth extinguished his cigarette, then lit another one.  He noticed Wyatt was staring.  “I know; it’s a bad habit.”  Seth blew a smoke ring.  “Now back to your question.  My chamber is basically a large underground room that I built under my house many years ago.”

“Where is it located?”

“Texas.”

Wyatt leaned against the wall next to the window.  “Do you still have it?”

“Yes, but now it’s mostly empty.  Like I said, the FBI was getting close, so I relocated some of the scumbags to another location and got rid of the rest.  But I did leave six in the chamber.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “Why would you move dead bodies?  Are you attached to them?”

“Who said they were dead?”

Wyatt gasped.  “I don’t understand.”

“Unlike the shit I do now, I didn’t kill the ones I took back to the chamber.  They were forced to suffer for as long as I could keep them alive.”

“How many are still alive?”

“Back when I made the move there were one hundred thirty-four out of the three hundred forty-two.  I took fifty-three to the new location, left six, and got rid of the other seventy-five that were still alive.  Twenty-one of the fifty-three that I had moved have since died off.”

“I thought you tried to keep them alive.”

“I did.  Some lived for over twenty years.”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course.  The human body can take a lickin’ and keep on tickin’.”

“Why did you move only fifty-three?”

“I wasn’t done with them.”

“What do you mean?”

“They were the worst of the worst and deserved more than what they had already gotten.”  Seth could tell Wyatt didn’t understand.  “They were predators such as rapists, molesters and killers that prayed on the weak, and I have no mercy for their kind because they have no mercy for their victims.”

“Why did you leave six behind?”

“For the FBI in case my house is searched and they find the chamber.  They were left for a reason that is unimportant at this time.  I’m sure it will be classified if they are found.”

“Do you not trust me?  I trusted you by coming here.”

“That’s fair.  I could have cleaned everything up, bulldozed my house and filled in the chamber, but by leaving it, it will allow me to know if the FBI is getting closer to my past.  My house looks normal inside and out and wouldn’t cause a concern if it was searched, but if they find the chamber, they will have to take the scumbags to the hospital, alerting me so I won’t walk into an ambush.” 

“That doesn’t make sense.  They would be smart enough not to spook you.”

“That’s not true—it would be unethical and against the law if they didn’t get them medical treatment.”

“But you wouldn’t know they were gone until you were already in the chamber.  By then it would be too late.”

“Each of the scumbags has an implanted transmitter that sends out their GPS location, so I would know if they’ve been moved.  I do have cameras that I can monitor through the Internet, but a good electronics guru could send me a bogus loop, so I can’t depend on those.”

“That makes sense.”  Wyatt scrutinized his notes.  “You said there were seventy-five that were still alive that you didn’t move.  What happened to them?”

“Some of them had lost their mind, or had become vegetative, so I put them down instead of messing with them anymore.  Also, there were some whose bodies wouldn’t have been able to make the move, so down with them as well.”

Wyatt was feeling nauseated.  He sat on the edge of his chair.  “Put down?  You mean killed like an animal?”

“Sure, but not like an animal, because I like animals.”

“That’s messed up.”

“It is what it is.”

Wyatt counted on his fingers, then glanced at Seth.  “How did the other two hundred and eight die?”

“From all kinds of reasons, but most were from the loss of blood, infections, heart attacks and severe trauma.  Some just died for no reason at all.  Some only lived for a few days; some for years.”

“What did you do with the dead bodies?”

“Burned them up in an incinerator.”

“And where did you take the fifty-three?”

“To a new hell.”

“What does that mean?”

“Their last home was unimaginable and they had to endure the most sadistic and barbaric shit that not even your worst nightmare could conjure up, but their new home runs parallel with the horrors that could only be found in the deepest and darkest parts of hell.”

Fucking Buffoons

Ron stood up from the control panel and put on a Kevlar vest.  “Hey, Jim, the team has arrived.  They’re one block away and waiting orders.”

Jim put on a wireless headset.  “The Target has been confirmed.  Move forward as planned.”

A voice came over the headset.  “We’ll be on site in two minutes.”

“Ten-four.”

Jim stood up and grabbed Thomas’ shoulder.  “Do what I say and don’t be a hero, and everything will be all right.”

Thomas nodded to say okay.  The three men exited the van and took off across the parking lot toward the Miller building.  Three teams of SWAT officers came running toward the building.  Two teams met with Jim and his group and the other team headed for the rear entry.  Jim gave a hand signal, then two teams entered the front doors with their weapons ready.  The third team entered the rear of the building, half of them stood guard while the others went up a rear set of stairs.  When Jim came to the elevator, he noticed the control panel was dead.  He pointed to several men.  “Stand guard in case our target has disabled the elevator.”  He motioned to the rest of them.  “Head up the stairs.”  He eyed Ron and Thomas.  “Let’s follow them up.”  At the thirteenth floor, Jim and his team noticed the steps were covered with something oily.  The substance was extremely slippery, causing them to slip as they tried to hurry up the stairs.  Suddenly, one of the SWAT officers fell, sliding back a few steps and knocked down another man.  Jim grabbed the handrail to keep his balance.  He noticed the slippery substance was on the handrail as well.  He smelled his fingers, then regarded another officer who was smelling his hand.  “What the fuck is this?”

The officer who had fallen quickly stood up.  He looked down at his stained clothes.  “Fucking stinks, whatever it is.”

Thomas was holding a rag over his mouth.  “Oh, shit!  I think it’s human waste.”

Ron was feeling nauseous.  “It is.  It’s mixed with some type of oil.”

Jim shook his head.  “Let’s go!  Pull up your skirts and man up.”

The men had to walk slowly as they continued up the stairs.  When they came to the seventeenth floor they had to stop—the steps leading up from there had been covered with spikes and the lights were off further up.  One of the officers grabbed a spike and tried to move it.  He turned back to the others.  “They’re attached.”

Jim signaled for them to stop.  “Hold your position.”  He moved closer to the steps.  He noticed the spikes were two inches tall, spaced three inches apart and covered every step.  He kicked one, but it didn’t budge—the base was wide and firmly secured to the step with some type of glue.  He turned and faced the group.  “He knew we were coming.”

Thomas pulled out a flashlight and leaned up against the railing.  He shined it upwards between the sections of the staircase.  “I can’t see anythi…”  Something came falling from the dark knocking his flashlight from his hand and splattering blood all over him.  Ron and Jim looked down the center section of the stairwell and watched as Thomas’ flashlight fell to the first floor.

Ron quickly pulled out his flashlight and searched the dark above.  “Y’all stay back.”

Jim grabbed Thomas’ shoulder.  “You all right?”

Thomas wiped the blood off his face with a rag.  “Just startled.”

Ron shut off his light.  “Nothing up there that I can see.”  He looked back down toward the bottom of the stairwell.  “Did you see what that was?”

Thomas put the rag in his back pocket.  “No sir.  It came out of nowhere and sped by too fast.”

Jim motioned for everyone to back away.  “Stay clear—our target might be up there.”  He scrutinized the spikes.  “We can’t continue up the stairs so we’re going to have to go onto the seventeenth floor and find an alternative route.”

Jim’s radio broke silence.  “Jim?”

“Go ahead.”

“We have an issue over here.  The staircase is not accessible.”

“Spikes?”

“No, sir.  Rattlesnakes.  And slippery human shit.”

Jim looked puzzled.  “Snakes?”

“Yes, sir.  About twenty or so.  They’re secured in place with twine on the steps so they can’t flee.  It will take a bit for us to secure them.”

Jim shook his head.  “Move with caution.  Our target knew we were coming.”

“Ten-four.”

Jim eyed the group.  “He’s fucking with us.”  He motioned for one of the officers to check the door that led to a hallway on the floor.  “Check to see if it’s clear.  And watch for booby-traps.”

The officer slid a mirror under the door.  “It’s clear.”

Another officer grabbed the knob, but he quickly let go and rubbed his hand on his pants for a moment.

Jim noticed the man’s glove was smoking.  “Move out of the way.”  He licked his fingertips and quickly touched the knob, causing a sizzling sound.  “The doorknob is hot.”  He took a mirror and peeked under the door, then motioned with his fingers at Thomas.  “Give me your jacket.”

“You want to use my gloves?”

“Did I ask for your gloves?”

Thomas took off his jacket and handed it to him.  “Just tryin’ to help.”

Jim wrapped it around the knob and turned it, then slightly opened the door.  It was clear, so he opened it all the way, noticing an electric heating element was strapped to the other side.  He turned back to the group.  “Like I said, he’s fucking with us.  Follow me.  I’m going in.”  Jim eased into the hallway with caution.  “Be alert.  There could b…”  Suddenly, a loud boom echoed out and smoke filled the stairwell and hallway.  The other men immediately stormed the floor.  They had low visibility as smoke engulfed the hallway, but they were trained for this type of situation.  Jim yelled for them to follow him.  Thirty feet down the smoke had thinned out.  Jim motioned for them to hold their position.  He pointed down the hallway to another set of stairs, then motioned for two of the officers to secure it.  When they reached the door to the staircase, they noticed it was nailed shut.  One of the men made a no-go signal.  Jim motioned for another officer to check the elevator.  When the man approached it, he shook his head and made a hand sign of no-go—the controller had been removed.  Jim got aggravated and ran to the door that was nailed shut.  “We have to get this open.”  He glanced at his watch.  “We’re losing too much time.”  He keyed up on his radio.  “What’s your status?”

“We got the snake issue taken care of and we’re at the eighteenth floor, but the doorway has been barricaded.”

Jim gritted his teeth as he gawked at Ron.  “This is fucked up!”

“What do you want to do?”

“Keep working on the door; we have to get through there.”

His radio broke silence.  “Sir?”

Jim keyed up.  “Go ahead.”

“I think the elevator is working now—the control panel just lit up.”

“Bring it down and have it waiting on us—we’re on our way.”  Jim keyed up and addressed the team at the rear staircase.  “Go back to the first floor.  We’ll meet you at the elevator.”

“Ten-four.”

Jim was angry.  “Fuck!”  He glared at the officers.  “Let’s go.”

The men followed Jim back down the stairs, slipping in the greasy shit as they went.  When they reached the end of the steps on the first floor, Thomas and Ron went to the side of the stairs to see what had fallen.  Nothing was there but a blood splatter where something had impacted the concrete.

Jim was in a hurry.  “Let’s go fellas.  We have to get up there before he gets away.”

The men took off and met up with the other team at the elevators.  Jim noticed the elevator door was closed.  “Why didn’t you bring it down?”

One of the officers that had been standing guard held his hands out, palms up.  “Sir, I’ve been pushing the button, but it’s not working.”

Jim noticed the elevator was at the eighteenth floor.  When he pressed the up button, the elevator started coming down.  He glared at the officer.  “I’m not going to say a word.”

“Sir, I pressed the button just like you did.”

Jim shook his head as he looked back at the group of men.  “We look like a bunch of fucking buffoons!”  Suddenly, he held his hand up for everyone to be quiet.  “Listen.”

A dirty rap song could be heard coming from the elevator shaft.  Everyone was listening to the lyrics; ‘She sucks it sucks it, then fucks it fucks it, gonna lick you up and down (baby), gonna make you scream (baby), gonna make you drip (baby), rub dat clit again, spank dat ass again, she can suck my dick again, walkin’ through a jungle with my dick in my hand, I’m a mean motherfucka’ I’m an Af ri can.’

When the door opened, two black gangbangers were in the elevator smoking weed.  One of the men had a large afro and was holding an old-school boom box on his shoulder.  He gawked at the cops, then reached up and turned down the music.  “Sup, cuzz?”

Ron shook his head.  “What the fuck!?!”

The man with the boom box smiled as a joint hung from his lips.  “Mutherfuckin’ Afrofuck, dat what’s up.”

Ron was pissed.  “What?”

Thomas stepped forward.  “Sir, he’s referring to Afrofuck the rap group.”

The man with the boom box eyed the other thug.  “Damn, dog!”  He scrutinized his joint.  “Dis be sum good chit.  I see white folks.”

Jim motioned with his thumb to get out.  “We don’t have time for this shit.  Get the fuck out, now!”

The two men strutted out as if they didn’t care.  Ron shook his head as they passed by.  “Get goin’.  And you’re lucky we don’t haul your asses in.”

The man with the large afro smiled as he ambled by.  “Yes, Sir, Jake.”

Thomas bowed out his chest, holding his fist in the air as if he wanted to punch the man.  “Fuckin’ punk!”

The man smiled, then reached up and cranked up his boom box as he and the other man sauntered away.  Ron shook his head as the music echoed in the hallway, playing the lyrics, ‘I gots my dick inside yo’ ass, spankin’ dat ass with balls of brass, call me the booty hole reaper, takin’ what’s mine and driving it deeper, is it a hunk, is it a buck, no, it's the sex fiend Afrofuck.’

Jim gritted his teeth.  “We don’t have time for this shit!”  He stepped into the elevator and noticed it was too small to hold all the officers.  “Gosh dammit!”  He glared at the other men who were staring back, looking as if their favorite team had lost the Super Bowl.  “Well, don’t just stand there!”  He looked around the elevator to determine how many men would fit.  “Ten…  I need ten of you to go up with me.  The rest of you come up afterwards.  We’ll hold our position in the hallway.”

Ron and Thomas walked in followed by eight of the officers. 

Jim gritted his teeth as he was being crowded, smelling the foul odor from the staircase.  Several seconds passed.  “Will someone please press the eighteenth floor?”

Thomas reached over and pressed a button.  As the door closed, Jim shook his head.

Fiesta En El Infierno Aqui En La Tierra

Wyatt jotted down a few things in his notebook.  “Where do you currently live?”

Seth extinguished his cigarette.  “Still in Texas.  I wasn’t born there, but it’s been home since my early twenties.”

“Have most of the ones you went after been from Texas?”

“Just the opposite.  I’ve probably been to more states than the full-time RVer.”  Seth laughed.  “Scumbags are everywhere.”

“Speaking of scumbags, how do you pick them?”

“I used to be very selective back when I was doing the long-term thing.  The chamber could hold so many, so I would only go after the worst criminals that had slipped through the judicial system.  I also didn’t want to get in trouble by the Fire Marshal for having too many occupants.”

Wyatt smiled.

“I’m glad you get my sense of humor.  The last asshole I told my stories to was a stick in the mud.”

Wyatt looked troubled.  “Last asshole?”

“Don’t worry, he wasn’t a reporter.  He was just some piece of shit that got, or I should say, is getting what he deserves.  He’s one of the fifty-three that I moved and is still alive.”

“Why did you tell him stories?”

“It was part of the punishment process.  I wanted him to know how sick and twisted my punishments get before I started on his.”

“Did it work?”

“Absolutely.  Fucking with the mind can be just as painful as torturing the flesh.  The anticipation of pain and suffering can be very excruciating.”

Wyatt appeared concerned.  “Do you always tell stories to your victims before you torture them?”

“No.  Just with that fucker.  For his punishment to work, he needed to know without a shadow of a doubt what kind of predicament he was in.”  Seth noticed Wyatt was worried.  “If I wanted to harm you, you wouldn’t be in this nice hotel room; you would be locked in a cage or something, or at least tied up.” 

Wyatt looked around.

Seth laughed.  “It is a shithole.”

Wyatt was still nervous, but he tried to hide it.  “I want to know more about how you pick your victims.”

“Back when I was being selective, I used the media mostly, and occasionally a pain-induced tip from a lowlife.  I would spend days, weeks, and in some cases, months doing my own research.  I would spend a lot of time staking out these assholes making sure they were guilty of their crime.  Now it’s seldom from the media and mostly from tips, and since I don’t do the long-term thing as much, I get to go right ahead and fuck them up without worrying about vitality.  And I don’t have to waste time researching them because I usually get to catch them in the act.”

Wyatt had a confused look.  “You said, as much, when referring to long-term.  I thought you didn’t do that anymore?”

“I still have what’s left of the original fifty-three, and if I run across a real bad piece of shit, I will bring them to the, fiesta en el infierno aqui en la tierra.”

“What?”

“Party in hell here on earth.”

“That’s a strange name.”

“I have a Mexican in there that screamed that phrase out when he saw the chamber for the first time.  It kind of stuck, so that’s what I call it.  So, to answer your question, yes, I still do the long-term punishment with certain assholes, just on a smaller scale.”

“You said chamber.  Does that mean you built another one?”

“No.  I bought a warehouse that already had a basement.”  Seth laughed.  “I’m too old and lazy to dig another one.”

“Where is it located?”

“Right down the road from my other one.”

“Why so close?”

“Because that’s the opposite of what is expected.”

“That makes sense, I suppose.”  Wyatt glanced at his notes.  “You said you now catch them in the act.  What kind of acts were you referring to?”

“I’ll fuck up anyone that’s committing a crime against another person, and the worse it is, the worse they get it.”

“What type of people are they?”

“Gangbangers, perverts, scammers, thieves, abusers.  You know, the bottom feeders of society.”

“I didn’t know you went after thieves and scammers.”

“Sometimes I do.”

“Do you torture them?”

“Depends on what you consider torture.”

“Stuff like what’s in my articles and reports.”

“Nothing to that degree; most of the time I just cut off their hand or something.”

“And where do you get the tips from?”

“From other scumbags.  When I run across these fuckers on the street, it seems every lowlife that I punish tells on all his buddies.  It’s been a revolving door that has kept me overwhelmingly busy.  One led to another, another to another, and so on.  Occasionally I will run across a scumbag on my own, but the tattletales have been the main source.  It has definitely been a nice change of pace.”

“How do you find the ones that are not from a tip?”

“There are a lot of scumbags in society.  You just have to open your eyes.”

“It seems your random acts of vengeance have gotten quite a bit of attention lately.  There is a lot of talk on the streets, even a reward out for your capture by some of the gangs and organized crime groups.”

“Yeah, these scumbags know I can be hidden in every shadow or around the next corner and it makes them nervous.”

Wyatt flipped to the first page in his binder and tapped his fingers on it.  “Two days ago, a building was burnt down close to here.  Nine people were found dead.  Some had been tortured.  Can I ask you about Logan’s House of Adult Entertainment?”

Seth lit a cigarette.  He took a long drag.  “What do you want to know?”

“Was this of your doing?”

“Yes.”

Wyatt leaned forward in his chair.  “Wow…  The building was just a few blocks down from here.  You killed people.  Why did...”

Seth interrupted.  “Perverts.”

“Excuse me?”

“The building was filled with the worst type of perverts; they were pedophiles.”

Wyatt had a look of interest.  “I’m surprised you did this here in New York just two days prior to meeting me.”

“I hadn’t planned on it, it just happened.  That’s how I operate now.  I was simply here a few days early to find an appropriate location for us to meet when I ran across this filthy ass place.”

Wyatt leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs.  He wrote a few things in his notebook, then glanced up at Seth.  “Will you tell me about it?”

Seth reclined back in his recliner and got comfortable.  “Sure.  I had arrived in New York City five days ago.  On the third day when I was walking down Broadway around midnight, I came upon a young woman and an older man having a heated argument in Zuccotti Park.  The man looked like a sleaze bag.  He had a big beer belly and was as round as he was tall.  He was wearing tan slacks, a bronze-colored silk shirt, shiny black dress shoes and an off-white fedora hat.  He had several gold chains around his neck and the top half of his shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a large medallion hanging from one of the chains.  He had several rings on each hand, a gold watch around his left wrist and several gold bracelets on his other.  The female appeared to be in her early teens, and he appeared to be in his late fifties.  I usually don’t get involved in other people’s personal bullshit, but as I was walking by disguised as a homeless person, I heard the girl tell the man that she wasn’t going to do tricks for him anymore.  That comment combined with her age is what got my attention.

The man wasn’t paying any attention to me because I looked like a street bum.  I was wearing worn out blue jeans, a raggedy denim jacket and my Reebok High Tops had holes and busted shoe strings.  I had a tan toboggan with holes covering my head and my long dingy hair from a wig hung out from under it in an unkempt fashion.  My face was dirty and covered by a long, filthy beard.  My teeth appeared rotted, and I had a costume contact in my left eye, causing it to look blind.  I had an old army backpack slung over one shoulder, and I was holding a brown paper bag and walking as if I was drunk.

The man and woman were standing close to a park bench, so I went over and sat down so I could continue to hear their conversation.  They continued to ignore me as I sat drinking from the bag.  Over the next few minutes, I learned she was fourteen and he had been making her work in a peep show.  Their argument escalated, then he backhanded her, knocking her to the ground.  I staggered over toward them, then stopped a few feet away from the man as he stood over the girl.

He eyeballed me as he was chewing gum.  “Get lost, fuckstick, if you know what’s good for ya.”

I held my bag out toward him, offering a drink.

He stepped forward and slapped it from my hand.  “I said, get the fuck out of here!”  He scrutinized my bag when he realized something wasn’t right.  Confusion overcame him when he noticed a severed human foot had fallen out of it.  He glanced back at me.  “What the fuck!?!”

I stood silently while swaying back and forth.

He looked back at the foot, then pulled out a pistol.  “I don’t know what your fucking prob…”

Before he could finish his sentence, I grabbed his gun, moving it away from my direction, then swung my custom-made sickle and cut him across his fat stomach, causing his intestines to fall out from his wound.  He released the gun and tried to hold his guts in, but they were cut into pieces and slipping out between his fingers.  He gazed at me in disbelief, then took off running while hunched over.  I stuck his gun in my waistband, then reached down to help the girl off the ground.  “You’re safe now.”

She scooted backwards.  “Please don’t hurt me.”

I folded my sickle and holstered it.  “I’m not.”

A look of fright came over her.  “You shouldn’t have done that to Charlie.  He’s going to kill both of us now.”

“I don’t think so—he has no guts.”

“You also have to worry about Joel.  He’s going to be coming after us also.”

I reached out again, then helped her to her feet.  “Who is Joel?”

“Charlie’s boss.”

“You’re not going to get blamed for this—you didn’t do anything.”

She wiped her tears.  “Doesn’t matter.  They’ll take it out on me too.”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out some money.  I handed it to her.  “Go somewhere far from here and start over.”

She scrutinized the money.  “Nothing is for free.”

“You’re right.  I want to know more about Joel and Charlie, then you can disappear.”

She stuck the money in her bra, then pulled a business card from her pocket and handed it to me.  “Joel owns a club a few blocks from here.  Charlie manages the acts.”

I glanced at it and noticed it read: ‘Logan’s House of Adult Entertainment’.  “What kind of acts?”  I already knew the answer because she was fourteen.

“Charlie found me living on the streets a few years ago.  He introduced me to Joel.  They both seemed genuine at first, giving me a place to stay and all, but that quickly changed.  Joel has a way of persuading desperate girls to participate in his filthy shows and stuff.”

“What kind of shows?”

“The younger ones perform in a peep show.  The older ones dance or get forced into prostitution.”

“How do they get away with it?”

“They operate a legal adult entertainment business as a cover, mostly stripping and dancing.  The illegal stuff takes place in the basement, and it’s only offered to special clientele.”

“Who are these perverts?”

“Mostly rich men that have a thing for the younger type.  Joel charges a hefty price for that type of entertainment.”

“What other stuff does he have you do?”

She looked down.  “Uh…”

I knew the answer.  “Just Joel, or Charlie too?”

“Just Joel.  I thought he liked me, but then he wanted me to do those shows.  I tried to get out of it, but he said I owed him.”

“You don’t owe anyone shit.  Remember that now that you can start over.”

“He will find me eventually.”

“No, he won’t.  I give you my word on that.”

She peered in the direction where Charlie went.  “We better get going.  They’ll be coming back for me.”

“Then you better take off.”  She disappeared into the dark as I took off in the direction of the blood trail.

Intestinal Noose

Wyatt raised his hand to get Seth’s attention.  “Do you mind if I ask a few questions?”

Seth sat forward and stretched.  “Not at all.”

“So, you help people also?  The media never said that.”

“Of course, they don’t.”

“I assume every scumbag that you take out has harmed someone in one way or another.  Are you doing this to bring justice to them?”

“Of course, but it’s more than just that; the scumbags won’t be able to harm anyone else.”

“That’s true.”  Wyatt glanced at his notes.  “How much money did you give her?”

“Around ten thousand.”

“Wow!  That’s a lot of money.  How can you afford to give away that much?”

“I take it from scumbags and give it to their victims when I can.”

“You’re kind of like a modern-day Robin Hood?”

“I usually do wear some type of hood, but I see myself more like the Grim Reaper instead of some English fucker in tights.”  Seth laughed.

Wyatt smiled.  “Speaking of disguises, do you always wear one?”

“Yes, and I have mastered the art.  I have used them from day one and they are the main reason why I have never been caught.”

“Interesting.  What type of disguises do you do?”

“Anything you can imagine.”

“Can you elaborate?”

“Fake beards and mustaches, wigs, makeup, wrinkles, scars, birthmarks, tattoos, colored contacts, and fat suits.  Sometimes I wear elevated footwear to throw off my true height.  I use prosthetics to change the appearance of my nose, cheekbones, chin, forehead, ears and neck.  I also use dyes to change the color of my skin so I can make myself look black, Indian, Hispanic or even albino.  When I’m in a pinch, I use a realistic latex mask that covers my entire head and neck and a pair of shades to hide my eyes.  Over the years, I have disguised myself in every way imaginable.”

Wyatt was intrigued.  “Do the cops have any idea what you look like?”  Wyatt scrutinized Seth.  “Are you wearing a disguise now?”

“The cops have absolutely no idea who or what I am.  Every description they get of me is different.”  Seth laughed.  “I wear so many disguises that even I have forgotten what I look like.” 

Wyatt repeated his question.  “Are you wearing one now?”

Seth smiled.  “I can’t remember.  Do you have a mirror?”

Wyatt didn’t respond.

“Just messing with you.  Not now, but I was before you got here.”

Wyatt looked concerned.  He was now worried that since he had seen Seth that he wasn’t going to make it out alive.  “Why did you remove it?” 

“I had to get here.”

Confusion came over Wyatt.

“Cameras.  Even in the shittier part of the city.  And it wouldn’t be very trusting of me to keep it on for our meeting.”

“That makes sense.”  He glanced at his notes.  “What was the weapon that you used on Charlie?”

Seth pulled a large item out of a side holster.  He pressed a button on a handle, then a large blade flipped open.  He leaned forward in his chair and laid it on top of a coffee table.  He sat back, then crossed his legs to get comfortable.  Wyatt eyeballed the weapon.  “That’s a badass looking knife.”  He noticed it resembled a medieval-looking sickle.  The handle was about ten inches long and appeared to be made of bone.  A metal end cap shaped like a skull with jagged points was secured to the end of the handle.  Wyatt pointed to it.  “Do you mind?”

“Of course, not, but some of Charlie’s blood still might be on it.”

Wyatt reached down and picked it up.  He admired it as he held it.  He noticed the shiny steel blade widened out as it curved to the right, and after it curved out to around seven or eight inches it began to narrow before it came to a sharp point, and then it curved in the opposite direction that formed the main blade.  The main blade was a long crescent shape, razor sharp on the inside, and serrated on the outside.  He glanced over at Seth.  “How many have you killed with this?”

“I never counted.  But if I had to guess, I would say around fifty or so.”

Wyatt had a strange feeling as he held a device that had taken so many lives.  He laid the weapon back on the table.  “You were saying you went after Charlie?”

“I sure did.  I followed the trail of blood, feces and pieces of intestines.  I found the fat bastard sitting in an alleyway with his back against a brick wall.  He lost a lot of blood and extremely weak.  He was holding his wound with his hands and whimpering like a dog.  When I walked up, he held one of his blood covered hands out in defeat.  “Hey, man.  I have money in my safe.  I’ll give it to you if you don’t hurt me anymore.” 

“So, you’re going to pay me for cutting your ass up?”

“I swear I will.  You can take the money and all will be forgotten.”  He looked down at his stomach.  “I’m bleeding really bad.  Please get me some help.”

I knelt in front of him.  “I will stop your stomach from bleeding if you answer some questions.”

He reached out to me.  “Come on, man, please get me some help.”

I knocked his hand away.  “You need to answer my questions before you bleed out.”

“Okay, okay.”

“What kind of shit you operating?”

He moaned a little.  “It’s legit.  We have a permit.”

I slapped him across the face.  “Not what I heard.”

He raised his hands to his face to shield himself.  “You can’t believe what that bitch told you!”

I punched him in the stomach.  “Try another lie.”

He moaned as grotesque fluid gushed from his wound.  He moved his hands back to his stomach.  “Okay, okay.  Joel does some illegal shit.”

I slapped him across the face again.  “Who’s Joel?”

He began sobbing.  “He’s my boss.”

“You involved?”

He shook his head.  “No.”

I reached down and shoved my hand inside his wound.  He screamed out as I pulled out some of his intestines.  I was hoping they were still intact so I could jump rope with them, but I only pulled out shredded pieces and one long piece.  I stood up and slung them against the wall behind me.  “Lying is only going to cause you more pain.”

He stared in horror as he watched the pieces of his innards slide down the wall, leaving trails of blood and feces on the bricks.  “Oh, my God!  Please don’t do this!  I beg you!”

I started to reach down toward his wound again.

“Okay, okay!  I’m involved…  I get the girls.  They’re underage.  We set them up in the basement.”

“Where’s Joel?”

“He’s usually upstairs at this time of night.  He has an office up there.”

“What does he look like?”

“Tall, dark complexion.”

“That’s half of New York.  Better description,”

“Thin, bald on top, mustache, overbite.”

“Age?”

“Mid-fifties.”

“Clothes?”

“Dresses nice.”

“What does that mean?”

“Like me.”

“Oh, like a fuckhead.”  I stood back up.

Charles was in a lot of pain.  He was breathing heavily as he gazed up at me.  “I told you what you wanted to know.  Go get me some help before I bleed to death.”

I flipped out my sickle.

He stared in horror.  “You said you were going to get me help.”

“No, I didn’t.  What I said is I would stop your stomach from bleeding.  And when I cut your head off, your heart will stop beating, shutting off the blood that is being pumped to your wound in your stomach.”

He turned to his side, rolled on all-fours, then began crawling away as he yelled out for help.  As he scurried away, his intestines were falling out onto the asphalt.  I let him crawl until his small intestine started coming out.  It hadn’t been damaged from the blade like his large one, so I grabbed the end of it and began pulling it back toward me.  The small intestine is around twenty-three feet long, so he was able to continue to crawl away as I pulled it in my direction.  When his entire intestine was pulled from his stomach cavity he came to an immediate stop.  He screamed as I pulled him back toward me.  He was clawing at the ground to get away as he was being dragged across the asphalt.  His intestine ripped in half after I dragged him a short way, so I ran up and grabbed the section that was still hanging behind him and continued pulling him backwards.  Right before he reached me his stomach came popping out from his wound.  He rolled onto his back, grasping his throat.  Blood was gushing from his mouth, and he was having difficulty breathing.  Before he choked to death on his own blood, I made a half ass noose out of his intestine, then roped the fucker around his neck with it.  He gagged and moaned as I dragged him over to a wall.  His intestines wouldn’t be strong enough to hold all his weight, so I hung him from a water pipe that was running along the brick wall to where his feet were barely touching the ground.  He was letting out his last breath as I disappeared into the dark.

Pervert Vending Machine

Wyatt was looking as if he wanted to throw up.  Seth lit another cigarette.  “If you need to take a break, the restroom is down the hallway.”

Wyatt quickly stood up, allowing his papers and notebook to fall from his lap to the floor, then took off out the door.  He ran down the hallway to a common set of restrooms.  He peered into a cracked mirror, noticing he was white as a ghost.  He turned the cold-water valve so he could wash his face, but none came out.  He looked around and noticed the restroom was filthy and outdated.  The plumbing fixtures were stained with rust and water deposits, indicating their age.  He took a deep breath as he stared back into the mirror, knowing he had to continue with the interview no matter how unpleasant it was going to be.  He wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve, then walked back to the room.  Seth was almost asleep in his recliner when Wyatt sat in his chair.  “Why is the water off?”

Seth sat up and yawned.  “Because this building is a piece of shit.”

Wyatt poured some whiskey into his glass.  He took a drink.  “That was disturbing.”

Seth combed his hair back with his fingers.  “Just a normal day for me.”

Wyatt finished his drink, then set the glass back on the table.  “Do you realize how sadistic that was?”

“Of course, I was there.”

Wyatt scanned a newspaper article.  “Are all your acts of vengeance that gruesome?  The news article simply said a man was killed in an alleyway.”

“Most likely the news reporters didn’t know the details.  The police probably had to keep that information contained per the FBI.  And yes, I do my best in making a mess out of these scumbags so it will set an example to the rest of them.”

Wyatt picked up his notebook and pen from the floor.  “What happened next?”

“I knew the police would most likely find Charlie at daybreak, so I headed straight for Logan’s house of perverts, which was a few blocks down from where I had left Charlie.  It was around one in the morning, so I had plenty of time.  I strolled right up to the front door as if I was a regular.  A tall, well-groomed man held his hand out to stop me.  He looked at my worn clothes, then pointed to a sign that stated there was a twenty-dollar cover charge.  I pulled out a wad of money, then handed him a twenty.  He opened the door, and I strolled right on in.  The foyer was dimly lit and there was a thug standing next to a set of red double doors that went into another area.  To the right of the foyer was a staircase that led to the upper level.  I needed to go upstairs to see if I could find Joel, and I needed to find the basement to see what was happening down there.  The thug opened the door and motioned for me to go in.  I knew if I tried to take him out or go another direction that it would cause a scene, so I walked through the door and into a large room that was partially filled with perverts who were watching a few skanky pole dancers.  I looked around and counted two more hired thugs.

Within seconds, a skank walked up to me.  “Can I get you anything?”  She looked me up and down, then frowned.

“The basement.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I whipped out several bills.

“Nope, have no idea.”

I went ahead and made it a grand.

“You a cop?”

“Nope.”

“Show me.  Flip out your cock.”

I flipped it out through my zipper.

“Okay, zip it up and follow me.”

She took me across the room, then down some stairs.  There was another thug at the bottom by a closed door.  She whispered in his ear, then handed him a couple of bills.  He had a chicken-shit grin as he opened the door.  She led me into a dimly lit room and pointed to some doors.  “Find one that is empty.  When you’re done, knock on the door and Wookie will let you back out.”  She left the room, closing the door behind her.  I had a gut feeling that she and the thug weren’t allowed to let just anyone in.

In the back of the room, there were ten narrow doors; three were shut, the rest open.  I went to one that was open and noticed the room was no bigger than a small closet.  The door swung outwards, and a wooden seat was mounted to it so someone could sit down when it was shut.  I pulled out a flashlight, selected the lowest setting, then shined it in the little room.  I noticed a window in the back, but it was blacked out.  There was a mechanical looking device below the window, and a mechanism on the adjacent wall that appeared to take some type of tokens.  It also had two push buttons: one labeled show, the other blow.  I quickly realized what the room was for.  A pervert enters, closes the door, sits down, puts three tokens in the machine, the window opens, and there’s his peep show.  If the perv wants a blowjob, he can put in three more tokens to open the mechanical gate, revealing a glory hole.  Basically, a pervert can get a blowjob while watching his dirty show.

I shook my head as I thought about it; only in New York would some asshole come up with this type of contraption.  I needed to know if underage girls were actually being used, but I didn’t have any tokens to operate the window.  When I exited the little room, I noticed a machine against one of the walls; it took paper currency and credit cards in exchange for the tokens.  This is what the girl back in the park meant by a hefty price; the tokens were a hundred dollars apiece.  That was six hundred bucks if the perv wanted the works.  I didn’t want to drop another three hundred dollars just to activate the window, so I tried to open one of the closed doors, but it was locked.  The door opened outwards, meaning the hinges were accessible on my side.  I pulled out both hinge pins, then opened it.

A pervert was standing up with his dick in the hole, staring back at me with a terrified look.  I jabbed a needle into his neck, knocking him out, then turned him sideways as he fell to the floor.  I glanced in the window and noticed there were young girls on a raised platform above the glory holes, indicating they were there just for the show, hopefully.  No telling who or what was under the platform sucking off these lowlifes.  I stepped out of the room, bent down and sliced the pervert’s throat.  I quickly shut the door and reinstalled the hinge pins.  The door was still locked from the inside, and I didn’t see any signs with a time limit, so most likely no one would find the perv until I was long gone.  Now that I had confirmed the woman’s story from earlier, I left the building.”

Wyatt was writing in his notebook, then paused and looked up.  “So, the woman in the park was right?”

“She was.  I usually don’t take the word of others because they have the tendency to stretch the truth when they’re upset, or if they have something to gain.  I like the tips, but I also want to catch these assholes in the act if I can.”

“You could have called the cops and reported what you saw.”

Seth laughed.  “The guy that was in the pervert vending machine was a cop.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “You got to be fucking kidding?”

“Nope.  That’s why I cut his throat.”

Wyatt thought for a moment.  “I’m not a vengeful person, but I can’t stand people who harm children.  He got what he deserved.”

“Not really.  He simply went night-night and didn’t suffer.”

Wyatt wrote in his notebook, then eyed Seth.  “What happened next?”

“After I left the building, I went around the side of it and climbed up a fire escape.  I crawled through a window into a storage room, then cracked open the door that led into a hallway.  It was clear, so I snuck down to a door that had light coming from under it.  I knew someone was in there because I could see a shadow flickering around under the door.  There was no nameplate, so I wasn’t sure if it was Joel’s office.  I snuck back down the hallway to see if there was anyone else on the floor.  When I came to the end of the hallway, there was another thug; he was getting a blowjob in the stairwell from a dude.  When he popped his load and the other guy was gone, I snuck up behind him and stuck my sickle against his throat.  “Don’t make a sound.”

He couldn’t move without being cut—the sickle’s long, curved blade wrapped halfway around his neck.  He held his hands out.  “Easy, man.  I’m not going to give you any trouble.”

I searched him for weapons, finding none, then I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.  “Secure your arms behind your back.”

He put them on.  “Go easy, dude, I’ll…”

“Shh.  Not so loud.”

“Okay, okay.”

I leaned in toward his ear.  “Where’s Joel?”

He spoke softly.  “Upstairs, last room to the right.”

“Here’s how it’s going to go down.  I’m here for your boss, not you, but if you warn him or yell out I’m going to slice your package in two.”  I removed the sickle while I was standing behind him and then stuck it between his legs where it curved around his dick and balls.

He peered straight ahead while standing still as a sculpture.  “You just tell me what to do.”

“Walk toward Joel’s office.”

“Okay.”

I followed directly behind him with the sickle jammed in his ass crack.  He knew he couldn’t take off on me because the pointed end of the blade curved upwards and was poking him in his dick.  As we moved down the hallway I unscrewed the bulbs in the wall sconces.  When we reached Joel’s door, I leaned toward his ear and softly spoke.  “Knock, and when he responds tell him you need to talk to him.”

He knocked.  “Hey, boss.”

A loud and obnoxious voice shouted out.  “What the fuck you want?”

“I need to have a word with you.”

“Go the fuck away!  I’m busy.”

I leaned into the dude’s ear and whispered.  “Tell him that Charlie is dead.”

“Hey, boss, Charlie is dead.”

A few seconds later, the door flung open.  I was squatted down behind the thug, hidden in the dark.  The man in the room matched Charlie’s description of Joel; a bald Freddie Mercury looking fucker.  He was even wearing the same type of sleaze ball clothing that Charlie was wearing—brown slacks and a black silk shirt that was unbuttoned from his neck to his stomach, revealing his hairy chest and gold chains.  He had on black loafers, argyle dress socks and his wrists and fingers were covered with gold jewelry.  Before Joel had a chance to speak, I shot him in the face with a tranquilizer dart from a custom-made dart gun.  He took two steps backwards, and before he fell to the floor, I had pushed the other guy into the room, noticing a woman sitting on a couch nude.  Before she could scream I shot her in the arm with a dart.  I shut and locked the door, then told the thug to sit on the couch beside the woman.  I holstered my dart gun, then tossed my backpack to the floor.

The man was nervous.  “Dude, I don’t want any part of this shit.  Joel has armed men and this shit is gonna get me caught in the cross fire if they come up here.”

I opened the left side of my jacket and brandished my Sig556 pistol equipped with a thirty-round magazine, then opened my right side, showing a silenced pistol and a large handgun.  “Is there any reason someone should come up here?  Any normal routines I need to know about?”

He sat dumbfounded.

“You’re not going to get hurt if you do what I ask.  By the way, what is your name?”

He took a deep breath.  “Justin.”

“Okay, Justin, is there any…”  About that time, someone knocked on the door.  I eased over to it and opened it, sticking my silenced pistol to the person’s face; it was another hired thug.  He was a large tattooed man, completely bald on top, goatee, hoop earring in his left ear and shades to increase his coolness factor.  He was the asshole at the second door.  I searched him and found a handgun and a large tactical knife.  “Cool knife.”  I stuck it in my waistband, then unloaded his gun and tossed it in a trashcan.

He was pissed.  “Hold up, dude!  That’s a custom Kimber you just chunked.”

I pointed to the couch.  “Sit your ass down.”

He was gritting his teeth as he sat next to Justin.  “This is bullshit!”

I searched Joel and found a derringer.  I held it up so they could see it.  “North American Arms in .22 magnum.  I’ve wanted to get another one.”  I stuck it in my pocket. 

Justin appeared frightened, but I could sense the other guy was eye fucking me through his shades.  He was grinning like a possum eating shit.  “You just signed your death warrant, chief.”

I glanced at Justin.  “Who does this fucker think he is?’

He shrugged his shoulders.  “I don’t know.”

The bald man threw his right arm on the back of the couch.  “I’m the guy you’re gonna wish you didn’t fuck with.”

I laughed.  “Oh, my, we have a badass in our presence.”

He was pumping his fist.  “I’ll cut your fucking head off.”

I was looking at Justin as I motioned to the bald thug with my thumb.  “Fuckhead must think he’s Al Qaeda.”  I glared at the bald fuck as I pulled his knife from my waistband.  “With what, Nimrod?  I have your knife.”

He removed his sunglasses.  I could see the anger in his eyes as he glared at me.  “I’ve fucked smart-asses like you in prison.”

“I’m shaking in my worn-out shoes.”

He sat smiling.  “You better be scared.”

“Speaking of prison, what did you do?”

“The last time for…”

Before he could finish his sentence, I lunged forward, and with all my strength, I drove his knife into the top of his head, sinking the long blade deep inside his brain.  His body started shaking, then his head fell forward.  Justin stared in horror as he gazed at the knife handle as it protruded from the top of the man’s head.  I quickly dragged Joel over to his desk and sat him in his office chair.  I leaned him back, then put one of his arms over his eyes so it would appear that he was trying to rest.  The woman was still unconscious, so I positioned her on the end of the couch and covered her body with a blanket to appear as if she was taking a nap.  I leaned the convict back against the couch and put a pillow behind his head to hold it upright.  I put my toboggan over his head to hide the handle of the knife and put his shades back on.  I glanced at Justin.  “How do y’all communicate?’

He nodded toward his right pocket.  “Cell phones.”

“How many more are working here tonight?”

“Around twenty.”

“Not what I meant.  The guards.”

“Four.”

“Do you have their numbers?”

“Yes.”

I removed his cuffs.  “Any more assholes like this one?”  I nodded toward the convict.

“Just Chaz.  Maybe Tito.  Rick is okay.  I don’t know the fourth guy, or his name.  He works short hours.”

“Pull out your phone and call Tito.  Tell him that Mr. Logan wants to see him right away.”

He pulled out his phone and made the call.  I sat on the couch between the woman and the dead convict and I had Justin stand by the door.  A few minutes later, there was a knock.  Justin opened the door and motioned for a man to come in.  He walked up to the desk.  “Yes, sir.”  When Joel didn’t respond, he glanced back at Justin, who then nodded toward my direction.  The man turned and noticed I was pointing a handgun equipped with a silencer at him.  “Are you Tito?”

“Yeah.”

“Remove your weapons, unload any firearms, then lay them on the desk.”

“What the fuck is this shit?”

“Do it, asshole!”

He pulled a gun from a shoulder holster, removed the magazine, then ejected a round that was in the chamber.  He set it on the desk, then pulled out a knife from his waistband and laid it next to the gun.  “This is fucked up.”  He glanced at Joel, then Justin.  “What’s wrong with Mr. Logan?”

I sauntered over to him.  “We’re playing hide-and-go-seek.  He thinks we can’t see him if he covers his face.”  I verified that he had removed all his weapons.  “Go sit behind the desk and slightly rock Joel’s chair back and forth.”

“You serious?”

“Get your ass over there.”

He shook his head as he sat behind Joel.  “This is fucking lame.”

I sat back on the couch then eyed Justin.  “Who do you want to call next?”

“I guess Chaz.”

“I assume he is packing also?”

He nodded.  “Probably.”

“What kind of person is he?”

“An asshole.”

“Explain.”

“He’s been in and out of prison.  He beats up the acts.  Usually high on cocaine.”

“What does he look like?

“He will be wearing a red do-rag, large mustache, tattoos on his neck.”

“Is he the asshole in the basement?”

“Yeah.”

“The skank called him Wookie.”

“That’s what the females call him.”

“Get his ass up here.”

He made the call.  Several minutes later, the door opened without a knock.  When Chaz walked in, I shot him in the head with my silenced Ruger Mark III chambered in .22 caliber.  The thud his body made when hitting the floor was louder than my pistol when it had fired.

Justin stared at me in fear as he stood over Chaz’s body.  “Oh, my God!”

“Drag his ass behind the desk.”

Tito was still rocking Joel back and forth.  “Good job, Tito.  You can chill for a bit.”

He stopped rocking the chair.  “How long you going to make me do this?”

“Until I say.”  When Justin was done hiding Chaz’s body, I called him back over.  “Let’s get Rick up here next.”

“Please don’t hurt him—he’s not a bad guy.  And his mother has been real sick and he takes care of her.”

“What does he look like?”

He became emotional.  “Please don’t do anything to him.”

“Hey, I need to know so I don’t put a bullet in his head.”

“He’s the door man.  He has brown hair, tall and slender, neatly trimmed beard and…”

“Got it.  I saw him when I came in.  Does he have a firearm?”

“Not that I am aware of.”

“Call him.”

He took a deep breath, then made the call.  A few minutes later, someone knocked on the door.  Justin opened it, then Rick walked in.  He looked around the room and noticed me sitting on the couch with my legs crossed.  He nodded.  “Hey, I saw you at the door earlier.”  He gawked at Joel as Tito rocked him.  “Did you need to see me, Sir?”

I pulled out my pistol and pointed it at him.  “Rick.”

He looked over at me.  “Easy, man.”  He raised his hands.  “What’s going on?”

“Remove your jacket and raise your shirt up.  I want to see if you have any weapons.”

He peered glanced at Joel, and when he didn’t respond, he glanced at Justin.  “Is this for real?”

Justin motioned for him to do it.  “Do what he says.”

Rick took off his leather jacket, revealing that he was wearing skinny jeans and a skintight shirt.  He started to pull up his shirt, but I motioned with my hand for him to stop.  “No need to lift your shirt.  I can tell you’re not carrying with the shit you’re wearing.”  I pointed at him, then laughed.  “I see why Justin was concerned for your well-being—you were in the stairwell earlier.”

He looked at Justin.  “Uh…”

Justin shrugged his shoulders.

I stood up.  “Y’all two sit on the couch.”

They didn’t say anything as they sat down between the woman and convict.  I glanced back toward the desk.  “Tito, stop rocking the chair and get over here.”

He cautiously walked over.  “Do you know what kind of shit you’re getting yourself into?”

“Sit the fuck down and be quiet.”

He scrutinized the couch and noticed it was full.  “Where?”

“Just sit on the floor.”

He sat on the floor next to the woman.  I strolled over to the couch, took my toboggan off the convict’s head, then stuck it back on mine.  Rick was sitting next to the convict, and when he noticed the knife, he scooted away as far as he could.  He glanced at Justin, then me.  “Is he dead?”

“Ask him.”

He reached up and touched the handle of the knife.  The convict’s head fell forward, causing his upper torso to move forward as well, then his body rolled onto the floor.

I walked over and took his sunglasses.  I stuck them in my pocket.  “I guess he won’t not need these anymore.”  I looked at Tito.  “The convict here was kind enough to give up his seat for you.”

He gave me a glare.  “Daniel.”

“I don’t give a fuck what his name is.”

He didn’t say anything as he moved to the couch.

I noticed Rick was shaking with fear.  “Dude, you need to chill out.  If you don’t get stupid, you’ll go home tonight.”

A slight amount of relief came over him.  “I promise I won’t cause you any trouble, mister.”

I handed Justin two pairs of handcuffs.  “Cuff yourselves to each other.  I don’t want y’all to take off or do something stupid.  I’m here for Joel, his accomplices, and the perverts in the basement.”

Justin and Rick cuffed their arms together.  Rick turned to Tito and was in the process of cuffing his other arm to his, but Tito lunged from the couch toward me.  The blade of my sickle sliced off half his face before he was able to take his second step.  He fell to the floor, screaming as he held his hands over his face.  He was making a lot of racket, so I cracked him over the head with the end of my sickle.  Justin and Rick had a grimace of terror as they stared at Tito.  His right eye, right cheek and half his nose had been sliced off.  His facial bones could be seen under the blood as it was pouring out of his face.  I started to fold up my sickle, but noticed some skin and hair on the blade.  I bent down and wiped it off on Tito’s pants, then folded and holstered it.  Before Tito bled out, I grabbed a pouch from my backpack and poured a white powdery substance on Tito’s face.  The substance quickly absorbed his blood and turned red.  I glanced at the two men on the couch.  “Clotting agent.  I haven’t determined if he lives or dies yet.”

Justin looked as if he had something on his mind.

“You need something?”

He shook his head no at first, then asked, “Why are you doing this?”

“Do you approve of what’s going on here?”

He looked confused.  “Approve of what?”

“The illegal shit.”

“I don’t know anything about that.”

“How long have you worked here?”

“A couple of months.  Rick got me the job.  I run errands for Joel and Charlie.”  His eyes grew big.  “Oh, crap!  I forgot about Charlie.  He could come up here.”

“He doesn’t have the guts to come up here.”

“He comes up here several times a night.”

“No, he literally does not have any guts in his stomach cavity and will not be making it tonight, or any time after.”

Rick put his hand over his mouth.  “Did you kill him?”

Justin elbowed Rick.  “Hush.  We don’t need to get involved.”

I glanced at Justin.  “You said there were four more.”  I counted on my fingers.  “We have your butt buddy Rick, Chaz the asshole, and Tito, who apparently didn’t like the word ‘accomplices’.  Where’s the guy with no name?”

Rick spoke up.  “Tony went home for the night.”

“If you’re lying, I’ll give you the same treatment that Joel will be receiving here in a bit.”

“I’m not.  He left right before you came back out.”

I sat on the edge of Joel’s desk.  “Justin.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“What kind of errands?”

“I get his coffee, lunch, mail.  Stuff like that.”

“What about you, Rick, what do you do here?”

He sat forward, looked down at Chaz and Tito, then back at me.  “Nothing to deserve what they got.”

“Just tell me what the fuck you do around here.  And if you lie I will cut off your dick.”

He squeezed his legs together for a moment as he thought about what I had said.  “Work the door mostly.  Been doing it for about a year now.”

“That’s it, you just work the door?”

“Yeah, I’m supposed to weed out anyone that looks like trouble.”

“You’re a buck seventy-five soaking wet.  Why would Joel have you doing that?”

“I just run off the riff raff.  The troublemakers get to make it to the second door where Daniel can rough them up.  Joel says better inside than on the streets.  He didn’t want to draw attention to the place.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t want any unnecessary attention with the shit he’s doing.  Do either of you know about what goes on in the basement?”

Rick spoke up.  “That’s where some of the more special clients get to go.  I was never allowed to go down there.”

“Why do they go down there?”

“I guess to be with the girls.”

“Which girls?”

“The dancers.”

Justin shrugged his shoulders indicating he didn’t know either.  I had a gut feeling Rick and Justin didn’t know about the underage girls.  “Here’s how it’s gonna go down.  I’m gonna fuck up Joel, then you’re going to tell me how to get to the underside of the platform in the basement where I’m going to do some more fucked up shit.  Do either of you want to be sedated now, or wait until later?”

Their eyes became huge.

“I don’t have a choice—I can’t risk one of you calling the police.  It can be now, or before I go down there.”

Justin shook his head.  “I don’t want to be sedated.”

Rick quickly agreed.  “Me either.”

They both threw their arms up defensively as I pointed my tranquilizer gun at them.  “You sure?”

They both spoke at the same time.  “Yes, Sir!”

I shot a dart into the woman’s thigh.  “See, it’s not that bad.  It’s just like getting a shot.”

Justin looked horrified as he stared at the dart.  “No, I’m good.”

I could tell he was needle phobic.  “I can use chloroform, if need be.”

“I want to stay awake.”

Rick was upset.  “Why did you do that to her?”

“So, she doesn’t wake up and see the gruesome shit that’s fixin’ to happen.”

“What are you planning on doing?”

“Not exactly sure yet.”  I noticed the ceiling was made of grid and lay in tiles.  I tossed him the key to his handcuffs.  “Stand on a chair and remove one of the tiles.”  I pointed to a wall.  “Do it next to that wall.”  Rick stood on a chair and removed a tile.  I glanced up and noticed the roof structure utilized bar-joists.  I grabbed a rope from my backpack and tossed it to him.  “Throw that around the bar joist.”

“Around what?”

“The metal thing.”

“Oh.”

“And keep the rope as close to the wall as you can.”  It took him several attempts before he got the rope around it.  I rolled Joel’s unconscious body over to the wall.  “Tie one end of the rope around his chest.”

“I…  I don’t want to be a part of this.”

“That’s fine.  You can go back to the couch after you help me hoist the fucker up.”  I secured the end of the rope around Joel’s chest, then began pulling on the other end.  The rope was dragging against the steel bar-joist, causing too much resistance for me to simply pull him up, unlike with a pulley setup.  “I need you to lift him as I pull.”

He had a disturbed look.  “I don’t want to touch him.”

“I’m not asking you to dance with the fucker.”

He took a deep breath as he grabbed ahold of Joel.  When we had lifted him to where his feet were a few inches from the floor, I tied off the rope to his desk.  “Thanks, you can go sit back on the couch.”  I glanced over at Justin as I pointed to Joel.  “Do you think this fucker is dressed nice?”

“I…  I don’t know.”

“What about you, Rick?”

He shrugged his shoulders, indicating a maybe.

I laughed.  “Y’all fuckers must shop at Assholes R Us.”  I was originally going to cut off Joel’s clothes, but instead I carefully removed his silk shirt and slacks.  I tossed them over to Rick.  “Severance pay.”

He looked troubled as he stared at Joel as he hung on the wall in his red bikini underwear and red-checkered socks.  “I can’t take these.  He will go nuts.”

“Those will be the least of his worries, and I’m shutting down this place anyway.”

“Am I fired or something?”

“Dude, you just don’t get it.”  I cut off Joel’s underwear, then tossed them over toward Justin.

He slapped them away.  “Dude, that’s nasty.”

I laughed.  “I thought you would like those.”

He turned red.

“Why are you embarrassed?  Look at Joel; he should be the one embarrassed.”  Joel had a dark tan from head to toe.  His chest was waxed, and his pubic hair had been shaved off.  He was bald on top and the remaining hair he had left around the sides of his head had been dyed jet black.  He had a gold chain around his neck and several gold rings on his fingers.  He had a large tattoo of a grim reaper on his chest and an eagle on his upper right arm.  I rotated his body to where he was facing the wall.  I glanced over at Justin and Rick.  “You can look, but no touchy touchy while I’m around.”

Justin got upset.  “Why do you keep making wise cracks?”

I laughed.  “Cos you got cracks on your mind.”

“You know what I mean.  And that’s what I’m talking about.”

“Sorry, dude, I’m not used to having a non-participating audience.”

“What does that mean?”

“Usually, the only ones that get to witness the shit I do have already been fucked up, or waiting their turn.”  I removed Joel’s jewelry and tossed it to him.  “Joel said you and Rick can divide that up later—he won’t be needing them anymore.”

“I can’t take these.”

“Suit yourself.”

“What did he do to you?  Is this personal?”

“He didn’t do anything to me.”  I removed four cans from my bag and poured their contents onto the desk, then started mixing them together with a stick.

“What is that stuff?”

“It’s industrial strength epoxy.  I have to get it mixed quickly and applied before it dries.”

“What’s it for?”

He got his answer when I began applying the epoxy to Joel’s back with a trowel.  I coated the entire backside of his body, including his arms, legs, fingers, and head.  The epoxy was getting tacky, so I pulled him outwards, spun his body around, then stuck his back to the wall.  I pulled his arms perpendicular to his body and stuck them to the wall.  I spread his legs apart as far as they would go and stuck them to the wall.  I shoved his head backwards, then pressed the backside of each of his fingers to the wall.  A few minutes later, I was able to remove the rope.  I noticed Justin and Rick looked troubled.  “What’s wrong, fellas?”

Justin spoke first.  “Why would you do such a thing?”

“To make him feel vulnerable so he will know who’s in control.” 

“I don’t understand?”

“You will later.”

“Are you going to kill him?”

“Probably.”

“Why?”

“Did you know he has under-aged girls working in the basement?”

Justin exhibited a confused expression.  “Of course, not.”

“What about you Rick; did you know about the girls?”

He sat forward.  “No, I didn’t.”

“That’s good.  And that’s why this fucker is gonna get what’s coming to him.”

“Why don’t you just call the police?”

“Where would be the fun in that?  And besides, I want this fucker to suffer.”

His eyes opened wide.  “What are you going to do?”

“Like I said, I’m not sure yet, but it’s definitely going to get medieval up in here.”

Pole Smoker

Joel was still out and I didn’t have all night waiting for him to awake, so I injected him with adrenaline.  A few minutes later, he was staring at me as I was sitting at his desk looking at him.  “Welcome back, Sunshine.”

“What the fuck!?!”  He peered across the room and noticed Chaz, Daniel and Tito lying on the floor.  He glared back at me.  He was so angry that his eyes were bulging from their sockets and his face was red as a beet.  He looked like the devil hanging on the wall.  “I am going to fucking kill everyone you know!”  He couldn’t move his head much, but he was able to cut his eyes enough to see Justin and Rick as they sat on the couch.  “You two fuckers are going to pay as well.”

Rick stood up.  “Sir, I had no choice.”

“Fucking cowards!  I’m going to bury you both on top of your mothers.”  He jerked his eyes back toward me.  “I’m going to do shit to you that you can’t imagine.”

I sauntered over and stood in front of him, smiling.  “That’s funny—I said the same damn thing about you.”

“Fuck you!  You’re nothing but street trash.”  He cut his eyes, noticing he was buck-naked.  “What are you, a fucking pole smoker?  I’ll fuck your moth…”

Before he finished his sentence, I grabbed his tongue with a pair of pliers, then pulled it out of his mouth as far as it would go without tearing.  The hair on the back of his head was being pulled as I pulled his head forward by his tongue.  To his horror, I shoved a long rod with a pointed tip through his left cheek, through his tongue and out his other cheek.  When I released the pliers, his tongue remained sticking out of his mouth.  He didn’t make a sound as he stared at me with hate.  He seemed to be an aggressive and temperamental person.  I could tell that he wasn’t going to give me the satisfaction of seeing him beg or plead—he was used to being the aggressor in life, always getting his way, intimidating all that he’s encountered.

I tossed the pliers on the desk, then glared at Rick.  “Sit down, suck ass.”

He plopped down on the couch.  “Yes, Sir.”

I surveyed Joel.  “Nice tan and wax job, gay wad.”

He instantly went nuts, violently jerking his body around to pull himself loose.

“Hey, numb nuts, the shit I used to glue your ass to the wall will tear your skin off before it comes loose.”

Even though the rod in his face was painful and made it difficult to speak, he still mumbled out, “I’ll unt ew own for tis.”

“You can join the police if you make it out alive.”

“Don’t mad er…  Charlie ill find ew if I on’t.”

Justin was confused.  “I can’t tell what he’s saying.”

Seth glanced back at him.  “Yeah, the rod does make it difficult for him to pronounce his words, but I’ve had plenty of experience in deciphering gibberish.  It’s one of the downsides of the job.”

Seth looked at Joel.  “And speaking of Charlie, he’s dead.”

“Ew beder make sure ew kill me den.”

“Right along with the other seventeen.”

He glared at me.  “Yeah, ight, otherucker!”

I smiled.  “That was just this year alone.”

He had an arrogant look as he laughed at me.  “Ew must tink ew some ype of badass?  Ew aven’t tha balls.”

“I actually have twelve sets in the trunk of my car.  One of them belonged to Curtis Wade.”  I got close to his ear and whispered.  “You remember ol’ Curtis, don’t you?  He used to run around these streets a few years back.”  I had run across Curtis the last time I was in New York, hanging him from a light pole nude after cutting off his nuts.  The incident had also made the newspaper.  I wasn’t sure if Joel knew the fucker or had read the story, but I threw that out there just in case he did to fuck with him.

Joel gave me a strange look, then grinned.  “Ew must think ew at Angel of eath aracter tha papers rite about?”  He laughed.  “Ew just a punk.”

“First, I’m surprised you read; second, they’ll be writing about you tomorrow.”  I reached down with a knife and poked his nut sack.  “I’m gonna hang yours from my rear-view mirror.”

He jerked his body around.  “Get da uck way frm me, ew son of a bish!”

Justin became upset and Rick started weeping.  I turned to them.  “Don’t get stupid on me, fellas.”  I pointed back at Joel with the knife.  “You don’t want to get fucked up like this gibberish speaking dickhead.”

Joel noticed that I was referring to him.  “Uck ew!”

“See, he just told me, fuck me.”  I took my knife and cut into his flesh, cutting around the grim reaper tattoo on his chest.  He fought the urge to scream as I ripped the piece of skin from his body.  I glanced over at Justin and Rick as I held the blood-dripping piece of flesh.  “Either of you want this for your house?  It will make some nice wall art.”

They didn’t respond as they sat horrified.  I hung the skin art on the wall next to Joel, then went to my backpack and began digging through it, gathering up some items.

Joel was irate as blood ran down the front of his body.  He was using all his strength to try to pull his hands loose as he glared at me, shouting, “Ew ucking astard!  I’m going to ucking ill ew!”

“Sure, Houdini, right after you magically teleport yourself off that wall.”

“Ew’ll be supized wat I’m apable of oing.”

I knelt in front of him.  “Speaking of surprise, I have one for you that you’re probably not going to like.” I showed him a twelve-inch long piece of braided cable that had a smooth rounded tip on one end and a loop on the other.  The cable had special made barbs attached to it spaced every two inches and they faced away from the smooth tip.  “I made this for assholes like you.”

“Get the uck away from me, ew piece of shit!  I’m warning ew!  You’re gonna get ucked up if ew touch me again!”

“You’re in no position to make threats.”

“Even if ew kill me, I have loyal men that will hunt ew down.”

“I’m sure you do.”  I waved the cable.  “You ready?”

“Uck ew!  I’ll shove that up ew ass!”

I lubed up the cable.  “Not the ass, but that’s close to where it does go.”  He started to speak, but paused when I grabbed his dick.  To his horror, I began inserting it into his blow hole.  He might have held back his screaming when I stuck the rod through his face and ripped off his tat, but he was definitely hollering muffled screams as the cable pushed through his urethra and into his prostate.  Justin and Rick were both contemplating if they should run.  I stood up and peered at them as the cable hung out of Joel’s dick.  “I gave you the option to be sedated, so suck it up.”  They looked away as they sat on the couch.  I went back to my backpack and pulled out a small, custom-made winch with a hand crank.  I walked over to Justin and Rick and showed them the tool.  “You wouldn’t believe how much shit I have to carry with me; if I had known, I would have chosen another trade.”

They didn’t respond.

“Come on…  It’s better than having this shit happen to you, right?”

Justin nodded his head.  “Yes, Sir.”

Rick appeared terrified.  “Are you really that death angel dude, or were you just messing with Joel?”

“What do you think?”

“I…  I really don’t know.  I just want to go home.”

Joel shouted out, “He’s ucking street rash!  A ucking aggot tat likes playin’ with men’s cocks!”

“Ignore that loudmouth.  And it really doesn’t matter who I am because I’m not planning on harming either one of you.”  I eyed Joel.  “Speaking of cocks, I’m fixin’ to do shit with yours that’s so sadistic that it would be banned from a snuff film.”

“Uck you, otherucker!  Ew ain’t gonna do shit!”

“You’ll be singing a different tune in a moment.”

“I ain’t gonna be doing shit, mother ucker!”

I mounted the winch on the edge of the deck with clamps, then connected a small diameter cable from the winch to the end of the cable hanging out of Joel’s dick.  He became real excited and started jerking around as I cranked the winch handle.  I stretched his dick until it almost tore in half, then locked it so it would maintain the pressure.

Joel gazed at me with surrender in his eyes.  “Stop!  ease op urting me.”

“I told you that you would be singing a different tune.”

“Okay, okay!  I’ll do whatever ew ask.”

“Hold your breath until you die.”

He looked at me as if I was crazy.  “What?”

“You heard me; kill yourself and I will stop.”

He thought for a moment.  “I on’t want to die.  Pease sop doin dis.”

“Sorry, I’m not a quitter.”

He cut his eyes downward.  “It’s urting really bad.  Pease ave ercy.”

“I’ll give you the same mercy that you give the young girls in your basement.  Does that sound fair?”

That comment caused him to become enraged.  “Uck ew, otherucker!  Ew don’t no sit!”

“I know you take advantage of young girls.”

“Bullshit!  I give those bitches a way off the streets.” 

I shook my head.  “You just don’t know when to shut the fuck up, do you?”  I grabbed a propane torch from my backpack and sat down in his office chair next to him.  I lit the torch, then began burning his dick from the head to the base.  Rick jumped to his feet, but Justin pulled him back to the couch.  I ignored them and Joel’s muffled screams as I cooked his dick like a hotdog at a weenie roast.  Joel passed out about the same time that his flesh started dripping to the floor.  His dick had been burnt so badly that his outer skin was charred and cracked and the under layer of pink skin could be seen through the cracks.  I slapped him a few times to wake him up.  When he came to, I nodded downwards.  “Look at your dick.”

“I can’t, you idiot.  My head is stuck to the wall.”

I held a small mirror in front of him, angling it so he could see his penis.  “Check it out.”

He noticed his penis was still smoking as it was being stretched.  A tear ran down his cheek.  “Why would ew do such a thing?”

“You called me a pole smoker earlier.  I don’t suck dick, and I didn’t want to make a liar out of you, so, your pole is smoking, because I caused it; hence, I am a pole smoker.  And besides, this is what you get for being a child molester.”

He looked like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.  “Uh…”

I knew from his expression that he had been messing with the younger girls.  “Karma is a bitch, ain’t it?” 

He lowered his head.  “I ill ake a deal with ew.  I ave a lot of monee in my safe.  Ew can ave it if ew let me go.”

“You’re not going to get off that easy.  And I still haven’t taken a pound of flesh yet.”

His eyes opened wide.  “What do you mean?”

“The pound of flesh which I demand of you is dearly bought as mine, and I will have it.”

He looked confused.  “Huh?”

“Shakespeare, fool.”

He started to speak, but that quickly changed to muffled screaming as I began slowly cranking the winch.  With each clicking sound that the winch’s locking mechanism made, his penis stretched further and further.  As his penis stretched, the cracks in his charred skin got wider.  The pain had become so intense that his body began to violently shake.  Suddenly, his urethra came popping out of his penis, causing the cable to fall to the floor while encased inside his piss tube.  He looked downwards in horror, noticing his dick continued to stick out from his body.  The outer skin wasn’t elastic anymore from being traumatized, causing it to be rigid. 

Rick lunged from the couch, dragging Justin toward the door.  He grabbed the doorknob, but it was locked.  I whistled.  They both turned their heads and gazed at me with a grimace of terror.  I held up a key.  “I couldn’t risk anyone else joining our little party.”  I pointed back at the couch.  “Sit down.  I’m not done yet.”  I took my knife and sliced Joel’s piss tube down the side, then pulled it off the barbed cable.  I slung the tube toward Justin, causing him to duck his head as it flew past, hitting the wall behind him.

Joel’s eyes were barely open and he was on the verge of passing out, so I gave him another adrenaline shot, knowing it would probably give him a heart attack.  Within seconds he went from being docile to irate.  His heart was beating so hard that I could see his chest pulsating and the veins in his eyes bulging.  He was furious as he stared down at his penis.  Slobber and snot bubbles were hanging from his face as he shouted, “Oh, my God!  Look what ew did to my penis!”  He glared at me.  “I’m oing to rip out ew heart, ew sorry mother ucker!”

I grabbed a device from my backpack and went over to Rick and Justin.  “Check this out.”  I held it up.  “This is a CO2 tire inflator for bicycles.  I picked it up at Walmart the other day.”  I screwed a small metal piece to the nozzle of the inflator, then held it close so they could see it.  “Check it out.  It’s a ball inflation needle that I can stick into Joel.”  I squeezed the handle once, causing air to blast from the tip of the nozzle.  “I’m going to see if I can actually inflate part of his body.”

Rick was covering his mouth.  “Haven’t you already done enough to him?”

I looked at him like he was crazy.  “I was really hoping to try this out on someone.  Maybe I’ll use this on you, since you’re apparently the suffer monitor.”

His eyes got big.  “That’s not what I meant.  You can use it on him.  I don’t care.”

“Well, that’s good.  Now you get to pick the part of his body since you opened your mouth.”

He sat with a horrified expression.  “I…  I don’t want to be a part of this.”

“Tough shit.  Pick a part,”

Rick appeared frightened.  “I…  I…”

“Cat got your tongue?”

Justin interrupted.  “His hand.  Do it to his hand.”

Rick quickly agreed.  “Yeah, his hand.”

“That’s fucking lame.”

Justin shrugged his shoulders.  “How are we supposed to know what you’re thinking?”

“Fair enough.  Just choose between one of his eyes, tongue or his ball sack.”

Rick grabbed his crotch as he thought about what I had said.  “That’s sick.”

I pointed to him.  “Good choice.”  I strolled over to Joel.  “Rick picked your ball sack.”  I laughed as I examined the needle.  “Well, it is for balls, I suppose.”

Joel glared at me as I squatted in front of him.  “Get the uck away from me!”

I wrapped a large zip-tie around the top of his ball sack, then tightened it as tight as I could.  Joel was making a weird howling sound as his balls turned blue.  I glanced up at him.  “Are you as excited as I am to see if this works?”

“Please get it off.”

“I have to leave it on there so the gas doesn’t go into your abdomen.”  I shoved the needle into the upper section of his sack below the zip-tie and right behind the base of his penis.  “Are you ready for this?”

He was desperately trying to move his hips around, but the glue held his body tightly to the wall.  “Don’t do it.  Peas don’t do it.  I beg ew.”

When I pulled the trigger, his sack immediately began swelling like a balloon.  I continued to fill it until all the wrinkles were gone and it was almost double in size.  Joel was drooling at the mouth as he stared at me.  “Oh, my God!  That’s enough!  Ew going to bust it!”

I looked at Rick.  “Whatcha think?  Should I keep going?”

He was looking down.  “I don’t know.”

“Stop looking away.”

He held his hand over his mouth as he peered at Joel, noticing his ball sack was about to burst and his burnt and stretched penis was still sticking outwards from his body.  “That’s sick.”

I pointed to a mirror that was hanging on a wall.  “Bring that over here and hold it in front of Joel—I want him to see how sick this is as well.”

Tears were running down Joel’s face as he stared at his reflection.  Rick and Justin looked as if they wanted to throw up.  I grabbed some tape and another zip-tie from my bag, then taped the inflator to the bottom of his penis to hold it in place so the needle wouldn’t fall out of his sack, then I used the zip-tie to lock the trigger in the on position.  I quickly moved off to the side as Joel’s sack got bigger and bigger—I wasn’t sure if it would explode, causing nut juice to get everywhere.  Rick and Justin started scooting backwards as well, probably thinking the same thing.  I yelled at them.  “Keep the mirror where he can see it!”

They were looking away as Joel stared in horror, watching his sack as it ballooned up larger and larger.  When it got to about three times its normal size his pelvic area began inflating, indicating the gas was escaping into his abdomen.  I used a pair of needle nose pliers and tightened the zip-tie until it was almost tearing into his tender skin.  Joel started shouting muffled screams as his sack increased in size again.  It was now blue and about four times bigger than normal; it looked like he had a blue bouncy ball between his legs.  Suddenly, a pop echoed out and his sack quickly deflated.  I knelt to examine it.  “Damn, fool, you blew a huge hole in the side of your sack.”

Even though Joel was in a lot of pain, he was also outraged.  “I didn’t do shit; ew did that to me, ew sorry mother ucker!”

I took a knife and cut his sack off right below the zip-tie, leaving his testicles hanging by their sperm ducts.  Joel was horrified when I shoved the inflator into one of his testicles.  He screamed, begged and cried at the same time as I filled it with CO2 gas.  When it was about three times larger than normal, blood started squirting out of the end of his penis; the gas had pushed through his prostrate and was blowing out blood that had accumulated from where his urethra had been ripped out.

Joel was in absolute agony as tears flowed from his eyes.  “Please stop!  I beg ew!”

I took my boot knife and sliced off his testicles, stuck them back in his sack, then held it up.  “Thanks for the souvenir, pal.”

His eyes got big as he stared at it.  “Oh, fuck!  Why did ew do that?”

“I told you that I was going to hang these from my rearview mirror.  Besides, you’re not going to need them anyway.”  He was losing a lot of blood, so I sat down next to him with a propane torch.  A thick cloud of rancid smelling smoke engulfed the air as I cooked his bloody wound.  He tried to scream, but the rod in his mouth caused him to start gagging, then without warning, he vomited all over the front of his body.  Rick and Justin started gagging.  I pointed to the couch.  “Get over there before you puke.”  They dropped the mirror and took off. 

Joel was in agony and on the verge of death.  Normally a person would have passed out from all the horrific amount of pain that he had endured, but he had a huge dose of adrenaline pumping through his veins.  I pulled a large syringe out of my pocket and showed it to him.  “Clotting agent for the next part—I don’t want you to bleed to death so quickly.”

“Just kill me.”

“I thought you wanted to live?”

He peered down at his penis.  “You have taken everything from me.”

“Not quite.”  He gagged when I stuck the needle into the side of his neck.  “Believe it or not, I’m fixing to take even more.”  I injected the fluid into his neck.

“Get it out!  Get it out!”

I laughed.  “Ah, needle phobic.”  I began sticking the needle in and out of his neck very slowly.  “You like this, do ya?”

“Oh, my God!  Stop doing that!”

I pointed the needle at his left eye.  “I’m going to suck the fluid out of your eye; what do you think of that?”

He closed his eyes tightly.  “Please don’t, I beg you!”

I stuck the needle through his left eyelid and into his eye.  He tried to open his eyes, then screamed—the needle was holding his eyelid in place.  I pulled back on the plunger and sucked out the fluid, then pushed it back in, filling his eyeball back up.  When I pulled out the needle, he immediately began blinking his eyes.  “Oh, shit!  What did you do?”

“I sucked out your fluid, then put it back in.”

He looked as if he was going to vomit again.  “Please stop!  Ew made ew point!”

I quickly stuck the needle in the same eye before he had a chance to close it.  “Here, I’ll do it again.”  He tried to move his head, but I held it still.  I pulled back on the plunger with my thumb.  “Feel that?  That’s your fluid being sucked out.”  He wasn’t making much noise.  I think he was so grossed out that he was trying to go to his special place.  “I think that’s about all of it.  Do you want me to fill it back up?”

“Just get it out!”

“If that’s what you want.  It’s your eye.”  I pulled out the needle, then shoved it into his top lip and pumped half of the fluid in it, then stuck it in his bottom lip and pumped in the remaining fluid.  I stood back and started laughing.  I glanced over at Rick and Justin.  “Check out this Steven Tyler looking motherfucker.”  They were speechless as they stared in disgust.  Joel was still holding his eyes closed.  I tapped him on the forehead.  “Open your fucking eyes before I drain your other eyeball.”

“Okay, okay.  I’ll do whatever you ask if you don’t stick me with the needle anymore.”

“And if you don’t, you’re going to get stuck anyway.”

He was only able to open his right eye.  “My eye is hurting really bad.”

“Open it before I cut off your eyelid.”

He began making weird noises as he held it open.  “Please let me close it.”

I surveyed his eyeball.  “Damn, dude, it looks like a shriveled-up raisin.”

“Please let me close it.  I’m begging you.”

He seemed to be more grossed out about his eye than his dick and balls, or the lack of.  “That’s fine—I’m past the needle stuff anyway.”

He quickly closed his eyes.  “Thank you for showing mercy.”

“Don’t get too excited, pal, I haven’t taken my pound of flesh yet.”

He opened his right eye and noticed I was holding a scalpel.  “Please don’t do anything else to me!  You’ve taught me a lesson.”

To his horror, I started cutting into his forehead with the scalpel.  I cut a continuous gash across his forehead, down his neck, across his left shoulder, then down the top of his left arm.  When I got to his thumb, I cut all the way around it, then around each of his fingers.  I ran the blade on the underside of his arm, around his armpit, across his left side to his hip, then to his left foot.  I cut around each of his toes, then up the inside of his left leg to his crotch.  I did his right side the same way, finally ending the gash on his forehead where I had started.  I had cut a continuous gash all the way around his body, separating the front side of his skin from the backside.  I knew his heart was on the verge of shutting down, so I shoved my fingers into the gash on his forehead, then ripped the skin off his face.

“Oh, my God,” shouted Justin as he noticed Joel’s right eye was rolling around inside his head that was now just a bloody raw piece of meat with no eyelids, nose or lips.  Joel started hollering muffled screams when I pulled his flesh from his shoulders and arms.  Rick and Justin were staring in horror as I pulled at his skin with all my strength, now ripping it from his chest down to his waist.  When I began ripping off the skin on his legs, Joel was barely moaning as he was on the verge of death, hanging on the wall in a horrendous amount of pain.  I hung his skin on the wall next to his grim reaper tattoo.  Rick began sobbing when he noticed Joel’s eye was still moving, indicating he was still conscious.  Justin was turned sideways looking away as tears ran down his cheeks. 

I picked up all my stuff, then shouldered my backpack.  I walked over to Justin and Rick.  “How do I get to the rear section of the platform in the basement?”

A frightened expression came over Justin.  “You gonna kill us now?”

“Not unless you want me to.”

Rick wiped some tears from his face.  “Justin wouldn’t know; he’s not been here long.  And I was kept out of the loop.”

“What about that skank?”

Rick looked confused.  “Which one?”

I thought for a moment.  “I see what you mean.  The blond with a mustache.”

“Huh?”

“Big head with German looking features.”

“Amanda.”  He smiled.  “You’re right about skank—if she had as many pricks sticking out of her as she had in her, she would look like a fucking porcupine.”

Justin elbowed Rick.  “Hush!”

Rick got serious.  “What about her?”

“She took me down to the basement earlier.  She probably knows how to get to the rear section.”

I looked at peered Justin.  “Call her.”

“I don’t have her number.”

“Of course, you don’t—she’s not a dude.”

Rick pulled out his cell phone.  “What do you want me to tell her?”

“Tell her to meet you at the dumpster out back in thirty minutes.  Say you have a way to make both of you a wad of cash.”

He started to make the call, then paused and gazed at me with a frightful look.

“Dude, if I was going to kill you, you would already be dead.”  He peered at his phone while sitting dumbfounded.  I knew what he was thinking.  “I’m not waiting until I’m done with you.”

He took a deep breath.  “Okay.  I’ll do it.”  He made the call.

I pointed at the woman passed out on the couch.  “I need y’all to carry her.”  I removed their cuffs.

Rick pointed at Tito, who was awake and looking around.  “What about him?”

“Oh, yeah, thanks.”  I pulled out my silenced pistol and shot numerous holes in his legs.  I had the two guys carry the girl to the window I came in, then down the fire escape.  When we came to the dumpster I had them put her inside, then had them sit in the bottom.  I was looking over the top.  “Good job fellas.  Now I need any items that can identify either of you.”

Rick pulled out his wallet, then handed me his driver’s license and two credit cards.  “This is all I have.”

I motioned with my fingers.  “Wallet too.”

He handed it over.  “I need my money—my mom is sick, and I take care of her.”

I pulled out the money and handed it to him.  I noticed a receipt hanging from his wallet.  I viewed it, then glanced at him.  “See, this has your name on it.”

“I forgot that was in there.”

I regarded Justin.  “What about you?”

He was hesitant.  “I…  I don’t have a license or credit cards.  Nothing like that.”

“Give me what you have.”

He glanced down as he handed me several laminated cards.  I examined them and noticed they were memberships to gay clubs around the area.  “Is this it?”

He nodded to say yes.

“Hand me a box.”

Rick handed me one.  “Please don’t do this—we haven’t done anything to you.”

“All will be well.  Stop worrying.”  I tossed their items in the box.  “Your stuff is in here.  I’m gonna stick it…”  I looked around for a moment.  “…behind the AC condenser at the rear of Redden’s Rat Rod and Speed Shop.” 

They had a look of horror as I pointed my tranquilizer gun at them.  “You’ll wake up in several hours.”

Justin started to speak, but I shot a dart into him, then Rick.  I closed the lid and installed a padlock in case it was garbage day.

Glory Hole from Hell

Wyatt held his hand out to get Seth’s attention.  “Did you really do that to Joel?”

“Of, course.  I’m not a liar.”

“That’s not what I meant.  What you did is hard to imagine.  It’s very sadistic and barbaric.”

“Sure, it is, but he got what he deserved.”

“Where do you come up with such disgusting stuff?”

“It’s a gift.”

“I’m being serious.  Most people would never even think about something like that, much less do it.”

“I’m not most people.”

“I understand that, but how do you come up with it?”

“It really does come naturally.  And that wasn’t my first rodeo.  I’ve been doing this for a long time, and I hate being repetitious, so I think of other ways to torture these assholes to break up the monotony.”

“You make it sound like it’s a normal day on the job.”

“It’s just what I do.  Sometimes it’s quick and simple; sometimes I go to the extreme.”

“What determines that?”

“It’s based on what type of scumbag I’m dealing with and how heinous their crime was.”

“Justin and Rick didn’t seem like bad people.”

“You’re right, and that’s why I didn’t harm ‘em.”

“What happened to them?”

“I was going to get to that at the end of the story.  They were found by police officers shortly after.”

“How would they know to look in the dumpster?  I would have thought the fire would have killed them, or at least from smoke inhalation.”

Seth laughed.  “Because I spray painted, ‘Caution: Live People Inside’.  The fire didn’t harm them because I rolled the dumpster down the alleyway for several blocks, then left it in the middle of a street so they would be found.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “Why would you risk that?”

“Risk what?”

“Alerting the cops to the club.”

“That’s why I took anything that could identify them.  They were out cold, and remained that way for another two hours.  At first, the cops had no idea who they were, where they had come from, or the reason they were in the dumpster.  They didn’t find that out until they were awake, and by then I was long gone.”

“That makes sense, but what about the woman?  You didn’t check her.”

Seth laughed.  “She was nude.  And that’s probably why Joel didn’t want to answer when Justin knocked.”

Wyatt laughed when he thought about the facial expression of the cops when they had opened the dumpster.  “I would have liked to been a fly on the wall when they were finally able to tell what happened.”

“I’m sure they were hysterical and rambling on about what I did to Joel.  Maybe we’ll read about it in the paper one day.”  Seth lit a cigarette and got comfortable as he laid back in his recliner.  “Any more questions before I finish the story?”

Wyatt was in the process of pouring whiskey in his glass.  He quickly set the bottle down.  “Yes…  It’s strange how you can be so cruel to some, but show compassion for others.”

“Compassion is what separates me from the scumbags.  Believe it or not, there is one side of me that is giving, caring and respectful.  The other side runs parallel with the most horrifying and sadistic shit that you would expect to find in hell.”

Wyatt started to pour whiskey into his glass, then changed his mind and took a swig straight from the bottle.  He set the bottle next to him in the chair.  “You apparently set the building on fire, but what happened before that?”

“When I came back from pushing the dumpster away, I waited in the alleyway for Amanda.  She finally came out around ten minutes later.  I didn’t have a lot of time to fuck around, so I put my silenced pistol to her head.  “Take me to the under part of the platform.  And if you make one fucking sound or unexpected movement, I will put several bullets in your head.”

She held her hands out.  “I’ll do whatever you ask.  Please don’t hurt me.”

“Let’s go—I don’t have all night.”  She led me to a side door.  From there, we went down a hallway then down a staircase that led to a room.  The room was small and had some benches and lockers on one side.  There was a man sleeping on one of the benches; he looked like another hired thug.  I pulled out my tranquilizer gun and shot a dart into him; he never woke up.

The woman spun around and glared at me.  “What did you do?”

I could hear a ruckus going on upstairs.  I scrutinized her as I holstered my dart gun.  “What the fuck is all that noise?”

“Hey, you’re that dude from earlier.  Joel will kill you for being down here.”  She peered at the man on the bench.  “And what did you do to Raymond?”

“Shot him with a tranquilizer dart so he wouldn’t cause any problems.  And as far as Joel, he got fucked up real bad.”

“What happened to him?”

The noise was getting louder.  “What’s going on up there?”

She appeared distraught.  “Some of the assholes are getting rowdy because Joel’s men are not around to keep the peace.”  She thought for a moment.  “That explains why they left.  They must be with him.”  She glared at me.  “So, you think you can take advantage also?  Joel is not the only one you had to worry about.  Charlie and the men will come after you if you don’t leave.”

I shook my head.  “I don’t think so; unless they turn into zombies.”

“What?  Are they dead or something?”

“You can say that.”

“What happened to them?”

“They got gutted, stabbed, shot, scalped and skinned.”

She put her hand over her mouth.  “Oh, my gosh!  Who did it?”

“Some psychopath.”

“Are all of them dead?”

“Well, no…  Justin and Rick are fine.”

“Why would someone do such a thing?”

“They seemed like okay guys.”  I was being a smartass.

“No, why were the others killed?”

I looked across the room at a door that had several locks.  I nodded toward it.  “Because of what’s behind that door.”

She glanced down.  “Oh.”

I put my gun to her head.  “I should kill your ass also.”

“Also?”  Her eyes got big—she realized I was the psycho.

“And you might be next.”

“I just…”

“Shut the fuck up!”  I strolled over to the door and grabbed one of the padlocks.  “Unlock it and get the girls out of here.”

“I don’t have the key.”

I shoved her against the wall, pulled out my sickle and stuck the blade to her neck.  I peered directly into her eyes.  “Do you know who I am?”

She shook her head as she stared back at me with fear.  “No.”

“They call me The Angel of Death.”

Her eyes got big.  “Please don’t kill me.  I …”

“Hush!  Normally I would have gutted and skinned your ass alive, but I need you to get these girls out of here.”

She nodded her head.  “I will.  I will get them out of here.”

“And you need to heed this warning.  If I find you working in another club, on the streets or even in a dirty bookstore, I will fuck you up beyond comprehension.  Do you understand?”

Tears were running down her face.  “Yes.”

“And you better make sure you find help for these girls.  Don’t just leave them on the streets so some other lowlife can take advantage of them.  I’m giving you a second chance that I seldom give to anyone.  If you fail, I will hunt you down and make you suffer in ways that not even your worst nightmare could conjure up.”

“I will do it.  I promise.”

I could see in her eyes that she understood, so I removed my sickle and holstered it.  “Is there a way to shut off the lights on the platform?”

She pointed to a light switch.  “It turns off the upper and lower lights.”

“What about in this room?”

“The switch is over there.”  She pointed to it.

“How do I get under the platform?”

“Through the same door.”

“Who’s down there sucking off the cocks?”

“Adult men and women.  But they aren’t giving real blowjobs.  They use rubber sleeves.  The pervs don’t know otherwise.”

“Unlock the door.”

She went over to Raymond and pulled a set of keys out of his pocket as I walked over and turned off the light switches.  A moment later, she unlocked the door.  “Now what?” 

“Don’t open it yet.”  I grabbed several long piercing rods from my backpack.  “When I open the door, get the girls out without making a lot of noise.  And take them to a safe place away from this building.”  She seemed distraught.  “Are you fucking listening?”

“Yes.”

“Make sure you get them away from this building.  I’m going to burn it to the ground.”

“I will.”

When I opened the door, I noticed the raised platform divided the upper part of the doorway from the bottom.  I crawled under the platform as she told the girls to come down.  I turned on my flashlight and noticed there were three women and two men under the deck.  One of the men and two of the women were jerking off dicks.  The others were sitting on the floor with their back against the wall reading their Kindles.  I waved my light around, motioning for them to exit.  “Get the fuck out!”

They didn’t hesitate as they quickly crawled toward the door.  I knew the perverts couldn’t see the girls were gone because it was dark, so they had no idea that there was a problem.  I quickly crawled over to the first dick that was protruding through a hole and grabbed it.  I took one of the five-inch-long piercing rods and shoved it through the guy’s dick as close as I could get it to the wall; he was jammed up tight and screaming for help.  The next guy pulled his dick out before I could grab it, but then stuck it back in the hole.  I guess he thought the other guy was screaming from pleasure.  Before he changed his mind again, I stuck a rod through his dick.  The third guy was getting antsy, and as he stroked the hole, I could hear him cursing and bitching over the other guys screams.  I grabbed his dick and pulled back on it as hard as I could, shoved a rod through the base, then bent it backwards until I heard it pop.  All three perverts were hollering and screaming for help as I exited the room.  I shined my light on the upper platform to verify the girls were gone.  I did a double take when the light struck the face of one of the perverts through the peep show window.  He was moving his mouth quickly as he was apparently yelling for help.  I moved my light to the next pervert; all I could see was the top of his head as he was looking down, apparently trying to figure out how to get his dick out of the hole.  When I looked at the last guy, I could see there was someone in the room with him.  The person was looking down as the pervert was covering his face with both hands.  I quickly ran over to my backpack and grabbed a large plastic bottle filled with homemade, flammable fluid.  I doused the upper and lower sections of the platform, then tossed in a road flare.  A huge fireball erupted, engulfing the entire area.  The perverts were screaming at the top of their lungs as their penises were being burned.  When I got outside, I noticed people were running from the front of the building and smoke was bellowing out some of the windows on the upper floor.  I could still hear the perverts screaming, but now they were being burned to death.  Suddenly, I heard someone yelling from up above.  I looked around, then noticed it was Tito; he was on the fire escape.  He tried to climb down the ladder, but wound up falling to the ground right in front of me.  When he noticed me, he started crawling away, shouting for me to get away from him.  I shot several rounds in his head with my silenced pistol, then took off down an alleyway, disappearing into the night.”

Wyatt wrote a few things in his notebook, then glanced at Seth.  “That was kind of messed up what you did to the three guys in the basement.”

“Do you think I went overboard?”

“Maybe.”

“Why?”

“I can understand why you went after Joel, but they hadn’t really done anything.”

“So, you think it’s okay for grown men to get off on under-aged girls?”

“Not at all.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Their punishment didn’t really fit the crime.”

“They were child molesters in my book.  If they were willing to do that, then they would have no problem sexually assaulting a child, if they hadn’t already.  I just eliminated some predators as far as I’m concerned.”

“I didn’t think of it that way.”  Wyatt viewed a news article.  “It says here that one of the men had his penis ripped in half.  It doesn’t say anything about the other two or any details about what happened to Joel and his men except that they had been tortured.” 

“He was probably one of the perverts that got a rod stuck through his dick.  He must have ripped it apart and fled before the fire got to him.  The police apparently couldn’t stop the pissed off pervert from spilling the beans, but it’s obvious they’re going to keep the rest of it from the public eye, for now anyway.”

“I’m sure he was upset.”

“You betcha.”  Seth laughed.  “A pervert with no dick, go figure.  That’s what he gets for sticking his dick in a glory hole from hell.”

Wyatt glanced at the article again.  “Tito lived.”

“And that’s what I get for using a .22.”

“I’m surprised you carry that small of a caliber.”

“It’s not always about killing these fuckers.  Fucking them up in ways that are unthinkable makes them wish they were dead.  It was more important to be stealthy than anything else.  A silenced .22 is so quiet that the only noise it makes when fired is from the slide as it ejects the spent round and loads another.  If I need more firepower, I can use my Springfield XDM .40 that is equipped with a sixteen-round magazine.  If I need maximum firepower I can turn to my 5.56mm pistol, but it’s on the other side of the DB range; the damn thing actually causes hearing loss, but the thirty-round magazine makes up for it.  And as far as Tito goes, I couldn’t care less if the faceless fuck lived or died as long as he’s fucked up.  If I wanted him dead, I would have cut his head off.”  Seth nodded toward Wyatt.  “I haven’t had the chance to read the paper.  What happened to that fucker?”

“He’s at Presbyterian University Hospital.  He’s going to need a partial face transplant, and he’s paralyzed from the waist down.”

“Good.  Anything about the under-aged girls?”

“Nothing.”

“Hopefully that Amanda bitch found them a safe place.  I will follow up on that later.  What about Justin and Rick?”

“Just mentions that there were people found hiding in a secured location.”  Wyatt looked up at Seth.  “Doesn’t say anything about a dumpster or what happened to them.  How did you know that the cops had found them?”

“After I set the building on fire I went and checked on them.  When I got there two bicycle cops had already found them and called the paramedics.”

“Apparently, they’re not going to tell how you allowed them to live.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“I don’t know why I’m curious, considering all the other shit that took place, but did you leave their stuff behind the AC unit?”

“I said I was going to, and I did.  I actually felt sorry for the bastards and left them around thirty thousand dollars in the box.”

Wyatt just stared at Seth.

“I took it from Joel’s safe.”

Wyatt laughed.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I do.  I’m just thinking about Justin and how he didn’t like you being homophobic.”

Seth glared at Wyatt.  “I don’t want to hear that word, or any other kinds of phobia labels come out of your mouth again.”

Wyatt was concerned.  “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“That’s not it.  I have an issue with how it’s become the norm that if someone doesn’t like what another person does, they have a phobia.  That kind of attitude is what’s wrong with our country.  I hate fucking child molesters.  It’s not because I’m a molesterphobe; it’s because I don’t like fucking perverts sticking their dicks into kids.  If someone doesn’t like homosexuality because they feel it goes against nature, or against their beliefs or personal values, it’s not because they’re homophobic, it’s because they don’t like fucking queers; it’s simply a difference in views.  I personally don’t care what homos do to each other behind closed doors.  I just don’t want to see them prancing around in the streets shoving their views in my face, just as I don’t like heterosexuals fondling each other in public.  And don’t even get me started on political correctness.  That fucking ideology is turning everyone into a bunch of whiny-ass crybabies.  Just like how everyone in the younger generation gets a freakin’ trophy regardless of how they do.  Rewarding the ones that don’t do anything just enforces their belief that they will get something for little to no effort.  That mentality will carry over into adulthood, causing an over-inflated sense of self-worth with entitlement issues.  And don’t even get me started on the race-baiting blacks, or the lazy welfare fucks and border jumpers that are destroying this country.”

Wyatt felt bad getting Seth riled up.  “I won’t say anything like that again.”

“Please do—I love to ramble on about that kind of shit.”  Seth laughed.

“I’ll remember that.”

Seth leaned back in his recliner.  “Anything else?”

Wyatt shook his head.  “No.  I understand where you’re coming from with the politically correct stuff.”

“Not that, the newspaper.”

“Oh…  Nothing else, except for the police will be conducting a full investigation and will be working closely with a special task force.”

Seth put his arm behind his head to get comfortable.  “I’m sure they are.”

Human Gastropod

Jim and his men quickly exited the elevator and took a tactical position in the hallway on the eighteenth floor.  Jim motioned to Thomas.  “Send the elevator back down.”

Thomas stepped inside the elevator and pressed the first-floor button, then dropped to one knee next to Jim.  He brought his AR15 up to a combat ready position while utilizing the rifle’s holographic sight.  When the elevator door opened, Jim signaled to the arriving officers to hold their position.  He pointed down the hallway as he softly spoke into his microphone.  “Our target is in the last room on the right.  And remember, Mr. Carter is in there so verify your target before firing.”  Jim led the group down the hallway.  When he approached the room, he motioned for everyone to hug the wall and stay low.  Ron slid a surveillance camera under the door.  Jim was holding the monitor.  “To your right.” 

Ron slowly moved the flexible shaft to the right.  Jim flipped a switch on the monitor, changing it to infrared.  “Ease to the left…  Hold.  Two people.  One in a chair to the right, one straight ahead sitting on a couch…  There is movement.”  Jim looked closer at the monitor.  “The person on the right is making a strange arm movement.”

Another officer moved his fist back and forth next to his crotch, indicating that the person appeared to be jacking off.  Jim thought the same thing as he scrutinized the monitor.  When he gave the signal for them to move in, two men knocked the door off its hinges, then everyone stormed the room with their weapons drawn.

“It’s a set up,” shouted Ron when he noticed it was a manikin on the couch and a deceased man in a recliner.

Another officer came out of the restroom.  “The room is clear.  No sign of our target or Mr. Carter.”

Ron walked up to Jim as he was staring at the man in the recliner.  “Sorry, Jim.  We’ll get him next time.”

“Look at this shit.  This fucker never ceases to amaze me with his sadistic bullshit.”

Ron knew Jim was upset—he usually didn’t use profanity.  “I don’t know what to say.”

“What the fuck is there to say?”  Jim marched off.

Ron shook his head as he gazed upon a disturbing sight.  The deceased man was naked and his body had been sewn to the recliner.  There was mechanical device mounted on the side of his recliner and it had an arm that was attached to his right arm, causing it to move up and down as if he was pleasuring himself.  The man had twine, or string like material, coming in and out of punctured holes in his skin.  It would come out of one hole, then enter another hole where it would then run in long lengths under the man’s flesh.  The twine could be seen under the man’s skin throughout his body.  It was running back and forth the full length of his arms and legs, only exiting and reentering puncture holes at his elbows and knees.  His chest and abdomen had so much of the twine under the skin it resembled a spider’s webbing.  Twine was coming out of the man’s nose, mouth and ears, making big loops as it had been ran back and forth through the open cavities.  The twine material could be seen running under the skin on his face, and it didn’t detour around his eyes; it came out from under his eyelids, crossed over his eyeballs, then reentered on the other side.  Ron started to walk away, but something caught his eye.  “Jim!  Get over here.”

Jim and a couple of officers were examining a large box-shaped item that was covered with a blanket.  Jim held his hand out.  “Don’t touch it.  It could be booby-trapped.  I’ll get the bomb squad up here.”  He walked over to Ron.  “What is it?”

Ron pointed to the item that the corpse was sliding its hand up and down on.  “Check that out.”

“Is that what I think it is?”  He yelled at Thomas to come over.

Thomas strolled up.  “Yes, Sir.”

He pointed at the object.  “Is that your…”

Thomas blurted out, “That’s my fucking flashlight that I had dropped.  That son of a bitch!”

Jim grabbed his shoulder.  “Stand guard at the door.”  Jim motioned to four officers.  “Check the building—he still might be here.”

Another officer walked up and got Jim’s attention.  “I located the wireless microphone that we gave to Mr. Carter.”

“Where’s it at?”

“In the bathroom sitting on the counter.  There’s something else, Sir.”

“What?”

“It’s sitting next to a recorder that’s playing back a prerecorded conversation.”

Jim shook his head.  “Of course, it is.”

Ron gawked at the officer.  “Did you find Carter’s tracking device?”

“No, Sir, but the receiver indicates it’s somewhere in this room.”

“Bag the mic and recorder.  We’ll find the tracking device later.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Ron turned to Jim.  “That explains what we heard over the intercom.”

“Yeah, I know.  This is one tricky bastard we’re…”

Suddenly, the man in the recliner opened his eyes and screamed out an ear-piercing wail.  Jim and Ron were shocked when they noticed he was alive.  A couple of officers started to run over to him, but Ron motioned for them to stand back.  “Stop!  He could be booby-trapped!”  He knelt and looked into the man’s eyes.  “Sir, we’ll get you help.  Just remain calm.”

The man lifted his head and stared at Ron with a grimace of terror.  “Kill me!”

Ron turned and regarded some of the other officers.  “Get the paramedics up here, now!”

One of the officers spoke out.  “Already done, Sir.  They’re in the elevator as we speak.”

The man was in a lot of pain and he was having difficulty moving his eyes—the twine was rubbing against them.  When he noticed Jim, he pointed at him and spoke in a raspy voice.  “Back off…  You have what you wanted.”  His arm dropped to his side and he closed his eyes, then he began moaning.

Jim felt nauseated.  “What the hell was that about?”

Ron pulled the mechanical device from the man’s arm.  “He’s weak and not very coherent.  We can question him later.”  Ron noticed a buzzing sound.  “Something’s not right.”  He looked around, then noticed the twine like material was running from the man’s leg to a black box mounted on the side of the recliner.  He jumped to his feet and shouted, “Bomb!!!”  About the time he started to take a step, the twine ignited.  The man in the recliner screamed as the flame entered his body.

Jim grabbed Ron’s arm as he was turning to run.  “Hold up!  It’s fuses!”

Ron glanced at Jim, then back at the man.  “What?”

“The string like material is fuse.  He’s going to burn to death from the inside if we don’t stop it.”

They noticed the flame was moving at a very slow pace under the man’s skin between his knee and hip, heading upwards.  As the flame moved along the fuse, it was burning his flesh, leaving a charred line of burnt skin behind it.  Ron peeped at Jim in a panic.  “What do we do?”

Jim pressed his hand down on the man’s leg in front of the fuse, but the flame didn’t stop.  He lifted his hand and wiped it on his side—the flame had burned him through the man’s skin.  “Shit, that didn’t work!”

Ron had a horrified expression when he noticed the fuse joined with more fuses at the man’s lower abdomen.  “Jim!”  He pointed.  “The fuse will ignite all the other ones.”

Jim pulled out a knife and started to cut the man’s flesh to sever the fuse, but the flame instantly shot up the remaining portion of his leg, igniting the other fuses that were running to all the other parts of his body.  Ron and Jim had to step back as bright flames moved quickly under the man’s skin in all directions.  The man was screaming at the top of his lungs and he was violently shaking as charred marks were being created all over his body.  It looked as if invisible people were drawing lines all over him with black markers.

Ron shouted out, “What can I do, Jim?”

Jim looked away as smoke bellowed from the man’s body.  He tossed his knife across the room in anger.  “Gosh dammit!”

Ron stared in horror as the flames entered the man’s face.  He was in so much pain that he was tearing the stitches between his body and chair as he was arching his back.  Ron covered his mouth when the flames blackened the man’s eyes.  Seconds later he let out his last dying breath.  Jim turned to Ron as the smell of burnt flesh filled the room.  “There was nothing we could have done.  Skull set this up to happen this way.  He knew I would try to cut the fuse before it reached the others.  That’s why he changed it to a fast burning one.”

Ron marched to the door and yelled to the officers.  “It’s all clear.”

Jim keyed up on his radio.  “What’s your status?”

“The building is clear.  All the rooms have been checked.”

“Regroup here in room 1822.”

“Ten-four.”

Jim walked back over to Ron as the officers and paramedics came walking into the room.  He got everyone’s attention.  “I need the building swept for evidence.”

One of the officers got Jim’s attention.  “Sir?”

“Go ahead.”

The man handed him a plastic container.  “This was in the waste basket.”

Jim examined it for a moment, then became angry.  He held it up so everyone could see it.  It was an empty package.  The label showed a picture of a large afro and the description read, “Supa Mac Daddy Pimp Fro.”  He tossed the package back at the officer.  “Gosh dammit!  That was Skull in the elevator wearing the fucking Afro.”

All the men gawked at each other.

Ron got everyone’s attention.  “Now you see what this individual is capable of doing.  I want five of you to sweep the inside and outside of this building again.  I want another five to sweep the block.”  Ron turned to the paramedics.  “Go back outside and wait for further instructions.”

Jim addressed the remaining group.  “Let’s not touch anything else in this room.  We’ll let CSI take it from here.”

Thomas yelled out.  “Jim!  Come quick!”

Jim looked over and noticed the blanket had been removed from the large box that was sitting in the center of the room.  He walked over, then fell to his knees, shouting, “Oh, my God!  What has he done?”

Ron quickly ran over.  His mouth fell wide open as he gazed upon the most barbaric and horrifying sight that he had ever seen.  There was a nude man with no arms or legs secured in the center of a glass box that was inside another glass box.  The inside box was slightly larger than the man’s torso and the outer box was slightly larger than the inside one.  The inside box was being supported by numerous two-inch-long steel rods that were secured between the glass panels, creating a two-inch gap.  A webbing material filled the gaps between the two boxes.  The corners of the outside box were lined with angle iron and the entire unit sat on casters.  The man inside was alive.  He was being supported in the center of the inside box by pieces of fishing line; there were thousands of them.  The fishing lines were secured to glued-attachment points on the glass and on the other end they were connected to hooks that were inserted throughout the man’s body.  His eyes had been sewn open and he was looking around, but it appeared that he couldn’t see out.  His body had been mutilated in ways that were incomprehensible; his tongue was missing and each of his cheeks had been cut away, leaving thick scar tissue lining the openings.  The ends of his nubs had been sewn closed with thick, black thread and he had numerous scars throughout his torso, and the black thread that was used to sew them closed was left in place.  He had a small tube hanging from the end of his penis and a large hose coming out of his lower abdomen.  The tubing and hose both ran to a collection box under the glass box.  Another tube exited the upper portion of his stomach and ran over to a port in the side of the glass box; it appeared to be a feeding port.  The inside of the glass box had numerous electronic sensors, wiring and gadgets.  There was a control panel behind the man that had switches and flashing lights.  Multiple antique looking spear guns were secured at an angle, and they were facing the man’s body and head.  There was an external oxygen tank mounted on the outside of the box, and a hose ran from it to a control box with a digital readout on the inside.

Ron reached down and grabbed Jim’s shoulder.  “I have no words.  This is one sick son of a bitch that we’re dealing with.”

Jim looked up with a distraught expression.  “It’s John.”

“What?”

“It’s my partner, John.”

Ron turned to Thomas.  “Get Jim out of here.”

Jim held his hand up.  “No.  I have to do this.”  He stood up, looking away from the contraption.  “Everyone out.”  He grabbed Ron’s shoulder.  “Stay.”

Thomas stopped at the door and turned around.  “Sorry, Jim.  I…  I accidentally pulled the blanket off.”

Jim motioned for him to go.  He turned to Ron.  “I have what I wanted.”

Ron was feeling nauseated as he gazed at Jim.  “What, Jim?”

“That’s what the man in the chair said.  “I have what I wanted.  He was talking about John.”  Jim surveyed his old partner and all the wiring and devices that surrounded him.  “It’s booby-trapped.  I don’t know how we’re going to get him out of there.”  He waved his hand in front of the glass.  “He can’t see me.  It appears there’s a mirrored finish on the inside.  I wonder if he knows I’m here.”  He tapped on the glass and yelled, “John!”  Suddenly, a light flashed inside the box and a buzzer sounded for a moment.

“Jim, that’s not a good idea.”

“I know.  The damn thing must have sensors.”

Ron stepped to the rear of the box.  “Come check this out.”

Jim walked around to the back.  “What did you find?”

Ron pointed to a large brass plate with engraved writing that was secured to the box.  “Fucking Skull left this as an instruction book so we would know that the box is tamperproof.  It says there is pressurized gas between the two boxes.  If the pressure decreases, the pressure sensors will send a signal to the control box, causing the spear guns to fire.”

“He must have done that to prevent us from drilling it.”

“It looks that way.  And that’s probably why the pressure between the boxes is not stated.  If we knew it, we could drill it in a pressure-induced environment.  The wire webbing is another deterrent in drilling.  It states the different strands of the wiring have different polarities and they will send a signal to the control box if shorted together or cut.”

Jim took a deep breath.  “There’s got to be a way around it.”

“The webbing and gas pressure aren’t the only obstacles we have to worry about; there are motion sensors as well.  There’s also a sensor that detects knocks, and a sensor…”  Ron looked up.  He shouted, “Yes.”  The light and buzzer went off.  “Location.”  The light and buzzer went off again.  Ron glanced at Jim.  “Word recognition, so we can’t communicate with John through asking questions.  He can’t even reply through a body movement for yes or no due to the motion sensors.”  Ron pointed to the control panel.  “See, the digital read out is now at three.  I don’t know how many chances we get.”  He walked back to the brass plate.  “This is important.  We do have control of his oxygen, feeding and waste.  The digital read out will tell us when to refill the oxygen tank.”

Jim’s eyes got big.  “That’s it.  We can gain access where the oxygen line enters the box.”

Ron shook his head.  “Skull has already thought of that.  The directions state that the hose is protected by sensors that are hidden.”

“This is bullshit!”

“We can feed him by forcing liquids into the portal on the side of the box with a syringe.  His waste can be collected by simply pulling out the bottom tray.”

Jim became upset.  “It’s like a gosh damn guinea pig cage!”

Ron took a deep breath.  “I know it fucking sucks, but we’ll find a way to get him out.”  Ron walked back in front.  “Skull must have just closed up this thing.  John is wearing Carter’s tracking device around his neck.”

Jim shook his head.  “Look at him.  He’s going to be no better off outside this damn contraption.  Skull turned him into a fucking human gastropod.”

The Molester’s Teeter Totter

Wyatt noticed the sun was coming up as light began creeping through the window.  Now that the darkness of the night was slipping away, the room was becoming brighter, allowing him to clearly see Seth for the first time.  He was surprised that Seth looked like a normal man.  His brown and gray hair was cut short and neatly groomed and he had a medium length goatee.  He was wearing a black button shirt tucked into slightly worn blue jeans and brown, square-toed western boots.  Wyatt stood up and stretched.  He went over to the window and leaned against the wall.  “I’m curious about something.”

“About what?”

“You carry some odd things with you.”

“Like?”

“For starters, the winch, epoxy, and the cable thing that you used on Joel.  It doesn’t make sense that you would be toting that stuff around.”

Seth laughed.  “It does when you do the shit that I do.”

“It just seems strange.”

“Not really.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “I understand the winch I guess, that’s obvious, but why would you be carrying around the epoxy?”

“I keep it and the cable handy in case I run across perverts.  I can tell you some more stories about the epoxy later, perhaps about Earl since he was the one who inspired me to use it in the first place.”  Seth stood up and walked to the door.  “I need to go take a leak.  I’ll be back in a bit.” 

Wyatt noticed Seth was tall, around six feet two, and he appeared to be in shape for a man in his late forties.  Seth walked out of the room and down the hallway.  Wyatt glanced at his watch, then moved the curtain back.  Confusion overcame him as he peered outside.  He released the curtain, then stepped away holding his mouth.  He went over and sat on the edge of his chair, then stood right back up.  He exhibited a worried expression as he began pacing back and forth.  Sweat was starting to drip from his face as he walked back to the window and looked out.  He jumped, letting the curtain fall when Seth came back into the room.  Seth strolled over to his recliner and began picking up his belongings.  Wyatt opened the curtain again while looking over at him.  “I don’t understand.”

Seth picked up a duffel bag that was sitting on the floor next to his chair.  “Oh, yeah.  I had stopped the elevator when you were on your way up.  I gassed you, then moved you while you were asleep.”

Wyatt was shocked.  “Why would you do that to me?”

“Because Jim and his posse had you wired and they were tracking you.  But you already knew that.”

Wyatt looked as if he had been caught red-handed.  “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say nothing.  I wouldn’t have expected otherwise.  And I know Jim can be very persuasive.”

Wyatt gazed out the window.  “Where are we?  We’re next to an ocean.”

Seth put on a ball cap, then walked to the door and turned around.  “Miami.”

Wyatt’s mouth fell open.  “What?”

“I kept you unconscious for a while.”

He glanced at his watch, then back at Seth.

“For twenty-four hours to be exact.  I reset the date on your watch.”  Seth pointed to Wyatt’s things.  “Get your stuff.  We’re out of here.”

Wyatt was speechless as he gathered his belongings.  All sorts of things were running through his mind as he tried to process what had happened.  He picked up his bag and walked to the door.  “Where’re we going?”

Seth strolled into the hallway and turned around.  “On a road trip.”

“To where?”

“Do you want a story?”

“Of course, I do; that’s why I’m here.”

“Then there is no better way to get it than to see things firsthand.”  Seth started to walk, but then turned and faced him.  “It’ll be just like show and tell.”

Wyatt was nervous as he followed Seth to the elevator.  “My daughter is staying with a relative.  I probably need to get back home.”

“You can end this whenever you want.”

He thought about how the story could change his life.  “Maybe just a short trip.”

Seth pressed the down button.  “Whatever you want to do is fine by me.” 

Wyatt slung his bag’s carry strap over his shoulder.  He looked around the hallway, noticing it was dilapidated.  “Where’re we at?  This place is run-down.”

“It’s an old hotel, but it’s being renovated.  The contractor just hasn’t made it to this floor yet.”

When they stepped inside the elevator, Wyatt scrutinized the interior.  “This looks like the same elevator that was in the other building.”

“I hope so—it took me weeks to find an abandoned building with eighteen floors and an elevator with the approximate layout as the other one.  I just had to make a few cosmetic changes so you wouldn’t know the difference.”  Seth laughed as he pressed the basement button.  “Did you not notice that this one had a basement, unlike the other one?”

Wyatt shook his head.  “No, I didn’t”.

When the door opened, Wyatt followed Seth into an underground parking garage.  He looked around and noticed some construction equipment and building materials.  “Where are the workers?”

Seth walked up to a black Cadillac Escalade.  “It’s Sunday morning.  Remember, you lost twenty-four hours.”  He tossed him the keys.  “You drive.”

“Is that a good idea?”

Seth put his bag in the rear seat, then opened the passenger door.  He glanced at Wyatt as he was standing dumbfounded.  “Let’s go.”

Wyatt got in.  “What if a cop stops us?”

“Don’t break any traffic laws and they won’t.”

He looked at Seth.  “But…”

Seth knew what he was thinking.  “But what?  It’s not like there’s a sign in the window that says, psychopath on board.  And besides, the police have no idea what I look like.”

“That’s true, I suppose.”  Wyatt pulled out of the building, then stopped at the exit.  “Where to?”

“Titusville.”  Seth put on a pair of sunglasses, then reclined back in his chair.

“Which way is that?”

“Make a right, turn left at the second stoplight, then head north on ninety-five.”

Wyatt looked around the vehicle as he drove.  “This thing must have cost a fortune.”

“Joel paid for it.”

He peered at Seth.  He was still bothered about being knocked unconscious and moved without his knowledge.  “Why did you go to all this trouble to trick me?  You could have simply asked me to come with you.”

“We needed to get to know each other first.  And I needed to see if I could trust you, and you me.  This could only happen where you felt somewhat safe.”

Wyatt thought for a moment.  “That makes sense, but it still feels strange to have been moved like that.”

“I’m sorry, but it will be worth it in the end.”

“No harm, no foul I guess.”  Wyatt’s face changed to a serious look.  “Just as long as you didn’t play with my penis when I was unconscious.”  He smiled.

Seth laughed.  “I’m glad you have a sense of humor.  We’re going to get along great.”

A few minutes later, Wyatt pulled onto Highway 95.  “How far is Titusville from here?”

“About three hours.”

“Can I ask questions while we drive?”

“Sure.  That’s the purpose of this trip.”

“Who is Earl and how did he inspire you to use the epoxy?”

Seth pulled down his cap over his sunglasses and closed his eyes.  “I had rented a houseboat and dock space from him on the Bayou in Louisiana.  This was around seven years ago.  He also owned a store next to the dock where he sold fishing bait, gas, tools, hardware and a small selection of groceries.  He lived alone in the back of the store, basically spending his entire life there.  I had been there just short of two weeks, but had met some good people; Frank and Dennis, in particular.  They were retired and spent most of their time fishing.  Most of the people I met there were good folks, but Earl was the asshole of the swamp.  The fat bastard didn’t take care of himself and stunk bad.  He always wore the same worn out filthy overalls, had long dingy hair and an unkempt beard.  His attitude was just as bad as his hygiene; he was always bitching about something and was a smartass to everyone.  One evening while I was sitting on the deck of my boat, Earl came storming down the planks as Frank and Dennis pulled up to the dock.  I don’t know what set off the argument, but Earl began kicking their boat and yelling at them.  I couldn’t tell what he was saying because he talked with a coon-ass accent and his anger only intensified it.  One thing led to another and they got into a heated argument.  During the name-calling, threatening and cursing, Frank popped off something about how Earl was a child molester.  Finally, the men left, and as Earl was walking away, he noticed a man sitting on the edge of the dock was staring at him.  The fat fucker waddled over to him and kicked his tackle box into the water.  The man didn’t say anything as Earl went back into his store.  Out of curiosity, I went into my living quarters and pulled up his criminal record on my laptop.  It showed he had been in prison for molesting an eight-year-old girl after he abducted her from a playground.  That was all the info I needed.  I used to research these scumbags in depth, but now I just need any reason to fuck them up.”

Wyatt interrupted.  “I thought you said you like to catch people in the act?”

“I do, but it’s hard to catch a molester with his dick in someone.”

“I’m sure it is.  So, do you always do a background check?”

“When it’s necessary, such as in this case.  It’s also a great tool because the judicial system has already done the footwork for me.  I just pick up where it drops the ball.”

“What do you mean?”

“If a person has been found guilty of committing a heinous crime, our system slaps them on the wrist, then puts them back in society so they can do it again.  I simply do what should have been done in the first place.”

“Do you think Earl was slapped on the wrist?”

“He only served nine years, so, yeah.  A sex offender in my book has lost all their rights when they chose to stick their dick in an unwilling participant, especially a child.”

“Are you worried about using the Internet?  You know it can be traced?”

Seth pulled his cap up and stared at Wyatt over the top of his sunglasses.  “Seriously?  They can trace that sort of stuff?”

“Of course, they…”  He noticed Seth was being a smart-ass.  “Of course, you already know that.”

Seth pulled his cap down.  “I use untraceable phones and laptops.  I always have.”

“What did you do to Earl?”

“That night I snuck up to his store and crawled through an open window.  He had a black and white Border Collie; not because he cared for dogs, but for security reasons.  The dog liked me more than him, so I was able to sneak right into his bedroom where he was asleep.  I injected him in the bottom of his foot with a sedative so he wouldn’t wake up.  At that point, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do to him, so I looked around his building for some ideas.  I got my answer when I found a case of the epoxy.  The directions stated it was designed to patch boat hulls and would maintain its strength in the harshest of environments; it got me curious how it would work on human skin.

While I was in the store portion of the building, I went ahead and gathered up some supplies, then went outside and filled up two gas cans: a five-gallon and two-gallon.  When I came back in, I secured Earl’s left hand to his headboard with a chain and padlock and hung the key next to it.  He was still wearing his stinky overalls and boots and I didn’t want to undress him, so I took my knife and cut his clothing in half at his waist so I could have access to his genitals.  I mixed up the two-part epoxy, then poured the mixture all over his dick and balls.  I took his right hand and cupped it tightly around his parts, making sure his fingers were tucked all the way around his sack, then I poured more of the mixture all over the back of his hand and between his fingers, creating one big, gooey mess.  Next, I slid a tall dresser away from his bedroom wall and positioned it in the center of his bedroom.  I drove the spike through the center of a two-by-four board, then nailed it horizontally to the side of the dresser about twelve inches from the top where it would teeter-totter.  The dresser had a lip around the top, so the board would hit when it was at a steep angle, preventing it from hanging vertical; this was important for what I had planned.  The board was also positioned so he could see it from his bed when he awoke.  I took a handsaw and cut a notch on top of the board on each end, then hung a five-gallon gas can on one end and a two-gallon on the other end.  The heavier can caused the board to raise the lighter can, just like a beam balance scale.  Since Earl would remain asleep for a while, I went back into the store to chill out.

Two hours later, I heard him stirring around, so I went to his room.  His eyes were filled with rage and his anger intensified his Louisiana accent as he shouted at me.  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

I set a propane camping stove under the two-gallon gas can.  “Hush, I’m busy.”

“What the fuck, man!?!  Get out of my damn house!”

I was trying to light the burners.  “I said hush!  You’re sidetracking me.”

He jerked at his restraint.  “What the fuck is this?”

“Looks like a chain, dill weed.”

“Screw you, smartass!  You better release me!”

I got the burners going, then grabbed his mouth and squeezed it.  “I told you to shut the fuck up, asshole!”  I pointed to the key hanging on his headboard.  “If you want loose, here’s the key.” 

He looked at it, then jerked his hand that was glued to his dick and balls.  “Ah, what the hell!”  Confusion overcame him as he gazed at his crotch.  “What the fuck did you do?”

“Glued your hand to yourself.”

His eyes grew huge.  “What!?!”

“I don’t know how well that stuff works, but it’s the same shit that you use on the boat hulls.”

He tried to pull his hand loose, then stared at me with a horrified expression.

“Yeah, that stuff.  And I can assume it works great from that expression.” 

“Oh, my God!  Why did you do this?”

“Because you stuck your dick in a kid.” 

He became irate.  “You don’t know shit, motherfucker!  I’m going to…”  He got quiet when I poked a small hole in the bottom of the five-gallon gas can with the tip of my pocket knife.  He looked terrified as he watched the gas drip on the floor.  “Uh!”

“Uh, what?  You gotta frog in your throat?”

“What is that contraption?”  He peered at the flame.  “What are you going to do?”

I tapped my watch.  “I don’t have long to explain this—I wanna be fishing before the sun rises.”  I pointed to the larger gas can.  “When the hole in the bottom of this can allows a little more than three gallons of gas to drain out, this wooden beam will tilt in the other direction, causing the flame to melt the other gas can; it’s kind of like a teeter totter, but custom-made for molesters such as yourself.  And you know what will happen then?  The smaller gas can will burst into flames, igniting this whole rig and all the spilled gas.”  I surveyed the gas that was puddled on the floor.  “Your bedroom is not level, and the gas is running under your bed.”

He looked at the contraption, then the flame.  “Please don’t do this.  I served my time.”

I reached over and jabbed a hole in the top of the larger can, allowing the gas to run out at a faster rate.  I gave him a little bye-bye sign, then glanced at my new dog Skip.  “Let’s go, boy.”  I could hear Earl shouting for help as I backed my boat out of the dock.  Several minutes later, the inside of his store lit up with a flash.  I patted Skip’s head as we sat on the deck of my boat in the middle of the river.  “Looks like the glue stuck.”

Suddenly, Earl came stumbling out his front door.  His upper overalls, beard and hair were on fire.  The lower part of his overalls was still around his ankles, making it difficult for him to move quickly.  They were on fire as well.  His crotch and legs were drenched in blood, and I could see that he was still grasping pieces of his dick and balls where he had torn them from his body.  He stumbled about fifty feet from the building, then collapsed as fire and smoke bellowed from his body.  I started the boat, then Skip and I disappeared into the night.

Shit Faced; Literally

Wyatt glanced at Seth as he drove down the highway.  “That was kinda messed up.”

“No worse than what he did to that kid.”

“I guess you’re right.  So, what happened to him?  It wasn’t in the media.”

“I have no idea, but if he lived, he definitely won’t be sticking his dick into anyone else.”

Wyatt gripped his genitals.  “It must have been extremely painful for him to rip himself apart like that.”

“I’m sure it was.  That’s why I started using the epoxy—the stuff is a pervert’s worst nightmare.”

“I can only imagine.”

“It really is—messing up a pervert’s dick is the same as cutting off a quarterback’s throwing arm or a guitarist’s fingers.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “Nice analogy.”

“A pervert with no dick, go figure.”

“So, I take it you found more of it?”

“Sure did.  Found it on the Internet.  I also bought the stuff in burst pouches so I can keep a few of them in my pocket.”  Seth handed Wyatt a pouch.  “Squeeze the bag to burst the inside pouches, mix by massaging the bag, snip the tip, then apply.  They’re quick and easy when I need to glue a pervert’s ass crack together or their hand to their dick.”  Seth laughed.  “In some cases, their tongue to their dick.” 

“That’s a disturbing thought.”  He handed the pouch back.  “Do you specifically target perverts?”

“Not at all.  I try to operate an equal opportunity scumbag program.  Unfortunately, there are a lot of sex offenders that keep me busy, so it might seem that I target them.”  Seth glanced at Wyatt.  “Haven’t you ever noticed the sex offender maps on the Internet have more fucking red dots than the map itself?  It’s like a smorgasbord for vigilantes.  I guess I could also look at it as job security.”

Wyatt smiled at Seth’s dark humor.  “I guess so, but I’m surprised you didn’t make sure Earl was dead—he could identify you.”

“I was wearing a disguise, even in the hot-ass Bayou.”

“Then I’m surprised you didn’t kill him just because he was a pedophile.”

“Death isn’t that bad.”

“How can you say that?”

“If you kill someone they don’t know that they’re dead.  If you fuck them up real good, they have to live with their deformities; that is worse than death in my book.  And if I know I’m going to kill them I at least try to torture the shit out of them before they die.”

“How do you decide if they’re going to be tortured or just messed up like Earl?”

“It depends on what they’ve done.  In some cases, I teach these fuckers a lesson that they’ll never forget without killing or messing them up.”  Seth noticed Wyatt was driving ten miles below the speed limit.  “Make sure you go the speed limit.”

“I don’t want to draw attention to us.”

“You already are.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Because drunks and criminals drive slow—they think if they’re being extra cautious, they’ll not get pulled over, but cops know that too.”

Wyatt sped up.  “How do you teach someone a lesson without doing what you normally do?  You know, mess them up, as you put it.”

“The story of Pat the slumlord comes to mind.  I have a friend, Bobby, who lived in one of Pat’s low rent buildings.  It was…”

Wyatt interrupted.  “You have friends?”

“Yes, and I also have a normal social life.”

“Do they know what you do?”

“Of course.  Most of them help me.”

Wyatt’s eyes grew big.  “No shit?”

Seth shook his head.  “Anyway, my buddy was living there because…”

Wyatt interrupted again.  “How many of your friends know?”

“I was jerking your chain.”

Wyatt frowned as focused on driving.  “Oh.”

“I was saying he had lost his way to make a decent living when he fucked up and went to prison.”

“Why did he go to prison?”

“Bobby was an adrenaline junkie and did crazy shit like street racing, skydiving and base jumping.  One day while street racing on his bike, a cop tried to pull him over, but he decided to run.  The cop chased him down the side of a train track, eventually getting stuck on top of a bridge while Bobby was able to escape.  A train came around a corner and before the cop had a chance to react, it collided with his car, killing him.  Bobby was found guilty in the cop’s death—he had caused a death during the commission of a crime. He was sentenced to seven years and was released on parole after four.  When he got out of prison he was broke and had nowhere to live.  Before this, he was an electrician making decent money.  Now he couldn’t get a job flipping patties at McFuckers, so he chose to do side work as a handyman, instead of collecting government handouts.  The only place he could afford was this shithole in a low rent apartment building that Pat Peterson owned.”

“Sounds like he was asking for trouble doing that kind of stuff.”

“He wasn’t always like that.  It all started after his wife had been killed in a car wreck.”

“I didn’t go crazy when my wife died.”

“That’s you.  Everyone handles the loss of a loved one differently.”

“Let me guess.  You went after your friend for killing the cop?”

“Hell no!  I went after his landlord.  Bobby is a great guy.”

“But he is a criminal.”

“It’s not his fault the damn cop made a bad decision.  These guys are here to protect and serve.  Not to act like a fucking vigilante; that’s my job.”

“So, what did Pat do?”

“Just being a typical slumlord and taking advantage of folks.”

“Like how?”

“For starters, he didn’t keep up with repairs.  Bobby and some of the other tenants had been complaining that he wouldn’t fix the plumbing system.  The sewer yard line needed replacement; it was always clogged, backing up the sewage.  Instead of repairing it, the tightwad would force the occupants to use less water, meaning when the line backed up, they would have to go elsewhere to use the restroom or take showers.  Bobby even volunteered to fix the problem, but Pat refused to buy the proper materials.  A few weeks later, Bobby came home and found all his stuff in a dumpster.  He and some of the other tenants who had been complaining got evicted for some bullshit reason.”

“Pat didn’t have the right to throw his stuff out.  The eviction law prevents that.”

“It was already done, and Bobby didn’t have the money to take him to court anyway.”

“I would have called the cops.”

“He did, but got arrested.”

“For what?”

“For being a con that was responsible for a cop’s death.”

“That doesn’t make sense.  He must have done something.”

“He was arrested for disorderly conduct, which was a bullshit charge.  Once you’re in the system the cops will jack with you any chance they get.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“It’s our system.  We’re turning into a police state.  But I do sympathize with the cops in some instances; it must be frustrating to risk their lives catching scumbags just to have them released back on the street after being slapped on the wrist.”

“Do you consider Bobby a scumbag?”

“A scumbag, or lowlife, in my book is a person who purposely harms or takes advantage of others.  Bobby made a mistake.  He didn’t plan on harming anyone.”

“Have you ever killed someone that had made a mistake?”

“I’m sure, but they were a scumbag and needed to die anyway.”

“I meant have you ever killed an innocent person?”

“No.  Everyone that I have gone after was deserving in one way or another.”

“So, what happened to Bobby?”

“He spent a few days in jail, then went on with his life.”

“What did you mean you went after Pat?”

“Not too long after that, I happened to be in town taking care of something, so I decided to pay Pat a visit to see if he had repaired the sewer line.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “Why would you care?”

“I was itchin’ to mess someone up and couldn’t find any scumbags in the area.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.  Sometimes I do weird shit when I get bored.”

“Don’t tell me you killed him for that.”

“No.  I told you this story was about teaching someone a lesson without harming them…  Permanently anyway.”

“Oh, yeah.  So, what did you do?”

“I wanted to meet Pat to see what kind of person he was, but he didn’t live in his run-down building—he lived across town in a nice house.  I wound up meeting his manager, Steve.  He lived on the premises, and just like with most managers that slumlords employ, this dude looked like he had crawled out from under a rock.  I met him at his onsite office/ apartment disguised as a construction worker from Arkansas.  Within a few seconds of him opening his mouth I could sense that he was a shady person, and that was verified when he requested a month’s rent before he showed me the room.  I handed him eight hundred dollars, then followed him upstairs to my room.  The one bedroom apartment was a real shithole unlike his place.  I shook my head as I looked around.  “Does everything work?”

He smiled with a chicken-shit grin.  “Sure, buddy.”

I walked into the bathroom and found that the water was off.  I looked behind the toilet and noticed the valve was turned off.  “Why is the water off?”

“Conserving water at the moment.  You can use the sinks, but not the toilet or shower.”

I held my hands out making a, what the fuck gesture.  “Seriously?”

“You can use the restroom across the street at the convenience store if you like.”

“Why hasn’t the city been on your ass about this?”

He laughed.  “Pat’s on the council.”

I shook my head.  “Screw this.  I’ll take my money back and go somewhere else.”

The fucker had a cocky look.  “Look, pal, take it or leave it, but there are no refunds.”

“You wanna bet?”

“You can take it up with the owner.  It’s his rule, but he’ll tell you the same damn thing.”

“You two fuckers sound like scammers.”

“Call it what you want, but it is what it is, chief.”

I shot the fucker in the face with a tranquilizer dart, then searched him and took his cell phone, keys, and wallet.  I viewed his phone directory and found Pat’s number.  I also checked out his text messages and noticed it wasn’t unusual for him to communicate with him using text.  I sent a message that read, “Hey, boss.  A city inspector is here and threatening to red tag the building.  I can’t talk on the phone, he’s standing right beside me bitching and moaning about code violations.”

A moment later, I received a text that read, “On my way.”

I locked the door, then went out to my truck and grabbed my duffel bag.  I went back into the building to find a good location to meet Pat.  First, I decided to check out Steve’s apartment.  It was no surprise to find his plumbing fixtures operational.  It also appeared that someone was staying with him.  I didn’t want the person to walk in while I was giving Pat his motivational therapy, so I went down the hallway to look for another place.  While I looked around, I noticed a sign hanging on a wall.  It looked as if an idiot wrote it due to the misspelled words.  It read, Manditory!  Do not use tolets or showers at this time.  All ocupents must consorve water until ferther notice.  At the end of the hallway, I found a door that was secured with a hasp and padlock; it appeared to be a mechanical room or storage closet.  After I unlocked the door with Steve’s key, I found that it was actually the basement.  When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I realized it was a perfect place to meet Pat.  I pulled out Steve’s phone and sent him another text that read, “We’re in the basement.”

“K.”

I went back into the hallway to make sure he was coming alone.  A few minutes later, he pulled up in a Cadillac.  I noticed he was short and fat, mid to late fifties, bald on top and had a baby face.  He also looked like he had just left the golf course from the gay-ass clothing he was wearing.  I waited until he was heading down the stairs, then snuck up behind him and shot a tranquilizer dart into his back as he searched for Steve and the inspector.  I closed the basement door, then secured it by tying a rope between the doorknob and a handrailing.  I needed a way to secure him, and as I looked around, I noticed the basement was full of items that I could use.  In the piles of stuff, I could see tables, desks, chairs, exercise equipment and a barber chair.  I analyzed the situation.  I could nail Pat to a tabletop or tie him in one of the chairs.  Then it dawned on me.  It was staring me right in the face and it was the perfect payback for his actions; there was a ladder standing next to an old claw foot bathtub that was sitting in the middle of the room.  The tub had dried human waste and toilet paper in the bottom, and right above it were some plumbing lines hanging from the ceiling.  I noticed there were several smaller pipes that connected to a larger one.  The larger line had a cleanout on the side.  From there, the line exited the building; it was the main sewer yard line.  It was obvious the tub had been placed there to catch the sewage when the cap was removed.  I dragged Pat to the tub and rolled him into it.  I cut off his clothes, then positioned him on his back where he was leaned up against the sloped end of the tub, just like as if he was relaxing in a warm bath.  I hung each of his arms off the sides, then secured his wrists to the tub’s feet with rope.  I didn’t want him to scream for help, so I inserted a Spanish pear into his mouth.”

Wyatt got Seth’s attention.  “What’s a Spanish pear?”

Seth grabbed his bag from the back seat.  He opened it and pulled out a strange looking device.  “It’s a medieval torture device.  As you can see it’s kind of round and opens like a clam shell when this handle is turned.”

“And what’s the purpose of that?”

“After I insert it into someone’s mouth, I crank the handle, causing the jaws to lock behind their front teeth.  The more the handle is turned, the wider its jaws are expanded.”  Seth cranked the handle, then pointed to a pointed shaft that was sticking out from the opened end of the device.  “It also has a spike that protrudes out between its jaws, and when the person tries to speak or scream, this spike will gouge the shit out of their tongue.”

A disturbed expression came over Wyatt.  “Where in the hell did you find something like that?”

Seth laughed.  “The Internet.”

Wyatt shook his head as he looked back at the road.  “Of course, you did.”

Seth tossed the device in his bag.  “Now that Pat was secured and gagged, I decided to go get Steve so he could enjoy hanging out with his buddy.  I stripped him down, then laid him on the other end of the tub.  The tub was big, but there really wasn’t enough room for the both of them to be comfortable; their legs were jammed up in the other’s ass.  After I secured Steve’s arms to the sides, I injected them with adrenaline.  A few minutes later, they both awakened.  At first, they just stared at each other, trying to figure out why they were naked and sitting in a tub together.  Steve was the first one to speak.  “What the hell is going on?”

Pat was only able to mumble.  “Is this of your doing?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”  He jerked at his restraints.  “I’m fucking tied up!”

Pat tried to move his arms.  “I am too.”  He looked around and noticed me sitting on the edge of the steps wearing a hardhat.  “Hey you!”

I could barely hear him as I cupped my hand next to my ear.  “What was that?”

Steve shouted.  “Did you do this to me?  You better cut me loose.”

I raised my hand.  “Just pretend I’m not here.”

Steve looked confused.  “What?  What the fuck?  Why are you just sitting there?”

I sauntered up with a pipe wrench.  “Hey, dude, I’m just here to fix the plumbing and didn’t want to get in the middle of whatever you two fuckers have going on.”

Steve glared at me.  “Hold up!  You’re that dude from earlier.”  He wiggled his face when he remembered that I had shot him.  “You shot me, asshole.”  He gawked at Pat.  “He shot me in the face.  Am I bleeding?”

Pat ignored him as he glared at me.  “What the fuck is going on?”

“I told you that I’m here to fix the plumbing, but you two gay wads are in my way.”

“Fix what?  I don’t understand.”

I nodded toward Steve.  “Fuckhead rented me a room that doesn’t have a working toilet, so I thought I would fix the problem myself since he wouldn’t return my money.”

“Why are you doing this to me?  I didn’t have anything to do with that.”

“Steve said it was your fault because you like to fuck people over.”

He shook his head.  “That’s not true.”

Steve’s face turned red with anger as he glared back at Pat.  “Screw you, Pat!  Don’t blame me for this shit.”

Pat glared at me.  “Your ass is going to go down for this, punk.”

“I wouldn’t be making any threats in the position you’re in.”  I pulled out a pocketknife.  “I could just slice off your little wiener and be done with ya.”

Pat looked worried.  “I…  Uh…”  He nodded toward Steve.  “He’s a liar.  I told him not to do that to my renters.”

Steve kicked Pat in the stomach, then they both began kicking each other and yelling curse words and threats back and forth.  Steve started to become loud, and I needed a way to shut him up before someone heard him.  I only had one Spanish Pear, and I didn’t want to sew his mouth closed because he would most likely vomit with what I had planned for him.  There was a workbench against a wall, so I checked it out to see if I could find something that would work.  I wound up making a one-inch wide by one-and-a-half-inch tall spacer out of wood that had groves cut in the top and bottom.  I held Steve’s head back and forced the spacer into his mouth, ensuring his front top and bottom teeth were sitting deep into the groves.  To prevent him from spitting it out, I filled the grooves with Super Glue.  Pat was horrified and wasn’t saying anything.  I nodded toward him.  “You got something to say?”

He lowered his head.  “Please don’t do this.”

“I haven’t done anything yet.”  When the glue had set, I released Steve’s head.  “There you go, pal, how do you like that?”

He wasn’t happy with his new mouthpiece.  I could see the anger in his eyes as he mumbled loudly.  “You son of a bitch!  You have no right to do this to me.”

I laughed.  “Sure, I do.”

“How in the fuck do you figure that?”

“I took a page out of your ethics book.”  I stepped up on the ladder with a pipe wrench.  “If you think a small piece of wood is bad, wait until the next part.”  The ladder was positioned on the opposite side of the opening in the cleanout.  It was obvious it was positioned like that so the person who was removing the cap from the cleanout wouldn’t be in the flow of the waste when it came running out.  After a few turns the cap blew off and sewage came gushing from the Y-fitting.  The tub was positioned where the flow would hit the back of Steve’s head first, then the front of Pat’s body.  Steve immediately ducked forward, causing shit, piss, dirty water, toilet paper, and used tampons to splash all over Pat’s face and chest.  Steve was gagging as Pat threw his head around to avoid the filth, but since the line was backed up, the flow was like a fire hose at first.  When the pipe had been drained, a small, steady flow of brown liquid ran out of the pipe and was splashing Steve on the top of his head.  He was gagging and turning his face away from the dirty water as much as he could.  Both of their heads, faces and bodies were covered with toilet paper and shit.  I could even see a few pieces of corn in Steve’s hair.  The tub had about fifteen inches of sewage standing in it and the smell was indescribable.  Pat glanced over at me with a look of disgust.  “Oh, my God!  Please get me out of this thing!”  He began dry heaving.  “Oh, shit, I got some in my mouth.” 

I laughed.  “Literally.”

Pat looked nauseated, then some vomit came spewing out around the Spanish Pear.  Pat’s gagging caused Steve to start gagging, then they both began spewing puke all over each other. 

After a few minutes, they were able to get control of their gag reflexes.  Pat had tears running down his cheeks as he gawked at me with a pitiful expression.  “Please cut me free.  I’m sorry about everything.”

Steve also had an attitude change.  “I’m sorry too.  If you let me go, I promise I won’t say anything.”

“Hey, guys, stop making such a fuss; it’s just like a day at the spa.”

Steve started to speak, but ducked his head when a large flow of water came gushing out of the pipe when someone flushed a toilet.  The dirty water was barely hitting him in the back of his head as it was splashing Pat in the face.  Suddenly, a large greasy turd and a wad of toilet paper landed on top of Steve’s head.  He immediately began jerking around and throwing his head back and forth to sling it off.  He was trying to push off the bottom of the tub with his feet, but they were slipping in the human waste, causing him to kick Pat in the nuts in the process.  Out of retaliation, Pat kicked back, then they both became upset and started kicking each other.

I started to walk off, then turned around.  “If you think this is bad, wait until everyone is using their toilets.”  I went upstairs and locked the basement door with the padlock.  Next, I went to Steve’s apartment and made a new sign that read, GOOD NEWS…  All occupants can now use their toilets and showers.  I will not be available, so if the water to your toilet is currently off, please go ahead and turn on the valve that is located behind it.  Pat will also be unavailable.  He’s celebrating this good news by enjoying the next few days at a health spa.  Your manager, Steve.  I hung the sign in the main hallway, then moved Pat’s car a couple of blocks down to an area where some lowlifes were hanging out under a bridge.  I left the keys in the ignition with the windows down.  When I started to get back in my truck, I could smell the sewage.  I didn’t want someone to investigate the odor or call the city, so I went back into the basement.  Pat and Steve wouldn’t look at me as they held their heads down.  The sewage had filled the tub and was overflowing onto the floor.  I could see numerous turds floating around between them.  I laughed as I stood at the edge of the sewage.  “I like your tugboats.”

Pat glared at me.  He had vomit, slobber, and human waste oozing from his mouth.  He tried to speak, then began gagging—he was having a difficult time trying to keep from swallowing the filth.  I shook my head as I smiled at him.  “Damn, Pat, you’re one sick fucker.”

He started to mumble again, but turned his head when a rumbling noise came echoing from the cleanout, followed by another rush of turds and piss.  The liquid had splashed Pat in the face and the heavier solids had landed on Steve’s head.  They were covered with so much filth that they looked like swamp monsters.  Steve wouldn’t look at me, so I yelled at him.  “Hey, why are you pouting?”

Before he could speak another gush of sewage came rushing from the cleanout, followed by another, then another.  I laughed.  “There are some shittin’ fools in this building.”  I had to step back a few steps as the tub overflowed with sewage, causing a larger pool of brown water and pieces of shit to spill out onto the concrete floor.  Before the entire floor was covered, I went to Pat’s clothes and found his cell phone.  I sent Steve a text that read, Good job with the inspector.  Your professional attitude went a long way with him.  He is going to give us two weeks to get the repairs completed.  I’ve decided to head out of town for a few days for a much-needed vacation.  I will be turning off my phone, so just take care of anything that arises.  Also, tell my wife I’m leaving her.  I held up the phone so Pat could see it.  “I just sent a text to Steve’s phone in case the police look at your phone records when you’re reported missing.  That way no one will come looking for you down here.”  I pulled Steve’s phone from my pocket and responded to Pat’s text.  I glanced at Steve.  “Hey, captain, the police won’t be looking for you either—I sent a text to Pat that said you had already planned on going camping with some friends so you would be out of pocket as well.”  Steve’s phone was an android, so I tossed it into the tub.  The water would short out the circuits so the police couldn’t track it through the GPS.  I added a new number to Pat’s phone, then shut it down.  His was an antiquated piece of shit with no GPS, so I tossed it on a nearby workbench so he would find it later if he lived.  The ten minutes that I had been in the basement, the flow of flushing toilets had increased to every two minutes or so.  Pat and Steve were speechless as they sat in chest-high filth.  I grabbed some caulk and a caulk gun from a box of materials that was on a workbench, then went upstairs.  I ran a thick bead of caulk around the door jam, then closed and locked the door.  I ran another bead around the door’s edges to ensure the odor would be contained, at least from around it.  Before I left, I propped open the main entry doors to help with the odor.

Colostomy Bag or Death

Wyatt looked as if he wanted to throw up.  “That was freakin’ nasty.”

“I know, I was there.”

“How long did it take someone to find them?”

“Not sure.  That’s why we’re going to Atlanta after Titusville.  I’m curious as well.”

“We’re really going there?”

“I told you this trip was going to be like show and tell.”

“How long ago was it?”

“About seven days ago.”

Wyatt’s eyes opened wide.  “Holy shit!  Do you think it’s wise to go back?”

“It’ll be fun to see what the outcome was.”  Seth glanced at his watch.

“Are we on a schedule?”

“Not really.  This road trip will be spontaneous for the most part.  We do have a few places we must go, but no time constraints, unless you need to get back home to your daughter.”

“She’s okay.  She’s stayin’ with my aunt.”  Wyatt noticed another sign.  “Palm Bay is coming up.”

Seth peeped peeked at his watch again.  “We’re running a little behind.”

“I thought you said we’re not on a time constraint?”

“We’re not.”

Wyatt looked in the rear-view mirror toward the back seat.  “Can you get my bag?  I need my binder.”

Seth pulled Wyatt’s bag between the seats, noticing it was heavy.  “How much crap you got in here?”

“I didn’t know how long I was going to be away, so I packed a lot of stuff.”  He glanced over at Seth.  “My binder should be on top.”  Suddenly, he remembered his revolver was in the bag.  “Wait.  I’ll get…”

Seth pulled the gun out.  “Nice piece.”  He handed it to Wyatt.  “You might want to keep it on you.”

Wyatt looked guilty as if he had been caught doing something wrong.  He took the gun and stuck it between his legs.  Seth pulled out the binder and opened it.  He laughed when he saw how many articles there were.  “This is like a schoolgirl’s scrapbook.”

Wyatt was still embarrassed from Seth finding his gun, and he turned a shade of darker red from Seth’s last comment.  “Why are you not pissed at me?”

Seth rolled down the window a little, then lit a cigarette.  “For what?”

“The gun…  Jim.”

Seth shrugged his shoulders.  “Anyone in your shoes would have called the cops; I wouldn’t have expected otherwise, and the gun means you’re not a bitch.”

Wyatt was relieved as he nodded toward his binder.  “Which one do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t care.  It’s your story.”

Wyatt reached over and flipped the pages.  He stopped at an article that the headline read, Gangbangers Gruesomely Murdered.  “What about this one?”

Seth smiled.  “You like that one, do you?”

Wyatt nodded his head to indicate yes.  “I had read this story a few years back and always wondered why you would do such a thing.”

Seth flicked some ashes out the window.  “Because they were gangbangers.  These fuckers are constantly wreaking havoc on innocent people; they fucking live for it.  I have probably fucked up more of these scumbags than I can count.”

“It was interesting what you did, but I’m surprised you didn’t get shot.”

“I’ve had plenty of altercations with these types of thugs before and know what safety measures to take.”

“And what would those be?”

“Don’t hesitate and do the unexpected.”

“Were your other run-ins this violent?”

“Absolutely.  In some cases, worse.”

“I’m surprised Jim didn’t cover this one up.”

“He didn’t have time.  A reporter was there doing a story in the neighborhood and witnessed the whole thing.”

“Was this something you planned on doing, or was it spur of the moment?”

“It was a last-minute decision.”

“Did you just happen to run across them?”

“Yes and no.  I was in California taking care of some business when I noticed on the news how bad the crime was in Oakland.  I even read an article stating Oakland and the surrounding area had the most dangerous neighborhoods in America, and a person had a one-in-nine chance of being the victim of a violent crime.  When I finished my business, I headed over there to see if it was really that bad.  It was around 8 PM when I reached the slums.  There were lowlifes everywhere; they were walking, standing, and sitting on everything in sight.  I was already driving an older Ford pickup, so I put on a straw cowboy hat just to see if someone would mess with me.  Sure enough, they did.  A white man driving a truck while wearing a cowboy hat was like a magnet for assholes.  Punks were running up to me at every stop sign and red light.  Half of them were trying to sell me drugs, some were letting me know that I was going to get my ass kicked, and the rest were going fucking nuts for no reason at all.  The more aggressive ones were trying to open my doors, or reaching in through the windows to grab the keys.  It was like driving a vehicle filled with bananas through a drive-through safari with a bunch of starving monkeys.  When I made a second pass, they were a lot more aggressive and brandishing weapons of all types, so I went down a couple of blocks and stopped at a park.  I put on a trench coat and loaded the inside pockets with some weapons, attaching them to special made straps.  The sun was almost set as I took off on foot.  As soon as I turned a corner and started down the street with the punks, several of them came ghetto-strutting in my direction.  I looked back and noticed there were two more coming from behind.  I continued to walk, minding my own business with my hands in my coat pockets.  They strolled right up to me and began talking shit.  There were now five of them standing around me.  I could also see another group heading my way from down the street.  One of the punks pushed me from the front.  “Yo, fool, what tha fuck ya think you’re doin’?”

The asshole behind me knocked off my cowboy hat.  “Yo’ ass got sum fuckin’ nerve comin’ round here.”

Some other punk popped off, “You gonna get all fucked up now, boy.”

They were all feeding off each other as they cursed and threatened me.  There was one punk behind me, one on each side, a fat guy in front and two white wannabe gangsters behind him.  I smiled at the fat fucker that was standing in front of me.  “Let’s get to fuckin’ then.”

He smiled back as he reached out for my coat.  “I’ll be takin’ thi…”

My arms were inside the trench coat.  The end of my coat sleeves were sewn inside the pockets to give the appearance that I had my hands in them.  Before the fat fucker could finish his sentence, I had taken a short dagger and shoved it up through the bottom of his face just behind his chin with my left hand.  I had to move quickly before the other punks had a chance to react, and I had already played out what I needed to do when they had first surrounded me.  I spun to my right to the more aggressive punk, slicing his throat with a katana that I had in my right hand.  As the momentum of the blade continued past him toward the punk behind me, I pulled the weapon back, then thrust it into his stomach.  I released the handle, leaving the blade in his guts, then spun in the opposite direction.  My left hand had already pulled out another katana, and as the punk was stepping back, the tip of the blade sliced him across his face.  I quickly spun around and noticed the two white chicken shits were running away.  I pulled out my silenced pistol and shot both of them in the legs.  The fat guy that was in front of me was lying on the ground twitching.  The fucker to my right was hunched over on his knees and gurgling out his last scream through the gash in his neck.  The punk behind me was limping away with the katana still sticking through him.  The only guy left standing was the fucker to my left that had been cut across his face.  His eyes had been sliced open and he was holding his hands out.  I pulled out a can of lighter fluid and squirted him from head to toe, then lit his ass on fire.  People were running from the streets and into their houses as I stood covered in blood in the barbaric aftermath.  But it wasn’t over.  To their horror, I chased down the fucker that had knocked my hat off and pushed him to the ground.  I grabbed the handle of the katana and pulled it out of him, then sliced his stomach wide open.  I reached down and grabbed a hand full of intestines, then slung them over my shoulder.  I took off running toward the two white punks.  After about twenty paces I felt a tug; I had pulled out his intestines from his stomach cavity after they had unraveled out of him.  The two white punks were rolling around on the ground, whining about the inhumane treatment that they had received.  When they saw me running toward them with a machete while dragging body parts behind me, they jumped to their feet and began limping away as fast as they could.  When I got closer, one of the punks pushed the other one down to the ground, probably in hopes that I would stop to fuck around with him.  To his horror, I jumped over the dude and sliced him across his back.  The gash was so deep that I could see his spine as he fell to the ground.  He held his hands out as he stared up at me with fear.  “Dude, I’m sorry.  Please don’t kill me.”

I shouted, “Colostomy bag or death!?!”

His expression changed to confusion.  “Cause me to do what with a bag?”

“It’s colostomy bag, asshole.”  I pulled out a short-barreled shotgun with a pistol grip and blasted his lower abdomen with a homemade thug-shot.  He exhibited a grimace of terror as he stared at his hands; the blast had blown off most of his fingers.  “Oh, my God!  You blew off my fucking fingers!”

“That’s the least of your worries.”  I pointed.  “Check out your stomach.”

His eyes opened wide when he noticed the front of his shirt was turning red with blood.  He pulled up his shirt with the palms of his hands, then stared in horror at his mutilated guts.  “Oh, fuck!  You shot me in the stomach!”

“No shit, asshole.”  I ran back over to the other punk that he had pushed down.  He was crawling away, so I kicked him in his side, causing him to roll over onto his back, then shouted, “Colostomy bag or death!?!”

He eyed the other guy who was trying to keep his guts inside his body by holding his shirt over his wound.  “I don’t want to be fucked up like him.”

I stuck the end of the barrel to his right eye.  When I pulled the trigger, his left eye exploded as blood came spraying out of his ears.  I grabbed my cowboy hat, then hightailed it out of there.  When I got back to the park, I noticed the buzzards had already found my truck.  Several Mexicans and a black dude were looking through the windows.  There was also a white punk standing in the bed, and when he saw me, he plopped his ass down on top of the cab where one of his legs was hanging off by the driver’s side door.  He was smiling with a chicken-shit grin.  “Hey, yahoo, nice farm truck.”

I shot the fucker in the face with my Springfield XDM .40 caliber handgun.  The impact flipped him backwards, knocking him off the other side of the cab.  Before his body hit the ground, I had blasted two of the Mexicans.  The black dude was gone like lightning, but the last Mexican was shot with a double tap as he was starting to take his first step.  The gun shots had echoed throughout the park, so I quickly got in my truck and hauled ass.”

Wyatt looked eager, as if he enjoyed the story.  “Damn!  That was messed up.”

“It definitely was intense.”

“The paper didn’t go into all that detail.”

“They’re not going to.”

“Why didn’t you just shoot all of them instead of using the swords?”

“Where would be the fun in that?”

“But something could have gone wrong.  You took a chance that the punks didn’t have a gun.”

“That’s why I didn’t hesitate and did the unexpected.  And besides, these punks aren’t scared of guns anyway, but the sight of a blade with their blood on it terrifies the shit out of them.”  Seth glanced at Wyatt.  “Same as being needle phobic.  Most people would rather be shot than stabbed.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “That’s not true.  I’d rather be stabbed.”

“You sure about that?”

“Absolutely.”

“Let’s say you were going to be executed.  There are no ifs, ands, or buts, it’s gonna happen.  But you do have the choice of being stabbed to death with a large butcher knife or being shot to death with a gun.  What would you pick?”

“Well fuck, if you put it that way, I guess I would choose to be shot.”

“Point made.”

12 Gauge Thug-shot

Seth lit another cigarette.  Wyatt looked over.  “Can I have a smoke?”

He handed him one and a lighter.  “Don’t let my bad habits rub off on you.  Next you will be wanting to kill someone.”

Wyatt laughed as he lit his cigarette.  “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

Wyatt took a long drag.  “I smoked once.  Right after my wife died.”  He glanced at his reflection in the mirror.  “Probably shouldn’t start back, but they do relieve tension.”  He eyed Seth.  “I want another gangbanger story.”

Seth leaned his seat back.  “I have many that I could tell, but since we’re in Florida I have one that took place here.  Around eight years ago, I came to Tampa to look for this scumbag.  I couldn’t find him and needed someone to take out my frustrations on, so I went to Miami, knowing it was the carjacking central of the world with a large crop of out of control Cubans to fuck up.  Even the police don’t go to certain parts of the city due to the violence.  This was actually the beginning of what I do now, as far as fuck and go.”

Wyatt glanced over at Seth.  “What?”

“Fuck and go.  Instead of wasting time researching these assholes and dragging ass, I get to catch them in the act, fuck them up, then move to the next one.”

Wyatt smiled.

“You’re starting to like this shit, aren’t you?”

He shook his head to say no.

“Yeah, you are.  Anyway, I took a Mercedes off a pimp after I cut off his hands and feet, then…”

Wyatt interrupted.  “Why did you cut them off?”

“So, he couldn’t hustle anymore.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “Your stories never cease to amaze me.  You definitely have a crazy outlook on stuff.”

“Good.  At least this trip won’t be boring.”

“It hasn’t been so far.  So how did you run across him?”

“He was just another fuck and go and there’s not much to tell.”

“Well, what happened?”

“He drove up next to me as I was walking down a sidewalk.  He was wearing a large pimp hat, large, gold framed sunglasses and enough jewelry to give Mr. T a run for his money.  He motioned for me to come over.  “Yo, dog, lookin’ fo’ sumptin’?”

I kept walking.  “Not interested, bud.”

“How ‘bout sum booty?  I got all sizes and types.”

“You can keep ‘em.”

He pulled down his sunshades and looked over the top of them.  “Hey, pud, don’t ignore me.  You in Big Daddy T’s part of town.”

I stopped and glared at him.  “What the fuck you rambling on about?”

“I’m Big Daddy T, every man’s threat and every woman’s regret.”  He held up his right fist and shook it.  “This is my friend Larry.”  He raised his left fist.  “This is my friend Moe.  When you had enough of Larry, you ain’t gonna want no mo.”

I was looking at him like he was crazy.  “Go fuck with someone who gives a shit.”

His gold teeth sparkled in the sun as he smiled at me.  “Boy, you don’t know who you be talkin’ to.”  He threw his car in park, then pointed a revolver at me.  “Get yo’ ass over here!”

I put my hands out, palms up.  “What the fuck you want from me?”

“Fo’ starters, you can clean out yo’ pockets.”

I pulled out my wallet and held it out toward him.  When he reached for it, I pressed a hidden button, activating a CO2 cartridge that blasted his face with acid.  He immediately dropped the gun as he covered his face while screaming.  Before anyone had a chance to see what was happening, I pushed him to the passenger’s side and took off in his car.  A few blocks down I pulled into an alleyway and strangled him until he was unconscious, then sliced through the ligaments and muscles at his wrists and ankles, severing them.  I tossed his shit in the back seat so they couldn’t be reattached, then kicked him out onto the asphalt before I drove away.  End of story.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “Now he’s living off my tax dollars.”

“He was living off them before that.  Just because he was making money from crack and ass didn’t mean he was some sort of upstanding citizen who volunteered to pay taxes while refusing free Obama bucks.”

Wyatt laughed.  “You’re probably right.  So, what happened after you took his car?”

“I disguised myself as an old woman by applying layers of latex, prosthetics and makeup to create sagging and aged looking skin over my face and neck.  I wore a thinned out, gray-haired wig and a colorful dress.  This was when I really got into the makeup thing and spent considerable time applying all the tricks of the trade.  Now I simply throw something together.”

Wyatt looked intrigued.  “What did you do next?”

“Drove my rich old ass to the crappy side of town.  And I can tell you one thing; an old lady in an expensive car will get a scumbag’s attention.  I hadn’t been driving but just a few minutes when a lowlife came running up to the car while I sat at a stop sign.  He opened the door and brandished a knife as he yelled for me to get the fuck out.  I stuck a shotgun to his abdomen and pulled the trigger.  He was rolling around on the street bleeding all over the asphalt as I drove off.  I had shot him with a twelve-gauge silenced shorty with special ammo designed for scumbags.”

“What’s a shorty?”

“It’s a shotgun based on a Mossberg 500 type action.  It has a seven-inch barrel, pistol grip and holds two rounds in the tube and one in the chamber.”

“I didn’t know you can put a silencer on a shotgun.”

“You can if you make them yourself.  It’s still noisy, but muffled enough where it won’t cause a huge alarm.”

“Nice.  What did you mean by special ammo?”

“I replaced the bird shot with rusted metal fragments that had been marinated in human shit.  I call it thug-shot.”

Wyatt had a confused look.  “Why?”

“When I blast a scumbag in his guts, the metal fragments scatter throughout his abdominal cavity creating a huge fucking mess.  The rusted fragments combined with the human waste will cause a severe infection.  This surgeon’s nightmare will either result in a very painful death or a colostomy bag; it’s a helluva lot worse than just killing the fuckers.”

“That’s some twisted shit.”

“No worse than what they do to innocent people.  At least they’re asking for it.”

“That’s true, I suppose…  So, what happened next?”

“Around eight blocks away I noticed two guys in a piece of shit car were following me.  I had a suspicion they were going to pull one of those bump and runs.”

“What is that?”

“These days, criminals are so lazy that instead of having to chase people up and down the street they follow you around in their air-conditioned car.  They bump you at a stop sign or red light, and when you get out, the passenger in the other car steals yours.  The car that was following me had two brown punks with afros.  I wanted to see if they would actually do it, so I turned down a street that had no other vehicular traffic.  When I stopped at a stop sign, the passenger jumped out and ran toward my car.  I guess they thought they could take it without bumping me since I appeared to be an elderly person.  The punk was wearing a white t-shirt with a large marijuana leaf printed on the front.  He tried to open my door, but it was locked.  I pretended as if I didn’t see him and pulled away at a slow rate.  In fact, I was driving so slow that the asshole was jogging beside me as the other guy followed in the car.  I let the lazy fucker chase me until he gave up, which was just a half a block or so.  The guy got back in the other car, and the same thing happened at the next stop sign, except he only jogged twenty-five feet or so.  At the third stop sign they bumped me.  By now I had prepared my next fuck and go.  I have a specially designed device that I shove down the barrel of my shotgun for just such an occasion.  The gun still uses a twelve-gauge round in the chamber, but it’s full of gunpowder with no projectile.  The device looks like a harpoon; it has an eight-inch long shaft that slides into the barrel, and the end that sticks out has spring loaded barbs that pop out upon impact.  The end also has an aircraft cable secured to it.  I had the gun ready and the other end of the long cable was secured to my seat’s mounting bracket.  When the guy ran up to my car I rolled down my window a few inches and spoke in an elderly sounding voice.  “Oh, my goodness, youngin’, I think we had a fender bender.”

“Get the fuck out of the car!”

I glared at him with a disturbed expression.  “Does your Mama know you talk like that?”

He grabbed the door handle and noticed it was locked.  “I said get the fuck out, bitch!”

I covered my mouth.  “Oh, my!  What a potty mouth.”

“Unlock the door before I break the glass!”  He raised his fist.

“I’m going to call the cops.”

He struck the glass, but it didn’t break.  He shook his hand for a moment to relieve the pain, then grabbed the top of the window and started jerking on it. 

I unlocked the door.  “Okay, okay.  Don’t break my window.”

He pulled out a switchblade and motioned for me to get out of the car.  “Let’s go!”

I just sat there as if I was scared.  He opened the door, and before he had a chance to stick the knife toward me I pulled the trigger, burying the harpoon deep inside his stomach.  The cable was hanging out of a hole in his belly as I slowly drove off.  He was stumbling around as the coiled-up cable on my floorboard was unwinding.  I was looking in the rear-view mirror, watching as he was swept off his feet.  While the asshole was being dragged ten feet or so behind me, his buddy was following us in his car.  I was driving as I had previously done; slow and clueless to the world around me.  I could hear the guy screaming as he left a smeared trail of blood on the asphalt.  About a half block down, the other guy began honking his horn.  I continued as if I was hard of hearing.  Finally, he pulled up beside me, motioning for me to stop.  I smiled and waved back.  He sped up, then pulled in front of me and stopped.  I floored the Mercedes and went around him, then to his horror I started doing donuts in the street.  His buddy was flopping around like a rag doll behind my car while screaming at the top of his lungs.  Eventually one of the rear tires got the cable wrapped up around it, tearing the guy loose from the harpoon.  I continued to do donuts as I ran him over and over.  When I finally stopped, the street had a large red circle of tire marks, guts, hair, skin, bones and shit.  The guy in the car was sitting with a horrified expression as I got out and looked around.  He couldn’t fathom how an old lady had apparently lost control of her car and killed his partner.  He got out and ran over to the Mercedes; he wasn’t going to let a little thing like blood on the tires get in the way of him making a few bucks.  When he was driving off a cop came around the corner and took off after him.  The cop didn’t pay any attention to me as I was standing on the sidewalk holding a large flowery bag.  I strolled over to the punk’s car, tossed my bag full of weapons and gear in the passenger seat, then hauled ass.”

Wyatt was excited after hearing the story.  “Damn!  That was messed up what you did to that punk.  What happened to the guy that took the Mercedes?”

“Not sure.  I left the state right after that, but I bet if the cops caught him, they wouldn’t have believed his story about the old woman anyway.”

“He probably got blamed for cutting off the drug dealer’s hands and feet, especially when they found them in the car.”

Seth laughed.  “They didn’t find them.  I had tossed them out the window before my encounter with the two punks.”

“Let me guess; so, they couldn’t be taken to the hospital.”

“Of course.”

“That was a close call with the cop.”

“Sure was, thanks to freakin’ Murphy’s Law.”

“Aren’t you worried about getting caught?”

“I do my best not to be.  And I always have a trick or two up my sleeve.”

“How do you get away with all you do?  Cops are everywhere and there is always someone watching.  How do you stay hidden?”

“That’s just it, I don’t always hide.  This is where I differ from others who try to get away with shit.  It’s taken years to perfect, and there is a lot to explain about it.”

Wyatt showed interest.  “If you don’t mind, explain it.”

“It’s a combination of things.  First, I do the unexpected.  My actions are usually opposite of what someone would expect from the typical lunatic that goes around killing people.  I also understand that human minds are automatically programmed to calculate a situation, creating a solution based on everyday experiences.  That allows me to be right in the open as if I own it, considering whatever I’m doing my appearance isn’t out of place.  And remember, things aren’t always what they seem.  People will usually not pay attention to shit around them if everything appears normal.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “I kind of know what you’re talking about.”

Seth knew he didn’t.  “Here’s an example: what would you do if a cop turned on his lights while you were driving down a highway?”

“I’d pull over.”

“Okay, why?”

“That’s what you’re supposed to do.”

“He parks behind you, but further on the shoulder, almost in the median.  When he walks up to your window, you notice he is older and dressed in a proper uniform with a badge, and as he is communicating with you, you can tell he is experienced and a seasoned officer.  He asks you to exit your car.  What would you do?”

“I would get out.”

“What if he wanted to search you?”

“I would let him.’

Seth shook his head.  “For future reference, you don’t have to exit your vehicle or consent to a search unless you have been suspected of committing a crime with exigent circumstances.  But, since you didn’t know that, you allow the cop to search you.  The cops wants to run your license, but he tells you he is concerned for your safety because of where you stopped on the side of the busy highway, so he asks you to come sit on the passenger side of his car.  You notice his car is parked at a safer distance.  Would you go sit in his car?”

“I wouldn’t have a problem with that.”

When you get in, the cop jabs your leg with a needle, knocking you unconscious, then hauls ass.”

Wyatt appeared baffled.

“I was the cop, you were a scumbag.  The scumbag had no reason to doubt there was something out of the norm because of the way we are programmed to deal with everyday occurrences.  Nobody sees flashing lights behind them and thinks, oh, shit, this guy might be a deranged lunatic that is going to skin me alive.”

“Did that really happen?”

“Yes.  This is what I was explaining about doing things right in the open as if I owned it.  A person’s normal response is to pull over and follow orders because that’s how it’s done in society.  Seeing the cop’s car pulled to a safe location only substantiated the situation.”

“That’s very interesting how you do things out in the open.”

“It’s worked well for me so far.  If your buddy Jim understood this, he would have busted me back at the hotel.”

Wyatt’s opened wide.  “What did you do to him?”

“After I moved you to my car, I went back into the building and waited for Jim.  I was disguised as a black dude with a large afro.  When Jim and his team arrived, they had to take the stairs because I shut off the elevator.  I was on the eighteenth floor, and I knew their every move because I had a radio tuned to their frequency.  After I messed with them for a while, I turned the elevator back on, then held the door open to give Jim time to get back to the first floor.  I had brought a large boom box with me and was playing a nasty rap song as I waited.  The music was like a mating call for scumbags; five thugs came out of their apartments to hang out with me.  When I told them I was heading down to see what the po po was up to, most of them scattered, but one brotha wanted to go, so down we went.  When the elevator door opened, Jim was standing there madder than an old wet hen.  I was being very obnoxious and in his face with the music, my attitude and actions.  Jim was so focused on busting me that he didn’t even stop to analyze the situation.  After he told us to move on, I strutted right on out of the building.”

“No shit?  I can’t believe he didn’t put two and two together.”

Seth laughed.  “He did when he found the costume package that my afro came in.  And think about what I said; I was being very obnoxious and in his face.  His programmed brain was looking for a person who was trying to avoid the cops.”

Wyatt thought for a moment.  “Now I get what you mean by doing things in the open, but why would you risk doing that with Jim?”

“I have a special relationship with him.  And besides, I know it pisses him off to no end.”

Piss Flavored Lemonade

Seth dragged his bag to the front seat.  He pulled out a box, then opened a small plastic container filled with theatrical makeup and facial hair.  He began applying a thin layer of glue to the backside of a fake beard.  Wyatt shook his head as he scrutinized Seth’s bag, noticing it was packed full of items.  “You sure carry a lot of stuff with you.”

“It’s one of the downsides of what I do.”  He looked into a mirror that was mounted to his sun visor.  He stuck one side of a beard to his left cheek, then applied glue to the other piece.

“Is it really necessary to carry that much stuff?”

“Absolutely.  This bag has essential items that protect me, and I can’t afford to lose it.”

“Such as what?”

“Medical supplies, disguises, non-traceable cell phones, laptop, handguns, fake identification, maps, lock pick set, money.”  He glanced at Wyatt and smiled.  “And of course, cigarettes.”

“Yeah, cigarettes, those are important.”

“I’m glad you understand.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“I know.  I also have two more bags in the back that you can make fun of as well.”

“What else could you possibly carry?”

“One is packed with more interesting items that I can leave behind if necessary, and the other has tactical gear such as body armor, larger weapons and ammo.”  Seth stuck the other beard to his right cheek.

Wyatt noticed there was an oxygen tank in the backseat.  “What’s the deal with the tank?”

Seth shrugged his shoulders.  “You never know when one might come in handy.”

Wyatt noticed another sign.  “Can we stop at the truck stop ahead?”

Seth was applying some makeup to his face.  “I was planning on it—that’s why I’m putting on a disguise.”

Wyatt pulled into a parking lot filled with big rigs and parked out away from everyone else.  Seth was dying his goatee so it would match the beard, making his entire facial hair look as one.  He put his things back in his bag, then handed Wyatt a cap that had an attached wig.  “It’s a cheap and simple Halloween prop, but nobody will be the wiser.”

Wyatt put the cap on.  He peered into the rear-view mirror and noticed he looked silly as the hair hung halfway down his neck and covered his ears.  “This looks stupid.”

Seth handed him a fake mustache.  “Put this on also.”

He stuck the mustache to his face, then took a deep breath as he glanced back into the mirror.  “I look like an asshole.”

Seth held out a pair of sunglasses.  “A cool asshole.”

Wyatt put the glasses on, then gawked at Seth and noticed he looked like a redneck; he was wearing a ball cap and sunglasses, had a full beard, and his makeup gave the illusion that his skin had a dark tan, almost leather like.  Wyatt was a little aggravated.  “I look like a dumbass.”  He eyeballed Seth.  “Your costume looks realistic.”

“Costume?  We’re not going to a fucking Halloween party.  And besides, I have been doing this for a long time.”

Wyatt rolled his eyes as he shook his head.  “Whatever.”

“And by the way, yours might be a costume, but I consider mine a disguise.  Costumes are for fags.”

He wasn’t sure if Seth was being serious.  “I’m sorry.”

Seth laughed as he got out.  He opened the rear door and pulled out a jacket.  Wyatt noticed a holster was secured on the inside of it.  “Expecting trouble?”

“Not at this place—there’s a sign over there that states criminals are not allowed on these premises.”

He searched for the sign.  “I don’t see it.”

Seth shook his head as he walked off toward the restroom.  Wyatt followed when he realized he was being a smart-ass.  When they came back out they heard a commotion; a dog was yelping and someone was cursing.  Seth looked over toward a big rig, noticing that a stocky bald man with a long goatee was kicking a dog.  An older couple began yelling for him to stop.  The man shouted back, saying the dog had pissed on his tire, and if they didn’t like it that they could go fuck themselves.  The dog finally was able to get on all-fours and limped over to the couple.  Seth gritted his teeth when he realized the dog apparently belonged to them.  He knew as with most people in society that they were afraid of getting in trouble, or simply didn’t have the courage to stand up to the bully.  Seth began drooling as he thought about ways he could vindicate them and the dog.  When the man climbed into his rig, Seth glanced at Wyatt.  “Take the car.  There’s a Home Depot about ten miles down the road on the right.  Park away from the building.  I’ll catch up with you later.”

Wyatt was frightened.  “What are you going to do?”

“Not sure yet, but I have a hundred things running through my mind that I would like to do to that fucker.”

Wyatt wasn’t sure if he wanted to leave or stay.  He didn’t want to be a part of what Seth was going to do, but his curiosity was also getting the best of him.  “Can I stay here in the car?”

“You can follow the truck if you want.”

“I would rather do that.”

“Make sure you stay back so he doesn’t know you’re following him.  If we get separated go to Home Depot and wait for me.”  Seth walked toward the rig as Wyatt got in the car.  He watched as Seth got the man’s attention.  They had a short conversation, then he got in the passenger side.  When the truck passed by, Seth looked out the window and nodded.  Wyatt’s hands were shaking as he pulled out of the parking lot behind the truck.  He was second guessing his decision.  Maybe he should have went to Home Depot, he thought; that way he could honestly say he didn’t have anything to do with what Seth was planning.  Then he began worrying about what was going to happen.  All kinds of things were running through his mind, and he was contemplating if he should let the truck slip away.  Around twenty miles down the highway, the truck got on the service road, then after another mile or so it turned right on a two-lane road.  A short way down, Wyatt was caught at a red light while the truck made it through.  He was relieved—now he had an excuse why he wasn’t able to keep up.  As the truck disappeared down the road, he began to feel anxious, realizing he would be more uncomfortable being alone in an area he wasn’t familiar with, while possibly driving a stolen vehicle.  He became pissed at himself that he didn’t run the light, knowing he had purposely slowed down so he would catch it.  When it turned green he took off in a hurry, worrying that he had lost Seth.  He wanted to speed, but was afraid a cop would pull him over, then he would have to come up with a good reason why he was in Florida in a vehicle that wasn’t his.  Suddenly, he saw a trail of dust drifting in the air down a gravel road.  He was unsure if it was the truck, knowing he had a fifty-fifty chance.  If he went after it and was wrong, he wouldn’t be able to make up the time.  He made a last second decision and slammed on the brakes, then made a hard right.  Relief overcame him when he caught up to the back of the trailer.

A short way down the road the truck pulled over next to a wooded area.  Wyatt was unsure what to do, panicking as he drove on past.  The area was secluded and he felt out of place with the whole situation.  He was debating if he should go back as all sorts of things were running through his mind; would Seth be anger at him?  Would he come find him if he ran?  What if Seth needed help?  The guy was big.  He then worried about getting in trouble with the police for associating with Seth.  He was torn on what to do.  He slammed on the brakes and came to a stop.  He looked into the rear-view mirror as he thought about how it was a once in a lifetime opportunity, then he assured himself that the cops would understand this if he was busted.  Wyatt turned the SUV around and threw up a dust cloud as he headed back toward the truck.  His heart was pounding as a completely new set of worried thoughts flooded his mind; Seth was a sadistic killer and could be doing something horrible to the man.  What if he was really deranged and turned on him?  What if the truck driver had taken down Seth?  Would he come after him, also?

A few minutes later, he saw the truck; it was still parked.  He slowly pulled to the side of the road, opposite from it.  He put the shifter in park, then just sat, staring at it.  He couldn’t see Seth or the driver.  He looked up and down the road, but no sign of them.  Now he was worried that Seth had killed him, then took off on foot.  He got out and quickly walked over to the cab.  He stepped on the footstep and was about to look in the window until he heard voices.  He walked around the front of the truck to the other side.  Relief overcame when he noticed Seth standing next to the rig, then he noticed that the driver was sitting on the ground with his back leaned up against the rear tires.  The man seemed upset, and he wondered why he was just sitting there—he didn’t look like the type of person who would simply submit; he was big and aggressive looking.  His head was shaved, he had a long goatee, his arms were covered with tattoos and he had a hoop earring in each ear.  He was wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves rolled, which accentuated his large muscular arms.  As he came closer, he noticed the man was being bound with trucker straps, then he noticed that Seth’s penis was hanging out of his zipper.  He stopped in his tracks.

Seth eyed Wyatt with an odd expression.  “This isn’t what it looks like.”

He stood dumbfounded, not knowing how to respond.

Seth pointed a short club at the man as he regarded Wyatt.  “I’m trying to make this fucker drink some piss, but he’s being an uncooperative prick.”

The man’s face turned red with anger.  “Fuck you, motherfucker!  I told you I ain’t doin’ it.”

“Fuck if you ain’t!”  Seth struck him in the stomach with the club. 

The man doubled over as much as he could.  “Stop fucking hitting me, asshole!”

“I can go all day.”

“Fuck you!”

Seth put his penis back in his pants, then began beating him.  Wyatt wanted to run as the man’s screams echoed out.  He took a few steps forward and yelled at Seth.  “Hey, let’s get out of here!”

Seth slid the club in his back pocket.  “Not until he does it.”  He peered at the man.  “You ready now?”

Blood was dripping from his face as he raised his head.  “I told you I ain’t fucking doin’ it, you sick motherfucker!”

Seth pulled out a gun.  “It’s seems you need a little more encouragement.”  He pointed it at the man’s crotch.  “I will blow off your package if you don’t.  In the end, you’re gonna do it either way.”

The man had rage-filled eyes.  “I told you I…”

POW!!!

The man screamed as he looked down at his crotch.  “Oh, my God!”

“That was just a graze, but you might have lost a ball or two depending on how you packaged your shit.  If you have a big dick, you might have lost a head as well.”

The guy noticed blood was soaking into his pants.  He glanced up at Seth with disbelief.  “Please call an ambulance.”

Seth holstered his pistol, then unholstered his dick.  “You could bleed to death, so let’s get the party started.”

The man opened his mouth, then Seth began urinating.  The stream struck the top of his head first, then Seth splashed him in the face for a few seconds before moving it to his mouth.  He gawked at Wyatt, who sported a disturbed look.  “Just like warm lemonade.”  He laughed.  “Or more like piss flavored lemonade.”

Wyatt couldn’t believe his eyes.  “Uh…  We need to…”

Seth looked down.  “Don’t you fucking miss a drop!”  The man turned his head and began dry heaving.  Seth continued to piss on the side of his face.  “You’re fucking wasting it, asshole!” 

Wyatt became nauseous, then he turned his head to block out the man’s gagging.

A few seconds later, Seth shook the last drop on his head.  “Now listen here, fucker…”  He zipped up.  “…you better think twice about being an asshole.  And if I find out that you’ve harmed another animal, I’m not going to be so generous next time.”

The man’s face was white as a ghost as he held his head down.  Seth pulled out a knife and cut the strap that was securing his arms, leaving one around his waist.  He held up a cell phone.  “Look at me.”

“What?”

“Your phone will be over in the woods.  You can crawl your ass over there after you unstrap yourself.”  Seth tossed the phone toward some trees.  “And remember, I will come back for your ass if you don’t start acting right.”  Seth thought for a moment.  “In fact, I want you to start donating to PETA as well.”

The man had a don’t-give-a-shit expression.  Seth squatted down.  “Hey, fuckhead.  You know who I am?”

He glared at Seth as if he was waiting for him to shut up and leave so he could start his quest to get some pay back after he got his manhood fixed.  “Naw, don’t care.”

Seth glanced over at Wyatt as he was holding his hand over his mouth.  “Hey, come here for a moment.”

A frightened expression came over Wyatt.  “We need to get going.”

“In a moment.”  Seth gawked at the trucker and nodded toward Wyatt.  “He’s doing a story on The Angel of Death.  He has the special privilege of knowing him in a, let’s say, non-painful way.”

The man looked up with hate.  “I don’t have time for this shit.”  He peered at Wyatt.  “You need to get this fucking psycho away from me and call the police if you know what’s good for you.”

Seth laughed.  “You got the psycho part right, and I’m not going anywhere until you play along.”

The man glared at Seth.  “So, what the fuck do you want me to say?”

Seth regarded Wyatt.  “How would you describe your new buddy?”

Wyatt looked at Seth, then the man, then back at Seth.  He shrugged his shoulders.  “I don’t know.”

“Go ahead.  Tell Mr. Dog kicker how you would describe The Angel of Death as of right now at this very moment.”

Wyatt wasn’t sure about answering.  “We need to go.”

“Tell him.  I can spend the rest of the day here.  I don’t give a shit.”

“Like a normal looking man, I guess.  Brown hair, brown beard.  Dark tan like he’s been in the sun too much.  He would be wearing a black buttoned up shirt, slightly worn blue jeans, sunglasses, a cap, brown western boots, and a black tactical style jacket.”

The man eyeballed Wyatt for a moment, then scrutinized Seth.  “You’re fuckin’ nuts.”  He began laughing, even though he was in pain.

Seth stood up and gawked at Wyatt.  “I was hoping to play the boogieman card so he would fuckin’ act right, but I guess I’m going to have to put the fear of the reaper in his ass.”  Seth began to reach inside his jacket.

Wyatt held his hands out.  “Hold up.  I don’t want to get in your business, but hasn’t he gone through enough?”  He looked at the blood that had stained his clothes.  “You’ve already messed him up pretty good and made him drink your urine.  That should be enough.”

“Unfortunately, he’s going to act more like an asshole now that he’s probably less of a man.”

“There’s got to be another way.”

Seth didn’t want to upset Wyatt further, knowing he would lose his trust if he did anything else.  “You’re right.”  He looked down at the man.  “It’s your lucky day, pal.”

The man glared at Seth.  “Fuck you!”  He then peered at Wyatt.  “Fuck you, too!  And I’m gonna tell ‘em that you were involved also.”

Wyatt held his hands up.  “Hold up.  I didn’t do anything to you.”

“It’s your word against mine.”  He nodded toward Seth.  “And I’m going to make sure you go down with this fucker.”

Wyatt was worried.  “You know I had nothing to do with this.”

He glared at him with a stern look.  “I suggest you get me some help then, unless you want to get pounded in the ass every night for the rest of your life.”

Wyatt began pacing.  “Oh, shit!  I didn’t expect this.”  He peered at Seth.  “I don’t want to go to prison.”

“He’s just playing you for a fool—it’s the only hand he has.”

Wyatt looked at the man, then Seth.  “He’s fucking being serious.”

“He’s just in survival mode and will say anything to get out of this.”

“So now what?  Do we just let him go?”

The man glared at Wyatt.  “That’s the only option you have if you don’t want to go to prison.”

Wyatt gawked at Seth.  “Are you going to let him go?”

“Sure.”

“Do you think he will say anything?”

“Oh, he’s definitely going to tell on us.”

Wyatt looked as if he was going to cry.  “But you said he was…”

Seth raised his hand.  “I know, it’s a fucked-up situation.  That’s what happens when you show weakness to these fuckers.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“You can take back what you asked of me?”

Wyatt became nauseated.

“All you have to do is go back to the SUV.  You will never know what happened.”

Wyatt thought for a moment, then peered at the man.  “Sorry, you didn’t leave me with any choice.”  He turned and started walking away.

“Sorry my ass!  You’re a fucking coward!”

Seth pulled out his sickle.  “I’m about tired of your mouth.”

He realized he had made a mistake, knowing that normal people didn’t carry such an unusual weapon.  “That’s not necessary.  I won’t say anything about what happened.  I was just trying to scare your friend.”

Seth squatted down.  “You’re leaving me in a hell of a predicament.”

He gazed at Seth with surrender in his eyes.  “I won’t say anything, I swear.”

Seth thought for a moment.  “Yeah, I’m not worried about me, but I also have to protect my buddy Wyatt Carter over there.”  Seth peered at him with an oh-shit expression.  “Wait a second.  Did I just say that out loud?”

“Say what?”

Seth stood up.  “Tell you my friend’s name was Wyatt Carter?”

“No, you didn’t.”

Seth scratched his head.  “Oh, I must have just thought it then.  That would have been bad.  You could have gone and tattled to the police that the guy with me was named Wyatt Carter.”

The man looked frightened.  “I won’t say anything.”

“You’ve said that several times now, but I’m not feeling it.”

“I swear.”

“You’ve said that, too.”

His eyes filled with tears.  “Please don’t do this.”

“Hey, it’s been fun playing the name game, but let’s get this shit over with.  How do you wanna die?”  Seth squatted down in front of him.  “I can think of a whole bunch of ways, but I’ll let you make the decision since it’s your lucky day.”

He didn’t respond.

“Come on, buddy, give me a suggestion.”

He remained quiet.

“Can’t think of anything specific?  I know.  Stop me when I say one that tickles your fancy.  I can use a gun, knife, saber, tiger claw, mace, bow, tomahawk, dao.”

“Okay, okay.  You’ve made your point.  I just want to go on my way.”

“Brass knuckles, poison, grenade, fire, katar, axe, cleaver, hammer, tire tool.”

The man began dry heaving and holding his chest.

“Heart attack, torch, screwdriver, blowgun, nunchucks, stiletto, flail.”

He vomited.

“Choking on puke, slingshot, boomerang, garrote, or a razor blade.  That’s just what I have in the back of the vehicle, but I can also get a tree limb or rock from the woods, if need be.  Just let me know how I can be accommodating.”

He began freaking out.  “You’re crazy, dude!  You’re fucking crazy!  I don’t deserve this.”

“The dog didn’t deserve what he got either.  Now what will it be?  Vigilante’s choice perhaps?”

Seth heard a vehicle pull up.  He quickly knocked the man unconscious before he could yell out, then glanced under the truck.  He noticed it was a cop car.  He pulled out his gun and sat still, waiting to see what they were going to do.  A cop got out and started for the cab.  Seth crawled under the trailer to get closer.  He had no desire to kill an innocent person, so he pulled out his tranquilizer gun and shot the cop in the leg.  Within seconds a man fell to the ground.  Seth looked over at the cop car to ensure no one was with him, then quickly ran over to the cop and pulled the dart from his leg.  Seth went back over to the trucker.  He wasn’t breathing, so he felt for a pulse; he was dead.  Wyatt was about to wet himself as Seth ran up to the SUV.  He opened the driver’s side door.  “Move over; I’m driving.”

Wyatt looked as if he wanted to cry.  “Oh, my God!  What’s going on?  Did you kill the cop?  Oh, shit, we’re going to prison.  Did he see you?  What abou…”

“Chill out!”  Seth took off down the gravel road like a bat out of hell.

Wyatt was crouched down, hiding, as they turned on the highway.  “What happened back there?  Did you kill the cop?  They’re going to fry us for this.”

“Everything is okay.  Stop worrying.”

“You must have done something bad—you look upset.”

“I got piss on my boots.”

Wyatt didn’t say anything for a moment.  “How can you joke around at a time like this?”

“I’m not fucking around.  The wind was blowing from under the truck when I was using the human urinal.”  Seth glanced at Wyatt.  “You know the saying, pissing in the wind.”

Wyatt was now looking out the back window, worrying if the cops were coming after them.  “Did you kill the cop?”

“No.”

Wyatt exhibited look of disappointment.

“No, I didn’t kill him.  I shot him with a dart.  He’ll be fine.”

Wyatt peered out the rear window again.  “Do you think they’re looking for us?”

“You look suspicious.  Sit down”

Wyatt sat forward.  “That was fucked up.  I don’t want to get in trouble.”

Seth cracked the window, then lit a cigarette.  He handed one to Wyatt.  “You’re not.  You had nothing to do with it.”

“It doesn’t matter.  I’ll be guilty because I was present during the commission of a felony.”

“No, you won’t.  If anyone finds out, tell them I was holding you hostage.”

“They would know I was lying.”

Seth pulled out a gun and pointed it at Wyatt.  “You will do whatever I say.  If you try to run, I will kill you.  If you slip away, I will make it my life’s priority to hunt you down.  You will be my hostage until I say otherwise.  Do you understand?”

Wyatt’s eyes were huge.  “Yes.  Did I piss you off?  Did I do something wrong?”

Seth holstered his gun.  “You’re not going to get in trouble for being an accomplice.”

Wyatt understood what Seth did.  He leaned back in his chair.  “Are we still going to Titusville?”

“Not now.  We have to get out of Dodge.”

“I thought you had something important to do there?”

“Why would you think that?”

“You kept looking at your watch.”

Seth laughed.  “There’s a great steak house there that offers a lunch special.”

Wyatt looked at Seth as if he was crazy.  “You gotta be fucking kidding me?”

“This is Florida.  Their food sucks as much as their state.  That was the only place that had decent food.”

“Where’re we going now?”

“Atlanta to see what Pat’s been up to.”

“Then where?”

“Shit, I don’t know.  We’ll figure that out when we get there.”

Wyatt was confused about something.  “I don’t understand the trucker’s attitude.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was in a terrifying position.  Why did he get aggressive?  Why did he antagonize you when he knew you were going to kill him?  It doesn’t make sense.  I would have been begging.”

“He did beg at the end.  But the human mind is a strange thing.  Everyone that I run across reacts differently.  What I have learned through the years is when a human is pushed to their limits physically and or emotionally, and when they realize that they have no control over their destiny, they will react in an unpredictable and sometimes surprising way.  I have personally witnessed that a person can change their personality and mindset at a flip of a switch.  Some will go from being angry and violent, to weak and timid, or vice versa.  And something else that I have learned, something very important in what I do.  There is more fear and pain in psychological torture than in actual torture of the flesh itself.”

Wyatt looked intrigued.

“Think about this.  What is scarier for a criminal on death row; death, or the anticipation of death?”

Wyatt thought for a moment.  “Death seems scary.”

“Do you know they wipe your arm down with alcohol before they stick the needle in you so you don’t get an infection.  And lethal injection in most cases is not painful.  You simply go to sleep.  What is scary about that?

“It’s still scary.”

“That’s why our judicial system is not a deterrent to crime.  The worst part of going to prison is some big dicked black dude will probably butt fuck you.  Outside of that and a needle prick, prison becomes home to these assholes.  Now sitting for years, knowing a guard could walk up to your cell at any time and tell you that you’re going to be executed is scary.”

“I guess you’re right.”

Seth pulled a syringe from his jacket pocket.  He removed the cap from the needle, then eyed Wyatt.  “I need you to go asleep for a while.  I don’t want you to see where we’re going before Atlanta.  I’m going to have to stick you with this.”

Wyatt’s eyes opened wide.  “Please don’t.  I hate needles.”

“I don’t have a choice, Wyatt.  Please don’t let this ruin our friendship.”

“No…  No, you don’t have to do that.  I will go to sleep.”

“That’s not a sure thing.”  Seth looked around.  “First, I need to get out of this crowded traffic, so I don’t have a wreck when you start jumping around.”

Wyatt was leaned against his door staring at the needle.  “I can’t let you.  Please don’t get mad.”

Seth scrutinized the highway.  “It’s clear up there.  I’ll try to get around everyone.”

Wyatt was panicking.  “I know what I can do instead.  I’ll get wasted and pass out.  Will that work?”

“That will take too much time.  Just stick your arm over here.”

Wyatt was getting upset.  A tear ran down his cheek.  “Please, Seth.  Don’t do this to me.”

“I need to know if I can trust you.”

“You can.”

Seth pulled the needle off the syringe and handed it to Wyatt.  “Since you’re so scared of needles, I want to see if you will stick this in the back of your hand.  Then I will know if I can trust you if I need your help.”

Wyatt didn’t think twice about it as he did it.  “See, you can trust me.”

Seth began laughing.

“What’s so damn funny?”

“See how you were so terrified of me sticking you with a needle and putting you to sleep.”  Seth looked at him.  “Did the needle prick hurt?”

Wyatt looked confused.  “No.  Just a little sting.”

“See, there was more mental anguish anticipating the poke than the poke itself.  I could of had you shaking in your shoes all the way to Atlanta.  Now think about the assholes on death row.  They have to sit in their cells for years, in some cases decades, thinking about death.”  Seth glanced at Wyatt.  “See, the anticipation of the unknown can be a very painful, emotional experience.”

Fuckin’ Illegal Space Aliens

Wyatt noticed they were passing a semi-truck.  “I can’t believe that happened back there.  I’m never gonna get those images out of my head.”

“You weren’t supposed to see that.  I can get carried away sometimes and do some stupid shit.”

“It just took me by surprise.  I didn’t expect something like that would happen on this trip.”

“Do you think I went overboard?”

“The guy deserved to be punished for what he did.  And the way he looked, tattoos and all, he was probably a scumbag anyway.”  Wyatt gawked at Seth.  “And by the way, that was freakin’ nasty making him drink your urine.”

“That was to humiliate him.”

“What happened after I left?”

“I thought you didn’t want to know.”

“Just curious.”  He gazed at Seth with a troubled look.  “Did you kill him?”

“Not after you left.”  Seth knew the fatal shot to the man’s groin took place before Wyatt asked him to show leniency.

Wyatt looked confused.  “So, you didn’t kill him?”

“Like I said, I did not kill him after you walked off.”

“Oh.  Is he going to rat me out?”

“He gave me his word that he wouldn’t say anything.  And besides, he doesn’t know what you look like—you’re wearing a disguise.”

Wyatt had forgotten about his silly wig and cap combo.  He pulled it off and set it next to him in the seat.  “Do you think he’ll try to find us for what you did to him?”

“No.”

“What if he radioed other truckers?  They might be able to identify us.”

“They don’t give a shit.  A lot of them are cons, fuckups, and illegal aliens.”

“Illegal aliens?  You mean Mexicans?”

“No, fuckin’ space aliens.  These fuckers don’t sleep, so they can drive twenty-four-seven, taking jobs away from us.”

Wyatt just stared at Seth.

“Yes, I mean wetbacks.”

“Sounds like you’ve had some bad experiences with them?”

“Truck drivers or wetbacks?”

“Mexican truck drivers.”

“I’ve had numerous run-ins with truck drivers, not any of them happened to be wetbacks though.  As far as having run-ins with wetbacks in general, sure.  They commit crimes just like anyone else.  And to answer your question which involved a Mexican and a truck, yeah.  I had one particular run-in with a wetback that involved a semi-truck, but he wasn’t a truck driver, I just used the truck to fuck him up.”

Wyatt pulled his notebook from his bag.  “Did you run over him or something?”

“He wishes.  I tied him underneath it.”

“What did he do to you?”

“Acted like he was in Mexico.”

“What does that mean?”

“We have a lot of problems with wetbacks in Texas.  I don’t have an issue with immigrants if they come here legally, but most of the ones that sneak across the border don’t pay taxes while sucking up the freebies.”

“We don’t have any issues with illegals back home in North Dakota.  But what I have read, people around here are pissed because they say the Mexican’s are taking their jobs, but they’re the jobs that no one here wants to do.”

“Stop reading the mainstream media.  The wetbacks don’t pay taxes, medical expenses or even car insurance, and five families share a house so even their living expenses are low.  Now considering all that, a lower wage goes a long way for them.  If an American received the same wage while having to pay for all these items, they would be making less than what their expenses would be.  And if the wetbacks had to pay what we pay, they would also refuse to do the work for that amount of compensation.  I think we need to shut off all the freebies and make them either come here legally and pay their fair share or go back home.  We already have enough Americans that are freeloaders.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think of that.  But it would be wrong not giving them medical treatment.”

“What’s wrong is my medical expenses are high because of them and the lazy ass welfare Americans.  It’s bad enough to have to pick up their tab, but when my buddy needed to go to the emergency room it was like a Mexican Fiesta.”

“What in the hell does that mean?”

“Our emergency rooms in Texas are flooded with freeloaders, white trash, black trash, and wetbacks.  And before you have a chance to call me out for using the term black trash.”  Seth shook his hands in the air as if he was scared.  “Everyone is so sensitive today.  I’m referring to the blacks that are a burden to society.  You know; the race baiting, hate the white man, but have their hand out for a freebie, type of assholes.  The same type of scumbags as the white trash.”

Wyatt just looked at Seth.

“Okay, now that I have that cleared up, back to my story.  About two years ago, I was involved in a four-wheeler accident.”

Wyatt held his hand out to get Seth’s attention.  “Hold up.”

“I really don’t want to talk about political correctness right now.”

“Not that.  I can’t picture you riding an ATV.  Did you take it from someone after you fucked them up?”

“No.  I was riding with some friends.”

Wyatt looked confused.

“Why is it so hard to believe that I have a normal social life?”

“I don’t know if I am more interested in your horror stories or social life.”

Seth laughed.  “It does require some fine balancing.”

“Well, what happened?”

“My friends and I were playing who had the biggest balls with our four-wheelers.”

“What is that?”

“It’s where one of us would do something stupid, then see who had the balls to repeat it.  Matt was the idiot of the group and had driven up a steep embankment.  When I tried, my four-wheeler stalled out and I got stuck on the hill.  James, another buddy, was coming up the hill behind me.  He tried to go around me, but he ended up rolling his four-wheeler.  He knew he had broken a couple of ribs.  I took him to the emergency room since it was a Saturday.  He had to wait for seven hours due to all the freeloaders.  It was an absolute cluster fuck thanks to all these lowlifes.

When we arrived at the waiting room, it was packed with scumbags from all walks of life.  I could tell most of them were of the free-loading type.  The wetbacks were there in large groups like it was a fuckin’ family get-together.  They were laughing, talking, and eating large meals.  At first, I thought each of the groups was waiting for a friend or family member who was already being seen.  This wasn’t the case.  Each group had a person that was waiting to be seen.  That person seemed fine, laughing, talking, eating, etcetera, but when their name was called out, the scumbag went from feeling good to dying.  Some of these fuckers could barely walk to the nurse.

The white trash and black trash were just as bad.  They were in smaller groups, but louder and more obnoxious than the wetbacks.  Most of them were either talking, laughing, on their cell phones, or eating fast food.  The same thing happened when their name was called.  They would immediately go from being full of piss and vinegar to dying as they hobbled down Free Healthcare Lane.  As time passed, the ones who made their death walk were now coming back, skipping along as if it was a perfect world after receiving their free healthcare.

After seven hours of waiting, my buddy was finally seen by a doctor.  Since he had insurance, they made sure he paid his deductible before he was seen.  Shortly after that, the doctor came in, did a quick examination, then stated there was nothing wrong with him.  He also denied him painkillers.  James could barely walk as we left the emergency room, unlike the Obama welfare recipients.”

Wyatt looked aggravated.  “That’s messed up.  At least he didn’t break anything.”

“Let me tell you the next part, it will piss you off.  On Monday morning, James went to his family doctor at another hospital.  They found two cracked ribs.”

“Seriously?  Why didn’t the other hospital find them?”

“No tellin’.  Probably because they’re used to dealing with scumbags that are only after drugs, so everyone gets treated as such.”

“Remind me not to go to the E.R. in Texas.”

Seth rolled up his sleeves as he drove.  “James only missed one day of work during his two months of healing, while the scumbags that were in the waiting room before him got to score their free health care, and then went back and sat on their couch and waited for their Obama check, which James helps pay for.”

Wyatt looked over and noticed Seth’s arms were covered with black and gray tattoos.  He got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when he remembered calling the truck driver a scumbag for having tattoos.  “I didn’t mean to insinuate earlier that people with tattoos are bad.”

Seth laughed.  “I am bad.  All I ever get for Christmas is a stocking filled with fucking coal.”

Wyatt noticed Seth’s tattoos had a dark overtone: Grim Reapers, angels, skulls, lightning bolts, a cemetery, swords, and a moon.  They were all tied together with flames, tribal artwork and writing.  He then noticed a tattoo of a person holding a guitar.  It seemed out of place.  “Why do you have that dude with the guitar on your arm?”

“It’s Elvis.”

“Why in the hell is he on there?”

“Because he’s the King, asshole.”

Wyatt laughed.  “Okay, if you say so.”

Seth gave Wyatt a go-to-hell look.  “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It doesn’t fit with the rest of the evil shit, I suppose.”

“Evil?  These aren’t fucking evil.  Every one of them has a meaning to me.  And what the fuck do you have against Elvis?”

“Nothing.  I just figured you would be into Alice Copper and Marilyn Manson.  Shit like that.”

“I listen to them right along with everyone else.  I’m not stuck in one genre...”  Seth glanced at Wyatt and laughed.  “…like you are.  You probably have the Village People tattooed on your ass.”

“Whatever.”  Wyatt scanned his notes.  “I got you sidetracked.”  He glanced at Seth.  “Tell me about the Mexican and the truck?”

“Sure.  As I was saying earlier, the fucking wetbacks have been causing a lot of trouble in Texas.  They’re bad about drinking and driving, and after they run into you, you find out they have no insurance.  The police don’t give a shit because of political correctness, and you can’t sue these fuckers because they won’t show up to court, so you’re stuck with paying for the damages yourself.  It’s bad enough when wetbacks cause these types of problems, but when they kill someone, it becomes my problem, and this is what my story is about.

About ten years ago when I was still doing the long-term thing, I had been driving down a rural road when I came upon a traffic accident that involved a car and a pickup.  The truck was still in the road and the car was on its driver’s side in the bar ditch.  When I got out, I noticed there was a Mexican man in the truck and he was trying to get it started.  He seemed to be okay, so I ran to the car.  When I looked through the windshield, I could see a man trying to help an unconscious woman who was still bound in her seat belt on the passenger side.  I kicked out the windshield and helped get her out.  He was hysterical, yelling that the truck had crossed over the yellow stripe.  He said he tried to swerve, but the truck struck them in the side.  I checked her for a pulse.  I looked up at him and shook my head.  When he realized she was dead, he went after the other driver.  The Mexican was still trying to get his truck started when we walked up.  He would turn the ignition, put the shifter in gear, then press the throttle.  The truck would hesitate then die.  He was repeating this as the driver of the car stood yelling at him through the window.  I could smell the alcohol from where I was standing and wasn’t sure how sober he was.  Finally, the man opened the door and started to grab the Mexican.  To his surprise, the Mexican had a knife ready and stuck him in his side.  I knew at that point he was alert enough to know what he had done and he was trying to flee.  I pulled out my pistol, and when the wetback saw it, he stumbled out of the truck toward me, yelling curse words in Spanish.  I changed my mind and cracked him in the head with a club, knocking him unconscious.  The other man ran down the road a little ways after getting stabbed, but came back when he saw that the wetback had been neutralized.  He limped up while holding his hand over his wound.  “I lost my phone.  Please call the police.  I want this piece of shit to go to prison.”

I was cleaning hair and skin particles from my club with a rag as I stood next to the wetback.  “He’ll be out in four years or less.”

He exhibited a saddened expression.  “At least he will pay for what he has done.”

“I don’t think that is payback.  At least cut his throat or something.”

His eyes grew large.  “I can’t do that.  I’ll be the one to go to prison.  I have kids to raise.”

I glanced back at his car, unsure if he was completely alert due to the wreck.  “They weren’t with you, were they?”

“No, they’re at home with the babysitter.”

“It’s your choice what happens to this fucker, but once the police get involved it’s out of my hands.”  I stuck the club in my back pocket.  “I can fuck him up for you if you like.”

He looked distraught.  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Pour gas on him and light him on fire.  Cut off his limbs and dick.  Skin him alive.  Take a hammer and break every bone in his body.  Stuff like that.  And of course, that’s after he regains consciousness and sobers up so he has to endure the pain.”

“I can’t let you…”  The man paused for a moment when he apparently sensed something about me.  “Who are you?”

“Let’s just say I can be this guy’s worst nightmare.”

He gazed at my eyes.  “I have a gut feeling about you.”

I looked up and down the road.  “Make your decision.  I need to get moving.  If you want, I can take him with me and make him suffer immensely before he dies.”

He exhibited a strange facial expression as he stared at me.  “Are you that…”

“Don’t ask, don’t tell.”

He gawked at me with a confused look.

“It worked for the fags in the military.”  I caught myself being disrespectful considering his loss.  “Sorry.”  I pulled out one of my untraceable cell phones and began wiping it down so I could leave it with him.

He held his hands out, indicating stop.  “You might leave a fingerprint on it.”  He looked over toward his car, then back at me.  “Take him and make him pay for what he has done.”  He turned and walked off.  I quickly got in my car and pulled up next to the wetback.  I put him in the trunk, and before I drove off, I noticed the man was sitting next to his wife in the grass, combing her hair with his fingers.  I could feel myself getting emotional as I watched his pain.  At that very moment, after years of doing the most heinous and barbaric things to the wicked, I had a feeling of absolution come over me, knowing I would never second guess myself again.  About that time another car was coming, so I took off.”

Wyatt was teary eyed.  “That was sad.  I know how he felt.”  He gawked at Seth.  “Do you think he knew who you were?”

“Seemed like it.  That encounter was kind of strange.”

“What do you mean?”

“How he had a suspicion of who I was.”  Seth looked concerned.  “Would you think I’m a killer just by looking at me?”

“Of course, not.”  Wyatt laughed.  “Just when you open your mouth.”

“I have to learn to watch what I say, especially when I think I’m going to get to fuck someone up—I get real excited.”

“I’ve noticed that as well.  Did he tell the police about you?”

“I don’t think so.  The paper only mentioned the accident and stated the driver of the vehicle that caused the accident had fled on foot and was never apprehended.”

“How can you be sure?”

“The paper said the police were looking for a white man.”

“Do you think Jim covered up what happened?”

“Possibly.  But what would you have done?  Would you have ratted me out for punishing the person that was responsible for your wife’s death?”

“No.  I would have told the police the same thing that he did.”

“Even though I do some fucked up shit, I only go after scumbags that are deserving.”

“Do you ever feel guilty?”

“When it comes to how I have disappointed God I am.”

Wyatt seemed confused.  “I wouldn’t have thought you believed in God?”

“I don’t believe that human life was just some cosmic accident, an arbitrary conglomeration of molecules evolved by chance into an organism with a brain.  I believe there is something more than just us.  If you take in consideration how big the universe is and how minuscule we really are, we would be arrogant to think that there isn’t a higher being of some sort.”

“Do you believe in aliens?”

“If you’re talking about illegal aliens, I just talked about how they cause problems.”

“Be serious.”

“I’ve never seen one, but it goes back to what I said about how insignificant we are compared to everything else; we would be arrogant to think that we are so special that we are the only beings in the universe.”

“Do you believe in evolution?”

“You might have come from a fucking monkey, but I didn’t.”

“Doesn’t the Bible mention that the earth is only six thousand years old when in reality it’s millions of years old?  And doesn’t it say that the earth was created only in six days?”

“Anyone with any kind of intelligence knows the earth is millions of years old.”

“So, the Bible is wrong?”

“The Bible does say six days, but where most people fail to understand is those were in God’s time frame, meaning each day was millions of years each.”

“Okay, but there are other discrepancies in the Bible.”

“It’s all in the way you want to decipher it.  I believe what I believe, and who knows if I’m right or wrong.  It just feels right to me.  And I really don’t want to get in a debate, and I don’t want to push my beliefs on anyone else.  The important thing to write down...”  Seth glanced at Wyatt’s notepad.  “…is that I don’t use the Bible to justify what I do.”

“I’m not challenging your beliefs; I just want to know more about them.  I think your religion is another interesting part of you that would contribute to the story.”

“That’s fine, but I don’t want you to make it look as if I’m being preachy, or telling others how to believe or live.”

“I won’t.”

“And I’m not religious.  A religious person has a religion.”

Wyatt laid his pen down on his notebook.  He was aggravated.  “You just said you believed in God, now you’re telling me you don’t?”

“That’s not what I said.  I said I’m not religious because they have a religion.  Big difference.”

“I don’t understand.”

“A religion is an established denomination and is the way a person chooses to worship God through a collection of organized behaviors.  I choose to believe in the word of the Bible, meaning I’m non-denominational.”

“I didn’t know there were different types of worship.  I thought everyone that believed in that sort of stuff did the same thing.”

“When do humans get together and agree on anything?”

“Are you telling me that the people that believe in God disagree with what the Bible says?”

“No, you’re missing the point.  I’m saying people choose to worship in different ways.  All the different denominations in Christianity use the same Bible for their teachings, but the difference is the way they go about it.  Catholics are very symbolic, Baptists are fire and brimstone and Pentecostals are Holy Spirit–filled and upbeat.  A non-denominational person is not restricted to any particular or specific denomination.  A person that is non-denominational simply considers themselves as a Christian.”

“Do you consider yourself a Christian?”

“A Christian is a person who knows he or she is a sinner and believes Christ died on the cross for their sins.  The Bible says, ‘For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.’  I definitely have the sinner part down, and I also believe Christ died for my sins.”

“Is that a, yes?”

“I can’t answer that since I live a very sinful lifestyle.”

“Are you saying people that sin cannot be a Christian?”

“Absolutely not.  As humans, we are born sinners.  That’s why Christ made his sacrifice in the first place.  Non-Christians automatically assume that they have to make abrupt changes in their lifestyle if they accept Christ, and that scares them away.  It’s also why Christians shouldn’t judge others—it only makes this perception worse.”

“What kind of changes?”

“They think they have to stop their bad habits like smoking, drinking, and jacking off to porn; things like that.  But that’s not what being a Christian is about.  It’s about the person’s relationship with God.  But don’t get me wrong.  A Christian shouldn’t have an attitude that they can do whatever they want.  There is a sense of guilt that comes along with sinful behavior.  You’re supposed to acknowledge your sins and try to overcome them.  Just like with homos.  They live a sinful lifestyle based on the Bible, but I believe they can be saved if they accept Christ.  Once that happens they might or might not be able to overcome their temptations just like the rest of us with our temptations.”

“It seems God doesn’t like gays.”

“God doesn’t dislike gays.  He loves everyone, but hates the sin.  Homos are no more sinful than anyone else is.  We’re all sinners in one way or another.  For example, I jacked off to a dirty magazine that I found in the room before you met me in the hotel.  That was no more or less sinful than a dude plowing another dude’s colon, or someone cursing.  Sin is sin.”

“First off, that’s fucked up that you did that in the same room I was in.  And second, if I say a curse word, you’re saying it’s the same as someone raping a kid?”

“I’ve been talking about bad habits and perversion.  Raping, molestation, and abusiveness are acts of evil behavior done by the wicked.  You can’t compare those—they’re completely two different levels of sins.”

“So, there are different levels of sins?”

“I hope so.  I’m not a Bible scholar and I hate to misquote anything I’ve said, but jacking off or smoking a cigarette is in no freakin’ way the same level of sin as someone raping or murdering someone.  There are sinful acts and there are evil acts.  Anyone who sins is a sinner, and anyone who does evil is, well, just an evil prick.  These evil pricks are the wicked of our society, and they are the morally bad who prey on the innocent.  They’re the ones that I go after and keep me in business.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “If a gay person is saved, can they still be gay?”

Seth gawked at Wyatt with a frown.  “Where did that question come from?  Is there something I need to know about?  You seem awful concerned about homos.”

Wyatt became defensive.  “I’m not fucking gay.  I’m going somewhere with my questioning.”

Seth laughed.  “I got you, pal.”

“Stop laughing.  It’s not funny.”

“Okay, okay.  Now you got me sidetracked.  What was your question?”

“If a gay person is saved, can they still be gay?”

“All Christians sin, so yes, a butt pirate can still suck dick and be pounded in the ass.” 

“That’s crude.”

Seth laughed.  “It is what it is.  But like I said earlier, there is a sense of guilt that comes along with being a Christian if you’re doing something you know is wrong.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “How can a person who considers themselves a Christian continue to do something if they know God doesn’t approve of it?”

“HE knows Christians are sinners and that they are doing their best.  HE also knows how hard it is for humans to overcome temptation, but over time a person’s temptations will change without them realizing it due to their relationship with Christ.”

“You said you didn’t know if you could be a Christian because of your sinful lifestyle, but you then stated a person could be a Christian while being sinful.  Are you or are you not a Christian?”

“This isn’t complicated, chief.  Obviously, I do some really fucked up and bad things compared to most people.  I might only do it to scumbags, but it’s still a lot worse than a bad habit or being a knob jockey, so I can’t answer your question because I don’t know.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Of course.  But my soul died many years ago when I had everything taken from me.”

“You’re talking about when your fiancée was murdered?”

“Yes.  But then I chose to go down this path of punishing the wicked, and once I started, one thing led to another, and here we are talking about all the shit that I have done.”

The Human Music Box

The sun was beginning to set.  Seth glanced at his watch.  “We can drive through the night, or stop at a hotel, then head to Atlanta in the morning.”

“Whatever you want to do.  I can sleep in here if need be.”

“Good.  Fewer cameras and people we have to worry about.  We also need to swap out vehicles before the morning.”

Wyatt flipped a page in his notebook.  “So, what happened to the Mexican?”

“After I left the crash site I stopped a few miles down the road and injected him with a sedative so he would remain asleep.  The last thing I needed was to get pulled over for something with him banging around in the trunk.  I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with him, and I didn’t want to take him home.  The chamber was reserved for the worst type of criminals like sex offenders and abusers that purposely preyed on innocent people.  This fucker was more along the lines of the assholes that I deal with now.  Later that evening as I was heading down an interstate, I got into a road rage situation with a truck driver.  I saw the asshole coming in my rear-view mirror, swerving from lane to lane as he passed cars.  I was going the speed limit in the right lane and there was a car to my left going the same speed; we were running together.  The guy beside me had his head up his ass and was causing cars to stack up behind him.  His lane was for faster traffic, but it’s typical in Texas for drivers to be inconsiderate, so I slowed down, allowing the cars behind him to move into my lane so they could pass the asshole.  By the time the trucker approached, the guy beside me had slowed down and had closed the gap enough where the big rig didn’t have room to pull in front of me.  The trucker looked over at me while making a hand gesture for me to get out of his way.  I slowed down a bit, then the fucker almost clipped me with the back of his trailer, causing me to move to the shoulder.  I pulled back into my lane when he was clear, but then to my surprise, he hit his brakes, causing me to lock up mine.  I don’t know why the fucker took his frustrations out on me—I wasn’t the one in the left lane causing the traffic jam.  While I drove behind him, a thousand things were running through my mind that I could do to his ass.  Then it dawned on me; I could kill two birds with one stone.  I followed him for three hours until he stopped at a truck stop.  He parked in a large parking lot where there were a lot of big rigs.  It was now around 11 PM and plenty dark enough to move about without being seen.  He didn’t mess around as he got out of his rig and headed toward the store with a duffel bag.  The truck stop had showers and a restaurant, so I hoped he would be gone a while.

I scanned the area with night vision to ensure it was clear, then ran to his truck, which he had left idling.  There was a toolbox mounted behind the cab.  I picked the lock to see if there was anything in it that I could use.  I wound up taking four trucker straps, a roll of duct tape and some heavy-duty zip-ties.  Up to this point I hadn’t decided on what I was going to do, but the zip-ties gave me an idea due to their size; they were around three feet long, half inch wide and almost indestructible.  I crawled under his truck and noticed there was plenty of room between the driveshaft and truck frame to do what I was thinking about.  I went ahead and ran the straps over the framing members above the drive shaft, and I secured fifteen of the zip-ties to the driveshaft, leaving them loose enough where I could slide them back and forth.

Now that the truck was prepped, I moved my car next to his truck.  The wetback was still unconscious and I knew the sedative was going to wear off soon, so I needed to move quickly.  Before I dragged him out of the trunk, I cut off all his clothes except for his underwear and duct taped his mouth shut.  I scanned the area again to make sure no one was around.  It was clear, so I dragged the wetback out of my trunk and under the big rig.  I laid on my back, then rolled his body on top of mine.  I pushed him upwards with my knees and elbows first, then higher with my feet and hands.  Once I had him up against the bottom of the cab, right above the driveshaft, I held his torso in place with my feet so I could secure his chest with one of the straps.  It was kind of like how I install transmissions in vehicles, but unlike where a transmission is rigid, he was like a fucking greasy, limp noodle.  Now that I had his upper body secured, I took the other straps and secured his legs and waist, leaving his head hanging.  I stretched his arms perpendicular from his body and secured them to the framing members using some extra zip-ties.  He was now secured right above the driveshaft.  Next, I slid one of the zip-ties that were around the driveshaft to where it was positioned under his face.  I tightened it down, then trimmed the end at an angle where it would only come in contact with him and not any parts of the truck to reduce noise.  The angle also created a sharp tip.  I did the same with the other fourteen zip-ties; securing one at his upper chest, lower chest, three spaced evenly across his abdomen, two at his private parts, and then spaced out the other seven from his thighs to his feet.  I also made sure the zip-ties were staggered around the driveshaft so they wouldn’t strike him all at once; kind of like the raised pieces on the rotating drum of a music box mechanism.  I was so impressed with my musical creation that I took a picture of it.  I knew the human music box was going to make the pleasant sounds of flesh being whipped accompanied by moans and muffled screams, but unfortunately, I wasn’t going to be able to hear it.  Before I crawled out, I injected him with adrenaline and cut off his underwear.  I laughed when I noticed the bastard’s dangling dick was directly in the path of a zip-tie.  I did a quick look around to make sure I wasn’t leaving anything incriminating behind, then moved my car across the parking lot.

Around 1 AM the truck driver came out and got in his truck.  I could see through the night vision goggles that he had crawled into the sleeping section.  My original plan was to hang out until he left, ensuring he didn’t find the wetback.  Now that it looked as if he was going to be here a while I decided to head home to get my wireless camera and monitor.  I only lived an hour away, and with the truck idling, I knew there would be no way for him to hear the wetback’s moaning when he came to, so I took off for home.

Around 3:30 AM I pulled back into the parking lot.  I was relieved to see the truck was still there, especially without police tape surrounding it.  When I crawled under it, I found that the wetback was awake.  He couldn’t see me because it was dark, but I could see him through my night vision goggles.  He was throwing his head around, staring into the darkness as he was trying to figure out where he was.  I mounted the camera under the truck where it was positioned lower and to the right of him so I could see his entire body.  When I got back in my car, I turned on the monitor.  The camera had built in infrared, so I was still able to see.

Around 6:30 AM the truck driver went back into the building.  He came out thirty minutes later with a bag of breakfast tacos.  The sun was barely out, but there was enough light to where I could now see the wetback in color since the infrared wasn’t needed anymore.  When the truck began moving, I could see the zip-ties turning with the driveshaft.  They weren’t doing anything at the slower speed; basically, tickling the Mexican’s skin.  I followed behind the truck at a cautious distance, but I had to stay within two hundred feet because of the camera’s short transmitting range.  As the truck picked up speed, the driveshaft and zip-ties sped up as well, and as their speed increased, the wetback’s skin quickly turned red where the zip-ties were slapping him.  When the truck reached sixty miles an hour, the sharp tips of the zip-ties were starting to cut gashes into his skin.  I could see him throwing his head around as his body was being brutally whipped.  When the truck hit seventy miles an hour, the speed of the drive shaft was causing the zip-ties to bend where they weren’t coming into contact with his body.  At first I was disappointed, but then noticed the truck was slowing down due to the traffic.  I realized this would actually drag out the wetback’s torture as the truck sped up and slowed down.  The zip-ties were now striking his skin again.  The monitor had a built-in DVR, so I was able to record the horrifying event.  The camera system also had sound, so I was able to hear his muffled screams through the duct tape and wind.  The zip-ties were also making different sounds as they whipped different parts of his body.  His legs were making a cracking sound, his stomach a thumping sound and his chest a popping sound.  Even his dick and balls were making a noticeable sound.  And combined, it was like music to my ears.  Suddenly, the wetback’s dick tore apart, then his ball sack ripped open, causing his balls to hang by their spermatic cords, and as quick as they had fallen out, the next pass of the zip-tie ripped his hanging nuts from his body like a bat hitting a baseball on a batting tee.  The zip-ties had also cut large gashes all over his body.  Since his head was not bound, he was turning it side to side and bouncing it around as a zip-tie slapped him.  His face was covered in red welts and the duct tape was starting to come loose from his slobber and from being struck with the zip-tie.  By now the truck had sped back up, and the zip-ties were missing his body again.  He was still throwing his head around as blood ran out of his ravaged body.  Finally, the duct tape slid down to his neck, allowing him to scream out as the wind blew his hair around.  I could now hear him yelling out in Spanish.  I couldn’t understand all of his words, but I was able to make out the ones that I knew from my Spanish lessons back in the chamber; like help, pain, stop, penis, stuff like that.”

Wyatt got Seth’s attention.  “Wasn’t blood getting on your car?”

“Yes.  Drops were occasionally hitting my windshield.  There was also a car between me and the truck, but it didn’t look as if the driver was noticing it.  I assumed he thought it was from bugs, or maybe that the aerodynamics of his car was forcing the drops to pass over him.”

“What happened next?”

“A few miles down the road the truck had to slow down again, and as soon as the zip-ties hit the gashes in his stomach, his guts began protruding out through the open wounds.  The zip-ties instantly ripped open his intestines, causing shit and brown vile to pour out.  The man in front of me hit his brakes for a moment, then turned on his windshield wipers.  About the time he washed off his windshield, the wetback’s intestines came falling out.  They quickly unraveled out of his stomach cavity and were being dragged behind the truck.  The zip-ties didn’t hesitate to rip into the soft tissue, and then pieces of intestine and shit spattered all over my car.  A moment later, I ran over a large section of intestine.  The man in front of me jerked his car to the shoulder and stopped.  I continued as I watched the monitor.  The flesh on the wetback’s stomach had been completely ripped off, and his stomach cavity was now wide open, and his other organs were hanging out.  I could see his rib cage where the zip-ties had torn away his flesh.  His leg bones were also exposed where he had large open wounds.  His jawbone, teeth and parts of his skull could be seen as well.  One of his eyes had been knocked out, and I couldn’t believe that he was turning his head to protect his other eye.  Before the next mile marker, the wetback passed out, and as his head hung limp, the zip-ties continued to rip him apart.  I took the next exit and headed for the first car wash.”  Seth looked at Wyatt.  “Did you read about that one in the paper?”

Wyatt has covering his mouth, trying not to puke.  He shook his head no.

“I did.  The police had to shut down the highway.  It took them twelve hours to collect all the parts and for a biohazard company to clean up the body parts and fluids.  The truck driver was taken into custody, but was eventually released without any charges.”

“Do those images not haunt you?”

Seth laughed.  “No.  But the sound clip from the recording haunted the assholes in the chamber for a while.”

“Don’t tell me you played it for them.”

“It ran twenty-four-seven for several months.  Just like elevator music, an elevator from hell.”

Wyatt was getting sleepy, so he leaned his seat back to get comfortable, and within a few minutes he was snoring.

The Key to Unlock Fear

Jim looked at his watch.  It was almost midnight.  A team of doctors and scientists had already come to the building and moved John and the contraption to a nearby hospital.  Ron walked up to Jim.  “All the spikes have been removed, snakes captured, and the officers are done with their sweep.”

“Inform the officers to go ahead and let the occupants come back in.  But we need to keep this apartment secured for now.”

“Will do.”

“Get Thomas and meet me in the parking lot.  We’re heading over to St. Frances to check on John.”

A few minutes later, Jim came outside and walked up to an officer.  “Take the van.  I’m going to use the unmarked car.”  Ron and Thomas were standing by the van.  Jim pointed to a black, Crown Victoria.  “We’re taking the car.”  They remained quiet as they drove to the hospital.  Upon arrival, Jim told Thomas to stay in the car, then he and Ron went into the building.  On the eighth floor, they met with a doctor.  He took them into a room filled with other doctors, engineers, FBI agents and a demolition expert that also had experience with booby-traps.  The doctor explained that they had not been able to figure out a way to open the box.  He explained that outside of the obvious booby-traps, the contraption looked simple at first, but advanced electronics and high-tech detection systems had also been found.  One of the FBI agents strolled up to Jim.  “Has Mr. Carter been located?”

“No.  But we believe he’s alive.”

“Do you have evidence to support that?”

“If Skull wanted him dead, he would have simply done it back in North Dakota instead of going through all the trouble of meeting him in New York.”

“You know he’s unpredictable.”

“I know—I’ve been studying him for a long time.”

“Has the burn victim been identified yet?”

“Not that I am aware of.  He was taken to Cedar Ridge mortuary.  I’ll be heading there next to see if the forensic examiner has found anything.”

Another doctor had been listening.  He walked up to Jim.  “I was informed the man had been burned to death by fuses that had been inserted under his skin.”

Jim nodded.  “We think they were fuses, but will not be certain until we meet with the examiner doing the autopsy.”

“I want to show you something.”  Jim followed the Doctor over to John.  He pointed at some raised sections of skin on John’s torso and face.  “Does that look the same?”

Jim wanted to throw up when he noticed John had fuses under his skin.  “Yes.  I didn’t notice those back at the room; the light was dim.”

The demolition expert was examining the box and had overheard their conversation.  “We’ll find a way to get him out of here.  I’m having a special piece of equipment brought in that will allow me to see the wiring and circuitry that’s hidden.  I’ll be on this until we get your partner out safely.”

Jim scrutinized John for a moment, then marched out of the room.  When he and Ron got back in the car, Thomas leaned forward from the back seat.  “Were they able to get John out?”

Ron looked backed.  “Not yet.”

Jim glanced at Ron.  “We need to find Skull.  It’s his contraption.  That’s the only way to get him out safely.”

“Even if we did, you know he’s not going to be taken alive.”

Thomas asked, “You haven’t been able to catch him in the past, then how do you expect to do it now?”

Jim peered into the rear-view mirror.  “He’s been slipping up.”  Jim started the car.  “It’s late.  If either one of you want to be dropped off at the motel let me know.  I’m going to the morgue.”

Ron put on his seat belt.  “I’ll go with you.”

Thomas leaned back in his seat.  “I’m along for the ride.  And I appreciate you guys letting me be a part of this.”

Ron laughed.  “You can thank your dad.”

Jim looked into the rear-view mirror again and thought to himself how Thomas seemed like a good kid.  He was fresh out of the police academy and had the same Rambo attitude like he did back when he was green.  Thomas’ dad was a Deputy Assistant Director in the FBI, and he had pulled some strings to get him on this special investigations team—it would be a career building opportunity for him, especially if Skull was captured.

Thomas was a little irritated after Ron’s comment.  “I didn’t get this by riding my dad’s coattail.  I was ranked top in my class and got the highest shooting scores.”

Ron laughed.  “Okay, Obie Wan Kenobi.  Just make sure you don’t get yourself killed.  Jim and I have no desire to be demoted to meter maids.”

Jim glanced over at Ron.  “Or flipping patties at a burger joint.  Director Arnold has a lot of pull.”

Ron shook his head.  “I didn’t sign on to be a babysitter.”

Jim nodded in agreement.  “Well, at least we will get all the resources we need.”  He looked at Thomas through the rear-view mirror.  “You have your whole career ahead of you, so don’t do something stupid and get yourself killed.  Skull probably already knows everything about you.”

Thomas was still a little agitated.  “I don’t care what you two think.”  He peered back at Jim through the rear-view mirror.  “How did Wyatt get involved in this anyway?”

Ron glanced at Jim.  “You want me to tell him?”

Jim nodded, indicating it was okay.

Ron turned sideways in his seat.  “Two years ago, Wyatt’s house caught fire in the middle of the night and his wife was killed.  The police suspected him of arson.”

“How did they know it was arson?”

“The fire marshal’s report indicated foul play—an accelerant was found.”

“Why isn’t he in jail?”

“There wasn’t enough evidence at the time to implicate him.”

“So, the evidence was weak?”

“It is where he’s from.  He lives in a small town.  He’s never been in trouble and everyone that knew him had nothing but good things to say about him.  Without him admitting to the fire, no jury in the area would issue a guilty verdict.”

“So, what happened?”

“The police had been keeping tabs on him, monitoring his home phone, hoping he would slip up.”

“So how did Skull get involved?”

“Did you know Wyatt is a reporter?”

“Yeah, I knew that.”

“Out of the blue, Skull called him and asked if he wanted to do a story on him.”

“That’s fucking weird.  Do you think Skull was after him for the fire?”

Jim glanced in the rear-view mirror.  “No.  He would have simply abducted him.”

Ron agreed.  “He’s right.  Wyatt would have come up missing, but Skull apparently wanted to meet with him in a non-threatening fashion; he usually takes and does what he wants.  Asking for permission is very unusual.  Something has definitely changed.”

Jim added.  “That’s what I was talking about earlier.  He’s slipping up, so we might have a chance to catch him.  He’s been very good about not leaving incriminating evidence behind, but now Wyatt is with him.  Maybe he is leaving breadcrumbs for us that will lead us to Skull.”

Thomas looked confused.  “So, you’re saying that Wyatt is working with us?”

Ron nodded his head.  “In a roundabout way.  After Wyatt received the call from Skull, he contacted the police.  Wyatt had recorded the last part of their conversation, but the police thought it was just a prank call, but they notified us just in case.  When Jim and I examined the evidence, we knew it was Skull.”

“What evidence?”

“The recorded phone call.”

Thomas laughed.  “How would either one of you know what Skull sounds like?”

“Jim has heard his voice before.”

Thomas leaned forward.  “When?”

“Skull has called him a couple of times.”

“Really?  For what?  What did he say?”

“That’s the strange part.  He just shot the shit with Jim.  He would try to ask him questions, but Skull would change the subject.”

“What do you mean he would shoot the shit?”

“Skull didn’t behave like a deranged person as you would expect.  He actually carried on with Jim as if he was a buddy.  I really don’t know how to explain it.  Skull would call up and start the conversation like, hey, Jim, what’s been going on?  Then he would ask different questions, like, how was his family doing, and how did he like working for the FBI.  He would talk about current events, politics, and TV shows.  Every time Jim tried to bring up the vigilante shit, Skull would change the subject.”

“Do you think he’s asking for help?”

Jim shook his head.  “That wasn’t the impression I got.  I think he was simply letting me know that he can be as normal as the next guy.”

“Why would he do that?”

“It’s hard to say.  Maybe it’s so we have to look at everyone as a suspect, making our job a lot harder.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at it this way.  Skull’s behavior doesn’t fit the average vigilante’s or serial killer’s MO.  That causes us to look at everyone when he plants false evidence or when we get a tip from a person that says their neighbor is The Angel of Death.  We can’t simply rule out the hundreds of tips that people called in by doing a computer background check.  We have to physically check out each and every person.”

“During all those investigations, do you think you have been in the same room with him?  He fooled us back at the apartment building with his bullshit disguise.”

“It’s possible that he could have been present during one of them, but there was one time that I know I was in the same room with him.”

Thomas looked eager.  “When was that?”

Ron spoke up.  “It was four years ago, way after John was abducted.  Jim was at a crime scene by himself.  He had sent everyone away so he wouldn’t be distracted as he studied some writing that Skull had left on a wall.  He was alone in an old warehouse when the lights went out.  Skull starting taunting Jim while he hid in the dark.”

“Taunting him how?”

“Calling out his name.  Telling him to back off.  Telling Jim that he knows everything about everyone that investigates him, including the skeletons that they have in the closet.  Deranged shit like that.”

Jim seemed a little disturbed.  “It was an uncomfortable experience.  I had a flashlight, but his voice seemed to be coming from everywhere.  It was echoing and I couldn’t locate the direction.  I was yelling out, asking where John was.  The last thing he said was, things are not always what they seem; this is the key that will unlock all your fears.”

“Why didn’t he kill you?”

“He only harms what he considers scumbags and lowlifes.”

“So, you must not be a scumbag then?”  Thomas laughed.

“I guess not.  But the statement he made about the key that will unlock my fears has really haunted me for some reason.”

Thomas thought for a moment.  “What the hell does that mean?  Do you think it had something to do with how to get John out of that contraption?”

Ron looked back.  “Who knows?  Probably just more of his bullshit to keep us running in circles.”

Thomas leaned forward.  “What happened after Jim verified that it was Skull’s voice on Wyatt’s recording?”

“Skull had told Wyatt that he was going to call back in three days for his answer.  The day we arrived was the third day.  Wyatt didn’t want to meet with Skull—he was scared.  Originally, he wanted no part of it, but we finally convinced him to do it.  We set up at his house…”

Thomas interrupted.  “How did you talk him into it?”

Jim looked into the rear-view mirror.  “I told him that it was a matter of time before he would be found guilty of arson, but if he met with Skull, I would get the charges reduced.  He had a daughter to raise and didn’t want to go to prison, so he agreed to do it.”

“You bluffed him.  If the police didn’t have enough evidence already, he was probably going to get away with it anyway.”

Ron looked back at Thomas.  “He didn’t know that.  And besides, it was for the greater good.”

“What happened next?”

“We set up at Wyatt’s house, waiting for the call.  A few hours later, Wyatt’s home phone rang.  The caller ID displayed unavailable.  Jim signaled for Wyatt to answer it.  Jim and I were listening in, and when Skull began talking, Jim gave a thumbs up to another officer who was already on a cell phone getting the location of the caller.  Skull didn’t stay on the phone long; he simply gave a time and place to meet after Wyatt took him up on his offer.  The officer wrote the address on a piece of paper, then handed it to Jim.  I could see the blood leave Jim’s face as he looked at the address.  The call had come from Jim’s house back in Richmond, Virginia.  He immediately called his wife’s cell phone.  Luckily, she and the kids were at the mall.  Jim contacted our field office in Richmond, and within minutes a team stormed his house.  Skull was not there, and there was no evidence that he had been there.  Jim had his family moved to a secured location, where they will remain until Skull is caught.”

Thomas became angry.  “That son of a bitch had the nerve to break into Jim’s house.  He’s going to eventually mess up, and we’re going to nail his ass.”

Jim regarded Thomas.  “He knew we were on his trail, and he knew we were there with Wyatt.  It was his way of telling us to back off.”

“That doesn’t make sense.  If he knew, then why did he risk meeting with Wyatt?”

Ron answered the question.  “It’s a game to him.”

Jim pulled up to a building and stopped.  “We’re at the morgue.”  He gawked at Ron.  “Hopefully the examiner has good news.”  Ron and Thomas followed Jim into the building.  Thomas didn’t like the odor that was lingering in the main hallway.  “Hey, guys, I’m gonna go back to the car.”

Ron nodded.  “Okay.  You can stay out here, but don’t wonder off.”

Jim pointed at a bench.  “Better yet, park it.”

Thomas shook his head as he sat down.  Jim and Ron walked through a double set of stainless-steel doors.  A woman in a lab jacket approached.  Jim pulled out his badge and identified himself.  “I’m Jim Thompson.”  He nodded toward Ron.  “This is Ron Serbanic.”

She reached out and shook Jim’s hand.  “I’m Michelle.  You must be here for the…”  She paused for a moment.  “I really don’t’ know how to describe the body.”

Ron smiled.  “Internally cooked.”

She motioned for them to follow her as she walked off.

Jim shook his head as he gawked at Ron.  “What the hell was that about?  Internally cooked?”  Jim walked off and met Michelle at a stainless-steel table; Ron went the other direction—he didn’t like to be around dead bodies unless he had to.  The man from the apartment building was lying on top of the table.  His chest and abdominal cavities were still laid open.  Jim surveyed the burn marks under the man’s skin.  From his open cavities, Jim could see that some of his organs had been burned as well.  He peered at Michelle and asked, “Have you identified him?”

“Not yet.”

Jim looked disappointed.  “How long is it going to take?  I need something that I can go on.”

She opened the man’s mouth.  “His teeth have been removed.”  She picked up one of his hands.  “And his fingerprints have been burned off.”  She laid the hand back down.  “He has no other identifying marks.  But we’re running DNA.  That will be our last chance to identify him.”

“Was the cause of death from being burned?”

“It was part of it.  The toxicology report showed nothing unusual in his system, but he did have internal bleeding and was severely dehydrated.”

“Bleeding from what?”

Michelle pointed to a small puncture wound on the side of the man’s abdomen.  “His spleen had been punctured.”

“How did that happen?”

“Possibly from his attacker.  Not sure why though.”

“I know.  So, he wouldn’t live long enough for us to question him.”

“That’s a possibility.  The hole in his spleen was small, but when his body went through the horrific pain of being burned, his heart rate increased, causing more blood to be pumped into his abdominal cavity.”  Michelle pulled out a small glass jar from her pocket.  “I have something for you that might help with his origins.”  She handed it to Jim.  “I found this in his hair.”

Jim noticed it was a tiny insect.  “What is it?”

“A very rare ladybug that belongs to a group of Ladybird Beetles.  It’s called the Winton’s Ladybird Beetle.  They have only been found in the Centennial Valley along the Montana and Idaho border.  If I were you, I would contact the sheriff’s department in Dubois, Idaho.  It’s the closest town to the Centennial Valley.”

Jim set the jar on the table.  He pulled out his card and handed it to her.  “Thanks, Michelle.  Let me know if you find anything else.” 

Jim walked over to Ron as he was looking at some preserved organs that were in a display case.  “You could have joined us.”

“Ron looked a little flush.  “You know I don’t like these kinds of places.”  He glanced back at some jars filled with formaldehyde and body parts.  “This stuff creeps me out.”

Jim and Ron went back to the car.  Thomas was standing next to it smoking a cigarette.  Jim pointed his finger at him.  “I told you to stay put.”

Thomas flicked the butt as he opened the back door.  “What did y’all find out?”

Jim ignored him as he got in the car.

Thomas plopped in the back seat like a lazy teenager.  “Well, what did y’all find out?”

Jim was aggravated at Thomas’ behavior.  “Kids should be seen and not heard.”

“I’m not a damn kid!”

Ron looked back.  “Then don’t act like one.”

Thomas crossed his arms as he peered out the window.

Ron glanced at Jim.  “What did you find out?”

“We still don’t know who he is, but there is an indication that he could be from Montana or Idaho.”

“Where to next?”

Jim scrutinized his watch.  “The motel.  We’ll head to Idaho in the morning.”

Thomas was already snoring in the back seat before the car pulled away.

The next morning Jim got a call from an investigator with the Atlanta Police Department.  The investigator told him about Pat Peterson.  He explained Mr. Peterson and another man had been reported missing a few days ago and they were found yesterday evening in the basement of Mr. Peterson’s building.  The other man was still unconscious and hadn’t been questioned yet, but Mr. Peterson was able to give a statement.  At first, Jim was aggravated that he was being bothered with a local issue until the investigator told him about the Spanish Pear.  Jim and his team immediately went to the airport.  They met with some more FBI agents that were waiting for them in a jet.  Their destination was Atlanta.

Ghost of Brunswick Avenue

Wyatt woke up and noticed the SUV wasn’t moving and Seth was gone.  It was dark and he couldn’t tell where he was.  He looked out the window and noticed the area was secluded.  The clock in the dash showed it was 4:30 AM and the keys were in the ignition.  Maybe Seth was taking a piss or something, he thought.  He got out and scanned the area.  The moon was lighting up the tops of tall trees and the air smelled fresh, indicating he was in a wooded area.  He got back in the car and locked the doors.  About an hour later, he noticed some lights flickering through the trees in the distance.  Fear overcame him, not knowing who was coming.  He didn’t know if he should run and hide, or stay in the car.  If it was a cop, he thought, he could go to jail when they realized the SUV had been involved with the trucker incident.  The lights were getting brighter with each passing second.  Panic overcame him; he opened the door and took off running through knee-high grass.  Suddenly, a set of headlights revealed themselves.  Wyatt dove to the ground and hid behind some large weeds.  He was shaking with fear as the vehicle stopped next to the SUV.  His heart was pounding as he watched a man search the vehicle with a flashlight.  He could barely see him as the light from a flashlight reflected back on him.  He was dressed all in black and had long hair; that was about all he could make out.  Wyatt was sweating profusely, and his heart felt as if it was going to explode at any second.  Finally, the man drove off.  Wyatt took a deep breath as a feeling of ease overcame him.  He sat on the ground and wiped the sweat from his head as he watched the car’s taillights disappear into the dark.  Suddenly, he heard the roaring of an engine accompanied by tires spinning and sliding on gravel.  To his horror, the vehicle had spun around and was headed right for him.  He panicked, then he jumped up and took off running.  He could hear the engine revving as it followed behind him closely.  It was dark, but the headlights were lighting his way as he ran through the tall grass.  He could even see his shadow running for its life in front of him.  There was a thick wooded area running parallel with him, and when he noticed an opening in the brush, he ran for cover.  The vehicle slammed on its brakes and came to a stop.  He wanted to keep running, but the wooded area was dark and grown up with vines that had sharp thorns.  The door opened and the dome light came on.  Wyatt could see a dark-skinned man with long hair sitting in the driver’s seat.  He got out and began walking over to the wooded area with a flashlight.  Suddenly, the light struck Wyatt’s face.  A man yelled out.  “What are you doing?”

Wyatt stood up.  “Using the bathroom.”

“When you get done wiping your ass, let’s go.  We’re only a few hours from Atlanta.”

He blocked the light from his eyes with his hand.  “Seth?”

The light went off.  “Who else did you think it was?”

Wyatt took a deep breath; he was relieved.  He strolled out of the wooded area.  “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I figured that when I saw you running.  Let’s get the hell out of here.”

When they got into the car, Wyatt was able to see Seth’s new disguise more clearly.  He had dyed his skin brown, and his face had pockmarks.  He was wearing a black, long-haired wig that hung down to the back of his neck, a tan buttoned up shirt tucked into old blue jeans, and a black leather jacket.  He had a dark, thick handlebar mustache and his goatee had been dyed to match.  Seth noticed he was staring.  “Why are you looking at me?”

“It’s amazing how you can do that.  You don’t even look like the same person.”

“I told you I have been doing this for a long time.”  Then Seth spoke in a deep, Hispanic sounding voice.  “Hey ese, that’s why this loco hombre been gettin’ away with dis pinche chit for so long.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, but at least I’m not a pinche maricon.”  Seth winked as he put the car in drive.

Wyatt was aggravated.  “What the hell did you just call me?”

“A fucking cool dude.”

“Bullshit!”  He looked around the car, noticing it was a newer, black Lincoln Town Car.  “And where in the hell did you get this thing, you lying fuck.”

Seth laughed.

“Seriously, where did you get it?”

“Off some asshole.”

Wyatt wiped some sweat from his face with a rag.  “Why did you fucking leave me out here by myself?”

“You were asleep, and it was better that I went alone.”  Seth spun the tires and fishtailed a little as he took off.

“Where are we?”

“Foster State park in Georgia.”

“Georgia?  Wow, I did sleep for a while.”  He gazed at Seth.  “What asshole?”

“Just some dude at a motel a little way down the road from here.”

“Did you kill him?”

“No.  Just threatened him.”

“To kill him?”

“No.  That I would tell his wife that he was fucking his girlfriend if he didn’t give me his car.”

“Oh.”  Wyatt had a look of concern.  “How did you know that I wouldn’t take off?”

“Just like you’re trusting me not to skin you alive, then wear your flesh as a bathrobe.”

Wyatt’s eyes opened wide.

“Trust, Wyatt.  You must have trust.  Same trust that I have knowing that you won’t pull out your revolver and pop a cap in my ass.”

“I understand that, but you make it sound as if you have worn someone’s skin around before.”

“A few times; just to fuck with someone.”

“Can that be your next story?”

“Those would be kind of boring, but I did scare the shit out of some black folk when I went around disguised as a dead person.”

“That’s kind of outside your character, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“No killing or torturing.”

“I didn’t say that.  Actually, a whole bunch of dirt bags got fucked up.”

“Oh, cool.  Sounds interesting then.”

Seth laughed.  “You’re starting to like this shit, aren’t you?”

Wyatt shrugged his shoulders.

“I knew you would.”

He noticed Seth had moved his bag to the backseat.  He pulled it up front, then took out his folder and notebook.  “Did this one make the news?”

“No, but it was turned into a story on one of those TV Ghost shows.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does when you hear what I did.  It took place around seven years ago in Trenton, New Jersey.  It all started when some gangbangers killed a nineteen-year-old.  Of course, murder isn’t uncommon in the area.  In fact, about four hundred people were killed there last year, and their crime rate is fucking ridiculous.  This also wasn’t your normal punk ass gangbanger killing another punk ass.  This story is about Dewayne.  A good kid that didn’t deserve what he got.

I happened to be in New Jersey when this story came on the local news.  It pissed me off, and at the time I was bored, so I decided to do something a little different.  Going around and fucking up people can get monotonous sometimes, and occasionally I like to do something real fucked up, or unusual, to break the repetitiveness.  The idea of messing around with some gangbangers excited me.

I spent a couple of days doing some research.  What I pieced together from the news, and from a few locals, was that Dewayne had grown up on the streets just like the rest of the punks, but instead of whining and crying how society was keeping him down, or joining a gang, he had gotten an academic scholarship and was leaving at the end of the summer for MIT.  He was well-liked in the neighborhood and was setting an example to younger kids, especially the ones who didn’t have any great physical abilities like himself—It was common that a person with good athletic skills could receive a sports scholarship, but not for someone like Dewayne; he was a big, clumsy teenager.  Dewayne lived with his mom, grandmother, and younger brother.  The local gang, the Street Kings, didn’t like him because he refused to join them.  They would call him the Blueberry Narc because he always wore a blue New York Giants jacket with either a blue toboggan or a blue hoodie, and bright green shoes.

A few days before he was killed, one of the members had been arrested for drug possession.  They blamed Dewayne, accusing him of ratting out the fucker, when in reality, he had nothing to do with it, but nevertheless, fifteen gang members dragged him into an abandoned building where they beat him until his face was unrecognizable, then stabbed and shot him to death.  They tied a canvas tow sack over his head, then painted their gang sign with red spray paint on it as a warning to other narcs.  The decent people around this area, the northeast side of Trenton, were enraged with what happened to Dewayne.  They were sick and tired of the gang violence, but the police refused to get the problem under control—they were too busy harassing law abiding people.

Dewayne had been murdered the day before I got there.  I didn’t know anything about the Street Kings except that they wore red bandanas.  The news stated there were about twenty of them.  Before I decided what I was going to do, I waited until it was dark, then drove up and down Brunswick Avenue and the surrounding area.  The Street Kings were hard to find at first, but I did see a lot of their gang tags painted everywhere.  Their tag was the letters SK, and under the letters was written, 4 LIFE; they were painted red, in graffiti style writing.  Around an hour later, I noticed two punks walking down a sidewalk.  They both had red bandanas on their heads.  I drove on down, then turned around and came back with my lights off.  I parked a little way down the street to see where they were going.  When they turned the corner, I followed them.  They finally went into a rundown house with two junky cars on blocks.  I snuck up to the house and peeked through a window.  There were about twelve punks hanging around in the living room.  They were smoking weed, playing video games, and smooching on hood rats.  About that time, two of them started for the front door, so I went back to my car.  They got into their seven-hundred-dollar car with five-thousand-dollar rims and took off.  I followed them to another house.  This one was a real shithole.  The front windows had been boarded up, graffiti was painted everywhere, and the front yard was all dirt and littered with trash.  Within a few seconds, three punks came out and got in the car.  I followed them to a park where they hung around for a while, then they went to a rundown shack with a couch on the front porch.  I hid my car in an alleyway, then went and looked through a window.  Same thing going on there; weed, games and bitches.  Now that I had several of their hangouts, I went back to my motel room.  While I lay in bed, I thought about what I could do from simply burning their shit down with them inside to machine gunning their ass like they do others.  It had been a while since I did something fun, so I decided to fuck with these assholes.  Dewayne was a big kid, around two-hundred and thirty pounds.  His size was what gave me the idea of dressing like him, and it would allow me to wear my body armor, reducing the chance of receiving a fatal gunshot.  The next morning I drove over to New York and bought the same jacket, hoodie and shoes that Dewayne had worn, and picked up a canvas tow sack, red paint, several small bug sprayers and ten, half-gallon bottles of Everclear.  When I got back to my motel, I cut holes in the tow sack for my eyes, then painted the SK 4 Life tag on the front of it.  Later that night, I put on my custom-made body armor, then loaded…”

Wyatt got Seth’s attention.  “What kind of body armor?  Did it cover your entire body or just your torso?”

Seth lit a cigarette, then handed one to Wyatt.  “I made the armor.  In fact, it’s in one of my duffel bags in the back.  It’s a complete bodysuit, and it’s made of Kevlar.  It will only stop pistol rounds in calibers smaller than .357 magnum, but I do have pouches sewn in where I can add ballistic plates if I need them.  I also have a Kevlar helmet that I made; it consists of an inner layer of rubber covered with an outer layer of Kevlar.  I designed the helmet to be thin so I can conceal it under wigs, hoodies, and such.  It will only stop pistol rounds, and due to it being thin, I still could be knocked unconscious or sustain a concussion if shot in the head, which is still better than a bullet bouncing around inside my skull.  The bodysuit is heavy and not very flexible, so I only wear it if I think I need the extra protection.”

“Have you ever been shot while wearing it?”

“A few times.”

“Did it work?”

“No, I died.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “I know you didn’t die.  Just askin’ if the armor stopped the rounds.”

“It did.”

“Did any of the gangbangers shoot you?”

“Do you want me to tell the story from the beginning or skip around?”

“From the beginning.”

“Then you’ll find out later.  After I put on my bulletproof jumpsuit, I concealed it with normal clothes so no one would notice it when I left the motel.  I loaded everything else in a backpack and headed out around 9:30 PM.  An hour later, I was driving down Brunswick Avenue.  It was a busy street filled with the nightlife crowd, so I pulled down an alleyway and parked behind some dumpsters so I could complete my disguise.

First, I changed my clothes, dyed the skin around my eyes black, then applied some prosthetic adhesive to my face.  I put on the tow sack, adhering it to my face with the adhesive; I did this to ensure the eye holes wouldn’t move around and block my vision.  I put on my Kevlar helmet, then covered my head with a hoodie.  It was now around 11 PM and hopefully the thugs would be out and about.  It was a perfect night for fucking up assholes—cool, slightly misty and there was a half-moon that was casting plenty of light to see by, but still dark enough to stay hidden in the shadows.  I grabbed my backpack, a bug sprayer and a pair of fourth generation night vision goggles from the trunk.  I walked several blocks until I came to the park where I had seen the black assholes the night before.  No one was there, so I headed toward the house with the junk cars.  A few blocks down, I noticed there were three men walking toward me on the sidewalk.  Two were tall and one was short.  I hid behind some shrubs, and when they passed by, I noticed they had on red bandanas; two had them around their heads, and the other had one around his arm.  I followed them while keeping my distance.  The men went to the park and sat on a picnic table.  They were drinking liquor, smoking weed, and not paying attention to the shit around them as they laughed and talked shit.  The area had tall trees that were blocking out most of the moonlight, so I was able to get close to them without being seen as I hid behind a row of bushes.

I had numerous things running through my head how I could fuck them up.  The bug sprayer came to mind.  It was filled with Everclear and I had brought it in case I needed to burn down a house or two.  I had chosen the Everclear because its odor is not as recognizable as gasoline.  If people smell gas they will usually be alerted.  The thought ran across my mind how it would be funny to light these assholes on fire.  I pulled out my .22 silenced pistol, then swapped the magazine with another magazine loaded with special made .22 white phosphorus ammo.”

Wyatt interrupted.  “What kind of ammo?”

Seth pulled one of the rounds out of his pocket and handed it to him.  “I make them myself, and usually keep about a hundred of them with me.  They contain a white phosphorus projectile encased in a plastic shell.  The plastic shell also takes the shape of a normal .22 projectile, allowing the gun to cycle properly.  The rounds have a lower amount of gunpowder and more of the white phosphorus.  When fired, the gunpowder ignites the white phosphorus.  The plastic shell holds the projectile together through the barrel and the baffles in the silencer.  When the projectile impacts a target, the plastic shell simply disintegrates and the white phosphorus burns everything it comes in contact with.  If a person is shot, it will not only cause severe burns, but it also produces smoke that irritates the eyes, nose and respiratory tract.  The .22 round is underpowered due to the lower amount of black powder, but I can still shoot the projectile up to eighty feet away with decent accuracy.”

Wyatt noticed the round looked like a normal .22 round except for a red tip.  He handed it back to Seth.  “Did you get to shoot one of the fuckers with it?”

“Be patient and you will find out.”

Wyatt was eager to know.  “Then get on with it.”

“I was about to make my move when one of the taller punks came walking over to the bushes with a joint hanging from his lips.  Through the night vision goggles, I could tell that he was pretty fucked up as he was swaying around while sporting a happy face.  He whipped out his dick and began urinating into the bushes.  I moved closer, then pushed the wand of the bug sprayer close to his crotch and quickly soaked his genitals, underwear, and the front of his pants.  He noticed the wetness right away.  He stopped urinating, then moved his dick around.  He cursed for a bit, then started back.  I could tell that he thought that he had pissed on himself.  This dude was so drunk that he didn’t even notice the Everclear odor.  Around this time one of the other men shouted out, “Yo, Big D.  Stop playin’ wit yo’ dick.”

The guy glanced back as he was shaking out the last drop.  “Hey, cuzz…  Come over here and clean dis muthafucka off.”

Right before he had a chance to zip up, I lit my Zippo and tossed it toward his crotch.  A fireball instantly lit up the night followed by Big D’s screams that echoed throughout the park.  He stumbled backwards as he frantically beat at the flames with his hands.  When he couldn’t get them under control, he pulled down his pants and underwear.  By this time his flesh had been severely burned.  His crotch was still on fire and the clothing around his legs was blazing out of control.  He was hopping around as he patted the fire around his dick and balls.  By the time he extinguished the flames around his crotch, the fire from his pants and underwear was reaching up to his burnt genitals.  He fell to the ground and began rolling around.  The other two punks had been laughing, but finally came running over.  The shorter punk stood in horror as the tall punk pulled off his jacket and started beating the flames.  Big D rolled to his back while breathing heavily.  The flames were out, but smoke was still bellowing out from his crotch and clothing.  His hands were shaking as he felt his charred penis.  “Oh, fuck!  My shit is burnt!”  He eyed the taller guy.  “Help me, G Dog.”

G Dog’s eyes were huge as he was trying to figure out what happened.  “What the fuck happened, D?”

Big D was in severe pain and his body was trembling.  “I was smoking.  I must have caught my clothes on fire.”

The short punk shook his head.  “That’s the dumbest shit I ever heard.”

Big D had a grimace of terror as he felt around his genitals.  “How bad is it?  My shit is numb.”

G Dog knelt and examined it, then glanced at the shorter guy.  “Chris.  Help me get him up.  We need to get him to da emergency room.”

They helped him stand up.  Big D had tears running down his face as he stood in pain.  Chris noticed Big D’s penis when the moon light struck it.  He gasped.  “Oh, my God!  Is that yo’ dick?”  He scrutinized it closer and noticed the outer skin was cracked open in several areas and oozing fluid.  All his pubic hairs had been singed and his groin area had been severely burned.  His balls were black as coal and extremely swollen.  A foul odor of burnt flesh and hair engulfed the surrounding air.  “That shit is bad.”

G Dog nudged Chris on the arm.  “Hush.  We need to get him some help.”  G Dog started to pull up Big D’s pants, but he yelled out.  “Oh, fuck!  My legs are burnt!  Don’t do that.”

G Dog didn’t know what to do.  “You ain’t gonna be able to walk like dis.  You know what I’m sayin’.  We have to get you to the car.  Try to take them off.”

As the two ass clowns were helping Big D step out of his pants, I stepped out of the bushes and into the moonlight where they could see me.  I was around forty feet away.  Chris noticed me first.  I could see the blood leave his face as he stared with confusion.  He grabbed G Dog’s shoulder.  “Dog!  Who the fuck is that?”  He pointed in my direction.

G Dog looked at me, then spoke to himself.  “What the fuck?”  His body was frozen with uncertainty, not knowing what to do or how to react. 

Chris began freaking out.  “Dog!  That muthafucka is supposed to be dead.  What the fuck, man!?!”

G Dog went into thug mode.  He pulled out a handgun and began bouncing around, holding his gun sideways in the air while doing the ghetto taunt.  “Yo, muthafucka!  I’m gonna pop a cap in yo’ ass!”  He fired several rounds, hitting me once in the chest.  The impact caused me to stumble back, then I fell to the ground.

Chris was excited as he pumped his fist.  “You got his ass, G Dog!  You got that muthafucka!”

Chris’ eyes opened wide when I stood back up.  He pointed.  “He’s up!  He’s up!  Shoot his ass again G Dog!  Shoot him!”

Suddenly, G Dog’s left eye exploded and flames came bellowing out the socket, then his face turned red, skin cracked open, and flames and smoke poured out of the wound.  His clothes caught fire, then his hair.  He took off running, stumbling and falling as he ran.  His painful screams echoed out as he disappeared into the dark.  Chris was horrified.  He wanted to run, but his legs were frozen from fear.  “What the fuck was that?  You see that shit, D?  Dog caught fire and ran off.”

Big D grabbed a hold of Chris.  “Get me the fuck out of here!”

Chris watched in horror as I raised my pistol and pointed it in their direction.  He screamed out when Big D’s afro caught fire.  Chris’ eyes were about to pop out of his head as he stared in horror.  “It’s a fuckin’ ghost!”

Big D fell to his knees right in front of Chris, then his body seemed to catch fire from the inside out as flames and white smoke came bellowing out from open wounds throughout his body.  Chris looked terrified.  “He’s shooting spirits at us!”

Big D fell to the ground and his body was twitching as white smoke rose from his clothing and hair.  I started walking toward Chris.  He glanced at Big D, then at me, then back at Big D.  “Sorry, D.”  He took off running down the street.  I decided to let him go and not to pop a cap in his ass so he could go back and tell the others what happened—that way they would come out, making it easier for me to find them.  I was laughing as I thought about it; they’re going to think Chris lost his mind.  I could visualize their facial expressions when he tells them that Dewayne’s ghost had shot spirits at him.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “Why did he think that?  He must have noticed you were firing the gun?”

“Remember what I said about the .22 white phosphorus rounds.  Between the lower amount of black powder and the silencer, the gun made no noise, and it didn’t even make a flash.  All Chris saw was me, disguised as Dewayne, pointing a gun at them, and his buddies were catching fire.  He had no idea I was using sub-sonic incendiary rounds.  The rounds had just enough power to penetrate their thinner clothing, causing the white phosphorus to instantly burst into flames when the super-heated chemical came in contact with their flesh.  Flesh is around seventy-five percent water, so a lot of steam was being created as well.  The rounds that hit their coats instantly caused the fabric to catch on fire.”

“Regardless, I wouldn’t have thought it was a damn ghost.”

“Remember what I said about how human minds are automatically programmed to calculate a situation, creating a solution based on everyday experiences.”

Wyatt laughed.  “The logical solution wouldn’t be a ghost.”

“I didn’t say anything about logical.  Maybe in your world there are no ghosts, but a lot of black folks believe in them.  In fact, a lot of people believe in them.  From an early age, kids are told scary stories, then when they get older they start watching horror movies.”  Seth peered at Wyatt.  “When you were young, did you and your friends ever go to a cemetery at night and try to scare each other?”

He nodded.  “Of course.  I think most kids did stuff like that.”

“Were you not scared of ghosts?”

“Back when I was a kid.”

“Yeah, but the thoughts of ghosts and other scary stuff was instilled in you.  That’s just part of our society.”

“I still wouldn’t have thought that a ghost had been shooting spirits at me.”

Seth smiled.  “Maybe, maybe not.  Just remember you said that.  But Chris was looking at what he assumed was Dewayne, who he knew was dead.  His buddies had miraculously burst into flames right in front of his eyes.  The simplest solution for his ghetto mind was that it was a ghost.  Even with most people, a person wouldn’t have thought, oh, this is some psycho dressed like a deceased person shooting custom-made, sub-sonic incendiary rounds through a silenced pistol.  That’s not the norm, ghosts are.”

Wyatt was thinking about something else.  “Why do you want me to remember what I said?”

“Did you even hear what I was saying about the incendiary rounds?”

“Yeah, they catch stuff on fire.  Why do you want me to remember what I said?”

“No particular reason.  We’ll see how you analyze things if something happens out of the norm.”

Wyatt smiled.  “I will not fall for some kind of prank.”

Seth laughed.  “Maybe you will, maybe you won’t.”

Cruisin’, Thumpin’ & Hangin’ with da Homeboys

Wyatt flipped a page in his notebook.  “What happened after Chris took off down the street?”

“I knew he was rounding up his buddies and I didn’t want them to find Big D and go on a rampage, so I quickly dragged him into the bushes and covered him with leaves and branches.  G Dog had disappeared into the park and there was no need in wasting time looking for him.

Even though the evening air was cool, my body armor had me drenched in sweat.  I needed a place to cool off, and I also needed a place to hide before the punks arrived.  There was a house across the street that was condemned; it was the perfect place to do both.  The front door was locked and all the windows were boarded up, but the back door had been kicked open.  The inside was a shithole, littered with old furniture, trash, and discarded belongings.  The floor was deteriorated from water damage and the ceiling looked as if it was about to fall in.  The house was pier and beam and there was a large hole in the living room.  An inferno—I thought as I gazed at the hole—that’s what they needed to go along with their ghost.

Excitement overcame me as I filled the hole with ignitable items such as trash, pillows and clothing.  It was obvious no one in their right mind would simply fall off into the trash pit, so I concealed it with a plastic shower curtain and weighted the corners with bricks.  The thought of burning their asses up had my adrenaline pumping and I was almost laughing as I scattered garbage all over the shower curtain and surrounding floor, blending it all together; it was like camouflage for the ghetto.

There was a bathroom located at the rear of the house.  It would be my safe room.  The door was solid—unlike the hollow-core junk they make today—and it would be strong enough to hold back the punks, for a while anyway.  I needed an escape route and I also needed a way to ignite the trash pit from a safe distance.  The bathroom floor felt spongy, and after a few hard stomps, the deteriorated wood began to crumble.  I kicked out a few of the boards, creating a hole that was a little larger than my body.  This would give me access to the crawlspace.  I dragged a piece of plywood into the bathroom and made sure it would fit between the walls and plumbing fixtures when laid on the floor.  It was large enough that when the punks were in the bathroom, they wouldn’t think about lifting it because they would be standing on it.  For now, I left it leaning against the wall.  If they did come in after me, I was going to need a deterrent, something to distract them just long enough for me to slip away.  There was a window, but I didn’t want them crawling out of it.  Part of the ceiling above the tub had sheetrock missing.  That’s where I needed them to go.  I dragged an old dresser into the bathroom and set it in the tub where it was positioned under the hole.  At first glance it would appear that was the only way out.

Once I was in the crawlspace, I would need another exit.  I went outside and ripped off the underpinning on the side of the house that was close to the bathroom.  That would be my escape route.  When I came back in, I pushed an old stove against the back door, then went and pried open the front door.  All the windows were covered with plywood and boards; the only way in or out was through the front door. 

About ten minutes later, a car pulled into the park.  I could see Chris and two of his gangbanger buddies as they ambled around in front of the headlights.  At first, they yelled out for G Dog and Big D.  Shortly after that an argument broke out, then laughter, followed by more cursing and name calling.  It appeared that they didn’t believe Chris’ story—they were making fun of him, causing him to become upset.  A few minutes later, they were getting ready to leave, so I shoved the wand of the bug sprayer through the shower curtain and locked the trigger in the on position.  I left the tank sitting on the floor, allowing the Everclear to saturate the trash pile while I went back to the front door.  They were still laughing and talking shit when I shouted, “Hey!” 

Silence fell upon the hood.

“Hey!”

A moment later, one of them yelled out, “Yo, who der?”

They couldn’t see the house in the dark, much less me standing in the doorway.  “Hey, over here, asshole!”

“Who da fuck is dat!”

“Yo’ mama.”

They got in their car and backed up quickly, then turned slowly, using their headlights as spotlights.  At first, they were lighting up an empty field next to the house, and as they turned, the lights were heading my direction.  Suddenly, I was lit up as I stood motionless in the front doorway.  About the same time the headlights passed me by, the car’s brakes locked up.  It sat there for a moment, then backed up, lighting up the house again.  I had moved from the doorway but left the New York Giants jackets hanging on the doorknob.  The car sat there for a moment, then started easing forward, then stopped again.  I could hear them cursing and bitching, debating if they had actually seen Dewayne or not.  I heard a door open, then someone say, “I ain’t fuckin’ scared.  You muthafucka’s are just messin’ around.”  The headlights were casting a human shadow in the room, and it was getting smaller as the person came closer.  Suddenly, the wooden porch creaked, then a hand with a gun came poking through the doorway.  When the punk’s elbow crossed the threshold, I wacked his arm in half with my sickle.  An ear-piercing scream echoed out the same time that the arm hit the floor.  He was yelling for help as he scurried back toward the car.  I didn’t wait around either.  I grabbed my jacket and the arm, ran to the bathroom and closed the door, thinking they were going to storm the house at any second.  But they didn’t come in.  I cracked open the door and noticed three shadows bouncing around.  They were still by their car, and it appeared the other two punks were helping the one-armed bastard.  While they were fucking around outside, I covered my hands in blood from the arm, then climbed up on the dresser, leaving bloody handprints where I had grabbed it.  I added some prints around the hole in the ceiling, then pressed my hands against the wall behind the dresser and slid them downwards, leaving hand smears.  I wasn’t sure if they were going to come in after me, but I decided to leave my safe-haven since I had a severed arm in my possession—fucking with them would be worth the risk.

I quickly went into the kitchen and wrote, Dewayne was here, on the refrigerator door with blood.  I laid the arm inside of it next to a jar of rotted pickles, then formed the fingers into the universal fuck you sign.  The punks were starting to get loud as they were cursing and pumping each other up, and before they got enough courage to come in, I went back to the bathroom and stood in the doorway.  I could see their shadowy movements (air punches, grabbing dicks and strutting around) as they talked about how they were going to fuck me up.  About that time shadows with guns started getting smaller, meaning they were heading my way.  I closed the door and barricaded it with a board, crawled under the house, then lowered the plywood.  The living room floor began squeaking and I could hear whispering as the punks searched for me.  I couldn’t tell if it was just two of them, or if the one-armed bastard was with them as well.  Suddenly, someone fell through the hole, and before they realized what happened, I shot an incendiary round at the pile of trash.  A large fireball erupted, followed by ear piercing screams and wails.  The light was causing my night vision to blur.  I moved the goggles to their upwards position and away from my eyes.  Now I could see that there was a thug in the center of the burning debris.  He was violently moving around as the flames engulfed him, and I could tell that the plastic shower curtain was being melted onto his flesh as he rolled around on top of it.  In less than a minute the thug stopped moving and his screams were replaced by cursing and shouting from up above.  I eased toward the hole, and through the flames and rising smoke I could see him.  He was tall, muscular and had dreadlocks.  I could see the rage on his face as he watched his buddy burn.  He looked toward the front door and shouted.  “Terrence!  Terrence!  Get yo’ ass in here and back me up!”

The one-armed thug came walking up like he was dying while holding his shirt around his nub.  “I will do what I can, Juice, but my arm is hurtin’ really bad.”  He peered into the hole.  “Who is that?”

“It’s Chris.  Muthafucker killed him.”

Terrence forgot about his pain and instantly went into thug mode.  “What the fuck!?!  I’m going to kill that muthafucker!”

“Let’s get him, cuzz!”  The two punks took off into another part of the house, using the light from their cell phones to guide their way.  I could tell that they were being aggressive as they stomped around on the floor, going room to room, kicking open doors, and turning over furniture.  When they came to the refrigerator, I heard one of them yell out, “Someone is fuckin’ wit us, cuzz.  You know what I’m sayin’.”  When they opened the door, Terrance became angry.  “There’s my fuckin’ arm!  Muthafucker thinks that shit is funny.  I’m gonna fuck him up!”

“Muthafucker could be anywhere by now.”

“I’m callin’ da home boys.  We gonna get this bitch.”

It was time to get moving before I had thugs running around everywhere.  I pulled three bottles of Everclear from my bag and climbed back up in the bathroom.  I sloshed the liquid all over the walls and floor, emptying two of them.  I opened the last one and tossed it into the attic.  I banged on the wall, then crawled back under the house, lowering the plywood behind me.  The thugs quickly found the door and tried to open it.  “Fuckin’ door is locked!  Muthafucker is in there!  Get the fuck back!”

POW!  POW!  POW!  Numerous gunshots went off.  Suddenly, the door busted open and they stormed the bathroom with their guns drawn.  “Look…  Muthafucker is in the attic.  His ass been shot.”

They began shooting the ceiling and didn’t stop until their magazines were empty.  By now I was already crawling through the hole in the underpinning.  The Everclear was dripping from the floor above and had formed a puddle on the ground.  The punks probably couldn’t smell it due to the gun smoke.  When I heard one of them say that I must be hiding in the attic somewhere, I shot an incendiary round at the puddle.  The flammable liquid instantly caught fire, and as quick as flames had erupted on the ground, the bathroom window blew out, followed by a large fireball.  I could hear someone screaming at the top of their lungs as I ran to the front of the house.  I was having so much fun and didn’t want it to end that I decided to take their car, an older Cadillac with fancy rims and tinted windows.  When I ran up to it I found a surprise; Chris was alive and sitting on the ground with his back against the front tire.  He had somehow crawled out of the hole and made it across the yard.  He had severe burns and the plastic shower curtain was stuck to his body; he looked like the monster in the movie The Blob right after it absorbed someone.  The fire was getting out of control and people were coming out of their houses.  They stared in horror when they noticed me dragging Chris up on the hood of the car.  He was moving around slightly and making a howling noise as I secured him to a windshield wiper arm.  I got in the car, and as I slowly drove down the street with him screaming for help, people were running inside their houses and slamming their doors shut.  The house was now completely engulfed with flames and I needed to find some of the other assholes before too many cops showed up.

I made a left turn, went down a couple of blocks, then made another left to head over to the house with the junk cars.  As I was driving down a street something caught the corner of my eye.  I stopped, then backed up slowly.  Someone was limping down an alleyway.  I also noticed they were missing an arm; it was Terrence.  Somehow the lucky bastard had escaped.  When he saw the car, he began waving his arm in the air to get my attention.  I pulled down the alleyway and stopped about ten feet away from him.  He started walking over to the passenger’s side until Chris screamed out.  He stopped in his tracks as he looked at the horrifying sight, then took off in a fast limp.  I floored the car and hit him with the front bumper, knocking him down.  The car bounced violently as the tires ran him over.  I didn’t want to leave him where he could be found, so I put him in the passenger seat.  When I got back in the car, I noticed he was busted up pretty bad and on the verge of death, but he was alert.  He could barely move his mouth as he stared at me.  “Is dat you Dewayne?”

I picked up a joint from the ashtray.  “Shit.  We can’t let dis go to waste.”  I leaned over stuck it in his mouth.  “You need dis mo den me, cuzz.”  I lit it.  “You ready to go fo’ a ride?”

The joint was hanging from his mouth as he stared at me with a grimace of terror.  “Where’re we goin’?”

“Fo’ a joy ride, cuzz.”  I turned on the stereo system, and as a dirty rap song played, we cruised out of the alleyway and down the street.  The car’s woofers were thumping as we pulled in front of the house with the junk cars.  I could see some movement coming from a window, then the front door opened.  A punk with a large afro, wearing only shorts and flip flops, came running up to the passenger’s side.  I rolled down Terrence’s window.  He was so fucked up on alcohol and drugs that he didn’t notice me, or Chris, or that Terrence was all fucked up and missing an arm.  He was stumbling around as he gazed into the car.  “Yo, niggas, where da fuck y’all been?”

I leaned on the console to get closer to him.  “Fuckin’ up some shit, homie.”

He laughed as he groped his balls and danced around.  “Y’all comin’ in?  We got a slammin’ parrrtaaaay happenin’ up in dis muthafucka.”

“Who be in there?”

“D Rock, JZ and Deuce.  A few hoes from Clear Creek.  Tag and JJ be in there too.  You gots to come in and check it out, cuzz, you know what I’m sayin’?”

Now I knew there were five more punks in the house.  “Heeeell yeah, cuzz!”  I pointed to Terrence with my thumb.  “Help dis fool out.  He be all fucked up and shit.”

The thug was smiling and jiving around as he patted Terrence on his head.  “Playa can’t handle his shit like ol’ G Money.”  He laughed.  “He just like a newjack, cuzz.”

I pointed to the door.  “Open da door, fool.”

When he opened the door, I used my right foot and kicked Terrence’s ass out onto the ground.  G Money began laughing.  “Look at dis wacked out mofo.  Get yo’ ass up, cuzz.”  He reached down and grabbed Terrence’s arm, and when he went to pull him up his hand slipped off his stub.  Confusion overcame him as he glared at his blood-stained hands.  “What the fuck!?!”  He looked back down and noticed Terrence was bleeding and half his arm was missing.  I turned down the stereo, and when he heard Chris moaning, he stumbled over to the front of the car.  “Oh, shit!”  He glanced back into the car.  “What the fuck is goin’ on?”  He finally noticed me and started to run.  Before he could take his first step, I put several high-velocity .22 rounds in his head with my silenced pistol.  I got out and took off my tow sack now that the whole ghost thing had lost its luster, plus it was hot as hell.  I put the three punks in the back seat and parked the car on the other side of the street.  I walked back to the house and peeked through a window.  There were four thugs and three hood rats hanging out in the living room.  They were smoking dope, cutting up, and listening to Snoop Dog.  All the other windows were dark and nailed shut.  The back door was also boarded up, so the only way in and out was through the front door.  I didn’t want to storm the house because I didn’t know where the other thug was at, so I went over to the electrical service panel and shut off the main breaker.  As quick as the power went off bitching and cursing came echoing from inside the house.  I wasn’t sure how many thugs were going to come out, so I crouched down under some bushes.  In less than a minute a punk came walking around the side of the house using a lighter to guide his way.  I could see him clear as day, or more like green as day, through the night vision goggles.  When he noticed the breaker was off, he shook his head.  “Who the fuck turned this shit off?”

“I did, fool.”  When he turned around, I shot him in the neck.  He fell to the ground, choking as he held his throat.  I shot numerous rounds into his knees and elbows to prevent him from crawling off.  Several minutes later, another thug came out, and I knocked him in the head with a small billy club.  I pulled out my knife and severed his spinal cord at the center of his back so he wouldn’t be a threat or be able to run off.  After several minutes had passed and no one else came out, I went to the service panel and began turning the main breaker on and off until I heard the screen door shut.  An angry thug came walking around the corner.  “You muthafuckers better stop playin’ games.”

I cracked him in the head, then drove my knife into the joints of his elbows and knees, severing ligaments.  I sliced the back of his hands and his wrists, severing the tendons to his fingers.  I knew there were at least two more thugs and, since the power was off, I went into the dark house using the night vision.  The hood rats were sitting on the couch together and one of the thugs was passed out in a recliner.  The house was pitch black and they couldn’t see anything, so I eased down a hallway to find the other one.  He was in a back room giving it to a hood rat doggy style.  I shot him in the back with a tranquilizer dart, then shot her in the ass when he fell to the side.  To my surprise the dart didn’t knock her out.  She sprung off the bed and took off down the hallway nude with the dart stuck in her right butt cheek.  She ran right out the front door and across the yard.  The other hood rats were still laughing when I came back into the room.  The commotion had also awakened the thug in the recliner.  He somehow sensed me and went for his gun, leaving me no choice but to shoot him with my silenced .22.  Most people wouldn’t have known a gun had been fired, but the sound of the slide combined with the smell of the gun powder in the hood was a different story.  The damn hood rats were as quick as their name implies, rats.  They were out the door and down the street before I had a chance to react.  I really didn’t care though.  I would have only tranq’ed them and it would have been a waste of good darts anyway.  I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with the punk in the back room until I noticed a hat rack with five red bandanas.  I grabbed them and went into the bedroom.  I tied one around each of his arms and legs, using them as tourniquets, then cut off his hands and feet by slicing through the tendons at his wrists and ankles.

By now the hood rats were probably spilling the beans.  If I left the bodies behind, the rest of the thugs would go on a witch hunt if they came to investigate.  If the house was empty, they would most likely think the hood rats were high and that Juice and his buddies were out fucking around.  I decided to take them with me.  I moved the car into the driveway, then dragged all the thugs outside.  Chris was unconscious and Terrence had died.  I put them, Juice, and the other dead fucker from the recliner in the trunk.  The guy with the severed spinal column got to ride shotgun and the other three I sat in the backseat.  For safety reasons, I put their seat belts on in case we got in a wreck.”

Wyatt blurted out.  “Seat belts?  You were concerned about their safety after the shit you did to them?”

Seth laughed.  “I also didn’t want them crawling around the car while I was driving.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “Have you always had a dark sense of humor?”

Seth shrugged his shoulders.  “I don’t know.  And why does it have to be dark humor?  Funny is funny.”

“Apparently, you’ve spent way too much time in the chamber.”

Seth laughed.  “We’ll blame it on that.”

“Now that you had all of them in the car, what did you do?”

Seth smiled.  “Went cruising.”

“What are you saying, that you just drove around with them?”

“Yes.  At first it was boring because they were unconscious, so I gave them an adrenaline shot.  Fifteen minutes later, they were awake, cursing and yelling.”

“Were you disguised as Dewayne?”

“I had on the jacket but not the tow sack.”

“So, they saw what you looked like?”

“Not exactly.  I still had the black dye around my eyes.  Also, the adhesive was still on my face and it was covered with strands of canvas from the tow sack.  I probably looked like a psycho.”

“I bet they were pissed.”

“Of course, they were—their bodies had been mutilated and I was rubbing salt in their wounds by making them drive around with me in their car.  Up to this point, they had been bitching and moaning to themselves as they regained their wits.  The punk with no hands and feet was probably the most upset and was the first one to address me.  He leaned forward from the backseat and shouted, “Hey, motherfucker!  You’re not going to get away with this!  You hear me?”

I turned down the thumps.  “What did you say?”

“You’re not going to get away with this.”

I laughed.  “What the fuck happened to your ghetto slang, biatch?”  I glanced over at the fucker with the severed spinal column, sitting shotgun.  “At least that crybaby still has the use of his limbs, or what’s left of them…  Right, homie?”

He looked over at me as he sat in his seat like a limp noodle.  “What the fuck did you do to me?”  He glanced back at the punk with no hands and feet.  “JZ, I can’t move my arms or legs.  This mutherfucker must have drugged me or something.”

I laughed.  “Wrong.  I severed your spinal cord.”

His eyes opened wide as he stared at me with uncertainty.  “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Means your ass is a quadriplegic.”

He began sobbing.  “Why would you do something like that?”

“Cos you is a punk.”

JZ nudged him on the shoulder with his stub.  “It’ll be all right, Deuce.  This motherfucker will get his.”

Deuce noticed that JZ didn’t have a hand and his open wound was oozing blood.  “Oh, shit!”  He noticed his other one was missing as well.  “What happened to yo’ hands?” 

“Motherfucker cut them off.”  JZ became angry and began hitting me in the head with his stubs.  I grabbed one, then punched the end of it.  He fell back and held his arms in his lap as his body trembled.  I reached down to the floorboard and picked up a cluster fuck that was tied together with a rope.  I tossed it over my shoulder and it landed in JZ’s lap.  “There you go, asshole.  Now you can stop bitching and moaning.”

When he saw that the cluster fuck was nothing more than his severed hands and feet tied together with rope he began screaming.  The punk that got the knife to his knees and elbows noticed what I had done.  He became infuriated and tried to reach for me.  The pain was so horrendous that all he was able to do was lean forward while resting his arms on my back rest.  He wanted to grab me, but his fingers wouldn’t move due to the tendons being severed.  I grabbed one of his bloody hands and twisted the shit out of it.  He jerked it back and screamed out.  “You motherfucker!”

The car had swerved when I was fucking around with him.  “Hey, fuckheads, I’m driving here.  Keep your hands to yourself.”  I peered at JZ through the rear-view mirror.  “That includes nubs.”

The severed tendon fucker was still sniveling as he held his bloody hand against his chest.  JZ was sitting next to him.  “It’ll be all right, Tag.  Dis mutherfucker is crazy, but we will get his ass.”

I laughed.  “How in the fuck do you figure that?  Y’all going to bitch and moan me to death?” 

Tag began slamming his body against the back seat while screaming out hysterically.  He reminded me of a kid that was throwing a temper tantrum.

I shook my head.  “Somebody needs to give that fucker a Prozac.”

Tag went from acting crazy to calm as if someone had flipped a switch.  It was actually a little disturbing as he spoke in a stern voice.  “You’re not going to get away with this.  We have friends that will find you.”

I looked at him in the rear-view mirror.  “You mean Big D, Terrence, G Dog, Chris, Juice, D Rock and G Money?”

JZ smiled with a chicken-shit grin as he glared back at me in the mirror.  “That’s right, mutherfucker.  Yo’ ass is gonna feel how hard those nigga’s is.”

“Hard?  Not yet.  It will take a while for rigor mortis to set in.  They’ve only been dead for a short time.  But I don’t know about G Dog.  He might still be alive though.”

He snarled.  “Fuck you!  You’re all talk, you cracker ass motherfucker.”

“Really?  Look around, you fucking idiot.  All I see is a bunch of fucked up pussies.”

He became angry and began poking me in the head again with his stubs.  I slammed on the brakes, throwing him forward.  I grabbed one of his arms, then shoved my fingers into the end of his stub.  He screamed when I ripped out a handful of tendons, veins and meat.  I tossed the gooey shit on Deuce’s face and head, then wiped my hand on his pants.  Deuce slung his head around in an attempt to get the stuff out of his afro.  When it didn’t work, he gazed at me with pieces of tendons and veins hanging from his face.  “You have no right to do this.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“How you figure that?”

“Using the same right you used when you killed Dewayne.”  I looked at him.  “Now stop being a bitch and take your medicine.”

JZ spoke up as he was holding his arms against his chest.  “Dewayne?  This is what this shit is all about?  You want some type of revenge for that bitch?  You sorry motherfucker!”  He sat forward and spoke in an aggressive tone.  “Hey, boy!  You know you’re not going to get away with this shit.  You hear me?  There are more of us.”  He leaned back in his seat.  “You gonna get all fucked up, boy.  Fucked up by tha brothas.”

“Yeah, yeah, heard it before.”

“Fuck you!”

I addressed them all.  “Hey, fuckers.  What’s the deal with the Ebonics?  Is it Motherfucker, mutherfucker or muthafucka?  Make up your mind.”

The punk with the bullet lodged in his neck had been quiet up to this point.  I think his name was JJ.  He tried to speak, but only gibberish came out.  I took a deep breath.  “Now I have JJ the mute trying to join in with the rest of you clowns.”

JZ gritted his teeth.  “Fuck you, white boy!”

Tag was glaring at me.  “Fucking cracker ass honkey.”

I shook my head.  “You motherfuckers!”  I peered at JZ through the mirror.  “Or is it muthafuckas?”

He just glared at me.

“You fuckers cry and whine about racism, but I haven’t called any of you a derogatory name.  Cracker ass hurts my feelings.  And think about this.  I fucked y’all up over Dewayne, who is black.  So, fuck you, you racist, broke limb, muthafuckas.”

Suddenly, Tag began freaking out.  “Oh, my God!  Is that what I think it is?”

JZ noticed he was looking at the cluster fuck that was lying in his lap.  “I know, I know.  He’s a sick mutherfucker.  But the doctors can put them back on.”

“Is that yo’ dick?”

“What?”  JZ looked down and noticed a penis was hanging on the rope between his hands.  “Oh, shit!”  He knocked the cluster fuck off his lap and began frantically feeling his crotch with his stubs.  “Oh, fuck!  You cut off my fucking dick.”  He glared up at me and shouted.  “I’m going to fucking kill you!”

I laughed.  “You’re overreacting.  No one else is getting bent out of shape.”  Deuce was staring at me with a horrified expression.  I nodded at him.  “It’s not like you could use yours anyway.”

All the punks became upset and were cursing me at the same time, so I turned up the stereo and drowned out their bitching and whining.  This went on for several more hours as I drove around listening to dirty rap songs.”

Wyatt looked nauseated.  “Hold up.  Did you really cut off their penises?”

“No.  Just JZ’s.”

“Why would you do such a thing?”

“I had an extra bandana.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “You’re crazy.”

“Am I?”

He paused as he glanced at Seth.  “I…  I really don’t know what to think.”

“Maybe I am, maybe I ain’t.  Either way I had a good time fucking with them.”

“Did they ever find out that you were messing with them?”

“Their dicks were the least of their worries.”

“How long did you drive around with them?”

“Until four in the morning.”

“What did you do with them?”

“First, I pulled down the same alleyway where my car was hidden to ensure no one had fucked with it.  It was all good, so I took my knife and cut their tongues out, then I drove over to the other house that had the windows boarded up and a dirt yard.  The street that I was on T’d into another street, and if I went straight, I would run right into the house; this gave me an idea.  I turned off my lights when I got close, then parked about fifty feet from it.  The punks weren’t bitching as much now that the soreness of their wounds had set in.  I pulled a long fuse from my backpack, tied one end to the steering wheel, leaving the other end hanging out the window.  The punks sat quietly until I got out and poured Everclear all over their heads, bodies and the inside of the car.  They were getting loud, yelling out muffled pleas for help as they tried to unlatch their seat belts.”

Wyatt began laughing.  “Oh, my God!  They had no way to unlatch them.”

Seth smiled.  “I’m glad you caught that.”

“Did you burn their asses up?”

“Of course.  After I lit the fuse, I put the shifter into drive.  The car took off slowly at first, but quickly gained speed.  The punks were screaming and yelling as loud as they could as the car’s taillights got smaller and smaller.  I watched with excitement as the car headed for the house.  It veered to the left when it hit a curb, but it still took out the corner of the house.  It didn’t take long for lights to come on, and within seconds three punks came storming out of the house with guns.  They were fast as kangaroos as they jumped from the porch and over shit that was in the yard.  When they noticed the car, they quickly ran over to it.  About the same time, they opened the doors the car erupted into flames, knocking the punks to the ground.  I knelt in the road, steadying my silenced pistol, and as each one stood up I shot them in the head.  The horrifying sounds of muffled screams echoed out as the punks were being burned alive.  Porch lights were coming on and it was time to get out of Dodge.  My car was about ten blocks away and the bodysuit became heavy as I ran down the sidewalk.  Around halfway I was only able to walk, hiding from cops and emergency vehicles as they came down the street.  I was completely exhausted and covered head to toe with sweat by the time I reached my car.  With the cops preoccupied with the fire, and knowing it would be a while before they realized what had happened, I made a mad dash to the shack with the couch on the front porch.  There was a four-door thugmobile parked in the driveway and there was no one outside.  It was around 5:30 AM and most likely they were asleep.

I parked down an alleyway about a block away, then grabbed my 5.56mm SBR AR15 and took off on foot.  All the lights were off, and I didn’t hear any sounds as I snuck around the house, indicating they were all passed out or asleep.  I didn’t know if there were any kids around or how many punks were inside, so I didn’t want to go in guns blazing.  I needed some kind of distraction.  Something that would get their attention and hold it.  It came to me when I noticed a flashing red light coming from the interior of the car.  Before I made another move, I snuck to the porch and slid the couch in front of the screen door.  This would slow them down a bit when shit hit the fan.  This new plan required me to go back to my car to get additional items; a bug sprayer filled with Everclear, four bottles of Everclear, a road flare and a wad of cash.

A funny thought ran through my mind as I walked back to the house; if any of these fuckers survived tonight, they would definitely hate the smell of Everclear after all this.  I thought about JZ.  If by some minute chance he survived, he would be a dickless gangster.  I wondered how that would work out for him; would he still grab his crotch like the rest of the thugs.  But then again, he didn’t have any hands.  Either way I’m sure Chris would change places with him, or the rest of them for that matter.  When I got to the thugmobile I poured all four bottles of Everclear all around the car.  The next step was going to have to be quick, so I made sure the sprayer was pumped up and got everything ready.  I picked the driver’s side lock and opened the door.  The alarm system instantly went off; the lights were flashing, and the car horn was beeping.  I quickly scattered out several hundred dollars of mixed bills into the car, then sprayed down the interior with the Everclear.  For my plan to work, I needed all the doors to be unlocked, so I pressed a driver’s unlock button several times.  A light came on in the house about the same time I took off running.  Before I made it to the edge of the yard, I could hear the screen door being torn apart as cursing came echoing from the house.  I wasn’t sure if anyone saw me, so as I hid behind some bushes, I readied my SBR just in case they came running toward me.  Within seconds the screen door ripped apart and three thugs only wearing boxers came jumping over the couch.  They ran straight for the car with their guns drawn.  As soon as they saw the money, they crawled into the car and began grabbing the cash like they were in one of those money booths on a game show.  They were too preoccupied fighting each other and rolling around in the Everclear to notice a burning flare was tumbling through the air toward the car.  When the flare hit the ground, the car and surrounding area instantly burst into flames, then a huge fireball lit up the dark followed by a boom that echoed throughout the neighborhood.  Two of the punks managed to get out, but they were on fire.  They ran in circles in the yard, hysterically jumping around and screaming as flames engulfed their bodies.  About the time, they dropped and rolled, two hood rats came running from the house.  One of them turned on a water hose and began spraying them down.  The two punks were severely burned as they laid on the ground smoking.  The other punk was hanging out of the car as flames bellowed out around him.  Around this time another thug came out of the house.  He was still wearing his street clothes and had a red bandana around his head; apparently, he had passed out from a night of partying.  I didn’t want to leave without killing his ass, and I didn’t want the hood rats to see me.  Luckily, I was still wearing the New York Giants jacket and the tow sack was in the pocket.  Screaming echoed out in unison—same as when OJ’s verdict was read—when I stepped out from the bushes.  Before the thug had a chance to react I pulled the trigger on my SBR and started blasting him in full auto mode.  His body was violently jerking around as the lead filled him with holes.  His legs gave first and he fell to his knees.  The hood rats were horrified as I continued to blast rounds into his ass.  When I emptied the thirty-round magazine, I let it fall to the ground, then quickly replaced it with another one.  The hood rats took off running, quickly disappearing into the dark.  I pointed the gun at the two punks on the ground and blew them full of holes.  The air was filled with a thick cloud of smoke from the burning car as I ran to the alleyway.  My heart was pounding so hard that it seemed it was going to bust through my chest.  I got in my car and took off, and as I was leaving the Brunswick area, cops and emergency vehicles were coming from all directions, heading toward the aftermath.”

Wyatt was shaking his head as he stared at Seth.  “You’re fucking nuts.”

“What’s fucking nuts is that I went out the next day and spent three grand on a stereo system for my car—that shit was addicting.”

Dickin’ Around

Wyatt wrote a couple of things in his notebook, then gawked at Seth.  “Do you think the cops knew you were responsible for their deaths?”

Seth rolled down his window a little, then lit a cigarette.  “Sure, they did.”

“That’s strange.  The incident isn’t mentioned in any of my news articles or reports.”

“I’m sure it’s not.”

“Then how do you know they blamed you?”

“Because Jim and his team showed up later that day.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “How do you know that?  Were you still in the area?”

Seth laughed.  “No.  I had a GPS tracking device on Jim’s car.”

Wyatt’s eyes popped open wide.  “Seriously?”

“Of course.”

“Are you tracking him now?”

“No.  At the time, he was investigating some shit that I had done in Philadelphia, and I did it to keep track of him since I still had some unfinished business in the area.  This was also when I learned about Dewayne on the news, and since gas was high, it didn’t make sense to leave and then come back some other time.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “You’re worried about saving gas.”

Seth smiled.

“What did you mean there was a TV show about the incident?”

“Since the cops kept the whole thing under wraps, the rumor of Dewayne’s ghost spread like a wildfire throughout the neighborhood, then to the surrounding areas.  Finally, the story made it to someone involved in the entertainment business that did shows about ghost sightings.  Some investigators from the show came to Trenton and interviewed people.  From there the episode, The Ghost of Brunswick Avenue, was created.”

“What people were interviewed?  Sounds like they did a story based just on hearsay.”

“I’m sure most of those reality shows are BS.  But they did interview the hood rats, Juice, and a few bystanders that had witnessed Chris on the hood of the car.”

“Juice lived?”

“He did, but was severely disfigured from the fire.”

“I still can’t believe people thought there was a ghost.”

“If the cops would have stated that the Angel of Death was responsible for the murders, or even lied and blamed in on another gang, people would have understood that scenario and that would have been the end of it.  But since they were left without answers, knowing something had happened because of the aftermath, the story was allowed to spin out of control since there wasn’t an opposing set of facts.”

“That’s interesting.”  Wyatt closed his notebook.  “I’ll have to watch the show.”

Seth pointed out the window.  “We’re here.”

Wyatt noticed a sign.  “Wow, we’re already in Atlanta.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun.”  Seth exited the highway, then turned down a street.  A short way down, he pointed to a multifamily building.  “That’s where I left Pat and Steve.”

Wyatt sat forward in his seat as he stared out the window.  “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

Seth pulled out his gun and stuck it to Wyatt’s head.  “Keep looking out the window like you’re scared.”

Wyatt didn’t ask what Seth was up to; he simply gazed out his window as he was told.  Seth holstered his gun.  “Nothing seems out of place.”

Wyatt leaned back in his seat.  “Except for a gun to my head.”

Seth laughed.  “That was done in case there were some cameras.  If Jim reviews the recordings and one of them happens to film this car, it will look like I am holding you hostage.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “You fucking think of everything, don’t you?”

“Maybe.  But I wonder if they found the fucker?”

“Where’re we going now?”

“Pat’s house.”

“Why?”

“To see if he’s home.”

“Do you think that is wise?  The cops could have it staked out.”

“Then we’ll have to stake them out to make sure.”

********************

Across town Jim and his team were at the hospital.  Pat was in intensive care.  He had a severe infection but was going to recover.  Ron and Thomas were in the waiting room while Jim was sitting next to Pat’s bed.  Jim had already gotten Pat’s statement and was asking him details about Seth’s appearance when Pat’s cell phone rang.  Pat motioned for his wife to bring it over to him.  He scrutinized the caller I.D., then gazed at Jim with a strange expression.  “You said your name was Jim Thompson?”

Jim nodded.  “That’s correct.”

Pat handed him his phone.  Jim’s face turned white when he saw the name, Jim Thompson, as the caller.  He stood up and answered, “Hello.”

“Hey, Jim.  How’s ol’ Pat doin’?”

“Skull?”

“You know I don’t like that name.  I told you to call me JD.”

Jim moved into the hallway so Pat and his wife couldn’t hear his conversation.  “Why are you calling?”

“I told you, to see how my buddy Pat is doin’.”

“He’s in the hospital with a severe infection, as if you really care.”

“I care about how he treats people.  Tell that fucker I’ll be watchin’ his ass.”

“Okay, I’ll make sure I relay that to him.”

“Don’t be sarcastic, Jim.  You know he got off easy.”

Jim scrutinized Pat through a window in the door.  “If you say so.  That was fucking sick what you did to him.”

“Better than you having to use the adjective of gruesome or sadistic.  But I do reserve that kind of stuff for, you know, the sorrier pieces of shit.  And by the way, how is Steve?”

“He’ll recover.”

“Tell him I’ll be watchin’ his ass as well.”

“Where’s Mr. Carter?”

Seth glanced at Wyatt as he was standing next to him.  “Here with me.”

“Have you harmed him?”

“Not at all.”

“You need to let him go.”

“Maybe, but for now I’m going to make him hang out with me for a little while longer.”

“Is he your hostage?”

“I’ve told him that he has no choice but to do what I say, and he knows if he escapes, I will hunt his ass down.”  Seth winked at Wyatt.

“Are you in the area?”

“Pat’s house, at the moment.”

Jim shook his head.  “The Petersons have gone through enough.  I’m not going to send a team over there and upset his neighbors over your shenanigans.”

“Your choice.  But you’re making a mistake, like as usual.”

“Listen, we need to talk in person.”

“We did back at the Miller Building.”

Jim gritted his teeth.  “Yeah, but that will be the last fucking time I fall for one of your tricks.”

“Sure, pal.  Whatever you say.  How’s Thomas working out?  He seems a little eager.”

“Listen, he’s just a young punk.  You have no beef with him.”

“Why would I?  You know the kind of assholes that I have a problem with.  They’re the same ones you should be concerned about getting off the streets instead of wasting your time and resources chasing my shadow around.  I’m getting tired of doing your job, Jim.”

“My job is to follow the law.  What you’re doing is…”

Seth interrupted.  “Hey, Jim, we got way off track.  I was just calling to check on Pat.”

Jim was a little irritated.  “Let’s do this in person.  I can set it up where it’s just the two of us.  You won’t have anything to fear.”

Seth laughed.  “Fear?  I have absolutely no problem meeting you anywhere any time.  What’s the worst thing that can happen?  Prison?  A needle in the arm?  That’s if I’m taken alive.  You have more to fear than I do, Jim.  I’m willing to press the button.  Are you?”

Jim knew what Seth meant; he wasn’t going to be taken alive, even if that meant blowing himself up and everyone around him.  He knew if he ever had the chance to sit down with him, face to face, that Seth would be rigged with explosives—he had insinuated that in past conversations.  “We don’t have to let it come to that.  If you decide to consider my offer, just let me know and I will make it happen.”

“I have some things in the works that might surprise you.  We’ll be discussing that fairly soon in fact.”

Jim was trying to hold back his anger.  “Tell me how to get John out of the box.”

“What box?”

“Don’t fucking play games with me!  The glass box that is booby-trapped.”

“Oh, that one.  That thing can’t be opened without terminating its parasite.  I designed it so I don’t even have the ability to do it once it was activated.”

Jim could feel his blood pressure rising.  “That’s my partner you’re talking about.”

“What would you do with him anyway if you got him out?  It’s not like he could be of any use anymore.”  Seth laughed.  “No, I got it.  You can get one of those backpack type papooses and can carry him around so he can watch your back.”

Jim was livid.  “Listen here, you damn lowlife, I will kill your ass!  You perceive yourself as some kind of fucking hero with justified actions.  John didn’t deserve what you did to him.”

“I’m not going to get in a debate regarding who deserves what, but if you ever call me a lowlife again, I will make it my life’s mission to rip out your fucking tongue and sew it to your bunghole.”

Jim knew Seth was serious.  He took a deep breath and regrouped.  “My priority is to get John out of that contraption.  Tell me what I need to do.”

“Have patience and all will be revealed soon.”

“We don’t have time to wait.”

“Sure, we do.  Hey, Jim, I need to let you go.  I have to take care of something.”

“Wait.  Can I talk to Wyatt?”

“Sure, here he is.”  Seth handed Wyatt the phone.  “It’s Jim.”

Wyatt took the phone.  “Jim, its Wyatt.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“Is Skull nearby?”

Wyatt was standing back, watching Seth pry open Pat’s safe with a crowbar.  They were in Pat’s house.  “He’s busy at the moment, but yeah, he is close by.”

“Then just respond with a yes or no.”

“Okay.”

“Are you close to Atlanta?”

“Seth has already told you what he wants you to know.  I don’t want to cause any trouble.  I’m going to hang up now.”

“No, wait.”

“Bye, Jim.”  Wyatt hung up the phone.

Seth was filling a duffel bag with money, then paused as he eyed Wyatt.  “Seth?”

Wyatt looked confused.  “You calling me Seth?”

“No, you said my name over the phone.”

Wyatt’s eye grew huge.  “Oh, shit.  I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I know.  The idiot probably didn’t catch it anyway.  If he did, it was about time he got a big break.”  Seth walked out of Pat’s bedroom and into the living room.  He stopped in his tracks, shaking his head as he eyeballed an oil painting hanging above a fireplace mantel.  “What the fuck!?!”  He glanced at Wyatt.  “Check out this creepy shit.”

Wyatt didn’t know what to say as he peered at a large oil painting of Pat standing on a golf tee.  He was wearing a goofy looking pair of checkered golf knickers with colorful socks that went to his knees, a lime green polo shirt and a matching checkered golf cap.  He was holding a golf club while looking slightly to the left.  Seth reached up and took the painting down.  “I have a special place for this.”

Wyatt laughed.  “Your torture chamber?”

Seth started to speak, then thought for a moment.  “Hell, I didn’t think of that.”  He gazed at Wyatt and smiled.  “You’ve definitely come a long way since the hotel room.”  Seth scrutinized the painting.  “No, making those assholes stare at this would be way too cruel and unusual of a punishment, even for me.  I have a better idea.”  He glanced at Wyatt.  “Grab the bag of golf clubs over there and let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Wyatt grabbed the clubs and followed Seth out the door.  When they got in the car Seth adjusted the mirror and checked his makeup.  He was still disguised as a dark skinned, long-haired man.  He surveyed Wyatt and noticed the golf clubs were sitting in front of him.  “You could have stuck them in the back seat.”

“I was in a hurry.”

Seth started the car, then peeled out.  Wyatt looked back.  “You could have left a black mark on his driveway.”

The car came to an immediate halt, then backed up.  Seth began power braking.  Within a few seconds, smoke began bellowing out behind the car.  “Is that better?”

“Are you crazy?  Someone is going to hear this.”

The car fishtailed as Seth let off the brake.  “I bet there’s a mark now.”

Wyatt sat forward as they took off down the road.  “Why in the hell did you do that?”

“It’ll piss off Pat every time he comes and goes from his house.”

“You’re freakin’ crazy.”

“You’ve already said that.”

“So, now what?”

“We’re going to drop off the money, then head to the hospital.”

“Drop it off where?”

“Probably the Salvation Army or a church.”

“Why?”

“Payment to society for Pat’s behavior.”

“Why don’t you keep it?”

“Don’t need it.”

“Do you ever take money from the lowlifes?”

“Sure.  It can be expensive doing what I do.  Guns, ammo, disguises, fuel, motel rooms, gadgets.  It all adds up.”

“Do you ever feel guilty?  It’s kind of stealing.”

Seth glanced over at Wyatt.  “When the cops stop taking people’s shit, I will stop.”

“What do they take?”

“The law allows them to confiscate property when someone is convicted of a crime.  It’s known as policing for profit and law enforcement agencies use it to bolster their budgets.  Haven’t you ever watched the show, Cops?  They are always taking money and vehicles from dumbasses that are caught with drugs.  The cops use that money and property to put back toward their crime fighting budget, so I do the same.”

“What determines if you keep or give it away?”

“Most of the lowlifes that I go after are broke asses and there is no money.  If there is a decent amount, and if there is a victim involved, I will usually give it to them or their families.”  Seth looked at Wyatt.  “I do have ethics after you peel away all the vengeful and sadistic shit that I do to these lowlifes.”

“Speaking of lowlifes, you got pretty upset when Jim called you one.”

“I know I do some horrible shit, but I only do it to the ones who harm innocent people.  Outside of that I try to be a decent person.  I know that sounds hypocritical, but I have never fucked over or harmed an undeserving person.”

“I have gotten that impression.  That’s why I haven’t tried to run.  I trust you.  You turned out to be an okay guy.”

Seth frowned.  “Don’t get too gay with the mushiness.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “It does take a little getting used to your humor.  But don’t worry, I’m not into dudes.”

“Good, for a second there I thought you wanted to play with my penis.”

“Nope.  You’re mistaken.”

“No, seriously, if I wash it really good, would you suck it?”

Wyatt shook his head.  “Hell no!”

Seth laughed.  “You dirty dick sucker.”

Wyatt rolled his eyes.  “Nice.  Any more juvenile jokes?”

“If I let you suck it, would you tell anyone?”

“N…  I almost said no.  I’m not falling for your dick jokes anymore.”

“So, if we were in a jungle and I got bit on the head of my dick by a snake, would you…”

Wyatt interrupted.  “Your ass is gonna die.”

Seth laughed.

“It ain’t gonna happen again.”

Seth lit another cigarette.  “Okay, pal.  Let’s say you and I were crawling through a narrow cave when the roof collapsed.”

“It’s not going to happen.”

“The rocks fell on me as I was lying on my back.”

“Nope, not happening.”

“Separating my head from the lower half of my body.  You’re behind me, and the roof also caved in behind you, so you’re trapped as well.”

Wyatt was shaking his head.  “You’re just fucked, my friend.”

“Water is dripping from the roof on my side, and I can catch the drops with my mouth.”

“At least we won’t be thirsty.”

“Oh, but you will.  The water is only on my side of the rocks.  My spine had been damaged, so I won’t be able to urinate.”

“Then you will be shit out of luck.”

“And so will you—you’re gonna die from dehydration.”

“So how does this story make me say I would suck your dick if we’re both doomed?”

“We don’t have to be.  I have the water, but I can’t piss.  You need water.  The solution is simple.”

Wyatt was shaking his head.  “Don’t even say it.”

“You could suck the piss from my dick, getting your needed fluids while saving me from urinary retention.”

“Then I guess we’re both gonna die.”

“Really, you would let us die?”

Wyatt smiled.  “Okay, fucker.  What would you do if the tables were turned?”

“I would shove a catheter up your pee hole if I wanted to live.”

“Oh, I see.  It’s your story, so you can make up stuff as you go along.  I also have a catheter.  Problem solved.”

“So, you carry around catheters?”

“Do you?”

Seth reached into his jacket pocket and pulled one out.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!  Why in the fuck would you have that?”

“It’s an older jacket.  I was wearing it when I was fucking up a pervert.”

“Then I’m wearing an older jacket with one, and I would use it like a straw.”

Seth laughed.  “In a roundabout way, that would be the same as sucking a dick.”

Wyatt became a little annoyed.  “You did it too.”

“I didn’t say that I would suck on it like a fucking straw.”

Wyatt just stared at Seth.

“I would let the piss puddle on the ground where I could lap it up.  Big difference there, chief.”

“I still didn’t suck it.”

Seth laughed as he tossed the catheter into the back seat.  “That’s enough dickin’ around.”

“Damn it!  I still didn’t suck it.”

“Whatever you say, pal.”

Midnight Knob Goblin

Seth pulled up to a church.  He handed Wyatt a bag.  “Take the money and put it in the drop box.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “What drop box?”

Seth pointed toward the side of the building.  “That one.  And take the clubs with you.”

Wyatt got out and went over to the drop box.  He put the bag inside and set the clubs on the ground.  When he got back in the car, he looked concerned.  “What if someone steals the money?”

“Not our problem.”

“How much was it?”

“A lot.”

“How much is a lot?”

“I didn’t count it, but guessing by the number of stacks I would estimate over a hundred thousand.”

Wyatt’s eyes opened wide.  “What if they call the police?”

“Still not our problem.”  Seth pulled onto a highway.

“Where are we going?”

“To the hospital.”

“To find Pat?”

“To find Jim.”

“Which hospital is he at?”

“Atlanta Medical Center.”

“How do you know that?”

“Pat’s wife had a note on the refrigerator telling the maid they were there.”

“What are you planning on doing?”

“Not sure yet.  It all depends on if there are any cops hanging around.”

Wyatt gazed out the window.  “I’m sure there will be.”

Thirty minutes later, Seth and Wyatt arrived at the hospital.  Seth stopped at the far end of the parking lot.  “They will be looking for two people, so jump in the backseat and lay down.”

Wyatt climbed into the back and hid.  “What are you going to do?”

“Going to see if I can find Jim’s car.”  Seth started driving down a row of parked vehicles. 

Wyatt was worried.  “I hope you’re not going to do anything bad, like plant a bomb or something?”

Seth laughed.  “I don’t want to harm the fucker.”

“Then what do you have planned?”

The car slowed down.  “Hang on for a second.  I think I found it.”  Seth pulled into a parking space and got out.  Wyatt was nervous as he hid.  He heard the trunk open and shut.  A few minutes later, Seth got back in the car.

“Can I get up?”

“Wait just a little longer until we’re in the clear.”  Seth pulled out of the parking area onto a street.  “Okay, you can get back up here.”

Wyatt climbed into the front seat.  “What did you do?”

Seth had a serious expression.  “Something horrible that I am now having second thoughts about.”

“Oh, no…  I thought you didn’t want to harm Jim.  What did you do?”

“Something very bad.”

Wyatt was starting to panic.  “Tell me what you did.”

“I put the painting of Pat in the driver’s seat.”

“And, what else did you do?”

“That’s it.”  Seth glanced at Wyatt and began laughing.

Wyatt smiled.  “You’re right, that is horrible.”  He started laughing as he thought about Jim’s facial expression when he finds the painting.  “Hey, wait a second.  How do you know it was his car?”

“Process of elimination.  There were two Atlanta cop cars parked next to each other in the parking lot.  They were the only law enforcement vehicles there.  I knew Jim would be driving an unmarked car, and possibly close to them.  A row over I found a plain black car with steel wheels, extra antennas, emergency lights in the grill and a municipal license plate; typical of an unmarked police vehicle.”

“Okay, that indicates it was an unmarked car, but that doesn’t mean it was Jim’s.”

“I wasn’t sure either, until I looked into the backseat and saw a duffel bag with a name tag that read, Agent Arnold.”

“Who is that?”

“He’s a young agent that was just assigned to Jim’s team.”

“Why would Jim be driving a car with a municipal license plate?  He’s FBI.”

“Jim doesn’t like driving for long distances and will usually take a plane if he can—he thinks it gives him an edge since he thinks I don’t fly.  He sometimes uses a vehicle from the local police department, but most of the time he uses a rental car, thinking that makes him incognito and I won’t notice.  Knowing that, I have to pay attention to everyone around me.  I’ve seen him driving around in all sorts of vehicles, from a bright red convertible to an older pickup truck.  He can be slick at times, but I do the same to him.  It can be an interesting game sometimes.”

Wyatt opened his notebook.  “You think this is a game?”

“With Jim, it is.  Fucking around with him breaks up the monotony and adds a little excitement to what I do.”

“Have you always played games with him?”

“Not that much at first, but more so in the last few years.”

“Why?”

“It’s fun.  And it’s to let him know that I am keeping close tabs on him.”

“Interesting.  That must frustrate the shit out of him.”

“Of course, it does.”

Wyatt had a look of curiosity.  “You told Jim to call you JD.  What does that stand for?”

“Nothing.  Seth Coker is my real name.”

“Are you worried that I let your name slip.  Their computer system can generate a list of names that have Seth in them.”

“It doesn’t matter.  I had to abandon that part of my life when a detective came to my house.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “If they find out who you are, they can put your picture out to the public.”

“I grew up in foster homes.  I had no identity, and no pictures were taken of me in all those years, except for what happened to Ashley and me.  Even then those pictures were in a file and not in a database, and I now have possession of the file.”

“Ashley must have been your fiancée that was murdered?”

“Correct.”

“What about the detective?  Why did he come to your house?”

“He was investigating me, or I should say, The Angel of Vengeance, which was what the damn media called me back then.”

“Sounds like you don’t like the name they picked for you.”

“As much as I like The Angel of Death.  But it could have been worse.”  He glared at Wyatt.  “You fucking reporters always have to put a label on someone.”

“Hey, I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“I know.  You would have come up with something that included a male organ, like the Midnight Knob Goblin or something.”

“That’s real cute.”

“You know it’s true.”

“I’m not fucking gay.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Get back to the detective.”

“Like I said, he was doing an investigation and thought Ashley and I had been victimized by…”  Seth shrugged his shoulders.  “The Angel of Vengeance…  Me…  It’s freakin’ weird when I think about it.”

“I’m sure there have been plenty of other serial killers that have been in your shoes.”

“I’m not a fucking serial killer.”

“And I’m not fucking gay.”

“Fair enough.”

“So why did he think you and Ashley had been victimized by him?”

“The asshole that killed Ashley had burned me in the chest with a knife that had been sitting in a fire.  The burn had taken the shape of a tribal looking skull.  The police had taken a picture of my wound when I was unconscious in the hospital.  I never knew the picture existed until the detective told me about it.  Unfortunately, I made a mistake and was using a similar skull as my signature mark.  The detective assumed my attacker had purposely burned that skull on my chest, and when he found the old case file, he thought Ashley and I were his first victims.  He was able to find me because, somewhere, somehow, my house was still listed under the name Seth Coker even though I had gone to great lengths to prevent something like that from happening.”  Seth looked at Wyatt.  “And by the way, the detective was the one who had killed my parents.”

Wyatt’s eyes grew huge as saucers.  “What?  I don’t understand.”

“I know.  What would be the chances of that; the fucker became a detective, then happened to be investigating me.  It’s definitely a small world.”

“But how did you know he was the one who did it?”

“Back when I was a kid, my parents and I were in the front yard of our home.  They were watching me ride my bike up and down the sidewalk.  A car came swerving down the street, sideswiping vehicles, and when they ran out to protect me the car ran them over before hitting a tree.  I was standing right next to the car and saw the driver.  The crash gave him an unusual gash on his face that took the shape of a backwards question mark.  The detective had the same scar.”

“It could have just been a coincidence.”

“Nope.  He confessed.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Shock therapy.”

“Did you kill him?”

“No.”

“Where’s he at now?”

“At the moment, he is being prepped for something special.”

“Did you torture him?”

“We need to change the subject.”

Wyatt didn’t know what to say.  Seth had been very open until now.  Wyatt also didn’t know that the detective was John, Jim’s partner.

Seth lit a cigarette.  He took a long drag, then blew the smoke out the window.  “There are some things I can’t talk about right now, but they will be revealed later.”

Wyatt looked concerned.  “Should I be worried?  You give me the impression that something is going to happen on this trip.”

“You’re right.  In the end, you, me, and Jim will have a life-changing event occur, but you have nothing to be worried about.  Just like you said earlier, outside of the jokes, you also have turned out to be somebody that I can trust.  That’s what this trip is about; getting to know each other.”

Wyatt had an ornery look.  “If I offered you a million dollars, would you suck my dick?”

Seth laughed.  “No comment.”

“You have to answer.”

“If I say no, then that means I suck dick for free.  If I say yes, then I’m a rich cocksucker.  I know you don’t have a million bucks, and since you made up something you don’t have, I have large, razor sharp, snaggletooth teeth like a werewolf.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “I have no hope in getting you to fall for a dick joke.  You’ve apparently already thought about this kind of shit way too much.”

“I learned it from two dumbasses back in the chamber.  They were always fucking around with each other with this kind of humor.”

Wyatt wrote in his notebook.  “You really haven’t told me about the ones you took back to your chamber.  I thought you tortured them.  If these two guys were joking around, then it must not have been as bad as what I had originally imagined in my head.”

“After I ripped off their tattoos for wall art, I had removed all their bones from their arms and legs, and I had also removed their front rib cage.  I cut off their hands and feet, and sewed the end of their arms to the end of their legs after I intertwined them together like a pretzel.  Then they got to live in a basket made from their bones that I had tied together with pieces of their hair.  They got so bored hanging in a dark ventilation shaft that they began aggravating the shit out of each other for entertainment.  This went on for years until I removed their tongues and lower jaws.”

Wyatt had a disturbed look.  “Oh, my God!  Is that the kind of shit you did when you refer to long-term punishment?”

“Yes.”

“What did they do to deserve that?”

“Killed some cats at an animal shelter.”

Wyatt just stared at Seth.

“Hey, it is what it is.  A person that gets off inflicting pain on the vulnerable, regardless of if it’s a human or animal, in my book is deserving.”

“I wasn’t questioning what you did, even though I think it was extreme.  Sorry people like that need to be punished.”

“I feel bad not finishing the story about the detective.  What would you like to know?”

Wyatt was relieved—he had been feeling like he hadn’t been trustworthy enough for the story.  “I’ve been thinking about that.  You said he was being prepped for something.  Does that mean you’ve kept him as a hostage all these years?”

“Yes.  He’s at my new location.”

“And you said he came to your house.  The one that you abandoned.”

“That’s right.”

“But the police haven’t searched it in all these years?”

Seth smiled.  “You have definitely been paying attention.  And that would be correct.”

“That doesn’t make sense.  When something happens to a cop the rest of them are like flies on shit.  You must have covered it up somehow?”

“And you would be correct again.  Luckily, it turned out to be an easy fix.  At the time, I knew that the cops would come looking for him—just like what you said, flies on shit—and I needed to make his disappearance look like it was unrelated to me, the Seth Coker that lived in Texas.  Fortunately, he told me that the file was locked in his desk and he hadn’t told anyone else what was in it, and that the information had not been entered in the computer database or duplicated.  He also informed me that no one knew that he was coming to my house.  I needed to get the file, and I needed to make his disappearance look like it had taken place far from Texas.  I packed up his belongings, a bag of his blood and his left hand, then drove his car to Virginia where his field office was located.”

Wyatt interrupted.  “Hand?”

“Yeah, I cut if off.”

“Why in the hell would you do that?”

“He was refusing to answer some of my questions about his field office.”

“Like what?”

“The layout of his office building, security cameras and normal routines of his coworkers; stuff like that.  Up to this point, he had told me about the file and why he came to my house, but he became difficult when I started asking about his office building.  Of course, I knew why.  He didn’t want me to get the file because it was his only chance of being rescued.”

“That makes sense.”

“I also learned that his building was usually vacant between 2 and 4 AM, which parking space he used, and how to avoid the cameras.  I used that info to my benefit.  It was 3 AM when I parked his car in his normal spot, then went into the rear entrance, using his keys to unlock the door.  He had told me there were no cameras at that entrance or where he parked.”

“How could you trust him?  He could have just told you that, hoping you would get caught.”

“You’ve never seen the inside of my chamber.  It can be a very convincing place, ensuring the truth is told.”

“Do you have pictures?”

Seth laughed as he eyeballed Wyatt’s folders.  “I have a binder as well, but it’s back at my new location.”

“Are you going to take me there?”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

Wyatt had a look of curiosity.  “I would like to see it.”

“It’s in Texas.  If it works out, we’ll stop by.”

“That would be cool.”

“Not really—there’s no air-conditioning in there.”

“You know what I mean.”  He glanced at his notes.  “Why did you take the hand with you?”

“So, I could make his disappearance look authentic.  It needed to appear that he was in his office at the time of his abduction.  That’s why I also took his belongings with me.  I put his gun in his desk drawer.  Laid his wallet and FBI identification on his desk.  Put his keys in his jacket pocket and hung it on the back of his chair.  I smeared and dripped his blood around as if he had been injured, then replaced the file with another one.”

“Replaced it with what?”

“I took his hand and laid it on a copy machine and made several copies.  I also drew my mark on the pages with a pen that was lying on his desk.  I put the copies in a new folder and wrote a bullshit date and file number on it.”

Wyatt was shaking his head.  “That was ballsy, but it looked like it worked.”

“It did, but at the time I wasn’t sure if it was going to, and that’s why I moved locations.”

“So, what do you have planned for the detective?”

“All I can say is that it doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“Oh.”

“But I can tell you that his name was John, and he was Jim’s partner.”

“No shit?”

“Kind of ties everything together, doesn’t it?”

“Sure does.”  He thought for a moment.  “That explains why Jim has taken this personal.  I could sense there was more to all this.  And that explains a lot about his behavior toward me.”

Seth already knew what Wyatt was talking about; Jim had forced him to set him up back at the hotel.  “Now you see the bigger picture.”

“I’m glad you told me that.”  He peered at Seth.  “Something is confusing though.  Everything you do is well thought out.  Why in the hell did you buy a house with your real name, knowing it could come back and haunt you?”

Seth laughed.  “I didn’t know that I was going to be doing this to this extent when I started out.  I thought I was going to fuck up just a few assholes, but one thing turned into another and here I am today, spilling the beans to a reporter.  The name Seth Coker had absolutely no identity, except that I had gone through the foster system, been victimized, and used it when I financed my house.  Even then, I had sold my house five years later to one of my aliases, then faked my death.  Somewhere a database had not been updated, causing this problem.  And that’s how John found me.  It was a mistake on my part, but like I said, back when I first bought my house, I wasn’t doing the vigilante shit.”

“You said you had faked your death?  Tell me about it.”

“I was planning on fucking up this sheriff, Chuck Johnson, and since he knew me from my early years, I would have possibly been a suspect, so I faked my death before I turned his world upside down.”

“What did he do?”

“His son was the one who killed Ashley and he covered it up.”

“That explains a lot.”

“Like what?”

“Why you have such an issue with our judicial system and feel the need to take the law into your own hands.”

“At the time, I did.”

“And now?”

Seth laughed.  “The same.”

“This has been a real productive conversation.  But why didn’t you tell me all this from the beginning?”

“Because I wasn’t sure if you were Jim’s patsy.”

“That makes sense.”  He yawned.

“Don’t start that shit.  I haven’t slept in days.”

“Sorry.”

“We’ll get some rest tonight.”

Wyatt noticed they were leaving Georgia.  “What’s the game plan?”

“We’re going to stay on Highway 20 all the way to Arkansas.”

“Then what?”

“There’s a badass diner west of El Dorado.  I want to get there before closing time.”

Wyatt rolled his eyes.  “And I thought this trip was going to be bad.”  Wyatt glanced at his notes.  “I would like to know about some of the people that you had in the chamber.”

“They’re not people.  They’re scumbags, lowlifes, and assholes.  Or you can refer to them as asswads, parasites or fuckheads.”

“Oh, yeah.  Will you tell me about some of the scumbags you had in the chamber?”

“Sure.”  Seth began telling Wyatt the stories as they drove down the highway.

Rock Star

Jim and his team came out of the hospital shortly before lunch.  When they walked up to their car, Jim held his hands out.  “Stop!  Something isn’t right.”  He opened the driver’s door, then gawked at the painting sitting in his seat.  “What the hell?”  He glanced over at Ron as he stood by the front of the car.  “Do you know anything about this painting?”

He walked over and eyeballed it.  “No.  I’ve never seen it before.”

Thomas began laughing.  “Holy shit!  That’s Pat.”

Jim shook his head.  “I know who it is.”

Thomas smiled.  “Someone is playing a joke on you.”

Jim glared at him with a serious expression.  “Is this of your doing?”

“No, Jim.  I had nothing to do with it.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

“Because it’s funny.”

Ron noticed a piece of paper taped to it.  He pointed at it.  “There’s a note.  It’s probably from Mrs. Peterson.”

Jim held up his keys.  “The doors were locked.”

Ron looked around the parking lot and noticed an Atlanta cop car.  “One of the officers probably jimmied it for her.”

Jim looked irritated.  “Why in the hell would they do that?  They knew where to find me.”

Thomas was still giggling under his breath.  “Because they knew how ridiculous it looks and probably thought it would be funny to mess with you.”

Jim was irritated as he pulled off the note.  When he started reading it, his eyes opened wide.  “It’s from Skull.”  He scanned the parking lot.  “He was here.”

Ron grabbed the note and read it out loud, “A fuckhead for a fuckhead.  Please enjoy, your buddy, JD.”  Ron gawked at Jim.  “What do you want to do?”

He handed the painting to Ron.  “Put the damn thing back in the car.  I need to go talk to the Petersons.”

Thomas yelled out.  “Has it occurred to you that one of the officers might have written that note just to mess with you?”

Jim shook his head as he walked away.

Ron handed Thomas the painting.  “Do something with this.”  He yelled at Jim.  “Hold up, I’m going with you.”

Jim stopped and peered at Thomas.  “You’re coming with us.”  He glanced at Ron.  “We can’t leave him alone.  Skull might be interested in him.”

Thomas put the painting in the trunk, then the three men went back into the hospital.  Jim eased the door open and poked his head in, noticing Pat barely had his eyes open.  He softly spoke.  “I have a quick question for y’all.”

Mrs. Peterson was sitting in a chair.  “Yes, Jim, what is it?”

“Did either of you have someone leave a painting in my car?”

She shook her head.  “No.”

He walked into the room.  “I was afraid of that.” 

“What did it look like?”

When Jim described the painting and where he found it, Pat started to get out of bed.  His wife quickly came over and stopped him.  Pat was upset as he stared at Jim.  “That’s my prized possession.  Who’s been messing with it?”

Thomas laughed.  “Prized possession, really?”

Jim glared at Thomas.  “Go wait out in the hallway.”  He looked back at the Petersons.  “We believe it was your attacker.”

Pat’s eyes turned red with anger.  “That motherfucker had no right going into my house.”

“I’m going to head over there now.”

Mrs. Peterson handed him a key.  “Please check on my dogs.  They’re in the backyard.”

Pat was so infuriated that he was blowing spit out of his mouth as he yelled, “Make sure that bastard didn’t take any of my shit.  And he’s going to pay for what he did!”

Jim nodded.  “Yes, sir.  I need to get over there now.”

“He made me eat shit, now he’s been fucking with my possessions!”

Jim was now standing by the door.  “I understand that.  I’m heading over there now.”

Pat raised his fist and shook it.  “He ruined the sanctity of my home!”

Jim eased out the door as Pat yelled out, “Get that fucker!  And he deserves the electric chair!”

There were two cops standing guard outside Pat’s room.  Jim handed one of the officers a piece of paper with the Peterson’s address.  “I need a team at this address ASAP.  Have them meet me there.”  Jim nodded to Ron and Thomas to follow him as he walked down the hallway.  When they got in their car, Ron peered at Jim with a disturbed expression.  “Skull is here in Atlanta?”

Jim didn’t even respond as he drove out of the parking lot.  He was embarrassed since Seth told him he was at the Peterson’s house.  Twenty minutes later, Jim and his team and several local officers stormed the house.  When it was clear, Jim made a call to Mrs. Peterson to let her know that her dogs were fine, but their safe had been broken into.  Jim could hear Pat yelling in the background.  Jim hung up the phone, then eyed Ron.  “We’ll let the local jurisdiction handle this.  Let’s go over to Pat’s rental property.”

Jim and his team met with local officers at Pat’s building.  They took him into the basement and showed him where Pat had been tied in the tub.  When they got back outside, Jim noticed some cameras mounted on the adjacent building.  He asked one of the officers to check the recordings and get back with him.  It was around 5 PM and they had been going all day.  Jim decided to go to their hotel.  While Ron and Thomas took naps, Jim made a call to the sheriff’s department in Dubois, Idaho regarding the deceased man at the morgue.  He emailed them a description of the man including a picture.  A few hours later, he received a fax.  They had identified him as Rick Warren.  He was a local troublemaker who had come up missing six months ago. 

Later that evening Jim and Ron decided to leave Atlanta and fly to Dubois to check out their lead.  Thomas was aggravated as they drove to an airport.  “This sucks.  We could have taken a flight in the morning.”

Ron looked back at him.  “We need to find out what connection this person had with Skull.  It might give us another lead.”

“We could have done that tomorrow.  I haven’t gotten much sleep.”

“Lucky for us we can sleep on the plane while we’re traveling.  Skull doesn’t fly, so that gives us an edge.”

Jim spoke up.  “It helps us stay on his heels.  He has to sleep and that slows him down.”

Thomas shook his head.  “That’s just great.  I can’t sleep on planes.”

Ron turned around and faced forward.  “Then you can get your beauty rest in the car after we’re there.”

A few miles from the airport Jim’s phone rang with a number he didn’t recognize.  The caller ID read, Your best buddy.  Jim answered.  “Agent Thompson.”

“What are you up to, pal?”

Jim gritted his teeth when he recognized Seth’s voice.  “In Richmond, hanging around the office.”  Jim was lying.  He didn’t want Seth to know he was still in Atlanta, and he sure in the hell wasn’t going to acknowledge the painting, or ask how Seth got a hold of his phone and added the contact information.

“You should be out catching criminals.  That’s what my tax dollars are for.”

“Since you’re so interested in what I’m doing, then I want to know what you’re doing.”

“Having a meal with my buddy Wyatt at this really cool diner.”

“Where at?”

“Sorry, Jim.  By the time you get here from Richmond, Virginia we’ll be done.  If you were closer, let’s say, like in Georgia, I would have told you.”

Jim wanted to throw his phone.  “Just more of your double talk.”

“I’m telling you the truth.  If you were closer, I would tell you.”

“All right, gosh dammit!  I’m in Atlanta.”

“Wes’ Burger Shack off Highway 82, just west of El Dorado in Arkansas.  And you better hurry—they close in about an hour.”  Seth hung up the phone.

Jim was pulling into the airport.  Ron had already made arrangements to take a Cessna Citation X to El Dorado, and then change over to a helicopter.  The men quickly got on board, and within minutes the aircraft was in the air.  Jim was smiling as he peered at Ron.  “The bastard didn’t expect that we were minutes from an airport when he called.  We’ll be there in no time in this thing.  Even if we don’t catch him there, we will be on his ass from the air.”

Thomas spoke up.  “How do you know he was telling you the truth?”

Jim didn’t want to mention the Peterson’s house.  “Skull might be a sadistic killer, but he values the truth.”

Thomas noticed the jet was moving fast.  “How fast are we going?”

Ron had a lot of knowledge about planes.  “Over seven hundred miles per hour.  It’s powered by two Rolls Royce turbofan engines.  This is one of the fastest private jets on the market.”

Thomas smiled.  “That’s fast.”

“Sure is.  One mile for every six seconds.  We’ll be up Mr. Death’s ass before he knew what hit him.”

Thomas laughed.  “This is why I joined the FBI.  I will never get to own a toy like this, but borrowing one is just as fun.”

Ron eyed Jim.  “Do you want to call in the local police before we get there?”

“No.  I don’t want to scare him off.”

“They can at least set up traffic checkpoints.”

“I don’t want to cause a media circus.  Shutting down the highway will draw too much attention.”  He thought for a moment.  “I know, contact the sheriff’s department and have them do simple checks on all the rural roads.  That way we can concentrate on the major highways from the air if we don’t catch him at the diner.”

“Do you want to keep it priority one hundred?”

“Yes.”

Ron pulled out his phone and made a call.  Thomas glanced at Jim.  “What is a priority one hundred?”

“It’s a code name for keeping Skull’s bullshit under wraps.  The less the public knows about what’s going on the better.”

“Shouldn’t they know?  Their lives could be in danger.”

Jim shook his head.  “One thing I have learned about Skull is, he’s very particular about his victims.  Law abiding people don’t have anything to worry about.”

“What about your partner?  He was law abiding.”

Jim pointed to a seat at the front of the plane.  “Park it over there.”

Thomas stood up.  “I, uh…”

“Go before I have you sit in the cargo bay.”

Ron hung up the phone.  “Done.  They’re sending out deputies to set up check points.”  He leaned over toward Jim.  “I couldn’t help overhearing Thomas’ comment about John.  Don’t let him get under your skin.”

“I know, I know.  But he’s right about John.  He was a decent man.  He didn’t fit into Skull’s MO.  I’ve been trying to figure out what caused him to do that to John.”

Jim and Ron sat quietly for the duration of the flight as Thomas stared out the window pouting.

Forty minutes later, the pilot came over the intercom.  “ETA, five minutes.”

Jim glanced at Ron.  “Is the helicopter ready?”

“Yes.”

When the jet landed, the men quickly went over to a helicopter.  Within fifteen minutes they were landing in a field behind the diner.  Several local officers were pulling into the field in unmarked vehicles at the same time.  Jim and his team joined the officers, then entered the diner.  There were only three people sitting in booths.  Jim yelled out for Ron to check the restroom, and for another officer to check the kitchen area.  Jim walked up to an older, heavyset waitress and showed her a picture of Mr. Carter.  “Did this man come in here with another man about an hour and half ago?”

“Sure did.”

“What time did they leave?”

“About twenty minutes ago.”

“Which way did they go?”

She shrugged her shoulders.  “I don’t know.”

“What were they driving?”

She shook her head.  “I have no idea.”

“What did the other man look like?”

“Hispanic, or maybe Indian.”

“Can you describe him?”

“Tall, dark skinned.  Had long black hair and a goatee.  Kind of rough looking, but in a good way.”

“Will you be willing to sit down with a sketch artist?”

“No need for that.”  She pulled out her phone and showed Jim a picture of Seth and Wyatt sitting in a booth, posing.  Wyatt was smiling, and Seth was giving a thumbs up.

Jim motioned for one of the officers to come over.  “Get the picture from her phone.”

She shoved her phone down her bra.  “You got a warrant?”

Jim looked stunned.  “Ma’am, I don’t need a warrant.”

“Hell, if you don’t.  When you get it, I might or might not have the picture.”

Jim shook his head as he glared at the officer.  “Work on this after we’re gone.”

Ron came walking in from outside.  “Hey, Jim.  No one saw what direction they went or what they were driving.”

“Let’s get moving.  They left about twenty-five minutes ago.”

Jim was walking to the door when the waitress yelled at him.  “Sir, are you going to take care of this?”  She held up a piece of paper.

Jim held his hands out, palms up.  “Take care of what?”

“Their bill.”

He looked at her like she was crazy.  “Whose bill?  What are you talking about?”

“You’re Jim Thompson, right?”

Jim nodded.  “Yeah.”

“JD said you were going to pick up their bill when you arrived.”

Jim glared at Ron.  “Can you believe this shit!?!”  He turned back to the waitress.  “Ma’am, you got to be kidding me.  I’m here to arrest him.”

She gave him a stern look.  “I don’t care if you’re here to do the Cha Cha to the jukebox with your buddy Ron.  You owe me nineteen dollars and twenty-three cents.”

Jim glanced back at Ron.

He shook his head.  “I have no words.”

Jim looked back at the woman.  “The man is a fugitive.  Why do you expect me to pay for his meal?”

She put her hands on her hip.  “He told me you were a tightwad.  And I don’t know why you’re after him; he’s a nice man.  They both were.”

She started to walk away, but Jim pulled out his wallet.  “Stop!  Here.”  He handed her a twenty.  “Keep the change.”

She peered at the money.  “Big tipper there, bud, but JD already gave me a couple of tips.”

Thomas was standing off to the side shaking his head.  He spoke before he thought.  “How much?”

She pointed to Jim.  “That he’s a jack wagon.”  She then glanced at Ron.  “He’s a dipshit.”  Then she looked back at Thomas.  “And you’re a wannabe asshole.”

Thomas became upset.  “What?”

She gave him a go-to-hell look.  “You asked about the tips.  That’s what he gave me; tips about y’all.”  She held up her hand and gazed at her finger.  “And this gold ring.  What a nice man.”

Jim shook his head.  He knew the ring probably came from Pat’s safe.  “That’s nice, but he’s still a fugitive.”

She peered at him and Ron.  “He told me how you two have been harassing him.  You cops need to leave people alone.”

Thomas let his anger get to him.  “You know you’re talking about The Angel of Death, right?”

Jim’s eyes grew huge as he glared at Thomas.  “Shut up, boy!  You’re way out of line.”

She laughed.  “I don’t care if he is The Angel of Death or Santa Claus.  He’s cleaning up our streets.  That’s more than I can say about y’all.”

The cook came out from the kitchen.  “Yelda, leave the cops alone.  I told you not to get yourself all riled up like this.”

She shook her head as she sauntered away.  Jim eyeballed Thomas and Ron, then motioned for them to go with him.  They went straight to the helicopter.  When they got on board, Jim told the pilot to head west above Highway 82.  They all watched out the windows, staring down on the traffic below as they flew above the highway.  Thomas had been sitting quietly, but finally got the courage to speak.  “What are we looking for?  He could be driving any one of those vehicles.”

Jim glared at him and sternly said, “You’ve lost your speaking privileges.  Not another peep.”

Thomas looked back out the window.

Ron leaned toward Jim.  “He’s right.”

“Just look for anything out of the ordinary.”

“You know that’s not his MO.  Skull isn’t stupid enough to cause a scene when we’re on his tail.”

“You never know.  He could get into an altercation—he has a thing against rude drivers.”

Ron looked aggravated.  “What do you make of that waitress?  Skull is like a rock star to some of these people.”

Jim was still aggravated about the whole situation.  “I don’t want to talk about it.”  About that time, Ron’s phone received an email.  He noticed it was from Atlanta PD.  They sent him a picture.  It was a still shot taken from a camera next to Pat’s rental property.  He handed his phone to Jim without saying a word.  Jim looked at a picture of Seth and Wyatt as they were driving by in a car.  Seth was holding a gun to Wyatt’s head with one hand, while his other hand was making fingered rabbit ears above Wyatt’s head.  He handed the phone back to Ron.  “I give up.  Get the pilot to take us back to the airport.  We’re going to a hotel to regroup and call it a night.”

Ron looked shocked.  “What about Idaho?”

“Fuck it!  It’ll still be there tomorrow, or the day after.”

Ron sat back in his seat.  He had never seen Jim lose his cool before and back down.

Fucking Psychos are People Too

Wyatt was watching a helicopter.  “There’s another one.  Think they’re still looking for us?”

“It’s flying diagonally to the highway.  It’s not related.”

“It’s risky driving this vehicle.  The guy you took it from could have called the cops.”

“Look around.  How many black vehicles are on the highway?”

“Yeah, but this one has Georgia license plates.”

“No, it doesn’t.  It has Texas plates.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “I thought it did.”

“I changed them.”

“When?”

“Back at the diner when you went in to take a shit and I stayed back at the car.”

“Oh, yeah.”  He noticed they were entering Louisiana.  “Where’re we going?”

“Shreveport.”

“Why?”

“To get some rest.”

“Do you think that is wise after the shit you pulled back at the diner?  You know Jim will keep looking for us.”

“I have a friend that we’re going to stay with.  The car will be parked out of sight.”

“Are we just gonna show up out of the blue?”

“I sent her a text earlier.”

“Her?  Who is she?”

“A friend.”

“How does she know you?”

“I’ve been seeing her for a while.”

Wyatt looked surprised.  “That’s interesting.”

“Why is that?”

“No reason really.  Just hard to imagine you having a social life, I suppose.”

“That hurts my feelings; fucking psychos are people too, you know.”

Wyatt blew off Seth’s humor.  “Does she know what you do?”

“Of course.”

“I know better than that.  You fooled me the last time when I asked if your friends knew.”

“Then if you knew the answer, why ask?”

“I’m curious about something.”

“Nine inches.”

“You wish.  And that’s not it.”

“Yes, I like women.”

“I wouldn’t have figured that considering how you are always gluing, burning or cutting off someone’s dick.”

Seth laughed.  “You got me with that one.”  He glanced at Wyatt.  “So, what are you curious about?”

“What would you do if a cop pulls us over?”

“I would get my oxygen tank from the backseat and put on the oxygen mask.”

Wyatt surveyed the tank in the backseat, then glanced at Seth with confusion.  “I asked what would you do if a cop pulls us over.  What does the tank have to do with it?”

“I told you what I would do.  That’s why I carry it.  It’s been modified for just that situation.  The top half is filled with air and the bottom with a gas that will knock someone unconscious, released though a hidden switch.  If a cop walks up to my window, he will be breathing the gas, but I’m not affected because I am breathing the air from the top portion of the tank.  He passes out; we’re heading down the road.”

“That’s ingenious, but what about me, Einstein?”

“What about you?”

“I would be breathing the gas as well.”

“You’re not driving…  And you said you needed some sleep.”

Wyatt looked bothered.  “You could have brought one for me, just in case.”

“Don’t you think that would look a little suspicious if we were both in need of oxygen?”

Wyatt shrugged his shoulders.  “I guess you’re right.  What type of gas is it anyway?”

“An opioid.”

“A what?”

“It’s a synthetic narcotic, similar to opium.  The one I’m using is an aerosol version of Carfentanil.”

“What’s it for?”

“It’s used as a general anesthetic for large animals, such as elephants.”

“Is it safe for humans?”

“Not really.”

Concern overcame Wyatt.  “Could it kill someone?”

Seth glanced over at him.  “Hell yeah, if they breathe too much of it.  It’s one of the most potent opioids known.  It’s ten thousand times stronger than morphine.”

Wyatt held his hands out, palms up.  “You’re going to use that shit in here if we get pulled over?”

Seth pulled a syringe from his pocket.  “If it happens, I will inject you with this.”

Wyatt scrutinized the syringe.  “What the hell is that?”

“Naloxone.”

“What’s if for?”

“To reverse the effects of opioids.”

“Where in the hell would you get something like that?”

“You can get them anywhere.  They come in emergency overdose kits that medics use.”

“What about the other shit, the opioid.  Where did you get it?”

“The Carfentanil?  Some zoos and veterinary clinics have it, but I bought mine on the black market.  The aerosol version is difficult to find, and it set me back quite a bit.”

“Is it legal to buy?”

“If it was, would I be buying it on the black market?”

“Oh, yeah.  And who would sell you something like that?”

“The Russian mafia.”

“How are you involved with the Russians?”

“I’m not.  I just bought the shit from them.  It was a one-time deal.”

Wyatt was confused.  “And how does a person go about finding a Russian who sales illegal opioids?”

“In my case, from this motorcycle club that I buy firearms from.  They set up the deal for a commission.”

“Sounds like a lot of trouble.  How much did this stuff cost you?”

“Fifteen K.”

“Wow.  That’s a lot of money.”

“Better than going to prison or getting in a shootout with the police.”

“But still, you could have probably gotten something else that was cheaper.”

“I know this shit works.”

“I guess you’re right, since it can put an elephant to sleep.”

“That’s not what sold me on it.  This type of opioid had been used in the Moscow theater hostage crisis.”

“Everyone died but just a few people.”  He glanced back at the oxygen tank.  “Don’t tell me that’s the same shit.”

Seth lit another cigarette.  “Then I won’t.”

Wyatt glared at Seth.  “Are you fucking crazy?  That stuff kills people.”  He scrutinized Seth’s cigarette.  “I hope it’s not flammable.”

Seth shook his head.  “Wow, if I had known that you were going to get all girly over the tank, I would have left it at home and took my chances with the cops.”

Wyatt was starting to get upset.  “You have a fucking oxygen mask and I don’t!  That shit is dangerous!”

Seth laughed.  “Dude, you’re riding around with a sadistic killer and you’re worried about a bottle filled with a little bit of happy gas.”

Wyatt laid back in his seat and gawked out the window.

Seth noticed a road sign.  “Hey, pouter, we’re almost there.  When we get to Missy’s house, don’t say anything stupid.”

Wyatt rolled his head over, facing Seth.  “What do you want me to say if she asks how we know each other, or what we’re doing?”

“The truth.  We’re buddies on a road trip.  Keep it simple.”

“Okay”.

Seth stopped in the parking lot of a shopping center.  He removed his wig and fake mustache.  Wyatt watched as Seth removed the dye from his skin with alcohol pads.  “So, Missy knows what you look like?”

“Of course.”

“Is that smart?”

“It would be too hard to keep all this in place while doing the hanky panky.”

Wyatt frowned.  “Is that why we’re going there?”

Seth glanced at Wyatt.  “Sorry, I’m not gay.”

Wyatt became defensive.  “I’m not gay either.  And I’m not girly.”

“Chill, pal.  Missy and I go back a long way and there’s a lot more to our relationship than what you think.  And I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

“You didn’t.”

A few minutes later, Seth pulled up to a house and parked under a carport.  A woman and two dogs came out and greeted them.  Seth introduced Wyatt and Missy to each other, then he knelt and loved on the dogs as if they were his own.  He looked up at Wyatt.  “This is Zeke, and this is Skip.”

Wyatt noticed Zeke was a Sheltie and Skip was a Border Collie.  They went into the house and sat in the living room.  Wyatt was sitting in a recliner as Seth and Missy sat on the couch with the dogs.  Wyatt thought Missy seemed very normal; not someone who would associate with a sick and twisted killer, but of course, she had no idea.  And it was actually strange to see them together as if they were a normal couple.  A short bit later, Seth went to take a shower.  Missy told Wyatt that he could make himself at home, then brought him a sheet, blankets, and a pillow for the couch.

Early the next morning, Seth strolled up to Wyatt as he was sleeping.  “Rise and shine, sunshine.  It’s almost light outside.”

Wyatt sat up, rubbing his eyes.  “Okay.”  He gazed at Seth and noticed he was wearing only underwear and a cowboy hat.  “What the fuck, dude?”

“Missy has breakfast in the kitchen if you’re hungry.  I’m going to get dressed.”  Seth walked off.  Wyatt got his things together, then went into the kitchen.  He stood next to the table as Missy was washing dishes.  She turned to him and smiled.  “Help yourself.”

Wyatt sat at the table.  He noticed there were plates covered with scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast.  “Thanks.  I’m starving.”

“You want coffee?”

“Black, please.”

She handed him a cup of coffee, then sat down at the table.  “How do you know Seth?”

“Uh, we’re taking a road trip.”

“Sounds like fun.  For what?”

Wyatt didn’t know how to respond.  “Just…  Just checking out the attractions.”

“Like which ones?”

He spoke without thinking.  “Grand Canyon and stuff.”

She laughed.  “Y’all have a long way to go then.”

“Yeah.”

“So how did you two meet?”

He was becoming nervous.  “Through a mutual friend.”

“Which one?”

“James.”

“James?  You mean Jim?”

His eye narrowed.  “No.  It’s James.”

Missy began laughing.  “I know what you two are doing.  Seth hasn’t kept anything from me.”

Wyatt was confused and relieved at the same time.  “Really.  You know what he does?”

She nodded to indicate yes.

“Is it hard for you to read about him in the paper?”

“Like what?”

“The Angel of Death stuff?”

Her facial expression changed to a worried look.  “What are you talking about?” She stood up.  “He’s not that person.  You’re mistaken.”

Wyatt stood up and motioned his hands, gesturing for her to remain calm.  “That’s not what I meant.  We’re writing a story about The Angel of Death.”

She looked around the kitchen, then grabbed a large knife from a drawer.  She glared at Wyatt.  “I knew there was something strange about that bastard.  Keep quiet.  I’m going to sneak into the bedroom.”

Wyatt started to walk toward her, then stopped.  “That’s not a good idea.  Just sit down and play it off.  He will kill both of us if he finds out that I told you.”

She put her finger across her lips.  “Hush.”  She marched out of the kitchen.

Wyatt began pacing back and forth, not knowing what to do.  He didn’t know if he should run, or try to intervene since it was his fault for opening his mouth.  About the time he decided to head toward the bedroom, Seth came walking into the kitchen as if it was a perfect world.  He noticed Wyatt sported the deer caught in headlights look.  “Let’s roll.”

Wyatt didn’t say anything as he grabbed his bag and followed Seth to the car.  Seth got in, then scrutinized Wyatt.  “Why are you acting weird?”

He was trembling.  “What happened?”

Seth looked confused.  “What, are you some type of pervert?  We’re not in high school.  You need to get your kicks elsewhere.”

When Seth backed out of the driveway and onto the street, Missy came out on the porch and yelled, “Hey, wait a second!”

Wyatt’s eyes opened big as she strode across the yard toward the car.  He patted the dash.  “Let’s get out of here!”

Seth stopped, then rolled down his window.  He peered at Wyatt.  “What?  Why are you acting up this morning?  Something I need to know about?”

Wyatt noticed Missy was almost to the car.  “She’s going to stab you!  Hit the gas!”

“What?”  Seth turned toward Missy about the same time that she reached in through the window.

She handed him a brown paper bag.  “Here’s something in case you two get hungry on the road.”

Seth smiled.  “Thanks, babe.”

She leaned in through the window and gave Seth a quick peck on the lips.  “I’ll call you later.”

“Sounds good.  I’ll swing back by when we’re done with the trip.”

She glanced at Wyatt.  “Nice to meet you.  Y’all have a safe trip.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “You too.”

Seth waved as he drove off, then glanced into the bag.  “Cool.  Ham sammiches.”  He set the bag on the console, then glanced at Wyatt.  “What the fuck was that all about?”

“I don’t really know.”

Seth frowned.  “Did you end up saying something stupid?”

Wyatt wasn’t sure if he should tell Seth, but he was concerned she could be calling the police.  “I did.”

Seth shook his head.  “What did you say?”

“She might be calling the cops.”

“Why?”

Wyatt put his head down.  “I thought she knew about you, and I told her who you were.  I was half asleep and got mixed up.”

“Yeah, but why would she be calling the police?”

“Because I told her you were The Angel of Death.”

Seth shrugged his shoulders.  “She knows that.”

Wyatt jerked his eyes toward Seth.  “What?”

“She knows.”  Seth sent a text to Missy that read, “Wyatt’s panties are in a wad.  What happened?”

Wyatt was a little agitated.  “You got to be fucking kidding me?”

“I told you last night that she did.”

“I thought you were joking around.”

Seth received a text.  He laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“I text Missy and asked her what got your panties in a wad.  She says just messin’ around.  Tell Wyatt not to be mad.  Blame Seth.  I learned it from him.  LOL.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “That was fucked up.  You two are perfect for each other.”

Seth laughed.

Vigilante Ben Wa Balls

Wyatt was still irritated.  “Where in the hell are we?”

“On Highway 171.  We’re going to head south for a couple of hours.”

“And where is that going to take us?”

“South side of Toledo Bend Reservoir.  I have something I need to check out.”

“What’s y’all’s story anyway?”

“Whose story?”

“You and Missy.”

“You still pissed about that.”

“I’m just interested in how you two fuckers met.”

Seth laughed at Wyatt’s comment.  “It’s kind of long.”

“You just said we’ll be driving for a couple of hours.”

“I met her at a gun show in Albuquerque about seven years ago.”

“Why am I not surprised.”

“Do you want to hear about it or not?”

Wyatt leaned back in his seat and got comfortable.  “Go ahead.  I’m not going to interrupt anymore.”

“Like I was saying, I met her at a gun show.  We were at the same table looking at stuff when I noticed that she didn’t know much about firearms from the type of questions she was asking the vendor.  The guy tending the booth seemed as clueless as she was, so I put in my two cents.  I explained the ballistics of different calibers, hammer and hammerless revolvers, single and double action in semi-automatics, and the different types of concealment holsters.  She wanted something small but powerful, and easy to use.  I showed her the Springfield XDS in .45 ACP.  It was the smallest .45 on the market, one she could easily conceal in her back pocket.  She had never shot a firearm before, so I offered to show her how.

The next morning, we met at a shooting range.  During this time, I learned that her younger sister, Shelley, had been raped and the scumbag’s case had been thrown out when the arresting officers didn’t follow proper procedures; they searched his house without a warrant or his consent.  She told me his name was Chris, he was in his mid-thirties, unemployed, and living alone in a two-story house that his deceased parents had left him.  The incident had taken place several months back when her sister and her two kids were camping at the lake with some friends.  Chris was with another group that was camping close by.  The two groups wound up having a get-together, drinking, and hanging around the campfire.  Chris had taken a liking to Shelley, but she wasn’t interested.  Around midnight she wasn’t feeling well and went to her tent.  The next morning, she was missing.  After a short search, she was found in the nearby woods unconscious.  Come to find out, Chris had slipped something in her drink, then raped her in the woods.  The event not only traumatized her sister, but her kids as well.  Missy had made a few comments how she wanted to get revenge; it was inviting, but I kept my mouth shut because I didn’t know if she was just bluffing.

Later that evening, we went to a restaurant.  After a few drinks, she became angry and didn’t hold back how she felt about the rapist and how she wanted to get him back.  She had tears in her eyes as she gazed at me.  “I’m sorry.  I’ve never thought about harming someone before.”

“Don’t be.  I know how you feel.”

“My sister has been through enough.  She just got divorced from a cheating husband and was getting her life back together.  I’m so angry.  The piece of shit got off due to some bullshit technicality, and if I make this bastard pay for what he did, I’ll be the one going to prison where he should be.”

“If you control your anger and plan it, you won’t get caught.”

“People don’t get away with stuff like that.  My sister has young kids, but I don’t.  I’ve made up my mind that it’s worth it.”

I was getting in the mood to fuck someone up.  “Give me his address.  I’ll take care of it for you.”

She shook her head.  “I can’t let you get involved.”

“Sure, you can.  And besides, I can come up with something that would make it difficult for the cops to link it back to you.”

She thought for a moment.  “Like cut his brake lines or something.”

“Maybe.  But someone else could get hurt.”

“Burn down his house with him in it.”

“Does he live in town or out in the country?”

“In town.”

“Then there would be a risk of catching other houses on fire.”

“What about sneaking into his house and shooting him.”

“I can tell you’ve been thinking about this for a while, but those are common methods used by the inexperienced.  You would definitely be a suspect.”

“What do you suggest then?”

“Have you even staked out his house?”

“I’ve driven by a few times.”

“Let me go check it out and come up with a game plan.”

“Absolutely not.  It’s my problem and I wouldn’t feel right getting you involved.”

“I’m already involved just by discussing it.  We can at least go stake the fucker out and go from there.”

“I’m good with that.  When do you want to do it?”

“Tonight.”

She looked at me for a moment, then nodded.  “Okay.  Let’s do it.”

I followed her home, then we took my car from there.  Before we went to Chris’ house, we stopped at a secluded place to get ready.  I had her put on one of my black, mechanic style jumpsuits that was free of incriminating fibers and a pair of my boots.  She had long hair, so I had her put it up and cover her head with a toboggan.  It was around 11 PM when we got to his house.  Right away I noticed there weren’t any vehicles parked in the street, probably because of a city ordinance, and no alleyways.  This was going to be a slight problem.  Most people know who’s driving what next door or across the street.  If I were by myself, I would have parked as far away as I needed to, then hoofed it from there.  I was almost ready to call it a night when I noticed someone was having a get-together two streets over.  It was still risky, but I decided to park incognito with the other vehicles that were along the street.  I grabbed my duffel bag, then Missy and I took off down the sidewalk dressed in black from head to toe.  When we got to the rapist’s house, we hid behind some bushes.  I pulled out a flashlight and quickly examined her to make sure her toboggan was still in place.  “From here on try not to move your toboggan around or rub your eyes.  You don’t want to lose any hairs.”  I handed her some gloves.  “And put these on.”

“What are we going to do?”

“First, a visual inspection.”  I didn’t see any lights coming from the windows, indicating Chris was asleep or not home.  I put on my night vision goggles, then searched for infrared cameras, motion activated lights, and signs warning of a home security system; none were found.  I gazed at her through the night vision.  “Green looks good on you.”

She had a worried look.  “I can tell that you’re not fazed by this, but my heart is about to pound out of my chest!”

I pulled out my silenced pistol.  “Just stay close to me and try to be as quiet as possible.  We’re going to sneak into the backyard.”

She pulled out her XDS.  “Okay.”

“You don’t want to use that unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“You have one.”

“Yeah, but mine’s quiet and it’s not on paper.  And the police will know you just purchased a .45.”

“Got it.”

We snuck through a side gate, then to the corner of the house.  I noticed there was a motion light mounted on the eave and a doggy door installed in the back door.  I glanced back at Missy and whispered.  “There might be a dog.”

“Don’t hurt it.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”  Before we made another move, I needed to take care of the motion light.  I opened my bag and pulled out a CO2 pellet gun with a laser.  The silenced .22 works fine against light fixtures in secluded areas, but at occupied houses it will cause too much noise.  I aimed the laser at the sensor, then shot it several times.  I looked back at Missy.  “I can’t be sure if I disabled the motion light, so if it comes on, we’ll have to go back to the front yard.”

“Shoot the bulbs.”

“Can’t.  That will cause too much noise.”  I put up the pellet gun, then pulled out a tranquilizer gun and a dog whistle.  I blew the whistle a few times.  Within seconds a long-haired Sheltie came out of the doggy door.  He noticed me right away.  I quickly tossed him some meat that I had taken from the restaurant.  He wound up being friendly after that.  I handed Missy the rest of the meat.  “Keep him occupied.”

She knelt and fed the dog as I snuck to a window to see if it had a sensor.  I didn’t see one, indicating the house most likely didn’t have a security system.  But I still couldn’t be for sure.  Some people, or companies, only install sensors on the doors.  As far as motion sensors on the inside, it was doubtful since the dog was running around, unless they were the type that ignored smaller animals.  After I picked the lock, I glanced at Missy.  “I don’t want to leave you out here alone, so stay right behind me.  If I grab your shoulder, kneel down and wait for me to come back.”

“Got it.”

I opened the door and scanned the kitchen through the goggles.  I didn’t see anyone.  I also didn’t see a door sensor installed in the door frame or motion sensors in the kitchen area.  I walked through the kitchen and scanned the living room, then eased down the hallway and checked out two bedrooms, a bathroom and the garage; they were clear.  When I got to a staircase I grabbed Missy’s shoulder, then went up the stairs.  I found Chris asleep in bed and the other rooms were clear.  I shot him in the chest with two tranquilizer darts.  He immediately raised his head, mumbled something, then fell back to sleep.  I handcuffed his arms to the headboard and put duct tape over his mouth in case he prematurely awakened.  Missy was still holding her position when I got to the bottom of the stairs.  “We’re good.  Numb nuts is secured.”

She started up the stairs.

“Hold up.  I need to secure this floor.”

She followed me into the kitchen.  “Why are we wasting time?  Let’s just do something and get out of here.”

“That’s how people get caught.”  I closed and locked the back door, locked the doggy door, then slid the stove in front of it.”

She looked worried.  “Now what?”

“Gotta secure the front door.”

She followed me into the living room.  “Anything I can do?”

“Make sure all the windows are locked and the blinds are closed.  And don’t turn on any lights.”

I slid a couch against the front door, then went into the garage and unplugged the electric door opener.  Now that the house was secure, I sat up some wireless motion sensors for extra security.  Missy was in the kitchen with the dog when I sauntered up to the refrigerator and opened it.  “You hungry?”

She was staring at me as if I was crazy.  “Shouldn’t we do what we came here to do?”

“We’ve got all night.”

“What about Chris?”

“He’s not going anywhere.”  I pulled out some lunch meat, cheese, and mustard.  “Grab the bread over there, please.”  I left the refrigerator door open to light up the kitchen.

She shook her head as I sat at the table making sandwiches.  I was still wearing the night vision goggles, but they were in their upright position.  I noticed she was staring at me.  “What’s wrong?”

“How can you be so calm?”

“We’re safe as long as no one comes walking in, but that’s why I barricaded the doors and set up the motion sensors.”

“What do the sensors do?”

“If they sense motion, they will send a signal to a receiver in my pocket.”

She sat down at the table.  “Why would you carry something like that around?”

“So, no one can sneak up on me.”

She scrutinized me for a moment.  “Have you done this type of thing before?”

That was a loaded question, I thought to myself.  I didn’t want to spook her or lie.  “I have experience in doing things most people don’t.”

She began feeding the dog pieces of ham.  “Military experience?”

I took a bite from my sandwich.  “Nope.  I serve my country in a different way.”

“Ex-police or something?”

“I know some cops.”

She looked me up and down.  “You have some interesting gear.  Private security or bounty hunter?”

“You watch too much television.”

She pointed her finger at me.  “Hit man?”

“I don’t get paid for what I do.”

When she sat back in the chair, the dog jumped in her lap.  She gazed at me as she rubbed the dog’s head.  “You can tell me later.”

I stood up.  “I’m gonna go check on numb nuts.”

“Hold up.  I’m coming with you.”  She picked up the ham and cheese.  “Let me put these up first.”

“Leave ‘em.  It will confuse the cops.”

“Uh, okay.”

She followed me upstairs to his bedroom.  It was dark, so I turned on a closet light and left the door cracked.  When I turned around, I noticed that she had a kitchen knife.  “What are you planning on doing with that?”

“I’m not sure.”  She examined the blade, then glanced at Chris.  “Cutting the bastard’s throat comes to mind.”

“He won’t know—he’s unconscious.”

“I don’t care.  He’ll be burning in hell.”

Most people are all talk, but I could tell she was serious about killing the fucker.  My main concern now was if she could live with it.  “What if you let me do it.  That way it won’t come back and haunt you later.”

She gazed at me with an expression that was genuine.  “He harmed my family.  I want him to suffer.”

She was definitely my kind of woman.  “I didn’t say he wasn’t going to suffer.  In fact, I can come up with something that is more appropriate.  Something that will be very painful, violating and humiliating; the same thing he bestowed upon your sister.  I just think it would be better if I do it.”

I could see the anger in her eyes.  “I want to cut off his freaking penis.”

My asshole puckered a little as I thought about having my dick sliced off.  “Nice.  I can add that to the mix.  It’s your choice what you want to do, but I have a unique ability of coming up with some barbaric shit sometimes.”

She walked over and stood next to the bed.  She glared at Chris with a look that I only see in the mirror.  “I don’t know what to do, but I know I want this piece of crap to suffer.”  She peered at me.  “You’ve already done enough.  I don’t want you to get in trouble for this.”

I laughed.  “I’m an accomplice, too late.  And I have already come up with an exciting idea.”

“Like what?”

“I saw some items downstairs that I can use.”  I walked toward the door, then turned around.  “I’m going to grab a few things from the garage.”

She held up the knife.  “I have everything I need right here.”

I had been saying ‘I’ when referring to Chris’ demise to get her to go along with me doing it, but she was doing the same damn thing.  “Why don’t you come with me so we can discuss it.”

“Have it your way.”  She followed me out the door.

When we got in the garage, I picked up two softballs, then tossed one to her.  “Find a net or something that we can wrap around these.”

“Okay.”  She began digging through some boxes.

I had an idea of what I wanted to do, and everything I needed was in the garage: a water hose, a roll of duct tape, wire cutters, antenna from a car, awl, box cutter, and a long rope.  Missy had found the last item, a basketball goal net.  I dumped the trash out of a forty-four-gallon trashcan, then put the items in it.  When we got upstairs, I dumped the items onto the bed, then glanced at Missy.  “You might want to wait in the kitchen.  I can handle it from here.”

She examined the items.  “I can handle whatever you have planned.”

I walked over to the closet and grabbed a couple of metal clothes hangers.  “I don’t think so.”

She had somewhat of a cocky look.  “Softballs?  Basketball net?  It looks like you’re going to play a game up here.”

“Ha ha.  Glad to see you can have a sense of humor in a time like this.  But seriously, some sick and twisted shit is fixin’ to happen to Mr. Rapist.  Let me get him prepped, then you can come back up before the finale.”

She took a deep breath.  “Okay, okay…  I’ll be downstairs with Zeke.”

“You already named the dog?”

“Yep.”  She walked out the door.

As she disappeared into the dark, I thought about how this chick was right up my alley; she was down with the shit and had a dark sense of humor to boot.  What else could a deranged fucker like me ask for?  I was now curious how she was going to react when it got real.  I knew there was a chance that she was going to freak out and was even contemplating on backing off with the more sick and twisted shit, but when I looked at the rapist, I knew that wasn’t going to happen.  Even though he was still out, I injected him with another tranquilizer shot to ensure that he would remain asleep a little while longer.  After I cut off his clothes, I removed the cuff from his left arm, leaving his right one secured to the headboard.  Normally I wouldn’t be concerned about getting blood everywhere, but I had to worry about Missy being a suspect, so I took a shower curtain from the bathroom and slid it under him.  I hadn’t really paid much attention to Chris up to this point.  Now that he was sprawled out nude, I couldn’t help noticing he looked like a crack head.  He was skin and bones and covered in tattoos.  The tattoos were of poor quality, and they were scattered all over his body with no rhyme or reason.  He had the stereotypical, white trash facial hair (a thin mustache and a wannabe goatee that was thin and patchy).  The fool was even sporting a freakin’ mullet.  I laughed when I thought about his neighbors.  I’m sure they loved having this kind of dipshit living next to them.  If it wasn’t for his parents leaving him the house, he would probably be living in a trailer park. 

Out of the blue Missy yelled out from downstairs.  “Can I come up?”

I walked over to the top of the stairs.  “Not yet.”

“What are you doing up there?”

“Having a flashback from the eighties.”

“Hurry up.”

“Yes ma’am.”  When I came back in the room, I wrapped the net around the softballs and tied it closed with one end of the rope.  After I swapped out the razor blade in the box cutter, I sliced a ten-inch gash sideways across his belly.  He was bleeding profusely, but I was able to slow it down with a powdered clotting agent.  I took the car antenna and shoved it in his ass, purposely rupturing his colon, then pulled the end out of his open cavity.  I took the other end of the rope and duct taped it to the antenna that was sticking out of his wound, then pulled it back out of his ass, pulling the rope out as well.  When I had all the slack pulled out, I shoved the net and balls into his abdominal cavity, wiggling them around to get them deep inside and under some of his intestines.  To close his wound, I took a clothes hanger and cut it into short pieces, then used them as sutures; it was barbaric and non-sterile, but he wasn’t going to make it out alive anyway.  To make this a little more exciting, I decided to give him a fighting chance at survival; it would be a huge cost to him, but entertaining to me.  First, I cut another clothes hanger into six-inch pieces.  I wrapped his hand around his dick, then forced one of the wires between the bones in the side of his hand, out his palm, through the base of his dick, through the last joint of his pinky finger, then finished it off by twisting the ends together.  I moved over about a half an inch and poked another wire through his hand, back through his dick above the other wire and through the last joint on his ring finger.  I repeated the same thing with his other two fingers.  To keep him from making a lot of noise, I took the awl and poked holes in his upper and lower gums between his teeth, then wired his mouth partially open.  I did this so he could still talk, but not be able to let out a loud scream or shout for help.

His bed was running parallel with a wall that had a window that was facing to the backyard.  I turned it ninety degrees.  Now his feet were pointed toward the window and about three feet away.  The trash can was going to play a large role in what I had planned and it needed to hang level.  I cut off a four feet piece of rope and tied each end to the handles, forming an attachment point that would balance it.  The rope hanging out of Chris’ ass was too long.  I pulled it toward the window to get a measurement, added three additional feet, then cut off the slack.  I took the end of the rope and tied it to the center of the rope that was tied to the handles of the trashcan. 

Missy was getting impatient as she stood at the bottom of the stairs.  “I’m coming up.”

I ran to the doorway.  I was kind of panicking, knowing I had gotten carried away.  “I’m almost done.  I’ll come get you in a bit.” 

“You okay?  You sound strange.”

“I’m fine.”

I could hear her coming up the steps.  My heart was racing.  I contemplated on throwing Chris’ ass out the window to hide what I had done.  I usually don’t second guess the shit that I do, but how was I going to explain this to Missy.  I strode into the hallway and met her at the top of the steps with a water hose and a roll of duct tape.  “If you want, tape the end of this to the faucet in the bathroom.”

She shook her head and laughed.  “I don’t even want to know.  Just come get me when you’re done.”  She turned and started back down the stairs.

I felt like a kid with a crush.  She had me all tingly inside.  Then I gawked at the hose and thought, or maybe it was from what I was planning on doing to numb nuts.  It was really hard to say.  I am a sick fucker, I thought as I laughed to myself.

The last thing I needed to do was connect the hose between the faucet and trashcan.  When that was done, I opened the window and hung the trashcan outside, then I injected him with adrenaline.  The contraption was now complete.  Chris had one hand cuffed to the bed, the other wired to his penis.  The rope coming out of his ass was supporting the top of the trashcan just below the window seal.  Only thing left now was keeping Missy from seeing it.  She hadn’t been fazed by the night vision goggles or the guns, and she was handling the stress of doing something intense pretty well, but this was going to be a whole different story.  I was really starting to dig this chick, but now that I had gone into vigilante mode, crossing some unthinkable boundary lines, I was worried that she would freak out.

She was sitting at the kitchen table hanging out with the dog as I walked up to her.  “It turned out a little more gruesome than what I thought.  You probably need to hang here and let me finish.”

She peered at me with a whatever expression.  “I’m a nurse.  I’ve seen plenty of disturbing stuff.”

“Nurse?”

“Yeah.  I didn’t tell you that?”

“Nope.”

Her expression changed when the light from the refrigerator illuminated the blood on my hands.  “What did you do?”

I looked down, feeling somewhat bad.  “I…  I let myself get out of control.”

She frowned.  “You didn’t kill him, did you?”

“No.”

“Good.  When he wakes up, he’s going to wish you had when I get done with him.”

“I don’t think so.  He’s going to be plenty occupied with the shit that I’ve already done to his ass.”

She stood up.  “Let’s go see what you’ve been up to.  I really doubt it’s that bad.”

I didn’t say anything as I followed her up the stairs.  As soon as she strolled into the room and noticed Chris, she turned and glared at me.  “What the hell!”

I shrugged my shoulders.

She walked over to the bed.  “What did you do to his stomach?”  She then noticed Chris’ hand was wired to his penis.  “I don’t know what to say.”  She examined the rope.  “There’s a rope coming out of his butt.”  She glanced back at me.  “Do I even want to know what you were doing up here?”

I looked down.  “Payback for your sister.”

“This isn’t what I had in mind.”  She walked over to the window.  “Yeah, I can see you’ve been busy.”  She slightly tugged on the rope that was stretched between his ass and the trashcan.  She scrutinized the rope as it disappeared between his legs.  “What’s in there?”

“Vigilante Ben Wa balls.”

She pulled on the rope a little harder.  Chris began moaning.  “Oh, shit!  He felt that.”

I went over to him and checked his pulse.  “Yeah, looks like the party is about to start.”

“I assumed it already had.”

I slid a chair out from a wall.  “Chill for a bit.  It might be a while before he’s fully conscious.”

She leaned against the wall.  “You know this is some sick shit that you have done?”

I nodded.  “Of course.  I did it.”

She gave me a strange look.  “You seemed as normal as the next guy, now you want me to have a front row seat to this gore fest, all calm and relaxed as if we’re at some play.”

“Hey, the fucker raped your sister.  I felt this was appropriate.”

She nodded her head, agreeing.  “It actually is.  I was just caught off guard with the sadistic overtures.”

“I warned you.”

“Yes, you did.”  She gave me a stare.  “Are you some type of military interrogator?”

I shook my head.  “Nope.”

“Rational people don’t do this kind of stuff.  There something you’re not telling me?”

Chris moaned out.  “He’s coming to.”  I opened one of his eyelids and inspected his pupil.  “Good.  He’ll be full of piss and vinegar here shortly.  I was worried I gave him too much sedative.”  I looked back at her.  “Sorry.  I shouldn’t have gotten carried away.  I should have just let you cut his throat.”

“I’m not judging you.  I was just expecting something different.”  She walked next to me.  “The bastard looks like he’s going to get what he deserves.”

Chris opened his eyes, then tried to scream.  I leaned over so he could see me.  He was staring back at me with a confused look.  I thumped him on the forehead.  “Hey, fucknuts, see her.”  I pointed at Missy.  “Did you rape her sister?”

He tried to speak as he stared at her, but his mouth was extremely sore from the puncture holes and wires in his mouth.

She stepped forward.  “Don’t look at me, you fucker!  I will cut your fucking eyes out.”  She pulled a kitchen knife out of her back pocket.

When he eyeballed me, I laughed.  “Damn, fool.  She might be meaner than I am.”

Even though he was still groggy, he noticed the pain around his dick, hand, and stomach.  He tried to pick his head up to see what was going on, but the intense pain of his belly being wired closed was too much to bear.  I pulled the mirror off the bathroom wall, then held it above him so he could see his nude body.  “Check out what your dick got you into.”

He moaned out as he stared at the barbaric treatment that he had received.

I set the mirror down.  “Before we get started, we’re going to play show and tell.”  I pulled a torch out of my bag.  I lit it, then held it where he could see it.  “Here’s the show part.  You’re going to do the tell part.”

He stared at the flame and mumbled.  “Please don’t.”

“Did you rape Shelley?”

He shook his head to indicate no.

I stuck the flame to the top of his dick that was slightly protruding from his fist.  He thrust his head back and flopped around as I held him down, cooking the piss from his pee hole.  Missy was pacing back and forth, trying not to look.  When the head of his dick and the side of his hand were charred, I removed the flame.  He had torn gashes in his dick from jerking his hand around while trying to avoid the flame.  “Tell me what you did!”

He was breathing hard and crying as he mumbled.  “I didn’t do it.”

“I’m now going to burn your balls off, and I’m not going to stop until your nuts rupture and sperm is oozing out onto the bed.”

As soon as I moved the flame, he mumbled out, “I did it!  I did it!  Please stop hurting me.  I will do whatever you want.”

“Give me details so I know you’re not confessing to something that you didn’t do.”

Missy became upset.  “Hey, I know he did it.”

I peered at her.  “I know.  But I like to make these fuckers admit to what they did so they know why they’re being punished.”  I glanced back at him.  “Spill it fucker.”

He changed his mind about confessing.  “I didn’t do it.”

To his horror, I straddled him, holding him down, and began burning his nuts.  He bucked around like a horse while hollering.  I didn’t stop until there was sperm boiling out of his ruptured skin.  He had passed out about the time one of his testicles fell out.  When I rolled off of him, I noticed Missy appeared nauseated.  “That’s what he gets for changing his story.”

She was holding her hand over her mouth as burnt flesh and a strange sperm smell engulfed the air.  She was trying not to get sick.  “Oh, my God!  This is sick.”

“No worse than what he did.”

She gazed at me with a worried expression.  “What if someone hears the commotion or smells this?”

I laughed.  “They will think he’s having hot sex.”

She shook her head.  “How can you make jokes at a time like this?”

“It’s funny.”  I strolled over to Chris and slapped him in the face.  Within seconds, he started coming around.  “You ready to tell me some details?  I have a full bottle of propane if not.”  I lit the torch head.

Tears were running down his cheeks as he told on himself.  When he was done, I glanced at Missy.  “Was that in line with your sister’s story?”

She nodded to indicate yes.

I shut off the torch and looked Chris in the eyes.  “I have inserted some Ben Wa balls in your ass, and they’re tied to a trashcan hanging outside the window.  I also have a water hose running to the trashcan.  Water weighs a little more than eight pounds per gallon, and the trashcan holds forty-four gallons.  When it’s filled, around three hundred and fifty pounds will be tugging at the Ben Wa balls, but I can ensure you one thing, before it reaches that, your ass will be ripped out.”

He had a grimace of terror.  “Please don’t do this.”

I patted him on the head.  “Don’t worry, pal.  Since I’m such a nice guy, I’m going to give you a way out.”

His eyes lit up.  “Oh, please have mercy.  I’m sorry for…”

I put my finger across my mouth.  “Shh.  Listen, fucker.  I have a special treat for ya.  When the pain gets too intense, you have several choices.  First, you can rip your dick apart and pick up the knife that is lying beside you.”  I glanced at Missy and held my hand out.  When she gave me the knife, I set it beside him.  “The knife is laying right here.  You can use it to cut the rope coming out of your ass, that’s if you can reach it.  You can also cut off your hand that is being bound to the headboard, allowing you to be pulled out the window.  If you don’t like those options, you can simply let your ass be ripped out, then bleed to death after several hours of intense pain.  It’s your choice.”

Terror overcame him again.  He began mumbling as I walked toward the door.  Missy held her hand out to tell me to stop.  “Let me.  I want that fucker to know I’m the one who turned on the water.”

“Turn it on only halfway; we want him to get the full experience, slowly.”  When she walked out of the room, I peered down at him as he grimaced back in fear.  “You better be glad she is here.  I might have done something really fucked up.”  I started hearing water running.  “Hear that?  Sounds like you better make up your mind what you want to do.”  I picked up the knife and waved it in front of his face.  “You can also cut your throat.”

He began panicking.  “Please.  I don’t deserve this.  I will turn myself in.”

Missy came back in.  “You had your chance, you sorry bastard.”  She grabbed the torch.  “How do you light this?”

I lit it for her.

She held the torch for a second, then handed it back to me.  “Just get this bastard dead.”

Chris was staring in fear.  He was in a lot of pain and knew begging wasn’t going to help his situation.  The trashcan was now filled with several gallons of water.  The rope was getting tight and the pressure it was creating was fairly painful.  He wrapped his feet around the rope, trying to relieve the tension, but the pain from his cut stomach muscles prevented him from really accomplishing anything that was helpful.  When the trashcan had around five gallons he started jerking around.  Around ten gallons, he was hollering muffed sounds through his wire stitching.  When the can reached around twenty gallons or so, his bed slid across the floor, and when it hit the wall, the sudden jerk caused some of the netting to protrude from his pucker hole.  He immediately threw his head back, screaming while his body trembled.  The pain was so intense that he began pulling at his penis, stretching, and twisting it in all directions.  I was holding my nuts as I watched his facial expression, accompanied by pain filled moans and muffled screams.  Around thirty gallons he thrust his head back as he ripped his hand away, tearing his penis into pieces.  His hand was still wired closed around pieces of bloody flesh as he grabbed at the knife. 

The weight of the trashcan was now stretching him where his body was being slightly lifted from the bed.  It didn’t look as if he was going to be able to pick up the knife, so I helped him out by sliding the handle into his fist.  He immediately tried to cut the rope, but he couldn’t reach it.  He was cutting gashes across his ass cheeks as he desperately tried to cut himself free.  I stepped forward and yelled over his muffled screams.  “Your hand!  Cut your fucking hand off.”

He reached up and began cutting at his flesh around his wrist, but he didn’t have the proper leverage to do a full amputation due to being stretched out.  Missy began gagging and covered her mouth as she stared at the barbaric sight.  The rope was now pulling Chis so tight that his body was spinning around and around above the bed.  Around twelve inches of shit and blood covered netting was pulled from his ass, and it appeared at any moment he was going to be torn apart.

Around thirty-five gallons, his ass started ripping, allowing one of the balls and some intestines to protrude from his ass.  Chris went into survival mode and began jabbing the knife into his elbow.  Every time he thrust the knife inside his joint, he would twist it around.  His arm was almost severed when his ass tore wide open, then entangled intestines and the balls came blowing out.  The trashcan went crashing to the ground, followed by the balls and some of his intestines.  I gawked at Missy.  “Oh, shit!  That made way too much noise.”  I quickly closed the window and shut the blinds.  I then noticed she was standing off to the side with a strange expression.  “Are you okay?”

“Is he dead?”

I checked his vitals.  “Nope.  Just passed out.”

She shook her head.  “I don’t know what to say, except that was the sickest thing I have ever seen.”

“Yeah, that was pretty cool, wasn’t it?”

The Dope Show

Concern overcame Missy.  “You’re not going to let him live, are you?  He knows who I am.”

“Of course, not.  If I was working alone, I would leave the fucker here after I fucked him up some more, but since you’re involved, we need to get rid of his body.”

“How are we going to get him out of here without being seen?”

“We’ll take his Nissan sedan that’s in the garage.  I’ll drop you off at my car, then I’ll dispose of him and his car while you head home.”

Her eyes opened wide.  “Oh, crap!  What if someone found your car?  We’ve been here for quite a while.”

“Doesn’t matter, there’s nothing in there that will link it to us.”

“My purse and clothes are in there.”

“No, they’re not.  I put them in my bag right along with all my stuff.”

She looked relieved.  “I was worried there for a moment.”

“And besides, it would only get towed, and I would go get it back before sun up.”

She followed me downstairs.  “Go sit in the Nissan with Zeke while I clean up the joint.  It will take me a while to get everything done, so be patient this time.”

She went into the garage as I started on the cleanup.  First, I went outside and put the rope, balls and intestines in the trashcan, then took them into the garage.  I went back outside and connected the water hose to a faucet, then washed the blood and shit off the side of the house.  Chris was still alive, but unconscious.  I wasn’t done with his ass, so I injected him with a tranquilizer to keep him asleep.  I rolled him up in the shower curtain, secured it with rope, then hauled him to his car and stuck him in the trunk.  Missy was reclined in the passenger seat and Zeke was lying in the driver’s seat with his head resting on her lap.  She glanced over at me.  “You done already?”

I walked next to her window.  “No.  Just getting started.  I put dickless in the trunk.”

She closed her eyes.  “I could go to sleep.”

“I know how you feel.  Fucking people up can be exhausting.”  I went back inside and picked up all the items that I had used, then stuck them in the truck next to Chris.  When I moved his bed back to its original location, I noticed some blood and ass juice had splattered on the floor and on the wall below the window.  I remembered seeing a dildo in a dresser next to his dope stash when I was snooping through his shit.  I took the rubber dick and rolled it around in the human fluids, then put it under his bed.  That way if any traces of blood or fecal matter were found elsewhere it would seem that he had a thing for ass play.  After I cleaned up the carpet and wall, I went through his dope stash.  He had a large bag of marijuana, several small bags of cocaine, some LSD and a mixture of prescription pills.  I showed Missy.  “Hey, look what I found.”

She looked at me as if I was crazy.  “I don’t mess with that stuff.”

“Nor do I.”

“Then why are you so excited?”

“I’m going to leave this stuff spread around.  It will make his disappearance look as if it was done by some drugged out, crazy ass people.”

“How are you going to make that believable?”

I pulled out a zip lock bag full of hair.  “I am going to scatter some of this around also.”

“What is that?”

“Hair.”

“From who?”

“Drugged out, crazy ass people.”

She looked confused.  “Why would you have something like that?”

“When you do what I do, it’s smart to set up other lowlifes, or plant so much false evidence that any credible evidence found will be inadmissible in court.  It also confuses the shit out of the police.”

“Okay…  But where did you get it?”

“It’s an old habit.  Anytime that I find a stray hair from a scumbag, I take it for just such an occasion.”  I pulled out another bag.  “This one has hairs that I’ve taken from barbershops from all over the country.”

“You know that’s weird?”

I shrugged my shoulders.  “It’s not like I make fucking dolls out of them.”

She laughed.  “We’ll have to talk about that one later.”

I had to save face.  “Seriously.  I use them so I won’t get busted after I mess someone up.”

“We’re going to talk about that too.”

I felt stupid.  “I’m going to go finish up.”

“Hold up.  Are you going to dump all of those?  That might look suspicious and backfire on us.”

“I’m only going to leave about ten from each bag.  That way if this turns into a crime scene and one of your hairs is found, no court will convict you over it when there were so many others planted.  Basically, it would be inadmissible as evidence.”

She glanced at her watch.  “Then get after it, cowboy.”

She was right; time was ticking.  I went into the living room and slid the couch back in place.  I removed all the items from the coffee table and dusted it with cocaine.  To make it more realistic, I took a razor blade and made some scrape marks in the powder.  I did the same thing on the kitchen table and kitchen countertop.  It was important for the police to find some LSD.  Chris had the liquid form.  I sat out a punch bowl, poured in a little bit of orange juice, added some of the LSD, then swished it around to get the entire inside covered with the residue so it would appear that it had been full.  To make it look more believable, I dipped plastic Dixie cups in the juice, coating their insides, then left them lying around throughout the house.  Next, I scattered around small pieces of marijuana, ensuring they were embedded in the carpet and couch.  It was important that I didn’t go overboard leaving too many drug particles; first, it would look suspicious, as if someone was trying to do exactly what I was doing.  Secondly, dope heads don’t waste their dope.  And speaking of dope.  You can’t have a dope party without people having the munchies.  That’s why I took all sorts of food from the pantry and refrigerator and made a complete mess of the kitchen and living room, leaving empty packages and spilled food everywhere.

I needed to do something really strange, like what a drugged-out person would do, so I put on some gloves and grabbed a piece of Chris’ intestine from the trashcan, then I drew fucked up pictures all over the walls with his shit.  I rubbed shit all over the restroom walls, toilet, tub and sink, then grabbed every door knob, cabinet handle and majority of the food containers.  I found a can of spray paint in the garage and spray painted stupid stuff on the walls, like big dicks, pussies and stick people having sex.  I even wrote so and so was here and other bullshit sayings, including how cops suck.

During my cleanup, I had found a vacuum cleaner in a closet, so I took the collection bag and squeezed it over and over, slightly puffing out dust, lint and hairs all over the house.  I did it in a fashion where it wasn’t obvious what had happened, but allowed just enough of the particles to be spread around, causing an enormous amount of evidence to be collected and analyzed along with the hairs that I had brought.  The bag looked as if it hadn’t been changed in a long time, if ever, and no telling how many people had come and gone over the years, and now their DNA was spread around overshadowing anything that Missy or I might have lost.  Chris had a stereo system in the living room with an assortment of CDs stacked on a shelf.  I skimmed through his music, finding Marilyn Manson.  I put it in his CD player and played the song, The Dope Show.  I set it to repeat so it would play over and over, then adjusted the volume where it wouldn’t disturb the neighbors, but loud enough to irritate the cops.  I did this and all the other weird stuff just to throw off the police, knowing this type of unusual behavior wouldn’t be linked back to someone like Missy.

Before I left, I slid the stove back in place, picked up my sensors and unlocked the front door.  When I got in the garage I put the trashcan, vacuum cleaner, the vacuum bag, and everything else that I had used to fuck up Chris, in the trunk, plugged in the overhead door, then Missy and I drove away.”

Wyatt was writing in his notebook.  Seth lit a cigarette, then glanced over at him.  “I wouldn’t document anything about Missy.”

He looked up.  “I didn’t use anyone’s real name or the details that would link her to Chris.”

“Good.”

“That was an interesting story.  I see what you meant about having more to y’all’s relationship.  I can’t believe she didn’t freak out.”

“You have to realize she had a lot of anger toward Chris for what he had done to her sister.  At that time, she was willing to take the law into her own hands, knowing she would lose everything if she was caught.”

“Did she regret it later?”

“She knows he got what he deserved.”

“What did you do with Chris?”

“After we left his house, I drove over to my car.  Fortunately, there were some vehicles remaining from the party, meaning no one had probably noticed it.”

“How do you know the cops weren’t staking it out?”

“First off, there would be no reason for that, and secondly, I had sensors that would have alerted me if someone got close to it.”

“I should have known you had something set up like that.”

“Of course.  I do a lot of things to reduce the chance of getting busted.  After I drove by and noticed it was clear, I pulled over about a block away.  Missy seemed a little worried as I looked over at her.  “Just stay calm and everything will be okay.”

“We need to get rid of him.”

“First, I need you to take my car to your house.  I’ll take care of him and meet up with you later.”

“What are you planning on doing?”

“Something that I’ve wanted to try.”

“Like what?”

“It’s just something I had thought of a while back but haven’t had the time.”

“Stop beating around the bush.”

“I wanna grind his ass up.”

She looked at me like I was crazy.  “Why?  That’s too risky.  Let’s just bury him in the desert and be done with it.”

“Too many eyes in the sky.”

“What about acid?”

“Aren’t you a nurse?”

“Yes, I’ve already told you that.”

“That would be predictable then.”

“And you think grinding him up is better?”

“Would you do something like that?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Exactly.  And the cops would think that as well.”

She knew that I was trying to keep her from being a suspect.  “That’s fine.  I would rather see this through.  I’ll drive this car since Zeke is already in here.”

“You might not like what I have planned.”

“I can handle it.”

“That’s fine.  Just follow me and stay close.  If we get separated for some reason, I will pull over and wait for you.  Also, don’t panic if a cop pulls you over.  As long as you act normal, I will be able to take care of it.”

“Why would a cop pull me over?”

“Fuckin’ Murphy’s Law.  Shit always happens at the worst possible time.  You just have to be prepared.”

An hour later, we pulled up to an automotive garage.  I opened the overhead door and had her pull in.  She got out and looked around.  “Whose place is this?”

“I’m renting it.”

“Do you think we’re safe here?”

“More so than anywhere else.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Build a grinder.”

“Why would you even plan on grinding him up if you don’t have one already?”

“You’ll understand when I’m done.”  At the time, Missy didn’t understand the importance of why I wanted to grind him up.  There are numerous ways to get rid of someone, but I needed to do something to throw off the cops, and since Missy would be a suspect, I needed to do something that was so freakin’ strange that they wouldn’t even consider her.  First, I cut a sixteen-inch diameter hole in the passenger’s side floorboard of Chris’ car, then ripped out the headliner and cut another one in the roof right above it.  I cut a fifteen-inch diameter culvert at six feet, then closed one end by tack welding some wire mesh in place.  I slid the closed end of the culvert in the hole in the roof, then through the one in the floor to where it was resting on the concrete.  The culvert needed to be elevated so it wouldn’t drag the road, so I made a leveraging system with a handle where I could raise it up about twelve inches.  Surprisingly Chris was awake and begging for help when I pulled him out of the trunk.  His abdomen was extremely swollen, and blood was oozing from between his legs.  I secured the end of an eight feet piece of string around his neck for a position indicator.  I dragged him up on the car’s roof, then slid him feet first into the culvert.  His head was almost even with the top of the culvert and I didn’t want anyone to hear his screams, so I closed the end by duct taping some building insulation over the opening.  I ran the string between the culvert and the car’s roof so I could have access to it from the inside.  The culvert was sticking out of the roof a couple of feet and I needed a way to conceal it.  I looked around the shop and found two car tires, so I stuck them over the culvert, stacking one on top of the other.  Missy and Zeke were across the shop playing ball when I walked over to them.  “Let’s roll.”

They got into the backseat.  She scrutinized the contraption, then looked at me.  “What in the world is that for?”

“My human cheese grater.  And this could get real messy, so you can stay here if you want.”

She laughed.  “Seriously?  If I could handle what you did back at the house, then I think I will be fine.”

“Sounds good.”  I started the car and pulled out of the garage, then stopped.  It was 5:30 AM and about an hour from sunup.  “Where’s a rural road with little traffic?”

“Highway 550.  It’s about ten miles north from here.  Turn right.”

“We’ve got about an hour before sunrise, so we need to get rollin’.” 

Chris’ moaned when I hit a bump as I left the parking lot.  The sound echoed from inside the tube.  Missy leaned forward.  “Is Chris in there?”

“Sure is.”

“Do I even want to know what you’re doing?”  She examined the culvert as it ran up through the roof.  “Do you think someone will notice that?”

“I threw a couple of tires around it.”

“Does that make it any better?  Kind of redneck, isn’t it?”

“Someone might take notice of a large diameter pipe sticking out of the roof, but having spare tires in the desert isn’t anything out of the ordinary…  Well, maybe on top of a car, but people around here have seen stranger things.”

“You’re definitely right about that.  I’ve seen some freaks come into the hospital.”

A few minutes later, I turned on Highway 550.  “Where does this go?  We’re still in a developed area.”

“About five miles down we’ll be in the desert.”

She was right.  It was a four-lane highway, but had little traffic, and because the terrain was flat, I could see if a car was coming from a long way away.  I grabbed the handle that lowered the culvert.  “You might want to hold your ears.  This could get loud.”

She slid over to the left side of her seat to get further away from the contraption.  “I’m good.” 

Zeke was laying his head in her lap.  “You should cover Zeke’s ears.  We don’t want him to freak out.”

“Okay.”

I lowered the culvert to where the wire mesh was barely grinding on the asphalt.  Within seconds, the tack welds broke loose and the mesh ripped off and went sliding across the highway.  Chris was screaming at the top of his lungs as his feet were being dragged along the road at seventy miles an hour.  I had no way to see what was going on, but I knew his flesh and bones were being ground into tiny particles.  I made sure the bottom of the culvert was dragging on the asphalt to prevent him from being jerked out from under the pipe, but it was also causing a lot of sparks.  The string was slowly being pulled upwards as his legs were being turned into a bloody trail on the asphalt.  Chris’ screaming was almost as loud as the grinding sound of the culvert as it dragged along the road.  There was also a lot of banging coming from inside the tube; he was beating the metal with his fist.

Missy had a grimace of horror as she gazed at me through the rear-view mirror.  “Oh, my God!  He’s being torn apart.”

I lit a cigarette, then slightly rolled down the window.  I had to speak loudly so she could hear me over the noise.  “He’s actually being ground up.  All that will be left of him is a bloody trail with some teeth and hair.”

“Won’t that be noticeable?”

“Sure.  It will look like something was spilled on the road.”

“What if the cops are called?”

“There will be nothing for anyone to collect except for blood, tiny flesh particles and metal fragments, but the blood will quickly turn dark and it will look more like a long oil spill.”

Chris was now making a strange howling sound.  The string had risen about two feet, indicating his legs had been disintegrated up to his knees.  A few minutes later, the string had moved up another twelve inches or so; his lower torso was now being dragged.  He had stopped screaming and banging—he either passed out or died from blood loss.  The bottom of the culvert was now glowing red and I was concerned it was going to come apart or start bending, so I slightly raised it to where it was barely dragging.

Missy was covering her mouth—the inside of the car was filled with the smells of burning flesh and metal.  “My eyes are starting to burn.”

I rolled down the windows.  “We’ll be done in a few minutes.”

Five miles down the road an odd thumping sound started coming from the culvert.  Missy tapped me on the shoulder.  “What is that?”

“His head is bouncing around on the road and it’s hitting the inside of the tube.”

She shook her head.  “This is some sick shit.”

“It’s almost like music to my ears.”

“You’re nuts.”

“And it takes one to know one.”

She laughed.  “I trained you well.”

A few minutes later, the sound stopped, but I left the culvert in place for another two miles or so.  When I determined Chris’ head had been ground up, I pulled the culvert upwards and locked it in place.  I quickly turned the car around and shined the headlights on the road to see if any part of his head was left.  I didn’t see anything, so I drove back down the road the wrong way to locate the end of the blood trail.  About a mile down, I finally saw the end of it as it faded away.  “We’re good, let’s get out of here.”  I crossed over the median, heading back to town.

“I’m glad that’s over.  The noise was driving me and Zeke crazy.”  She slid back over to the center of the seat, then leaned forward.  “You sure the cops won’t figure this out?”

“If for some minute chance they find his DNA stretched out along this road, the act that caused this would be so bizarre and unusual they wouldn’t suspect a rational person.”

“Wouldn’t they think someone could have simply dragged him behind a car?  I could be accused of doing that.”

“Dragging causes large section of body parts to be torn off.  What we did is ground the fucker into the asphalt; crime scene investigators will know the difference.  And most of the smaller particles will be eaten by insects, and if anything larger slipped through, they will be eaten by birds or animals.  In a few days, there will be nothing left of the rapist.”

“Why didn’t we burn him?  That would have done the same.”

“Wasn’t this more exciting?”

“I guess.  But this was my first time doing anything remotely bad.  Anything would have been intense.”

“Yeah, and this will be your last.  You don’t want to have to look over your shoulder for the rest of your life, worrying if you’re going to get busted.”

“I would have never thought that I would have participated in something like this.  But the bastard did get what he deserved.”  She leaned forward and grabbed my shoulder.  “Thanks.  I couldn’t have done this without your help.”

“Makes for an interesting first date.”

She smiled.  “It did.”

I dropped Missy off at her house, then went back to the shop.  I needed to do something with the car.  I had a few choices; I could take it to a recycle center, but first I would have to drain all the fluids, repaint it a different color, remove all the identification numbers, then make it look totaled.  I could also patch the holes in the roof and floorboard, clean all the splattered body fluids from the undercarriage, then leave it in a bad area with the keys so a lowlife would take it.  Another option was for me to dope show it out like his house and leave it on the side of a highway.  Or I could just dump it off in a lake.”

Wyatt held his hands out, palms up.  “Well, what did you do with it?”

Seth smiled.  “Packed it full of explosives and blew it into a million pieces.”

“Really?  Why would you do that?”

“They did it on Myth Busters to a concrete truck.  There was nothing left of it.”

“Yeah, but that must have been loud.”

“It was, but I had taken it way out into the desert.”

“Are you worried that someone could still find the pieces and link it to Chris?”

“Not really.”

“I figured you would have gotten rid of the evidence better.”

“Well, I did.  I didn’t just take the car out there like it was.  I had removed the culvert and cut the roof and passenger’s side floorboard out, then cut them into smaller pieces, disposing of them separately.  I also removed all the identification numbers.  And before I blew it up, I burned the car so all the combustibles would be destroyed, eliminating all incriminating evidence.”

“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

“I don’t always explain everything.  But remember, everything I do has already been calculated, and I try to plan for all the possible scenarios that could play out.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “How in the hell did you get home?”

“An enduro bike.  I had strapped it to the top of the car.”

“Of course, you did.”

“I sure in the hell wasn’t going to walk or call a taxi.”

“Did they find Chris’ remains?”

“Nope.  It all went without a hitch.”

“Did you ever hear anything about Chris?”

“Like what?”

“Like when they realized he had come up missing.  Or what happened with his house when they found it in a mess.  Did the police ever question Missy?”

“Missy never heard a word about it.  Nothing ever came up in the news.”

“That’s strange.  I would figure they would have questioned her.”

“Chris was a troublemaker and a known drug user.  It’s typical for pieces of shit like him to disappear.  Plus no one missed him, so there was no one to press the issue.  If the police had been called, they probably figured he moved away since they didn’t find any evidence of foul play.” 

“When did she find out who you are?”

“I told her the next day.”

Wyatt had an eager look.  “Really?  How did she react?”

“Didn’t care.”

“That’s hard to believe.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because of the stuff you do.”

“I didn’t do it to her.”

“Still, I would have figured she would have been scared.”

“Are you scared?”

Wyatt frowned.  “Of course, not.”

“Then why would she be?”

“I was thinking it would be different since she’s a woman.”

“You’re right though.  Most people, male or female, would freak out, but the way we met obviously had a big influence.”

“Do y’all talk about the things you do?”

“Not really.”

“But she must read about the stuff in the paper.”

“I’m sure, but I try to keep my personal life separate from the vigilante shit.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “You have been doing this shit for so long it’s as if it’s a freaking job.”

Seth smiled.  “Yeah, but without benefits.  I need to see if there is a union for vigilantes.”

********************

Jim and his team had flown to Dubois, Idaho the following morning after the diner incident.  They met with the local Sheriff, then rode with him to a small cabin in the Opal Mountains where Rick Warren lived.  Jim went in first, noticing the cabin was full of hunting equipment and animal hides.  “It’s clear.”  He holstered his firearm.

Ron made an observation.  “There hasn’t been anyone in here in quite a while actually.”

Jim was shining his light around the room.  “I want every square inch of this placed searched.”

Thomas was looking at some mounted animal heads.  “What are we looking for?”

“Anything out of the norm.”

Ron yelled out.  “Jim, over here.”  He had found a box under the bed.  He had a disturbed look as he handed it to Jim.  “I didn’t expect to find something like this.”

Jim noticed there were pictures of the contraption that John was in as it was being built.  He peered at Thomas.  “Go on outside.  And be careful.  Skull has been here, and the place could be booby-trapped.”

Thomas was walking out the door.  “I’m not an idiot.”

“And don’t mess with anything out there either.”

The sheriff laughed.  “I have a damn rookie just like that.”

Jim pulled out some drawings.  “These look to be the schematics.”

Ron looked confused.  “This doesn’t make sense.  I would have figured Skull would have hidden those better.”

“He wanted us to find it.”  He held up the papers.  “I need to get these to the hospital—they might be John’s only chance of getting out of that thing.”

“They could also be bullshit.  Skull might have drawn those up just to mislead you.”

Jim shrugged his shoulders.  “I’m running out of options.”  He eyed the sheriff.  “Take us to your office—I need to fax these to St. Frances hospital in New York.”

After Jim faxed the drawing, he and his team took off for St. Frances.

Serrated Steel Cock Ring

Seth turned off the highway onto a rural road.  Wyatt noticed the area was heavily wooded.  “I haven’t been paying attention.  Where are we?”

“Close to the Sabine Wildlife Management Area.”

Wyatt noticed a body of water.  “Is that a lake?”

“It’s Toledo Bend Reservoir.”

“Where’re we going?”

“About fifteen miles to the west of here I fucked up some assholes in the woods.  I want to see if their remains are still there.”

Wyatt’s eyes opened wide.  “Is that smart?”

“It was four and a half years ago.  If the cops found them, I highly doubt they’re still hiding out and waiting to see if I’m going to return.”

“Who did you kill?”

“I didn’t kill anyone.”

“So, they’re still alive?”

“I doubt it.”

“Then you did kill them?”

“No, I left them for dead.”

“Then how did they die?”

“They most likely killed each other.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “That doesn’t make any sense.  Why would they do that?”

“You’ll understand when I tell their story.”

Wyatt opened his notebook and wrote down a few things.  “So, who were these people and why did you bring them out here?”

“Assholes.”

“Oh, yeah, who were these assholes?”

“Steve and Randy.  They lived in the area.  I was here visiting my friend James about nine years ago when...”

“James?  Is that the same dude that had to go to the emergency room after wrecking his four-wheeler?”

Seth gazed at Wyatt with a glimmer in his eyes.  “Yes, it is.  I’m glad you’re actually paying attention to what I’m saying.”

“This stuff is interesting.  Who wouldn’t?”

“The last fucker I told my stories to.”

“Yeah, but he was on the receiving end.”

Seth laughed.  “True dat.”

“Was the four-wheeler accident before or after this?”

“After this when he moved to Texas.”

“How did you meet him?”

“Through a mutual friend about ten years ago.”

“Four-wheelin’ or something?”

“Metal detecting at James’ place.  Back when he lived here.”

Wyatt had an odd expression.  “You’re just into everything, aren’t you?”

Seth shook his head.  “Is it still hard to imagine that I have a normal social life after everything I’ve told you?”

“Kinda.  It just seems that it would be difficult balancing the vigilante shit with the normal stuff.”

Seth nodded in agreement.  “I know what you mean.”

“Before this trip, I had pictured you like that crazy guy from the movie Joe Dirt.”

Seth glared at Wyatt and frowned.  “It puts the lotion on the skin dude?”

Wyatt looked down.  “Uh…”

Seth began laughing.

Wyatt looked up and began to chuckle.  “You saw the movie I take it?”

“Sure.  But what’s fucked up is, Missy said the same damn thing.”  Seth smiled.  “The lotion guy.  That was some funny shit.  I’ve always wanted to fuck with someone like that.  Maybe we can do it on this trip.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “Let’s just stick to the stories.  The truck driver thing almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Okay, okay.  Like I was saying, James had a place here; around forty acres.  About nine years ago, I came back to visit, and while I was here James had made plans for us and his son Tyler to go camping at the campsite that he had built on his property.  When we got there, we found that someone had stolen everything.  The fuckin’ thieves also left a dollar.”

“Wait a second.  What do you mean they left a dollar?”

“A fucking dollar was left under a log where the rock fire pit had sat.”

“Why would they do that?”

“To add insult to injury.  That’s how assholes operate.”

“So, what did they steal?”

“All his rocks, a grill and a sign.”

Wyatt looked concerned.  “Don’t tell me you went after someone for taking some rocks?”

Seth shook his head.  “You have the same fuckin’ attitude the sheriff had.”

“What sheriff?”

“Steve Ermus.  James had called the sheriff’s department.”

Wyatt sported a smartass grin.  “Over rocks?”

Seth took out his wallet and pulled out a dollar.  “Do you have two hundred dollars on you?”

Wyatt shrugged his shoulders.  “Yeah.”

“Give it to me.”  Seth held his hand out.

“For what?”

He motioned with his fingers.  “Let me have it.”

“Uh, okay.”  Wyatt pulled out his wallet and handed Seth two hundred dollars.  “Why do you need it?”

Seth handed him the dollar, then put the two hundred in his wallet.  He put his wallet back in his pocket.  Wyatt sat dumbfounded while holding the dollar.  “What the fuck is this for?”

Seth shrugged his shoulders.  “You don’t have a problem with someone taking James’ rock and only paying him a dollar for them, so you shouldn’t have an issue with me swapping you a dollar for your two hundred bucks.”

Wyatt was a little irritated.  “They were fucking rocks!”

“They were Austin stone and large flat rocks, and James paid two hundred bucks for them.”  Seth glanced over at Wyatt.  “I didn’t even charge you for the grill or sign, or for James’ labor when he hauled them in and set ‘em up.”

Wyatt was still holding up the dollar.  “You didn’t say he bought the rocks.  I figured they had been lying around and he picked them up.”

“That’s what you get for figuring.  And it doesn’t matter if he bought them or just picked them up off the ground—they were still his.”

Wyatt waved the dollar.  “What about my money?”

“What about it?”

Wyatt shook his head as he put the dollar in his front pocket.  “This is fucked up.”

“When you admit that these fuckers got what they deserved, you might get your money back.”

“They did.”

“You haven’t even heard the story.  You might think I went overboard.”

Wyatt crossed his arms, pouting.  “Then say it.”

“Not if you’re going to act like a baby.”

“Okay, so they took some rocks and a grill.  What happened next?”

“Don’t forget about the sign.”

“Oh, yeah, the freakin’ sign.  What was so special about it anyway?”

“It wasn’t anything special monetary wise, but James had made it for his son.  In fact, he had made the campsite for him as well.”

“So, what did the sheriff do?”

“Nothing.  Just took a report.  He acted like he really didn’t give a shit.”

“Did the sheriff ever find out who took them?”

“No, but James did.”

“How?”

“Later that day, he found some ATV tracks, so he followed them from his property, down the road to a house where he found his stuff.  His rocks, grill and sign were set up just like they had been at his place.”

Wyatt interrupted.  “By the way, what did the freakin’ sign say?”

Seth shook his head, sensing Wyatt was still pissed about the money.  “Camp Sasquatch.”

“That’s stupid.”

“I reckon it is.”

“You know what I mean?”

“Sure, buddy.  A father spending time with his son is stupid.”

“That’s not what I meant.  I meant that it was stupid for someone to steal it.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Just drop it.  I know what I meant.  Just get on with the story.”

Seth shook his head, knowing Wyatt was just being pissy.  “James went to the owner’s house to talk to him.  He figured some teenagers had done it and was simply going to ask for the stuff to be returned.  The owner of the property, Randy Wilcox, told him to get fucked.  James didn’t want to get in a confrontation, so he called the sheriff’s department.  When Steve came back, he was aggravated at James for wasting his time and told James there was nothing he could do.”

Wyatt seemed a little aggravated.  “That’s bullshit!”

“Yeah, it is.  It even gets better.  James asked around and found out some interesting stuff about Steve and Randy.”

“Like what?”

“They had been friends since high school.  And Randy was a known thief.”

“What about Steve?”

“Most of the locals liked him.  That’s why he was elected sheriff.”

“He sounds like a dick to me.”

“He was, but most of the locals had been born and raised in the area like Steve, so he pretty much left them alone.  Just like with Randy; not only was he a thief, but he was also a poacher, and Steve just looked the other way.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Sure, it does.”

“No, it doesn’t.  If Randy was stealing from the locals and Steve wasn’t doing anything about it, they would be upset with him.”

“Randy only stole from the ones who had moved here.  He knew not to mess with the locals.”

“I take it James wasn’t a local.”

“Right.  He had moved here a couple of years prior to this.”

“They all sound like a bunch of assholes.”

“Now you’re catching on.”

“Did James ever get his stuff back?”

“No, but he did file a complaint against Steve with the county board.”

“Good.  The bastard deserved to get in trouble.”

“That didn’t happen.  In fact, it only fueled the fire.  Over the next few months, someone stole James’ four-wheeler, scratched his truck, threw nails in his driveway and vandalized his house.”

“Did James ever find out who did all that?”

“Yeah, it was Randy, and maybe Steve.”

“How did he know that?”

“He had set up a game camera and caught Randy fucking around his yard the night his house was vandalized.  There was another person, but James couldn’t tell who it was.”

“What did they do to his house?”

“Threw oil base paint all over it.”

“Did he turn them in, or at least Randy since he had been caught red-handed?”

“He tried to talk to Steve about it since he was the only law enforcement around.”

“What did he do?”

“Nothing to Randy, but he did tell James that it sounded like he had made some enemies and that he needed to watch his back.”

“That sucks.”

“James was aggravated as well.  He filed another complaint against Steve with the county board.”

“Did anything come of it this time?”

“Yeah.  The next day Steve pulled over James’ wife and harassed her.”

“That’s not right.”

“You have to remember this was a rural area, and Steve and all the other fuckers watched each other’s backs.  It’s the same political corruption that plagues every aspect of our government.”

“There must have been something that he could have done.”

“Not without causing more problems for himself or his family.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“It gets worse.  James thought everything was over, but a few weeks later when he came home from work, he found his dog gutted and hanging from a tree by the neck.”

Wyatt became upset.  “That’s crossing the fucking line!  Was it the two assholes?”

“James didn’t have any proof at the time.”

“What about his game camera?”

“They had taken it.”

“Fucking pricks.  So, did he ever find out who it was?”

“Yes.  About a week later while he was in town, he noticed Randy’s truck was parked next to him when he came out of a store.  His dog’s collar was hanging from Randy’s rear view mirror.  James went nuts and found him in a hardware store.  They got into a heated argument, then a fight.”

Wyatt was sitting sideways, facing Seth with wide eyes.  “Who won?”

“Neither of them.  It was broken up as quick as it got started.  But Steve did arrest James for disorderly conduct.”

“Of course, he did.  What a piece of shit”

“While he was in jail, Steve not only confessed to killing his dog, but told him if he filed any more complaints that he would make sure something worse happened.”

Wyatt was gritting his teeth.  “So, Steve admitted to killing the dog?”

“Sure did.”

“Why did Randy have the dog’s collar?”

“Who knows why assholes do what they do.  Probably to rub it in James’ face.”

“What did James do?”

“Moved.”

“That’s bullshit!  There must have been something he could have done.”

“He thought about filing a complaint with the attorney general, but he was worried that Steve would do something to his family.”

“Do you think Steve would have done something like that?”

“Anyone that is sorry enough to do what he did to that animal has already proven to me that their capable of doing anything.”

Wyatt had an eager look.  “So, what did you do to the fuckers?”

“Around seven years ago, I came back to visit James as I was passing through the area, heading to Oklahoma.  This was right after I left the Bayou.”

Wyatt interrupted.  “The Bayou?  Is that when you had the run in with the fat guy?”

“Yeah, Earl.  After I burnt up his shit, I decided to head to Oklahoma to visit this fucker named Barry Muller, who had blamed me for some shit that he had done.”

Wyatt held his hand up to get Seth’s attention.  “Wait a minute.  Who’s Barry Muller?  And what did he blame on you?”

“I’ll tell you about that fucker later.  Like I was saying, I had planned on stopping on my way through to visit James, but he had moved away.  Up to this point, I hadn’t made any plans to go after Randy and Steve because I didn’t want to cause any more problems for James, but I had kept the fuckers in mind, knowing if an opportunity arose, I would take it.  I had Skip with me, and when I thought about what happened to James’ dog, I decided it was a perfect time to get some payback.”

“Skip was Earl’s dog, right?”

“No.  My dog.”

“Is he the same dog that was at Missy’s?”

“Yes.”

“But you found him at Earl’s place.”

“Yeah, but Skip didn’t like that fucker and chose to come with me.”

“Oh…  So, who did you go after first?”

“Randy.  I snuck up to his house and dragged his ass out of bed at two in the morning.”

Wyatt appeared eager.  “What did you do to that sorry fucker?”

“First, I cracked him over the head with a club, then secured his arms behind his back with handcuffs.  I didn’t feel comfortable fucking him up at his house, so I decided to take him somewhere else.”

“Why did you feel uncomfortable at his house?”

“I had a gut feeling.”

“Was he married or something?”

“I don’t think so—there wasn’t any evidence of a woman being around.  He had a lot of hunting stuff and animal hides everywhere.  In fact, his house looked like a fucking hide processing plant.  It also seemed to be more than just a one-person operation and I was concerned that if he had a partner or two, that they could come walking in at any time.  Before I left, I went back in his house and rummaged through his shit, taking items that I could use to torture his ass with.”

Wyatt was writing in his notebook.  “Like what?”

Seth was pleased that he was being so attentive.  “Unfortunately for Randy, he processed his own hides, so he had all kinds of things that interested me, such as ropes, winches, skinning knives, animal traps, pulleys, branding irons and hay hooks.  Things like that.”

Wyatt laughed.  “I bet you were excited.  Sounds like you hit the jackpot.”

“I sure did.”

“So, what did you do next?”

“I drove way out to a secluded place in the woods.  It was nighttime and I didn’t feel like fucking around in the woods in the dark, so I took a nap until the sun came up.  It was a cool morning, and when I checked on Randy, he was laying in the back shivering.  I could see in his eyes that he had been plotting ways to kill me.  I lit a cigarette, then blew smoke at him.  “Mornin’, pal.”

Even though his mouth was duct taped, he was still able to mumble as he stared at me with wild eyes.  “You are so dead.”

Now that it was light, I finally was able to get a good look at him.  He was an average sized man, but he looked like your typical backwoods asshole.  His hair was long and greasy, sported an unkempt beard, and his skin was dark from the sun and leather-like.  He was still wearing his dingy long-johns since I had drug his ass out of bed in the middle of the night.  I pulled his ass out of the truck and onto the damp ground, then I shoved my knee into his chest as he laid on the ground glaring at me.  I slapped him across the face.  “Listen here, fucker, I need you to cooperate.  I don’t know these woods, but I know you do, so we can do this the easy way or hard way.”

He raised his head off the ground and mumbled through the tape.  “Fuck you!”

I thumped him on the forehead.  “Please pick the hard way.  I really, really want to try something.”  I pulled the tape from his mouth.  “Go ahead and make my morning, asshole.”

He went nuts.  “You motherfucker!  I’m going to kill your ass!  You messed with the wrong…”

I stood up and kicked him as hard as I could in the face.  While he rolled around on the ground yelling, I went and grabbed a small leg hold trap and several ropes from my truck.  He was still bitching as I walked back up to him.  “Hey!  I’ll give you something to gripe about.”

“Screw you, motherfucker!”

I cut off a rope that was securing his legs, then ripped off his long johns.  He was now only being secured by the handcuffs.  At first, he just stared at me with uncertainty as he laid bare ass naked on the ground, not really knowing what to do in such a fucked-up situation.  I smiled at him.  “Hey, stubby, you have the deer-caught-in-headlights-look.”

He gritted his teeth as he tried to stand up.  “Fuck you, weirdo!  I’ll cut your fucking throat!”

I shoved him back down on the ground.  “You’re gonna think weirdo when I get done with your ass.”

He began kicking the shit out of my legs to fight back.  I grabbed one of his legs and tied a rope around his ankle while he continued to kick me with his other foot.  I tied the other end of the rope to the back of the truck’s bumper, then grabbed his other leg and tied another rope around it.  I pulled the rope over to a nearby tree, then tied it off after I stretched his legs in the spread-eagle position.  He was absolutely hysterical as I stood over him.  “Hey, fucker, you ready to cooperate?”

“You can go fuck yourself!”

I kicked him in the ass.  “Watch your tongue, fuckhead!”

He became so angry that his body turned red.  “What the fuck!  When I get loose, I’m going to tear you a new asshole, you son of a bitch!”

I knelt between his legs.  “I bet this thing could crush someone’s nuts.”

He calmed down when he noticed that I was holding a leg trap.  His eyes were filled with fear and his voice was shaking as he said, “Hold up there, partner.  There’s no need for this.  I will do whatever you ask.”

“Cool.  Then tell me how this thing works?”

He gawked at the trap, then me.  “Why?”

“I want to clamp your dick and balls in it.”

He began to panic.  He tried to move around but the ropes were holding him in place.  When he realized he couldn’t get free, he started looking around frantically as he yelled out for help.  Suddenly, he became quiet and stared in horror when he heard the clicking sound the trap made when I locked the spring-loaded jaws into their open position.  I held it up so he could see it.  “Got it.”  I reached down and picked up a stick, then shoved it into the trap.  “Pow!”  The trap slammed closed and broke the stick.  I peered at him and smiled.  “Damn!  I’m glad I tested it out on this stick first—that would have castrated your ass.”

He had a grimace of terror.  “Okay, okay.  You made your point.  I’ll do what you ask.”

I ignored him as I slightly opened the trap, aligning it where its serrated steel jaws were on each side of his dick and balls, then I eased it into the closed position.  He was screaming at the top of his lungs as the cold steel squeezed the shit out of his parts.  I stood up, holding the end of a rope.  “Hush!”

Tears were running down his face as he panicked.  “Oh, fuck!  Get it off!  You’re killing me!  Please get it off!”

I jerked on the rope.  The other end was tied to the trap.  “I said be quiet!”

He took a deep breath as he fought the pain.  “Okay, okay!  Please stop hurting me!  I’ll cooperate.”

I laughed.  “I’m sure you will.  And you better be glad that I used the small trap.  The bigger one would have crushed through your shit like a hot knife through butter.”

“You’ve made your point, so can you please get it off?”

“Fuck no.”  I untied the ropes to his legs.  “Get your ass up.”

He just laid on the ground on his back while holding his legs apart.  “I can’t move.  It hurts too bad.”

“Then I will have to rip your shit off.”  I jerked on the rope. 

He screamed as the serrated jaws began cutting into him.  “Okay, okay!  I’ll do it.  Just stop pulling on it.”

“Then get after it.”

He tried to sit forward to get on his feet, but the trap would drag the ground and pull on his package.  When that failed, he tried to roll over, but he couldn’t squeeze his legs close enough together.  Finally, he laid back down on the ground and stared up at me.  “Hey, man, I can’t.”

“Okay.”  I turned around, threw the rope over my shoulder, then started pulling him along the ground.  His screams were echoing throughout the woods as he desperately fought to grab the rope.  I stopped, turned around and began to speak, but to my surprise, he went from lying on his back to a squatted stance by thrusting his upper body forward and right to his feet.  I tugged on the rope.  “Let’s go, boy.”

He tried to stand up, but his legs would press against the trap, causing more pain.  “I can’t stand up.”

“Then fucking hop.”  I tugged on the rope.

“Okay, okay!  I’m coming.”  He started walking, but in a half squatted and bowlegged fashion.

I shook my head as I led him into the woods, slowly.  “Geez.  This is going to take forever.  You’re walking like a fucking orangutan.”  He was making a grunting noise with each step.  “You fucking sound like one too.”  I pulled out my cell phone and began recording him as I walked backwards.

When he noticed what I was doing, he became upset.  “Why the fuck are you doing this to me?”

“It’s funny.”

“I haven’t done anything to you.”

“You did to James.”

He stopped.  “Is this what this is about?”

I tugged on the rope.  “Come on, monkey boy.”

He started walking again.  “What are you going to do to me?”

“Same thing you did to James’ dog.”

He stopped and squatted down.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I walked up to him.  “You really want to lie in the position you’re in?”

“That was Steve.  He did it.”

“Now listen.  If you weren’t involved with killing James’ dog, then I will gut Steve and only make you pay for vandalizing James’ house and for stealing the rocks.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with any of that.  Steve did it.”

“Then why did you have the dog’s collar?”

“I didn’t have it.”

“It was hanging on your rear-view mirror.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“James took a picture of it with his cell phone.”

“Wasn’t my truck.”

“I didn’t say anything about a truck.”

“I didn’t do anything to James.”

“His deer camera had recorded you fucking around his yard.”

“No, it didn’t.”  Randy made a weird face.  “This thing is really starting to hurt.”

I examined his dick and ball sack as they were dangling between his legs and noticed they were turning blue.  “I would say so.  Your shit is turning blue.  They might have to be amputated if we leave the trap on there too long.”

He looked down.  “Oh, shit!  Please remove it.  I told you what you wanted to know.”

“How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

He gazed at me with surrender in his eyes.  “I’m not.  I like James.”

I shook my head.  “You’re so full of shit.”  I stood up and looked around.  I noticed we were close to water.  “Are you familiar with this place?”

“Please get this off me.  The teeth are really starting to dig in.”

“Stop whining about your cock ring.  And speaking of digging in, isn’t it illegal to use serrated jaws on animal traps?”

He didn’t say anything.

I tugged on the rope.  “Answer me.”

“Yes, they’re illegal.”

“Then I’m glad they’re cutting into you.  Now answer my question; are you familiar with this place.”

“I guess.”

“Good.  You’re going to call Steve later and have him meet you out here.”

“Why?”

“So I can ask him why he stole James’ rocks.”

“Uh, I don’t know his phone number.”

I pulled out my sickle.

He scrambled to his feet, then began walking backwards in the half-squatted position.  “No, no, no!  Please don’t!”

I marched toward him.  “Can’t leave you alive—you will tell on me.”

He began panicking.  “I know his number!  I know his number!  I’ll call him!”

I holstered my sickle, then pulled out his cell phone from my back pocket.  I viewed his directory.  “You lyin’ sack of shit!  You already have Steve’s number programmed in your phone.”

Randy sported an aggravated expression as he glared at me.  “Where did you get my phone?”

I opened the right side of my jacket, brandishing a custom 1911 semi-automatic.  “Same place I found this.”

“That’s my gun.  You have no right taking my shit.”

“Why?”

“Fuck you, dude!  That’s my personal property.”

“Really?  You didn’t have a problem taking James’ shit.”

His body turned red with anger as he stood nude.  “Fuck you!  I told you I didn’t do it.”

“We’ll see about that when I get Steve’s side of the story.  When his lies don’t match your lies, I’m going to hang you by your fucking package.”  I tugged on the rope.  “Get moving.  We have a long hike ahead of us, monkey boy.”

Truth or Fucking Dare, Vigilante Style

Wyatt had a look of excitement as Seth pulled off the road and into a wooded area.  “Is this the place where you fucked them up?”

“Sure is.  It was about three miles to the north of here.”

“Are we going in there?”

“Yep.”  Seth got out of the car.  “Let’s go.”

Wyatt seemed eager, but worried at the same time as they headed into the woods.  “Do you think their remains are still here?”

“Who knows?  I’m curious myself.”

“What if the cops found them and they’re watching.”

“Anything’s possible, but I have been keeping an eye on the local news.”

“Did anything come up?”

“When they first came up missing, it was all over the news, then after a few weeks it faded away.  After that, I never read or heard anything else; no mention of finding bodies, or even foul play, nothing at all.”

“Oh, shit!”  Wyatt stopped.  “Jim could have kept it out of the news.  He could have someone waiting out here.”

Seth stopped and peered back at Wyatt.  “Not in this case, so stop worrying.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I used to keep track of his whereabouts through his phone’s GPS.”

“No shit.  How was that possible?”

“I don’t know how it worked, but I have a friend who knows how to do that kind of stuff.  I had him do it for me, so all I had to do is watch Jim’s movements from my laptop.  He’s never been to this area, and if he knew about what happened here, he would have definitely made the trip.”  Seth nodded.  “Let’s get moving.  We have a long hike ahead.”

“That explains why you’re always one step ahead of him.”

“I was, but two years ago I lost the ability to do it.  Jim still has the same number, but the FBI must have changed their security settings or something.”

“If it was that easy for your friend to do that, how do you know they’re not tracking you?”

“Because I’m not in prison.”  Seth laughed.  “No, it’s because I always use a burner when I call Jim.”

“What is that?”

“A phone that isn’t linked to me.  I use it once, then throw it away.”

“That’s funny that you do that to him.”

“You want to hear something funny?  I stuck one of those phones under his boss’s car after talking to Jim on it.  The next day his boss was pulled over by his own department.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “No shit.  That actually happened?”

“Yep.”

“You like to fuck with Jim, don’t you?”

“Breaks up the monotony.  But unfortunately, he has no sense of humor.”

Wyatt noticed the area was heavily wooded.  “How did you lure Steve out here?”

“I made Randy call him and say that he had found a stash of money and drugs that someone had hidden in the woods.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “How did you know he wouldn’t come with backup?”

“I had Randy tell him to come alone so they could split the find.”

“You trusted that would happen?”

“Didn’t really care.  If someone came with him, I would have simply left.  And if he came alone that would just confirm that Steve was an unethical prick, deserving of what laid ahead.”

“What about your truck?”

“What about it?”

“Didn’t Steve notice it?”

“No, I had hidden it a little way down.”

“Then how did he think Randy got here?”

“I had him tell Steve that he was on horseback.”

“You think of everything, don’t you?”

“I try to.”

“So, what happened when Steve showed up?”

“As soon as he got out of his car, I snuck up on him with a gun, then forced him to strip down nude.”

“I bet he was pissed.”

“Yep.  Especially when I had him secure his arms behind his back with his own handcuffs.”

“That’s funny.”

“He didn’t think so, but fuck ‘em.  Before we went on our hike, I tied him to a tree while I drove his car off into the reservoir.  When I got back, I forced him through the woods with a backpack filled with supplies.  He was kind of like my pack mule.”

“How did he respond to that?”

“He was a fuckin’ cop, acting just as you would expect; chomping at the bit, cursing and threatening me the entire time.  He was especially upset how I had disgraced him by making him strip down to his birthday suit.  He was overweight, bald on top, and his body was extremely hairy, so I was also calling him a fucking Sasquatch as I forced him through the woods, which only added insult to injury.  When we got to where I had Randy’s cock ring tied off to a tree his attitude changed; he went from bitching and moaning to worried.”

Wyatt laughed.  “I’m sure he was.  It makes me tense up thinking about what you did to Randy.  And speaking of him, how did he act when y’all came walking up?”

“He was leaning back, resting his ass against a tree with his legs apart.  I had tied the rope from his cock ring high enough so he couldn’t fuck with it, but that also prevented him from lying comfortably on the ground.  I could tell he was exhausted from holding himself in the awkward position for so long.  I’d been gone at least a couple of hours.  When he saw us, I could tell that he was relieved.  I’m not sure if it was because of me, or Steve.  He had probably been worried that no one was coming back, and he was going to have to rip his shit apart if he wanted to live.  He didn’t say anything to me, but immediately shouted out to Steve.  “Look what he’s done to me, Steve.  He made me call you, then left me tied to this fucking tree.”

I pulled the backpack off Steve.  “Sit your ass down.”

He glared at me as he sat on the ground.  “You’re not going to get away with this.  I’m an officer of the law.”

I laughed.  “You’re starting to sound like a broken record.  That’s all you’ve been threatening me with since we first started our hike.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“So, fucking what.  And you’re also a crooked piece of shit.”  I kicked him in the side of the head with the bottom of my foot, knocking him on his side.  “Now shut the fuck up.”  I strolled over to Randy.  “How’s it hanging, pal?”

He was in absolute misery.  “Hey, man, please cut me loose.  My legs are burning.”

“Sure buddy.”  I took a rope and tied one end to his feet and the other end to a tree.  He was screaming out as his legs were being forced together—it was creating a lot of pressure on the trap.  To his horror, I tied another rope around both his wrists, wrapped the other end around a tree, then stretched him out, lifting him into the air to where he was about four feet from the ground. 

Suddenly, Steve jumped to his feet and took off running.  He wasn’t exhausted like Randy, and I really didn’t feel like fighting with him, so I shot him with a tranq’ dart.  After I dragged him back, I secured him between two trees as I had done Randy.  They were hanging parallel to each other with about eight feet of space between them.  Their back ends were slightly drooping, and their heads were hanging between their arms.  I stood back and laughed; they looked like two guys at a nude resort chilling in hammocks on a Sunday afternoon, but without the hammocks of course.

Steve would be asleep for a while and the temperature was dropping, so I built a fire between them so I could stay warm.  Over the next hour or so as I laid by the fire and smoked cigarettes, Randy moaned and whined about his dick and balls and how I was wrong for what I had done to him.  I just ignored him, except for the couple of times that he shouted out for help, resulting in me giving a swift tug on the rope that was tied to the trap.

Around midnight Steve finally awoke.  He immediately began flopping around to get free.  I spooked him when I said, “Hey, chief, whatcha doin’?”

His arms were stretched out above him, blocking his view of me.  He raised his head and peeked over his arm, noticing the top of my head.  He pushed his head back as far as it would go so he could look under his arm.  He was pissed when he saw me sitting by the fire cooking marshmallows.  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

I held up a stick with a marshmallow.  “Having a snack.”

“Fuck you!”  He looked over and noticed Randy.  “Why are you just hanging there?  Don’t fucking give up!  Try to get free.  He can’t take on both of us.”

I held up the rope that was running to Randy’s crotch.  “He’s not quite as spunky as you are.”

Steve glared at me.  “You’re a sick bastard.  What the fuck did I do to you?”

“I’m glad you asked.  Apparently, you stole James’ rocks, vandalized his house and killed his dog.”

“Fuck if I did!”

“Randy said you did it.”

Randy seemed nervous.  “No, I didn’t.”

I glared at him.  “You lying motherfucker!”

He wouldn’t look at me as he stared up at the stars.  “No, I’m not.  I didn’t tell you that.”

Steve became angry.  “You think it’s worth going to prison for this shit?  You’ve already committed a few felonies.  I suggest you end this now before you get yourself in more trouble.”

I laughed.  “What I’m fixing to do to you two fuckers is far beyond a few felonies.  They will have to come up with a new level of offense to categorize the horrific shit that’s going to be bestowed in these here woods, partner.”

Steve had a cocky demeanour about him as he said, “They’re going to hang your ass if you harm me.”

I looked at him and smiled.  “That doesn’t sound so bad.  I’ve been worried that they would do something real fucked up, like rub alcohol on my arm before they stick the needle in.”

“You’re a fucking wise guy, aren’t you?”

“No.  I’m just a guy having fun, hanging out with two dickheads around a nice campfire.”

“I’m going to tell your ass one last…”

I interrupted him by poking a red-hot branding iron to his side.  He screamed out like a little bitch as burnt smelling flesh engulfed the air.  Before he caused too much of a scene, I sewed half of his mouth closed.  I only did half so he would still be able to speak out the other side, softly of course.  I glanced over at Randy.  “You need your mouth sewn as well?”

“Please don’t hurt me anymore.”

“Then don’t scream out like this fuckhead.”

“I won’t.”

I sat down next to the fire, then pointed to the brand that I had made on Steve.  “Check it out.  You recognize it?”

Randy peeked over his arm.  “I can’t see it.”

“Then I will burn one on you so you can.”

He looked under his arm to get a better look, noticing the burnt outline as it glimmered in the light cast by the fire.  “Yeah.  It’s the one I use to brand my hides.”

I lit a cigarette, then took a long drag.  I glanced at Steve as he was holding his head back while sobbing.  “Hey, buddy, you gotta four inch tall…”  I looked back at Randy.  “What the fuck is that?”

“I’ll tell you if you don’t hurt me.”

I picked up the iron from the fire.  “You’re going to either way.”

“It’s a Kokopelli.”

I glanced back at Steve.  “You gotta dancing flute player burned into your side.”

Steve moaned as drool dripped from him face.

I looked back at Randy.  “Why is that your brand?”

“It represents trading.  The Aztecs used it.”

“And the flute?”

“It represents friendliness.”

“Then why are you using it?  You’re a thieving prick.”

“You got me pegged all wrong.”

I took the poker and branded him in the armpit.  He screamed out louder than Steve did.  After I got through sewing half his mouth closed, I sat back down next to the fire.  “Okay you two.  We’re going to play truth or fucking dare, vigilante style.  The dare stuff will come later.”  I peered at Randy as he was sobbing.  “Who stole James’ rocks?”

“I don’t know.  Just please stop hurting me.”

I began burning Kokopellis down his side, and when I got to the fourth one, he moaned out, “Steve did it.”

Steve jerked his head toward Randy and mumbled out the side of his mouth.  “You lyin’ motherfucker!  You did it.  You got this whole shitstorm started.”

I stood up and held the red-hot iron above Randy’s face.  “If you don’t tell me the truth you’re going to have this little fucker permanently dancing on your face.”

“I said I don’t know.”

After I burned his face, I turned back to Steve.  “I’m starting to doubt that he knows.  Maybe you’re the one not telling the truth.  If need be, I can give you some more scarification tattoos.”

Steve glared at Randy.  “Tell him, you bastard!”

Randy was sobbing as he rubbed his face on the inside of his arms.  “You did it, Steve.  Stop blaming me.”

I pulled the iron back out of the fire.  “Hey, Randy, I’m going downtown with this one.  I’m sure it will feel real good on those swollen parts.”

“Please don’t.  I’m already in enough pain.  I can’t take any more.”  He was closing his eyes as sweat, drool and tears dripped from his face.  He was having a hard time holding his head up.  He was even trying to hold his head between his arms, but the slippery body fluids were causing it to slip back.  I could tell his neck was in a lot of pain from being bound in the awkward position.  I walked over and stood next to his crotch with the iron.  “Damn!  Your shit is blue.  But don’t worry, I’m fixing to make ‘em black.”

He could feel the heat from the iron as I held it a few inches above the trap.  “I took them.  I took the rocks.  Please don’t burn me.”

“Was Steve involved?”

“No.”

“Why did you leave a dollar?”

“Not sure.”

I burned his crotch until he shit on the ground.  A few seconds later, he passed out.  I turned to Steve.  “Who vandalized James’ house?”

“Randy.”

“Who killed his dog?”

“He did.”

I set the iron in the fire, then laid on the ground with my arms behind my head.  “We’ll find out when he wakes up.”

“I...  I…”

“That’s right.  You might as well spill the beans.”

He was shaking with fear.  “I was going to say, I think Randy did it.”

I closed my eyes.  “Sure, you were.  Let me know when he awakens so we can get his side of the story.”  A few minutes later, Steve began fighting at his ropes.  “Be quiet.  You’re making too much noise.”

He stopped moving.  “Come on, man.  You don’t want to be doing this.  If you let me go, I won’t say anything.”

I began laughing.  “Sure, you wouldn’t.”

“I’m not lying.”

About an hour later, I sat up, noticing that Randy wasn’t breathing.  I gawked at Steve.  “I think your buddy is dead.”

He raised his head and peeked over his arm at him for a moment, then looked under his arm at me.  “That’s actually good.”

“Aren’t you just a great friend.”

“No, listen.  It is a good thing.  Now he won’t be a witness and you can let me go.  And like I said, I won’t say anything.”

I picked up the iron, then burned Randy in the back of the head.  Steve jumped when Randy jerked his head forward while yelling out the side of his mouth.  I laughed.  “I knew the fucker was playing possum.”

Randy glared at Steve.  “You’re fucking sorry.  I thought we were friends.”

Steve snapped back.  “This is all your fault, asshole.”

Randy’s demeanor changed from being weak to aggressive.  “Fuck you, Steve!”  He glared at me as pieces of burnt skin hung from his face.  “Fuck him.  I might have taken the rocks, but he’s the one who vandalized the house and killed the dog.”

I leaned forward as I sat on the ground.  “Really.  How do you know that?”

“Because I was there.”

I knew he was now in confession and tattletale mode.  “So, you participated?”

“I did with throwing paint all over the house.”

“What about the dog?”

“That just happened out of the blue.  Fuckhead over there did it at the spur of the moment.  I was there to steal some more stuff.”

“Oh, yeah, I almost forgot.  Who took the four-wheeler?”

Randy blurted out, “I did.”

I turned to Steve who was being quiet as a mouse.  “Is that the way it all went down?”

He was looking up as he held his head between his arms.  “I didn’t do it.  He’s lying.”

“I don’t think so—he’s ratting on himself also.”  I picked up a piece of rebar that had one end lying in the fire.  The tip was glowing red and lit up the dark as I walked behind Steve.  I rolled him over to where his back was facing upwards, then shoved the rod in his ass, giving him a red-hot anal probing.  The sizzling sound of the hot metal coming into contact with moist ass almost drowned out his screams.  The pain had been so intense that he had torn out his stitching as he hollered out.  I left the rod sticking out of his ass as I rolled him back over.  He wasn’t moving.  I checked his vitals; he was passed out.  I was kind of worried that someone could have heard the commotion.  He had let out a hell of a wail and it had echoed throughout the woods.  I quickly sewed the other side of his mouth closed, leaving the ravaged side bleeding, then stomped out the fire.  I glared at Randy.  “Stay the fuck quiet.  I’ll be back in a minute.”  I went and sat a little way away and listened for sounds of voices, sticks and limbs being broken, water splashing; things that would indicate someone was nearby.”

Wyatt got Seth’s attention.  “Hold up.  How much further are we going?”

Seth stopped and turned around.  “About a half mile, I guess.”

“I’m getting tired.  Can we take a break for a bit?”

Seth pointed to some rocks.  “Let’s sit over there.”

Wyatt sat down next to Seth.  “How was Randy able to walk this far with that contraption between his legs?”

“Don’t remind me—it took freakin’ forever.”

Wyatt looked around.  “Why were you worried that someone heard Steve’s screams?  We’re way out in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

“You never know.  There could have been someone in a boat in the reservoir, or some fuckhead like Randy fucking around in the woods.”

“Do you think anyone heard the commotion?”

“Not that I could tell—I didn’t hear any boat motors or anyone sneaking around in the woods.  Around thirty minutes later, I went back to the camp.  Randy had a horrified expression as he stared straight up, still smelling burnt pucker hole that was lingering in the nighttime air.  He wouldn’t even look at me as I stood next to him.  “What’s wrong, pal?”

“You’ve made your point.  You have taught both of us a lesson.”  A tear ran down his cheek.  “I’m sorry for what I have done.  Please let me go.”

“That’s probably not going to happen.”

He became upset and began weeping.  “Oh, my God.  I can’t believe this is happening.  Please, please have mercy.  I beg you.”

His sniveling had awakened Steve.  I was standing over him looking down into his eyes.  “Welcome back, sunshine.  Now you ready to tell me who killed James’ dog?”

He was in a lot of pain and could barely talk.  “Just go ahead and kill me.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”  I pulled out a piece of baling wire from my pocket.  “But first I’m going to heat this up until it glows red, then shove it into your piss hole.”

Steve went into don’t-give-a-shit mode.  “Yeah, I killed the fucking dog, so fucking what.  James is a piece of shit.”  He glared at me.  “And so are you.””

Wyatt was confused.  “What do you mean don’t-give-a-shit mode?”

Seth stood up and stretched.  “It’s what I was trying to explain a couple of days ago about how the human mind is a strange thing.  When a person is pushed to their limits physically and or emotionally, and when they realize that they’re going to die, they will react in a surprising way.  Steve knew he was fucked, so he went from being a sniveling bitch to not giving a shit.”

“What did you do to him?”

“Heated the wire until it was glowing red, then shoved in into his piss tube.”

“Oh, shit.  That must have been painful?”

Seth nodded for him to follow him.  “Let’s get going.  And yes, it was painful.  When I shoved the wire in his urethra, or dick tube as I like to call it, it instantly turned black from the tip of his dick to the base.  The red-hot steel also made a sizzling sound like bacon on the skillet.  It was so painful that it caused Randy to start sobbing again.”

“That’s funny, but how was Steve reacting to it?”

“Like a freakin’ savage at first.  He was jerking hysterically at his restraints as he foamed at the mouth.  The veins in his neck were sticking out as he fought the urge to scream—he was done submitting and he wasn’t going to let me see him beg anymore.  When the pain changed to numbness, he glared at me while smiling.  “You will get yours, you fucking scumbag.”  He began laughing.  “Your day is coming.”

“I smiled back.  “Not by you.  And besides, with your weak ass judicial system I’m sure not going to receive the anal probing or cock rodding that you just got.”

Slobber was dripping from his face as he hung covered in sweat.  “You’re going to fucking die.”  He began laughing in a psychotic way, then started singing the phrase, “You’re gonna die, you’re gonna die, you sick and twisted fucker, you’re gonna die.””

Wyatt had an odd expression.  “Why in the fuck was he acting like that?”

“Oh, that must sound odd to you, but I’m used to that kind of shit.  These fuckers sometimes go into a state of craziness when their brain goes haywire from all the excitement.  It didn’t last long though.  As soon as he came off his adrenaline rush, he was back to sniffling and crying.  Since they were partners in crime, I decided to do something special for them.  First, I went and found a large log that fit the size I needed.  It was around three feet tall and had a diameter of about two feet.  I set it upright directly under Randy’s head, then strapped his head to it with baling wire.  He was happy at first because it relieved the tension in his neck, but that changed when I began hoisting a large rock into the air right above his face.  He couldn’t move his head, but was able to cut his eyes just enough to see me.  “Hey, what are you doing?  I told you what you wanted to know.  Hey, can you hear me?”

After I tied off the rope, I walked over to him.  “You need something, bud?”

He peered at me, then scrutinized the rock that was hanging about ten feet above his face.  “Why is that rock up there?”

“I’ll explain it later when Steve is prepped for the upcoming festivities.”

“Please tell me now.  You at least owe me that much for telling the truth.”

I took a deep breath.  “Okay.  It’s part of the truth or dare that we started playing, particularly the dare part.  The rock is up there so when the other end of the rope is released it will crush your head.  That’s why I picked such a large rock.”

“Oh, my God!  Please don’t do this to me.  I’ll do whatever you ask.”

“I’m not going to do anything to you.  That will be left up to Steve.  When I leave, he will be holding the other end of the rope, which will be wrapped around a tree a couple of times to reduce the tension.”

He had a disturbed look.  “I…  I…”

“I know, I know.  You’re worried that Steve will let the rock fall because he’s pissed at your lying ass.  But don’t worry.  You will also be holding a rope that holds Steve’s life in your hands, so if he kills you, you kill him, and vice versa.”

“Please don’t…”

I put my finger across my mouth.  “Shh.  Be patient.  I have to go get Steve prepped.”  I walked over to Steve.  “Did you hear what I had told your buddy, or do I have to repeat the shit?”

He wouldn’t look at me.

“Good.”  I pulled out a custom-made, gut-hook knife.  “Check this thing out.  You can thank your buddy for this.  I found it at his place.”  I held it above his face so he could see it.  “It’s freakin’ badass.  It almost seems that he made it just for me.”  I turned the knife to where he could see its side profile.  “You notice how the hook part is exceptionally long?  That’s going to come in handy for what I have in store for you.”

Steve remained quiet, so I eyeballed Randy.  “You’re pretty skilled at making knives.  Shame you have to die, though—I could have given you a lot of business.”

He cut his eyes toward me.  “Please don’t do this.  I beg you.  Please just let us go.”

I glanced at Steve.  “Should I let you two go?”

He still wouldn’t look at me.

I turned toward Randy.  “He said he would rather die since his dick is all fucked up.  And you too for causing it.”

“No, he didn’t.”  He began bawling.  “I don’t want to die.”

“James’ dog didn’t either.”

“I told you that I didn’t do that.”

“I know, that’s why you have a rock above your face.”

“Come on, man, they were just rocks.”

“You’re right.”  I lowered the rock back to the ground.

Randy was relieved.  “Thanks for showing mercy.”

“Thank you for reminding me there was more than one.”  I tied several more rocks to the rope, then hoisted them into the air.

His eyes were huge as he stared up at them.  “Wait.  That’s not what I meant.  Please don’t do this.”

I walked over to Steve.  “You ready for your dare?”

He glared at me.  “Does it matter what I say?”

“Sure, it does.”

“I’m sorry.”

I pulled out my phone and hit the video record button.  “Say that to the camera.”

He gawked at the phone while sporting a troubled expression.  “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry for killing the dog.”

“Whose dog?”

“James’ dog.”

“What else?”

He just stared at me.

“What about being a prick?”

“I’m sorry for being a prick.”

I put the phone back in my pocket.  “Thanks.  James will really appreciate that.”  I knelt beside him with the gut-hook knife.

His eyes grew huge.  “Wait!  I thought that you weren’t going to hurt me anymore.”

“I didn’t say that.”

He was panicking.  “You said it mattered.”

“It does.  That’s why I will tie a knot in the end of your ropes.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just be patient—you’ll find out later.”  I shoved the end of the knife into his stomach right below his sternum.  He screamed out as I twisted it around, adjusting it so the hook part was secured inside of him.  I tied a rope to the handle, then pulled it over to the same tree that was supporting his legs.  He was facing upwards and I needed him to be flipped the other way.  To his horror, I drove hay hooks into each of his sides.  He was begging me to stop as I rolled a large rock under him.  I ignored his pleas as I tied a rope between each of the hooks and rock.  He was now being held in the face down position.  The sun was almost up, so I quickly worked on the rest of the setup.  When I was finished, I had ropes running everywhere.  To most people, it would look like a cluster fuck, but to me it was art.

Light was starting to creep through the trees.  “Hey, fellas, the sun is coming up and it’s time for me to go.  But first, I need to explain how this contraption works.  I forced Randy to take the end of a rope that had a knot tied in it, and then had Steve take the end of another rope.  I stood between them so they could hear me.  “Now listen closely, fuckers, your lives depend on it.  Randy, the rope you’re holding runs over to a trip mechanism that is holding a heavy rock in the air.  The knife in Steve’s stomach is tied to that rock through a pulley system.  If you release the rope the rock will fall, which will pull the knife, resulting in Steve’s stomach being cut wide open.  That will also cause his guts to be spilled onto the ground.”  I looked around the woods for a moment.  “I’m sure there are a lot of hungry animals just waiting for such a feast.  I’ve also shown a little leniency by tying knots in the end of the ropes so y’all can hold on to them better.  Randy, you can thank Steve for that.  His sincere apology to James went a long way.”

Randy seemed a little angry.  “You fucking serious?  You consider this shit leniency?”

I was caught off guard by his comment.  “Oh.  I guess I will untie your knot, you ungrateful bastard.”

I started to take the rope from him.  “No, no!  I’m grateful.  I really am.”

I pulled out my phone and began filming him.  “Then fuckin’ say it.”

“I’m very sorry…”  He glanced at me with a confused expression.  “What’s your name?”

“Not me, you fucking idiot.  It’s for James.”

“Oh, yeah.  I’m very sorry, James, for stealing your stuff and throwing paint on your house.”

I put the phone back in my pocket, then turned to Steve.  “Hey, Steve.”

He didn’t respond as he looked down at the ground.

“Hey, fuckstick, I know you can hear me.”

He remained quiet.

“I know you’re awake—you’re still holding the rope.  If you don’t respond I will shove that rebar that is sticking out of your ass all the way through until it comes out your stomach.”

“I hear you.”

“I’m glad you decided to join us.  Now the rope you’re holding does the same thing to Randy, but instead of being gutted, his head will be crushed, especially since he reminded me that one rock wouldn’t be sufficient.”

Randy heard what I had said and blurted out.  “That’s not what I said.”

“Potato potahto.”  I started to walk off, then turned around.  “Oh, yeah, I almost forgot.”  I walked back over to Randy and threw a rope over a limb that was above him.  I tied one end to the trap that was clamped around his dick and balls, then pulled on the other end and tied it off.  The rope was pulling his hips slightly upwards.  He was in so much pain that he was screaming out the side of his mouth while hanging onto Steve’s rope for dear life.  I peered down at him.  “Hush!  You’re making too much racket.”

“Oh, my God!  It’s killing me!  Please make it stop.  I beg you.  I will do anything you ask.”

“Stop making so much noise, asshole!”

He was closing his eyes tightly.  “Okay, okay.  But why are you doing this?”

“I told you I was going to hang you by your package if you lied.”

Steve yelled out, “Please don’t do that to him.  He’s going to let go of the fucking rope.”

“Then for your sake you better give him plenty of encouragement.”

Even though they were both yelling out for help, the stitches in their mouths were keeping it to a low roar.  I knew no one would be able to hear them unless they were close by, but it was doubtful anyone would be out this far.  I picked up my bag, then addressed them.  “It’s been a pleasure, fellas.  And by the way, we’re still playing truth or dare.  This is the dare part, and I dare either of you to release your rope.”

They both screamed out for me to come back as I walked off, so I did.  Over the next hour I burned Kokopellis all over their bodies while daring them to release their rope.  When I finally walked off, neither of them yelled out for me to come back.”

Seth stopped.  “We’re here.”

Wyatt looked around, noticing there were ropes hanging from the trees.  “I don’t see their bodies.  Someone must have found them.  We need to get going.”

Seth picked up the end of a rope.  “Hold up.  This has teeth marks on it.”  He showed Wyatt.  “Something did find them, but not a person.”  He squatted down by the log.  “This is what I stuck under Randy’s head.”  He pointed to the surrounding ground.  “There’s human hair everywhere.  The rock crushing his head wouldn’t have done this.  Something tore his scalp apart.”

“What do you think did it?”

“Animals.”

“You sure?”

Seth strolled over to where Steve had been hanging and kicked the leaves around, revealing a piece of rebar.  “Here’s the rebar that I had shoved in Steve’s ass.”  Seth found the gut-hook knife.  “Here’s the knife.  This confirms that no one found them.”

Wyatt looked frightened.  “How do you know that?”

“Crime scene investigators would have taken these.  They would have taken everything.”

Wyatt was relieved.  “You’re right.”

Seth noticed some of the ropes were pulled away from where the men had been hanging and were stretched out toward the reservoir.  He followed the ropes until he came to the end of one.  He held it up to show Wyatt.  “Look, it’s been chewed through.”  He tossed it on the ground and followed another one to its end.  He found it to be chewed through as well.  Seth pointed.  “Look.  There are pieces of rope that head that way.”  The pieces led him to the reservoir that was around three hundred feet away.  “Alligators must have taken what was left after the smaller varmints ravaged their bodies.”

Wyatt gawked at the water.  “Nice.  Now you know.”

“Sure do.”

“What next?”

“You want to go fishing?  I know of a place where we can rent a boat and all the equipment.”

Wyatt thought for a moment.  “Sure.  A break sounds nice.”

“Let’s get to hoofin’ it.  We have a long hike ahead of us.”

*******************

It was midnight when Jim’s flight landed in New York.  The trip from Dubois to New York had taken less than seven hours.  When Jim and his team got to the hospital, the medical staff and engineers had already examined the drawings.  An electronics expert named Dennis approached Jim.  “I have good and bad news.”

Jim took a deep breath.  “Let me guess; the drawings aren’t going to be any help.”

“Yes and no.  Most of it was inaccurate and would have actually caused this contraption to activate.  But I think we’ve found a way to communicate with John, but it’s risky.”

Jim’s eyes lit up.  “What have you come up with?”

“We can burn away the tinted surface from the inside section of the glass with a laser.  That will remove the mirrored effect that John is seeing.”

“You sure the tint can be burned away?”

“We believe it’s just automotive tint.  The extreme heat should make it melt.”

“If that’s possible we should be able to communicate with him through written dialog.”

“That’s our plan.”

“When can you start?”

“Now.  I already have the equipment here.”  Dennis showed Jim a table mounted laser.  “We borrowed this from the technical school down the road.  We will be able to adjust the power so the beam will only melt the tint and not harm John.”

Jim and Ron were nervous as Dennis focused the beam on the glass.  A few seconds later, Jim noticed the tint started to bubble, then a hole appeared.  “It’s working.”

After a few more seconds, the hole had increased in size due to the tint shrinking.  Dennis shut off the laser.  “That should be enough.”

Jim peeked through the hole.  “He still can’t see me.”

Dennis dimmed the lights in the room.  “That should help.”

When Jim looked through the hole again, John began shouting, “Virgil!  Redmond!  Redmond, Oregon!  Virgil!”

Jim motioned with his hands for John to stop yelling as a warning light flashed.  “Don’t Yell John—you’re setting off the sensors.”

John had gone from docile to hysterical as he glared at Jim.  “Redmond!  Virgil Taylor!  Redmond!”

Suddenly, the fuses under John’s skin ignited.  Jim was screaming as he beat on the glass.  “Get this open!  He’s being burned to death!”

Ron came running over with a fire axe.  He struck the glass.  To his horror, it didn’t break.  “It’s safety glass!”  He hit it again, only making a small hole in the first layer.  Suddenly, the inside of the box erupted into flames.  Ron yelled for everyone to evacuate the room.  Jim watched in horror as the flames engulfed John.  Dark, thick smoke was exiting out the top through a vent hose as the flames were being fueled by an oxygen tank that was mounted on the inside.  Ron grabbed Jim’s arm and pulled.  “We have to go!  The oxygen tank could explode!”  Jim refused to leave.

Suddenly, the harpoons fired, putting John out of his misery.  Jim faced away as a tear ran down his cheek.  Ron put his hand on his shoulder.  “There’s nothing you or anyone else could have done.”

Later that day, John’s remains were taken to the morgue to be examined.  Even though Jim was distraught, he refused to take time off.  When he got back to the hotel, he researched the name Virgil Taylor and found out that he was a convicted child molester that lived in Redmond, Oregon.  Jim knew the lead would bring him closer to finding Skull, but it had been at a huge cost.  Ron and Thomas didn’t say a word as they rode with Jim to the airport.  Their destination was Redmond, Oregon.

The Anarchist Vigilante’s Cookbook

It was late in the evening when Seth and Wyatt made it back to the car.  They were both dripping with sweat.  When Seth got in the car, he glanced at Wyatt.  “Let’s get a motel room.  We can go fishing in the morning.”

Wyatt was already reclined back in his seat.  “No argument here.  This vigilante shit is a lot of work.  I’m freakin’ exhausted.”

Seth lit a cigarette.  “Me too; getting old sucks.”

Wyatt laughed.  “Maybe it’s the cigarettes.”

“Probably.”

“That was cool that you did that for James, but weren’t you worried that he could have been questioned by the police if Randy and Steve had been found?”

Seth pulled out of the wooded area and took off down the road.  “Why would I be worried?  He wasn’t involved.”

“He might have found out who you are.”

“Chance I was willing to take—those fuckers deserved what they got, and James probably would have thought the same.”

“Society in general believes that criminals should be punished for their crimes, but most people feel that what you do is way beyond reasonable.”

“Of course.  That’s why I have job security.”

“Don’t get me wrong.  I’m starting to understand it, though.”

Intrigued, Seth eyed Wyatt.  “Why?”

“I guess it’s because of your stories.  Nothing really bad happens where I’m from, but I have seen plenty of heinous crimes committed against innocent people in the news.  I never really thought about how I would feel if it was my loved one who had been victimized.  I had the same attitude like everyone else; bad things only happen to other people and I didn’t give a shit as long as they didn’t happen to me or my family.  I now get enraged when I think about how these assholes have no remorse for what they have done, or how they didn’t care about their victim’s suffering.  So, fuck them.  I’m glad that you give a little payback to these kinds of assholes.”

Seth was almost teary eyed.  “That’s good that you understand how I feel.  That’s why I wasn’t worried if James found out—he has the same attitude as you do now.  You would be surprised by the amount of people that would actually like to fuck someone up.  Just wait until you finish your story about all this and see how many people will be foaming at the mouth while they’re reading it, thinking about how they would like to do some medieval shit to someone’s ass.”

Wyatt laughed.  “You might be onto something.  I should turn this story into a how to book.  I could call it…”  Wyatt wrote in his notebook.  “The Anarchist Cookbook.”

Seth shook his head.  “I’m not a fucking anarchist.  They believe in anarchy.  And besides, there’s already a book named that.”

Wyatt crossed out Anarchist, then wrote in Vigilante’s.  “I got it.  The Vigilante’s Cookbook.”

“That’s better.  And I’m sure people will like it because they’re sick and tired of all the parasites that plague our society.”

Wyatt laughed.  “Yeah, you just make other’s fantasies come true, in a roundabout way.”

“You know it.”

Wyatt was feeling better now that he had cooled off in the air-conditioning.  “How much further to the motel?”

“Probably a couple of hours.”

Wyatt looked out the window and noticed they were driving through a town.  “Why?  There’s one coming up.”

“I want to stay in Texas.”

“Are we still going fishing in the morning?”

“Yes.  But on the Texas side of the reservoir.  Is that okay?”

“Doesn’t matter.”  Wyatt flipped a page in his notebook.  “Like I said earlier, that was cool what you did for James.  Have you helped out any of your other friends?”

“Nothing quite as drastic as what I did to Randy and Steve, but I did fuck up a crooked contractor.”

“What did he do?”

“His name was Daryl Sanders, and he was the owner of Built Right contracting.  My buddy Allen owned an electrical contracting business.  He did some work for Daryl on a new theater.  Daryl fucked him out of his money right along with the other subs, then filed bankruptcy so they couldn’t do shit about it.  Allen had filled me in on the details, and come to find out, this wasn’t the first time this fuckhead had done this.  It was his MO to fuck over people, file bankruptcy, then start a new business so he could do it again.”

“How is that legal?”

“You already know the answer to that.”

“Because our system protects criminals.”

“See?  You’re a great student.  I knew you wouldn’t disappointment me.”

“Why would you say that?”

“You’re getting more like me with each passing mile.”

“I might have changed my views a little, but there’s no way that I would ever participate more than just asking questions.”

Seth shrugged his shoulders.  “Maybe.”

“Not maybe.  And like you said earlier, it’s job security for you since no one else is crazy enough to do it.”

Seth laughed.  “See, you’re getting the dark humor part down as well.  And who said anything about being crazy.”

Wyatt laughed.  “Now tell me about this Daryl fucker and what you did to him.  I’m anxious to know what being a crooked contractor gets ya.”

“A missing hand and dick.”

Wyatt’s eyes opened wide.  “How in the fuck did his dick come into play?”

“Simple really.  I wanted this fucker to pay Allen, so I snuck to his house one night and hid in his car.  When he came out the next morning, I forced him at gunpoint to drive to an abandoned warehouse.  I cut off his hand and stuck it in a cooler filled with ice.  I told him he would get it back when he paid everyone that he had fucked over.  I didn’t specify who or the job because I didn’t want him or the police to know that Allen was the reason I went after him.  I told him that he needed to hurry so the doctors could sew his shit back on.  I also made it very clear for him not to go to the police because I would be watching, and if he did, he wouldn’t like the consequences.”

“Let me guess.  He went to the police?”

“As fast as that fucker could drive.”

“What a stupid ass.”

“Yep.”

“I’m sure the cops were all over that.  They probably gave him twenty-four-seven protection after that.”

“You’re exactly right.  They assigned an officer to guard him until they could find his attacker.”

“That’s about right.  They didn’t give a shit that he had fucked people out of their money.”

“Right again.  That’s how it works here.”

“So how long was it before you were able to catch him again?”

“About seven hours later.”

“How was that possible?”

“By doing the unexpected.  I explained this a few days ago.”

“I remember.  So, what happened?”

“I waited for the fucker in his house.  He was bitching about his hand to the officer as they walked in.”

“What did you do to the cop?”

“Shot him with a tranquilizer dart, then cut off Daryl’s dick with a pair of scissors.”

“Why fucking scissors?”

“Seemed funny at the time.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “I don’t want that damn image in my head.”

“He wasn’t happy either, especially when he saw that I tossed his sausage next to his severed hand in the cooler.”

Wyatt looked at Seth like he was crazy.  “Why were you still carrying around his hand?”

“Encouragement.”

“Encouragement?  You just cut off his penis with scissors.”

“Yeah, but that way he could see that I was keeping them on ice and he still had a chance to get his hand and dick sewn back on.”

“So, let me guess, he paid what he owed?”

“No, he turned out to be broke.”

Wyatt had a surprised expression.  “Oh, shit.  What did he do with all his money?”

“Fuck, I don’t know.  I’m not his accountant.”

“Did you give them back to him?”

“Hell no.  He was still a thief.”

“What’s he doing now?”

“Definitely not jacking off.”

“No shit, Sherlock.  I was curious if he was still contracting?”

“Not after that.  Everyone had found out that he got his dick cut off and he was too embarrassed to show his face.”

“How did anyone know?  I wouldn’t have said anything if it had been me.”

“It was on the news.”

“How did they find out?”

“I told them.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “That was just adding insult to injury.”

“It was also to ensure that he wouldn’t stay in the contracting business, at least in that area.  I heard a while back that he was living in government housing.”

“Great.  Another asshole collecting handouts.”

“At least he’s not making babies like the rest of the lowlifes.”

“Yeah, but this one kind of backfired on you.  Now he’s living off the taxpayer.”

“Do you think I went overboard?”

“You should have just beaten the shit out of him or something.”

“What if it was you that he stole from, and the financial burden that he created caused you not to be able to provide for your daughter.  Would you still be okay with an ass beatin’?”

Wyatt thought for a moment.  “You’re right.  I should have thought of that.  Fuck him.  That’s what he gets for being a thief.”  He glanced at Seth.  “You should have killed his ass afterwards so he wouldn’t be a burden to the rest of us.”

“We can still do it.  I know where he lives.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “Oh, no.  I’m just here for the story.”  Wyatt noticed Seth seemed annoyed.  “Don’t be upset with that.”

Seth glanced over at him.  “I’m not.  The asshole in front of me spit out the window and it hit the windshield.  I’d like to make him clean my car with his tongue.”

“I know what you mean.  I can’t stand it when someone does something like that.”

“No, seriously.  If you weren’t with me, I would chase his ass down and make him clean this entire car with his fucking tongue.”

“Really?”

“Of course.  I’ve done shit like that before.”

Wyatt laughed.  “I’m sure you have.”

“I just do what others would like to do.  Especially when it comes to inconsiderate assholes.  For example, a few months ago, when I was in Las Vegas, this fucktard spit a big loogie right in front of me as I was walking down a sidewalk.  We got into a confrontation when I called him out on it.”

Wyatt interrupted.  “Were you there gambling?”

“No.  I was there with Missy to see some of the shows.”

“What did you see?”

“Wouldn’t you rather hear about Mr. Loogie?”

“Of course, I do, but I also want to know what someone like you would call entertainment.”

“A few clown shows.  Shit like that.”

Wyatt sported a strange expression.  “Really?”

“What’s wrong with clowns?”

“Nothing I guess, if that’s your thing.”

“Fuck no, we didn’t go to any clown shows.”

“Oh.  So, was Missy with you when you got into it with that dude?”

“No.  She was back at the hotel with a headache.  I try not to do stupid shit when I’m around her.”

“So, what happened?”

“I was walking down the strip around 11 PM when I ran across this asshole.”

“Where were you going?”

“To get some Magnum condoms at the convenience store.”

“Oh.”

Seth laughed.  “I’m just messin’ with you.  I was making a quick trip out to the car to get something, then got side-tracked by all the bright lights and wound up taking a walk.  That’s when this asshole spit a nasty-ass loogie right in front of me.  He was with two of his buddies.  I could tell they were locals and were out just to cause trouble.”

“How could you tell that?”

“By their attitude.  They were loud and obnoxious with no concern for the people around them.  They also looked like trailer trash.  The spitter was extremely thin, almost crack head skinny, wore baggy pants and a wife-beater tank top.  When I called the skinny punk out, they all went nuts, cursing me and threatening to beat my old ass.”

“I take it they were younger?”

“Yeah.  Probably mid to upper twenties.  They were just young and dumb and full of cum.  It wasn’t worth getting into it with them, so I brandished my sidearm to encourage them to stand down.  They went on their way, and as I was walking off, the skinny punk yelled out that I was a bitch.”

Wyatt was shaking his head.  “Do I even want to know what you did?”

“If they were just everyday smart-asses, probably nothing, but since they were wannabe thugs I decided to teach them a lesson.”

“What did you do?”

Seth nodded to the back seat.  “Grab the duffel bag with the inscription CS.”

“You mean SC for Seth Coker.”

“No, CS for cool shit.”

“Oh.  That’s weird.”  Wyatt pulled it into the front seat.

Seth opened the bag and pulled out a wide belt and a small device that was about the same size and shape of a .50 BMG round.  He handed them to Wyatt.  “I went back to my car and grabbed these.”

Wyatt scrutinized the small device.  He noticed it was cylindrical in shape with a pointed tip.  The pointed tip also had long flat pieces of metal encircling it.  “What is it?”

“Something that I had come up with a long time ago.  It’s a remote-controlled shocking device.  I keep several in my bag.  They come in handy when I want to force someone to do something without being close to them.  The inside of it contains a AA lithium battery, parts out of a stun gun and a wireless receiver.”  Seth pointed to the metal pieces on the tip.  “Those are spring loaded barbs, and when I shove it into someone they pop out, preventing it from being pulled out.  They also deliver the current flow to the body.”

Wyatt examined the belt.  He noticed it was about six inches wide and made of thick material.  It resembled a weightlifter’s belt, but with a heavy-duty latching mechanism.  “What is it?”

“Another remote-controlled shocking device.  I can strap that around someone’s stomach and tighten it up using the ratcheting mechanism.  The material can’t be cut through and the latch is key operated.  The battery and electronics are sewn in so no one can fuck with them.  Between the layers are two rows of braided cables.  They are spaced about five inches apart and run the length of the belt.  The two cables have opposite polarity and deliver a shock completely around someone’s body.  That thing will light your ass up.”

“Is it painful?”

“Outside of the normal pain of being shocked, I’ve also been told it’s like needing to take a shit way beyond anything imaginable.”

“Who told you that?”

“The assholes that had to wear it.”

“Why would you have this when you were on vacation with Missy?”

“I always keep my bags nearby.  That’s one of the downsides of doing what I do.”

“It does seem like a lot to keep up with.”

“Not that.  I can’t take a flight.”

Wyatt laughed.  “I can just picture the facial expressions of the TSA personnel when your shit came through the scanner.”

“Exactly.  So anyway, I went to my car and grabbed both of those and a backpack filled with supplies, then went and found me a hooker.”

Wyatt frowned.

“It’s not what you think; get your head out of the gutter.  I paid one to lure the assholes into a secluded area where a new casino was being built.”

“Did she?”

“Yes, by telling them that she wanted to suck their dicks.”

“Dumbasses.”

“I told you they were young, dumb, and full of cum.  When I came walking out of the dark with my tranquilizer gun the Kid Rock wannabes took off running.  I shot them in the back, causing them to nosedive into the dirt.  Spitter was stumbling around with his pants around his ankles.  “You fucking move I will shoot you in the face.”

He held his hands out.  “Dude, chill the fuck out.” 

“Shut the fuck up.”  I turned to the hooker and handed her a wad of cash.  “You know the drill; you didn’t see anything.”

She sported a don’t-give-a-shit expression.  “Nice doin’ business with ya.”  She eyeballed the punk as she pointed to her chest.  “You think you was gonna get this fo’ free?  Fuck you, dumbass.”  She stuck the money in her bra and sauntered off into the dark.”

I could tell Spitter wanted to take off on me.  He was looking down, contemplating if he should pull up his pants or jump out of them.  I tossed the belt at his feet.  “Put it on.  And stop thinking about running.”

He gawked my gun, then glanced at his buddies.  “Are they dead?”

“No.  They’re asleep.  Now get the belt on before you join them.  And make sure it’s under your shirt so no one can see it.”

“Fuck you!  I ain’t doin’ shit!”

“If you don’t…”  I pointed my gun at his crotch.  “I’ll shoot you in the dick.”

“Hey, dude, my buddy there has money in his wallet.”

“Good.  You’re going to need it for a tetanus shot and antibiotics.”

He held his hands out, palms up.  “What the fuck, dude?”

“Put the belt on.  Now!  And stop calling me dude.”

He picked it up, then just stood there looking at it.  “What the fuck is this?”

“A surprise.”

“Fuck you!  I ain’t puttin’ this on.”

He didn’t seem to be bothered with my tranquilizer gun, so I holstered it and pulled out my sickle.  “Will this be enough motivation for ya?”

“Okay, okay.”  He wrapped the belt around his waist and engaged the latching mechanism.  “Now what?”

“Ratchet the lever and tighten it up.”

“You’re fucking crazy.”

“Do it, asshole!”

He tightened up the belt, then glared at me.  “This is fucking stupid.  You some type of sick pervert or something?”

“Yes.”  I nodded toward his buddies.  “Go suck their dicks.”

He started to walk, or waddle I should say, because his pants were around his ankles, over to them.  “Hold the fuck up.  I was just fucking with you.”

“It’s good.  I’ll do it.”

I pulled out my .40 caliber.  “You take another step I will end you right now.”

He stopped and peered at me.  He knew I was serious.  “Okay, okay.  Take it easy.”

“Get the fuck away from them.”  When he backed away, I went and searched his buddies.  Sure enough, I found a gun on one of them.  “Real sneaky, you asshole.”  I stuck it in my waistband.  “Okay.  Now you can suck their dicks.”

His face turned red from anger.  “Fuck you!  You will have to kill me first.  And you’re lucky you’re armed.”

I knew he was being cocky because I hadn’t really done anything to cause fear.  I holstered my sickle, then pulled out a transmitter.  “Let’s take this for a test run to make sure it works.”

“Take what…”  He fell to his knees, then shit all over himself as his body violently shook.

I released a button on the transmitter.  “Yep, still works.”

He was on all-fours.  “Oh, my God!  Don’t do that anymore!”

“Get the fuck up and pull up your pants.”

He stood up holding his stomach.  “That fuckin’ hurt like hell.”

“I said pull up your fucking pants.”

He looked down.  “I got shit all over them.”

“I don’t give a fuck.”

He gagged as he pulled them up.  “This is fucking sick.  Why are you doin’ this?”

“I’m glad you asked.  We’re going to take a stroll down the strip, and before we head out, I want to go over some ground rules.  First, stay the fuck away from me at all times, but keep an eye out to see what I’m pointing at.  Do you understand?”

He looked like he was going to throw up as he held his head down.  “Yes.”

“Good, you’re listening.  Secondly, you will lick up or eat anything that I point at.  You can only use your tongue or teeth, no hands.  If you don’t do it, I will light your ass up.  If you try to approach me or tell someone what’s happening, the same thing will happen.  You got it?”

“Yes.  But what do I have to eat?”

“Spit, snot, gum.  Shit like that.  Basically, anything that is fucking nasty that I come across.”

He became angry.  “You’re fucking nuts.  I ain’t…”

I pressed the button, causing him to fall to the ground.  He was trying to scream, but his vocal cords were paralyzed from the current.  When I shut it off, he immediately sat up on his knees and began shouting for help.  He was making a lot of noise, so I lit his ass up again.  “Be quiet or I will cook your insides.”  I could hear him farting as he rolled around on the ground.  When I finally shut off the unit, he rolled up into a ball and began crying.  He was covered in sweat, dirt and grass and the backside of his pants was oozing feces.  “Oh, my God!  You made me crap my pants.  Please stop.”

“Then do what I say.”

“Okay, okay.  I will.”

“And what are the rules?”

“I have to eat anything you point to, or you will shock me again.  And I have to stay away and not say anything to anyone.”

I smiled.  “We’re going to get along just fine.”  I reached into my backpack and pulled out a syringe.  “I almost forget.  If I point to my neck, inject this into the side of your neck.”

He had a look of concern.  “What is it?”

“Heroin.”

“There’s no fucking way I’m doing that—I don’t trust you.”

“I don’t trust you either, but you have no choice.”  I tossed the syringe to him.

He stuck it in his pocket.  “Whatever, dude.”

I gave him a quick zap.  “Stop saying dude.”

He was bending forward with his hands on his knees.  “You don’t have to keep doing that.”

“Another thing.  If someone asks you why you’re eating shit off the street, tell them you lost a bet.”

“Whatever.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Okay, I will.”

“Let’s go.”

He stood up and started to follow me, then stopped.  “What about them?”

I glanced at his buddies.  “Thanks for reminding me.  Go strip them down naked, then lay one on top of the other.  And make sure you put them in the sixty-nine position.”  I tossed him a roll of duct tape.  “Tape them together by wrapping that around their necks and waists so they can’t get free.”

He looked at me like I was crazy.  “I ain’t doin’ that.  That’s fuckin’ sick.”

I held up the remote.  “You must need to take another shit.”

“Fuck!”  He marched over to his buddies.

I sat on the ground and lit a cigarette.  “I want their heads buried so tight in the other’s crotch that they will be smelling each other’s bung hole.”

“There’s something wrong with you.”

“And don’t forget to tape their arms behind their backs.”  I could hear him cursing me as he dragged one on top of the other.  “What’s that?  I can’t quite hear you.”

“Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.  And you better not suck their dicks while I’m around.”

“I’m not fucking gay.”

“You sure acted that way a few minutes ago.”

“Screw you!”

“And don’t be copping a feel.”

“Fuck off!”

“And keep your fingers out of their asses.”

“Leave me the fuck alone!”

When he was done, he tossed the tape at me.  “You’re a sorry motherfucker.”

I stood up.  “You’re really going to think that later.”  I nodded.  “Let’s go.”

“Whatever, du…  I mean…  I don’t know your name.”

I stopped and turned around.  “Sorry motherfucker is fine.  And don’t walk so close.  I don’t want anyone to know we’re in cahoots.”

“Whatever.”

I walked out of an open section of fencing that enclosed the construction area and onto a sidewalk.  Within fifty feet, I saw a used Band-Aid.  I looked back at him as he was standing at the opening in the fence.  I pointed at it.  He stood there for a moment, then took off running back toward the construction site.  I held the button on the remote as I ran after him.  A short distance away, I found him flopping around on the ground.  His shirt was covered in vomit, and he had pissed his pants.  I shut off the remote.  “I guess I forgot to mention that it has a very long range.  Try to take off again and I will let you burn to death.  You got it?”

He was gasping for air as he softly said, “Yes, Sir.”

“That’s the attitude adjustment I’ve been looking for.  Now let’s get this party started.”

There were about fifteen people standing or walking around when he approached the Band-Aid.  At first, he just stood there looking at it, not believing what I had planned for him was going to become a reality.  An older couple noticed he was acting strange, then they noticed his soiled pants and vomit covered shirt.  They backed away but continued watching.  Now that he was drawing attention to himself, he was hesitant.  I was standing about sixty feet away, blending in with people that were looking at a water fountain.  He gawked at me and shook his head side to side.  I thrust my finger angrily toward the ground, gesturing for him to do it.  He was still shaking his head, so I tapped the button on the transmitter to give him a little motivation.  He started to reach down and pick it up, but I shocked him again.  He glanced over at me and made a hand gesture indicating he didn’t know what to do.  I rolled my tongue as if I was licking something.  I could hear him cursing me as he got down on all-fours.  Unfortunately, the Band-Aid was stuck to the concrete and he had to lick it over and over in an attempt to get it free.  The older couple had seen enough and walked away, but shortly after that two guys came walking up laughing.  One of them pulled out a cell phone and began recording it.  Spitter looked at me, then the guy with the phone, then back at me.  I could tell that he was contemplating if he should tell on me, so I dangled the remote in the air as I shook my head.  He took a deep breath, then went back after the Band-Aid.  When he got it loose, he tried to swallow it, but started gagging.  He spit it out, then glared at me.  I knew shocking the shit out of him in a public place would cause an alarm, so I began pressing the button in short intervals.  He was sitting on his knees, and every time the current passed through his body, his head would jerk to the side as he made an “ahh” sound.  I had to stop when the two guys strolled up to him.  One of them asked if he was okay, then I heard Spitter say he had lost a bet.  He became furious when they began rooting for him.  I could even see the anger on his face from where I was standing.  After I gave him a quick zap for motivation, he picked up the Band-Aid with his teeth and swallowed it.

The two guys were clapping and cheering for him as I pointed to a pile of chewing tobacco that was next to the fountain.  I walked away as Spitter came over, followed by his two fans.  At first, he just stood there shaking his head as he gazed down at it.  After a quick zap he got on all-fours.  It took several more zaps to convince him he had no choice.  He stared gagging as soon as his tongue touched the moist tobacco.  I’m sure the rot mouth odor wasn’t helping either.  To my surprise, he pointed in my direction as he shouted, “He’s making…”

The current flowing through his body had frozen him in an all-fours position.  I let him cook for about ten seconds, and as soon as I released the button he scooped up a mouth full of the tobacco.  By this time several more people had joined in.  Spitter was definitely putting on a show for them.  He was white as a ghost, dry heaving and had brown saliva running out of his mouth as he fought the urge to vomit.  Most of the spectators were cheering him on, but a younger female appeared to be getting upset.  I was a little aggravated when she pulled out her phone, figuring she was calling the cops.  But it turned out that she was telling a friend to come watch the spectacle.  When Spitter was done licking up most of the tobacco, he ran over to the fountain to wash out his mouth, but wound up vomiting all over the front of himself.

Suddenly, I became nauseous when I saw a bloody tampon in the gutter.  I glanced over at Spitter as he was sitting down with his back against the rock wall of the fountain.  When I pointed, he took a deep breath, then stood up, knowing he had no choice. 

The crowd had grown to around fifteen people.  Most of them were laughing, but a few were standing back holding their hands over their mouth as Spitter was on all-fours staring at the tampon.  I could tell he was having a hard time talking himself into eating it.  Suddenly, he yelled out in an angry tone, “It smells like rotted pussy!”

Everyone started laughing, even the spectators who had been grossed out.  Of course, they had no idea he was yelling at me.  I wound up having to light his ass up quite a bit before he picked up the tampon with his teeth.  The spectacle of him bucking around on all-fours had also caused the traffic to come to a stop.  People were getting out of their cars to see what this idiot was up to.  Over the course of several minutes, he attempted to swallow it whole.  His facial expression and gagging sounds had some of the spectators dry heaving.  When he realized he wasn’t going to be able to swallow it whole, he began chewing the shit out of it.  Within seconds he vomited.  He was so humiliated that he sat on the curb and put his head down.  When I gave him a quick zap, he jerked his head up, looking as if I had awoken the devil.  He was so enraged that he picked the tampon up with his fingers and began tearing it apart with his teeth so he could swallow the smaller pieces.  I let him roll with it even though I had told him not to use his hands.  The absorbent material was hard to swallow and he wound up choking.  Lucky for him a good Samaritan handed him a bottle of water.

I was ready to call it a night when a large burly man sauntered over and hocked up a big loogie, spitting it on the ground next to him.  Spitter looked at me, not knowing what to do.  I shrugged my shoulders, then nodded, indicating to get after it.  He began sobbing as he sucked up the snot.  By now everyone was plenty grossed out and were yelling at him to stop.  When he was done, he sat on the curb looking as if he had lost his best friend.  About that time, I heard sirens, so I pointed to my neck.  He shook his head.  I showed him the transmitter as I held the back of my thumb to my neck, moving it as if it was a knife.  The crowd backed away as he shoved the needle into the side of his neck.  Within seconds he laid over on his side sporting a big smile.  I walked off as some of the spectators were leaving.  About a hundred feet down I heard him yelling out incoherently as the cops were arresting him.  I went back to the hotel and woke up Missy, then we hauled ass out of Nevada.

Creepy-Ass Cracker Show

Wyatt was shaking his head.  “That’s fucking sick.”

“I bet he won’t spit on the sidewalk again.”

“I’m sure.  Did Missy know what you had done?”

“Yeah, I told her.”

“What did she say?”

“Nothing really.  She’s used to it by now.  But she did get on my ass about making him inject the heroin in his neck.  She said that could have killed him.”

“Did you not think that through?”

“You know how I get.”

“What came of it?”

“I read online that Spitter had been taken to the hospital, then released shortly after.  The rest of the article basically covered everything that had happened.  The police verified his story when they examined the belt and found his friends.”

“Oh, yeah.  What happened to them?”

“They were found the next morning by some construction workers.”

“Were they okay?”

“Physically they were.  But I’m sure they were pissed about having to spend the night with their face in the other one’s crotch.  The whole thing turned out to be better than I would have ever imagined.  It was awesome having an audience.  I should have my own show.”

Wyatt laughed.  “Yeah, you could call it The Freak Show.”

“You wanna hear about a damn freak show?  I can tell you a good one.”

“What’s it about?”

“A crooked-ass cop named Nate Farley.  He was on the Los Angeles Police Department and was your typical lying piece of shit that used his authority to harass and take advantage of people.  Over the years, he had numerous complaints filed against him for misconduct, from writing bogus tickets to having sex with women in exchange for not arresting them.  He primarily targeted prostitutes and underprivileged women, knowing no one would believe them since he was an officer of the law.  He was eventually busted when one of the women had recorded the incident and posted it on Facebook.  It became a media circus after that.”

“I think I remember something about that now.  Wasn’t there like a bunch of protests on and they were calling him a creepy cop or something?”

“That’s him.  But they were calling him a creepy-ass cracker.”

Wyatt’s eyes opened big.  “Wait a minute.  I remember something about how this guy had been tied nude to a car or something.  There was also something about a mannequin and he had been sexually assaulted.”

Seth laughed.  “You’re kinda close.  He wasn’t tied to a car; he was tied to an ass jacker.”

“A what?”

“It was something that I had seen on the Internet that gave me the idea.  I had wanted to build it and this fucker gave me the motivation to do it.  The thing that aggravated me the most was nothing ever came of it even though I saw the damn video myself right along with half America.”

“Why did nothing come of it?”

“Because his department was just as corrupt as he was and covered it up.”

“She could have set him up.”

Seth pulled out his phone and opened a video.  He handed it to Wyatt.  “Check it out.”

Wyatt noticed it was the video of the cop and woman as they were sitting in his patrol car.  When it was over, he shook his head.  “Wow!  What a piece of shit.” 

“Telling her to suck his dick or else, can only be interrupted one way, don’t you think?”

“Sure does.  So, what did you actually do to him?”

Seth motioned with his finger.  “Look at my list of videos and find the one that says Nate.”

Wyatt flipped through the list.  “What’s this one; Meat cleaver massacre.”  He turned the phone so Seth could see it.

“It’s where I went after some punks with a meat cleaver.  You’ll get pissed off about that one.”

“Why would you say that?”

“You’re too PC for it.”

“I want to watch it.”

“Maybe later.  Find the other one first.”

Wyatt started the Nate video.  He was grossed out as he watched.  When it finished, he felt nauseated.  “Why did you show me that?  It’s perverted.”

“That was fucking Nate on the ass jacker.”

His eyes opened wide.  “No shit.  How in the fuck did you manage to do that to him and get by with it?”

“It just worked out.  I had already built the ass jacker, so I disassembled it, loaded it in my car, then headed to California.  Nate’s wife had kicked him out of the house and he was living in a hotel.  That night I snuck into his room and dragged his ass out of bed, then made him leave with me.  I took him to an abandoned warehouse…”

Wyatt raised his hand.  “Hold up.  How did you get him to come with you?”

“Held a gun on him.”

“Was he pissed?”

“Of course.”

“Did no one notice you?”

“I was disguised as a Mexican janitor—those fuckers are like camouflage in a hotel.  I simply found a uniform in the laundry area, bought an access card off one of the janitors, then went and woke up Nate at 4 AM.  When he got to the parking garage, he became uncooperative and I had to shoot him with a tranquilizer dart.  From there I dragged him to my car, then drove to an abandoned building about a mile away.  I had the ass jacker set up and ready to go, and since he was unconscious, I went ahead and ripped off his pajamas and underwear, then mounted him in it.

Around 5 AM Nate awakened.  He looked around in a panic, cutting his eyes, trying to figure out where he was.  He could only see a short distance by a dim light hanging from the ceiling.  He was restrained in the all-fours position and his head was strapped to a cradle that forced him to look straight, but he still could yell out.  “Hello!  I need help!  I’m stuck in something.”  He squirmed a little, feeling pressure in his anus.  “What the fuck!  There’s something in my ass.”  Suddenly, he started moving.  “Oh, shit!  What’s going on?”  He moved across the building, then stopped at a mirror that was leaning up against a wall.  He stared in horror at his reflection.  He could see that he was strapped nude to a four-wheeled cart with a flat top.  Steel braces with straps secured his torso, legs, and arms in the all-fours position.  Behind him was positioned a blow-up doll on its knees.  The doll had a large cardboard sign hanging from its neck that read, Crooked Ass Cop.  On each side of the cart hung a sign that read, Nate Farley and his Creepy-Ass Cracker Show.  His right hand was secured to a joystick, but nothing was happening as he jerked it around.  The front of the cart had lights, sirens and a horn.  Nate was in shock as he screamed out, “Is this some type of sick joke!  Get me the fuck out of here!”  He jerked around and tried to get loose, but the restraints securely held him in place.  “I said get me the fuck out of this thing!  The joke is fucking over!”  He glared at the doll.  “Ha ha, motherfuckers!  I’m going to shove that doll up your…”  Suddenly, his eyes grew huge and his body tensed up.  “Oh, my God!  What the fuck is that?”  His cart automatically turned a little so he could see what was happening to him.  To his horror, he noticed there was a mechanical arm behind him, and it was sliding a large rubber dildo in and out of his ass.  The doll was mounted behind the arm, and as the mechanism moved, it caused the doll to chaotically bounce around.  The mechanics of the arm was also making a loud squeaking sound in conjunction with the motion of the dildo.  Nate didn’t know what to think as shame overcame him while he stared at the horrific sight in the mirror.

A short moment later the dildo stopped, then I came walking out of the dark with a brown paper bag over my head that had holes cut out for my eyes and mouth.  “What’s crackalackin, fucknuts?”

He had a confused look.  “What…  Who are you?  Why…”

I stopped a few feet from him and lit a cigarette.  “Nice ride ya got there, Pal.”

He instantly became angry.  “You…  You fucking did this to me.  You’re not going to get away with this, you sorry motherfucker!”

I pulled a remote out of my pocket.  “Maybe, but let’s see if you can follow directions.”

“Fuck you!”

I pressed a button on the remote.  The dildo began pounding his ass again.  “Sounds like you’re the one getting fucked.”

He made a painful expression for a bit, then gritted his teeth.  “Do you know who you’re fucking with?”

I shut off the ass pounder.  “Sorry, I didn’t hear you over the squeaking.”

He gave me a go-to-hell look.  “I’m a fucking cop, asshole!  You’re going down for this.”

“That’s nice.”

He glared at me with a serious look.  “This is an assault of a police officer.  You’re already in a serious amount of trouble.  You need to let me out of this right now before you get in deeper.”

“I don’t think so.  I think getting humiliated in front of all your superiors is the route I’m leaning toward.  This will definitely make an example out of you to the rest of the crooked ass cops.” 

“What?  What are you fucking talking about?”

“You’re going to drive this scooter up and down the street so the whole world can see you.”

“You’re fucking nuts.  You’re crazy.  I’m not driving shit.”

I looked at the mechanical arm.  “You’re right.  The big black dildo is.”

“Screw you, you twisted fuck!”

“I don’t have time to argue with you—this fucking bag is getting hot.”  I extinguished my cigarette on his forehead.  “I will make this…”

He interrupted me.  “Get the fuck away from me!  I ain’t doin’ a fucking thing!  And take off that fucking bag.  I already saw your face back at the hotel.”

“Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t, but what you need to be concerned about is…”  I pointed to a button on the remote.  “What this button does.”

“I don’t give a fuck!  You need…”

When I pressed the button, he screamed at the top of his lungs.  The remote had activated two electrodes that were next to his dick and balls.  I shut it off before any serious damage was done.  “Now that I have your attention, I want to explain how this rig works.”  He was crying, so I thumped him on the forehead.  “You paying attention, or do I need to burn your shit off?”

Tears were running down his cheeks.  “Yes.  Please don’t hurt me anymore.”

“Alrighty then.  Right now, your cart is being controlled by this remote.”  I dangled it in front of him.  “When the Nate Farley Show starts, you will be in control of it through the joy stick.  This will be your way to apologize to all the women you forced yourself on.”

He had a look of guilt.  “So, you know who I am?”

“No dumbass.  Someone else wrote your name on the side of this contraption.”

“I was exonerated for that.”

“Not in my court.”  I knew what he was thinking by the way he was staring at me.  “I know, I know.  I’m getting the electric chair for harming an officer of the law.”

He closed his eyes and whispered to himself.  “Yes, you are, motherfucker.  Yes, you are.”

I thumped him in the eyelid.  “Pay attention.  You can plot your vengeance later.”

He opened his eyes and glared at me.

“You need to know if you stop this contraption for any reason the electrical current will burn your package off.”

He stared at me with a horrified expression.  “What do you mean?”

I began rapping.  “Yo yo yo, dog.  If you stop fo’ anything, hoes, bros, or even da po po.  Mr. Electricity will burn yo’ pee pee hole.”

He looked at me as if I was an idiot.  “Talk to me like you have some sense.”

I leaned up against a wall.  “The rear drive shaft has a motion sensor which is monitored by a programmable logic controller.  If no motion is detected the PLC will send a signal to a relay, activating a twelve-volt actuator that raises a mechanical arm with two electrodes of opposite polarity.  The mechanical arm when fully extended also engages a limit switch.  The limit switch’s normally open contacts will close, allowing current to pass through it to a high voltage ignition transformer.  The transformer’s secondary winding produces around ten thousand volts.  That circuit is connected to the electrodes through high voltage wiring.  The higher voltage will cause massive arcing between the electrodes.”  I leaned down in front of him and made eye contact.  “And guess what’s between the electrodes?”

His eyes were huge.  “What…  You lost me.”

“You’re right.”  I stood up.  “The electrodes will be in contact with each side of your balls, or balls and dick, depending on how you happen to be hanging at the time.  The current flowing through your tender man parts will be very painful.  The current might even cause your testicles to explode if it’s left on for too long.”

He had a frightful look.  “Please don’t do this.  That could castrate my manhood.”

I thought for a moment.  “Electrical castration.  I’ll have to remember that analogy.  Thanks, pal.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I’ve already told you.  Humiliation.  You’re going to run this thing all over the city so everyone can see you get pounded in the ass.  That’s why your name is on each side and your face is secured where you can’t hide it.  You’re going to be on public display.”

His attitude changed.  “Like hell I am.”

“That’s up to you.  It’s your manhood, as you called it.  If you stop, or allow someone to stop you, you know what will happen.”

“I said…”

I slapped him in the face.  “Shut up!  I’m not finished.”

He went from being somewhat docile to irate.  “You motherfucker!  You better hope I don’t find your ass.  I’m going to…”

I began pulling out his front teeth with a pair of pliers.  He screamed at the top of his lungs as I worked each one out.  When I was done, he was on the verge of passing out.  I tossed the pliers on the floor next to his pile of teeth.  “Now keep the fuck quiet so I can explain how this thing works, or I will start pulling molars.”  I tapped my watch.  “We have about thirty minutes to burn before show time.  I want you out and about at 8:30 so the commuters can have a morning show they won’t forget.”  I grabbed his right hand and positioned it on the joystick.  “Forward is forward, back is back, right is right.  And I’m sure you can figure what left is.  The electric motor is controlled by a variable speed drive, so the further you move the stick the faster it will go.  There is a button on the top of the joystick that squirts ass lube on the dildo, but it also honks an ooga horn.  FYI, I went with a quick evaporating lube, so you will need to press the button quite a bit unless you want your pucker hole torn out.  The cart is powered by twelve golf cart batteries, so you will have to run this thing for about six hours before they go dead.  Also, the cart has compression force weight sensors calibrated to your weight, so if someone gets on here with you, you’re going to get shocked, so keep that in mind.”  I opened an overhead door that went into an alleyway, then came back and opened a control panel mounted in the floor of the ass jacker.  I glanced at Nate.  “It’s almost show time.  You ready?”

He could barely talk as blood oozed from his mouth.  “I beg you not to do this.  I’m sorry for what I’ve done.”

“Too late for apologies now.”

“You’re not going to get away with this.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Fuck you!  Take off that bag so I can see your fucking eyes.”

“If I do that, then we’ll have to play a completely different type of game.”

“You fucking worried that I will be able to find your ass?”

“That would be nice for a change if the scumbags came to me.”

“You’re…”

“Shut the fuck up.  Talk time is over.”  I flipped a few switches in the control panel, engaging the onboard drive controls.  I noticed he was looking at what I was doing.  “Don’t fuck with this—you won’t like the consequences.”  I closed the door to the control panel and locked it with a padlock.  “When you press forward on the joystick it will activate the control system and you will be on your way.”

“Fuck you!”

I pressed the button on the top of the joystick to give him a courtesy squirt, then shoved the stick forward, causing the cart to move forward and engage the dildo actuating system.  He wasn’t holding the joystick, so it sprung back into the center position and the cart stopped, but the dildo continued ramming him in the ass.  He was talking shit as the electrodes raised up to his balls.  I pointed to them.  “You’re fixing to get…”  Zap!  The electrodes lit his ass up.  He began screaming.  I got close to his ear and shouted, “Drive the motherfucker you no-listening fuck!”

He grabbed the joystick and shoved it forward.  He yelled out curse words as the cart took off out the overhead door.  I could hear cursing and the squeaking of the cart echoing off buildings as he disappeared down the alleyway.  A moment later, I heard car horns and people shouting.

There was no reason to hang out in California, so I took off myself.  As I headed down the freeway, I turned on my laptop to keep an eye out on Nate.  About fifteen minutes later, online news channels started broadcasting the incident.  He was driving all over the city while the police detoured traffic—he must have yelled out to them that he couldn’t stop.  Thousands of people were lined up and down the streets.  I could see their facial expressions when the camera zoomed in; some were laughing, some were angry, and some were disgusted.  People were apparently being made aware through social media what was happening—they seemed to know where he was going before he got there.  If he turned down another street, they would take off running through alleyways in an attempt to get ahead of him.  Occasionally, a cameraperson was able to get a close up of Nate.  I began laughing when I saw his facial expression as the doll flopped around behind him with the crooked cop sign.  I could hear the cart squeaking and the ooga horn blowing as he yelled out for people to get out of his way.  A hoard of people was following him and cops were running in front to clear a path.  Every so often, a person would jump on the cart to stop it, or pose for a camera, but Nate would shout for them to get off.  A few times he got shocked and had to jerk the cart around to get the people off.  It was an absolute circus.”

Wyatt looked at the paused video of Nate on the ass jacker.  “That’s some sick shit.  So how long did he drive it?”

“About four hours.”

“Did the batteries go dead?”

Seth had a mischievous look.  “No.  The dumbass had a cop cut the padlock to the control panel.  When the door was opened, the lubrication system started pumping Superglue onto the dildo.  Within five minutes it became so sticky that it ripped his rectum loose, disemboweling him.  His colon was stuck to the dildo, causing it to be rammed in and out of his ravaged cavity.  Blood was being slung everywhere and he was screaming at the top of his lungs.  The pain was so great that he had a difficult time driving the ass jacker.  He started running into everything in sight.  He wound up getting it jammed up between some cars.”  Seth started another video.  “Check this out.  This is when he got stuck.”

Wyatt noticed some smoke coming from the cart as it was pinned.  “Is that an electrical fire?”

“No, it’s Nate’s dick and balls burning.  Before the cops could get him free the electrodes had burned him so severely that his junk had to be amputated.”

“Oh, my God.  That’s freakin’ sick.”

“He’s definitely the poster child for electrical castration.”

“What happened to him?”

“I read that his butthole couldn’t be repaired, and he had to have a colostomy bag.  The dickless bastard disappeared when he was released from the hospital.  He was probably too humiliated to show his face in public again.”

Blackface Does Beat Whitey Night

Wyatt was still thinking about the other video.  “What’s the deal with the punks that got messed up with a cleaver?”

“I went after them for playing the Knockout Game, also known as Polar Bear hunting.  It’s where black thugs go around and see who can knock out a white person with a single sucker punch.  They also have Beat Whitey Night, which is nothing more than an organized flash mob that beats any white person in sight.  These thugs use Twitter to organize the assaults, and they record them for their entertainment.”

“I don’t understand why blacks have to act like that.”

“It’s not black people in general doing it.  It’s thugs.  There’s a difference.  Every ethnic group has the same kind of assholes that cause problems.  As a society, we must learn not to judge an entire race based on the actions of a few dumbasses.  And that goes both ways, meaning I don’t want to be blamed for slavery and the segregation bullshit that I had nothing to do with.”  Seth peered at Wyatt.  “I don’t want you to think I have an issue with anyone because of their skin color.  I only have an issue with scumbags: white, brown, yellow or black.  I’m only mentioning this since this particular story could be misconceived into something racist just because these assholes were black.  That’s why I wasn’t planning on telling you about it.”

“I’ve listened to your stories enough to know how you operate.  I want to hear about it.”

“Okay.  It happened in Detroit about five years ago.  I was there on other business when I stumbled across one of these Whitey Beat Down festivities.  In was in the late evening and I was heading to fuck someone up when these two punks started following me.  It caught me off guard because I was dressed like a thug.”

“And how does a thug dress?”

“I was wearing baggy pants, a Detroit Lion’s jacket, Nike Mags, and sported a big-ass fro with a large red comb sticking out of it.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Hold up, slick.  That’s a common look.”

“I’m talking about the comb.  It’s kind of racist.”

“Don’t start that shit.  I’m not a fucking racist.”

“And how do you figure you blended in looking like a wannabe white gangster.”

“I didn’t look white.  I had colored my skin black with dye and makeup.”

Wyatt laughed.  “That’s the same stunt you pulled on Jim.”

“Sure was.  So, what I was getting at, it caught me off guard because I was trying to blend in and not draw attention to myself.  This is one of those times that doing things right in the open backfired on me.  I didn’t want to have a confrontation in the street, so I went down an alleyway to see if they followed, and sure enough, they did.  They ambled up to me as I was pretending to take a piss beside a dumpster.  The shorter of the two punks was dressed like I was, but the other one looked as if he had just crawled out from under a rock.  They were standing behind me as I peered back at the shorter one.  “What’s up, dog?”

He grinned.  “Nice kicks, nigga.”

I zipped up, then gazed at my shoes.  “Fo’ shizzle my nizzle.”

The taller punk laughed.  “Those look to be my size, homeboy.”  He nodded at his buddy.  “Whatcha think, Skin, gonna get me sum new kicks?”

Skin smiled.  “Yeah, Tink, those are da bomb.”

Tink pulled out a switchblade.  “I be taken’ those, nigga.  And that jacket too.”

Skin motioned with his fingers.  “Give me yo’ backpack.”

I handed it to him.  “Come on, man.  Let’s go rob some white muthafuckas.”

Skin laughed.  “Fuck you.  We’ll rob who the fuck we want.”

“Yo, nigga, don’t be like that.”

Tink nodded at my comb.  “This is what you get fo’ lookin’ like a fool with that dumbass comb stickin’ out yo’ head.”  He smiled.  “You can give me that, too.”

Skin slung my backpack over his shoulder.  “Gimme your jewelry and wallet and anything else you have.”

I noticed Skin had his hand resting on a pistol that was in his waistband.  With both of them being armed at a close-range I was in a predicament, knowing I couldn’t take them on with nonlethal means in my current position.  I could tell Skin’s revolver was a single action Ruger Blackhawk.  This gave me an advantage since the hammer had to be cocked before it would fire.  I needed to distract them, so I did as they asked.  I tossed my necklace, wallet and a wad of cash at Skin’s feet.  My plan was working as Skin got on one knee and began picking up his treasures, not paying attention to me anymore.  I nodded at Tink to get his attention, then slowly pulled the comb out of my hair.  He stood in amazement, admiring its large size as its metallic red paint glimmered.  Unknowing to him, the comb was actually a weapon.  It was made of aluminum and the forks were long and pointed.  I gave it to him by jamming the forks into his face.  Before Tink could let out a scream, I pulled out my tranquilizer gun and aimed for his neck, but wound up shooting him in his left eye.  Then I pushed Skin backwards as he was still on one knee, knocking him to the ground.  Before he had a chance to go for his gun, I shot him in the chest with a dart.  I looked around to make sure no one was watching, then dragged them behind the dumpster.  I didn’t have shocking belts with me like I had used on Spitter, but I did have some shocking jock straps.”

Wyatt interrupted.  “Why would you be carrying those?”

“I was heading to fuck up two child molesters before Tink and Skin tried to rob me.”  Seth pointed to his bag.  “I have one if you want to look at it.”

Wyatt started to reach in the bag, then stopped.  “Wait a second.  Was it strapped to someone’s crotch?”

Seth shook his head.  He reached over and pulled out the jock strap, then tossed it in Wyatt’s lap.  “There.”

Wyatt held his hands up as he gawked at it.  “I’m not fucking touching it.”

“Stop acting like a little girl.  It hasn’t been used.”

“Whatever.”  He picked it up and noticed it was made of strong material.  “It feels heavy duty.”

“It’s made of thin Kevlar so it can’t be cut or torn easily.”  Seth pointed out some electrodes.  “Those encircle the balls.”

Wyatt cringed.  “Ouch.”

“More than ouch.  The electrodes put out so much current that they will cause the sperm to boil if I leave it on for too long.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “The shit you come up with never ceases to amaze me.”

“Thanks.”  Seth pointed to a small metal box that was mounted on the side of the jock strap.  “This is where the battery pack, circuit board and wireless receiver are housed.”  He pointed to some belt loops that went around the top.  “It’s held in place by running a heavy-duty zip-tie through these loops, then I tighten it down around the waist.”

Wyatt tossed it in the bag.  “Did you strap one of these on them?”

“Yes.  After I took their personal shit, I dropped their pants, slapped them on, then pulled their pants back up.  I didn’t have time to wait for them to come around on their own, so I injected them with an adrenaline shot.  Five minutes later they were staring up at me from the ground.  I was leaning against a brick wall next to them smoking a cigarette.  “Sup, fools.”

Skin glared at me.  “What the fuck, man.”  He scrutinized his chest and rubbed where the dart had struck him.  “What the fuck did you shoot me with?”

I opened the left side of my jacket brandishing an assortment of weapons.  “This one hanging from my shoulder holster.”

“Do I have a bullet in me?”

“No, but I will give you one if you get stupid.”

Tink’s face was covered in blood from puncture holes that ran from the upper part of his right cheek to the left side of his mouth.  The dart was still sticking out of his left eye and it was oozing intraocular fluid.  He pulled out the syringe and tossed it at my feet, then he started to stand up.  “I’m going to kill your ass, you sorry motherfu…”

I energized his ball zapper.  Skin was staring in horror as his buddy flopped around on the ground moaning out muffled screams.  When I shut it off Tink curled up in the fetal position while gripping his balls.  “Oh, my God!  What have you done to me?”

“I put a microwave oven in yo’ draws.”

He looked up at me with confusion.  “You did what?”

Skin jumped up to his feet, and before he had a chance to run or attack me, I lit him up.  He fell to the ground and spun around like Curly from the Three Stooges.  Tink was contemplating running, so I lit him up as well.  I let them cook for around fifteen seconds to ensure they understood the pain that would come along with doing something stupid.  “Now listen here, do what I say, or I’ll cook your balls until they pop.”

Skin held his hands up.  “I got it, I got it.  Don’t do that anymore.”

Suddenly, Tink took off running, so I energized his ball zapper.  His body instantly went limp and he did a nosedive on the asphalt.  I locked the remote in the on position, then lit a cigarette.  Skin was staring in horror as Tink flopped around on the ground.  The pain was so intense that he was twisting his body in an unnatural way as he desperately fought to get his pants off.  His mouth was wide open as if he was screaming, but no sound was coming out because his vocal cords were paralyzed from the current.

Skin was panicking.  “Stop doing that!  You’re goin’ to kill him.”

“I told him not to try anything.”

“Please turn it off.”

“If you don’t want him to die, then get over there and help him.”

Skin ran over to Tink and pulled his pants down.  He tried to get the jock strap off but he was getting zapped in the process.  Suddenly, the Kevlar began smoking, then fluids came gushing out from around the section that housed the electrodes.  Skin stood in horror as his buddy arched his back moaning out his last breath of air.  I could hear the arcing of the electrodes as I strolled up and stood next to Skin.  “Can you smell that?  Smells like burnt jiz.”

He displayed a grimace of terror as he gawked at me.  “What did you do to him?”

“I cooked his balls until they popped.”

“You’re a sorry motherfucker.”

“I will do the same thing to you if you get stupid.”

He grabbed his crotch.  “Okay, okay.  But why did you did this?  We ain’t did nuthin to you.”

“You fucking idiot, you were gonna rob my ass.”

Anger washed over him.  “You did this shit to Tink over some fuckin’ clothes?”

“He also wanted my comb.”

He scrutinized my comb as it stuck out of my head.  “Comb?  Are you fuckin’ serious?  You motherfucker, you’re gonna pay for this.”

“Call Obama.  I don’t give a shit.”  I noticed there were some punks staring from the end of the alleyway.  “Get movin’, and if you try something you know what you will get.”  He did the unexpected and grabbed me, causing me to drop the remote.  I wound up putting a round through his skull.  The punks at the other end of the alleyway ran when they saw brains being splattered all over the place.”

Wyatt looked disturbed.  “You killed them for trying to rob you.”

“And?”

“That was a little extreme, don’t you think?”

“What if it was your daughter that they were trying to rob?  Maybe they wouldn’t have been satisfied with just her belongings.”

Wyatt took a deep breath.  “I know what you mean, but it’s still harsh.  It just caught me off guard—they didn’t sound as bad as the ones you usually go after.”

“Sure, they weren’t.  That’s why they carry guns and switch blades.”

Wyatt reclined his seat back to get comfortable.  “You’re right.  I am starting to understand your reasoning for what you do.  Of course, I wouldn’t do it, but I do understand.  You also have to remember that I was born and raised in North Dakota.  I was pretty much sheltered from the kinds of scumbags and lowlifes that you have dealt with.” 

Seth shrugged his shoulders.  “But you’re a reporter.  You must have been around at least one or two.”

“I reported the local news; bake sales and sporting events.  Shit like that.”

“Is there no crime there?”

“Sure, there is.  Nothing extreme like the shit you tell me about.”

“No one gets killed, raped or molested there?”

“It’s uncommon, but it does happen.  It’s a small town made up of hardworking families with hardly any cultural diversity.”

Seth laughed.  “What do you mean by cultural diversity?”

“There are no gangbangers, thugs or troublemakers running around causing problems.”

“What about gays?”

“Probably, but they keep it to themselves.”

Seth could tell Wyatt lived a sheltered life.  He thought about making fun of who was really the bigot, but decided to leave that alone for now.  He glanced at his watch.  “We’re about an hour away from the hotel.  We’re out of sandwiches that Missy gave us.  Do you wanna stop and get something to eat?”

“Let’s go to a drive through.  I don’t want a repeat of what happened at the last diner.”

“Will do.”

Wyatt scanned his notebook.  “In the meantime, finish your story about how you used a meat cleaver on some punks that were doing that whitey beat down thing.”

“It was by mistake.  I was going through Skin’s phone messages in my car when he got a text.  It said there was going to be a beat down at a carnival that was set up at the State Fair Grounds just north of Detroit at 10 PM.  I only had thirty minutes to get there.  This was a spur of the moment thing, and I wasn’t sure exactly what I was going to do if it happened.  I also didn’t like the thug disguise that I had on, but I didn’t have time to change it. 

I was running about five minutes late when I arrived, but didn’t notice anything happening.  I didn’t want to use any kind of firearm with so many people around, so I grabbed a meat cleaver and a ball-peen hammer, then went into the fairgrounds.  Right off I noticed there were a few cops walking around.  If I would have had a chance to plan it out, I would have brought something that would have created a distraction.  I knew it was going to be risky and figured I would just wing it if something happened.  The park was full of mixed races, but I didn’t see any large groups of thugs.  It was a summer evening and I was getting hot, especially from the large fro.  After making a few rounds through the park I was covered in sweat, so I went to get something to drink at a vending booth and to cool off.

While I waited in line, I noticed something strange happening.  People were staring at me.  The blacks were actually giving me death stares and talking about me.  I wasn’t sure why.”

Wyatt starting laughing.  “You had that damn comb in your hair, didn’t you?”

“No.  It was in my back pocket.”

“Was it the afro?”

“No.  I had removed it and put on a toboggan.”

“That explains it.  You were wearing a toboggan when it was hot.”

“That’s not it.  If you would let me finish you would find out.”

“Then say it.”

“A few minutes later, I went and sat on a bench that was next to some fans.  I was chilling out minding my own business when this black couple stopped in front of me.  The woman seemed agitated as she glared at me.  “You got sum fuckin’ nerve doin’ that shit around here.  Someone needs to kick your ass.”  The man shook his head as he told his wife to move on.  I knew something must have happened to my disguise, so I pulled out a pocket mirror.  I shook my head when I looked at my reflection.  The sweat had caused the dye around my eyes and mouth to wash away, causing me to have blackface.”

Wyatt interrupted.  “What the fuck is blackface?”

“Seriously?  You don’t know what that is?”

“No.”

“I can’t believe you don’t know what that is.  Were you locked in a closet your whole life?”

Wyatt shrugged his shoulders.  “Sorry.”

“It’s an old form of theatrical makeup used by white performers back in the day to represent a black person.  They would paint their face black, leaving white around their eyes and mouth.”

“Now I remember.  I’ve seen it on old TV shows.”  Wyatt made a hand gesture indicating he didn’t understand.  “Why would that piss off the blacks?”

“Because it’s very offensive.  At that point, I decided to leave before I got my ass kicked.  On my way out of the park, I noticed a group of punks walking in.  There were fifteen of them.  I wasn’t sure if they were there to participate in the beat down, but they were throwing air punches and pumping each other up.  About the same time that two punks pulled out their cell phones and started recording, another punk marched up to an older Hispanic couple and sucker punched the man in the side of his face.  After that, the group went nuts, running toward any white, Mexican, or Asian person in close proximity, and began attacking them.  I didn’t even think twice as I went after the closest fucker.  He was kicking a man that was balled up on the ground.  I cracked the punk in the head with the ball-peen hammer, knocking him to the ground, then I wacked him in the center of his back with the meat cleaver, severing his spinal column.  There was a punk recording me.  He was standing a short distance away.  He seemed confused as he stood frozen, and before he had a chance to realize what was happening, I did the same thing to him.  The other punks were spread out and too preoccupied to notice what I had done, so they were easy pickins for me.  The next two punks were beating the shit out of an elderly lady.  I ran over to them and shouted.  “Give me some!”

One of the punks looked in my direction, then did a double take at me.  “What the fuck!?!”

I smacked him in the head with the hammer, then drove my comb in the other fucker’s neck as he was standing over the lady beating her ground-and-pound style.  He fell to his back while grasping the handle.  His eyes were bulging as he gagged and slobbered at the mouth.  I took the meat cleaver and began whacking him in the stomach as hard as I could.  He was trying to block the blows with his hands and knees, but I didn’t miss a beat.  The sharp edge combined with the weight of the cleaver ravaged his hands and kneecaps.  There were severed fingers, bone fragments, skin, blood, pieces of intestines and human waste everywhere.  I didn’t stop pounding on his ass until I had severed his spine from his front side, meaning I had to mutilate his entire stomach cavity to get to it.  By now the others had been alerted.  They were standing in shock as I stood covered from head to toe with grotesque body fluids.  Several of the punks looked as if they were terrified, but two of them started in my direction.  I was still standing next to the punk that I knocked out with the hammer, so I quickly chopped his head off with the cleaver, then stood up holding it.  The two punks that were approaching me stopped, looking at me as if I was a fuckin’ savage.  I slung the head at them, then motioned with the hammer and cleaver for them to bring it on.  All the punks took off out the gate and down the street.  I went after them with my silenced .22 pistol.  They had a good distance on me, so I stopped, aimed, then began popping rounds into their asses.  I was able to get about four of them as the others disappeared into the darkness.  I ran up to the four injured thugs and severed their spines, then took off into the dark myself before the cops came.  On the way to my car, I found another punk that had been shot.  He was hiding under a car that was parked a little way from mine.  I dragged his ass out.  “What the fuck you doin’ under there?”

He was holding a knife.  “Get the fuck away from me, man!  I will cut your ass!”

I went after him with the meat cleaver, cutting his arm off at the shoulder.  He stared in horror as I stood over him holding his arm by the wrist.  He began begging.  “Please don’t kill me!  I didn’t mean to do it.”

I began beating him with his arm as I shouted, “Why are you hitting yourself, why are you hitting yourself, why are you hitting yourself?”  I didn’t stop until he was a bloody pulp, and the arm was nothing more than a skin bag filled with broken bones.  For the final touch, I flipped him over and severed his spine so he wouldn’t feel left out.  There were a few people standing down the street staring in horror.  I knew I had fucked up.  I should have hauled ass when I had the chance to make a clean get away.  Now I was going to have to get in my car with people watching.”

Wyatt was shaking his head.  “I’m surprised the cops didn’t take you down back at the fairgrounds.”

“I know.  But the actual cleavering of these assholes only took about two minutes in the park, and less than a minute on the street.  The punk that was hitting himself took several minutes.  That’s where I spent too much time.  I could have been busted by the cops for hanging around too long.  I allowed my excitement in getting to fuck up these assholes to get the best of me.”

“Yeah, but it turned out okay.”

“As far as with the cops it did, but I wasn’t happy with how the news portrayed it.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was all over the news about how these innocent black kids had been barbarically assaulted by a white racist disguised as blackface.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “Nice job there, pal.”

“Well, the makeup thing was an accident.  And as far as kids, they were young adults who preyed on the innocent.  The youngest one was twenty-two.  The media always makes things worse than it is.  But they did get the barbaric part right.  For weeks, the media had a field day talking about the brutal and sadistic beating that these fuckers took.  All the ones that I was able to catch were paralyzed and they are sitting in a wheelchair or lying in a bed right now, not being able to feel their dicks.”

Wyatt held his hand out to get Seth’s attention.  “Wait a minute.  What about the punk that you cut off his head?”

“Oh, yeah.  He got off easy.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Death is better than being a paraplegic or quadriplegic.”

“That would suck.”  Wyatt glanced at his notes.  “What about the fucker that you stabbed in the neck with the comb?  Didn’t you cut him up pretty bad with the meat cleaver?”

“Yeah, I chopped his guts into pieces, but somehow the fucker lived.  Not only is he paralyzed, but he gets to sport around a colostomy bag as well.”

“Good.  That’s what he gets for beating an elderly person.”

Seth smiled, feeling proud that Wyatt was starting to understand.  “You’re coming along.”

“I’m just sick and tired of these fuckers, I suppose.”

“That didn’t take long.”

“You’ve given me a heck of a crash course over the last several days.  It’s really opened my eyes.”

“Good.  That might come in handy later.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “What does that mean?”

“You never know.  There might be a time that you will need to take vengeance on someone.  And now you are acquiring the skills and attitude.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “Like I have said, this is your thing, not mine.  But I do enjoy the stories.  With that said, what was the outcome?  Did the police know you did it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“What about Jim?  He could have covered it up.”

“I’m not sure if he knows or not, but a recording of the first attack had been uploaded on YouTube.  Numerous media outlets copied it, edited it to a more PG version, then played the shit out of it so the whole world could see how mean ol’ blackface the racist treated these poor, misunderstood kids.”

Wyatt was shaking his head.

“What’s wrong?”

“You disguised as blackface.  That’s the most racist shit that I’ve ever heard about.”

“I told you I didn’t do that on purpose.”

“Maybe so, but you still do some borderline racist shit sometimes.”

“What the fuck have I done that was racist?”

“You used the N-word with Skin and Tink.”

“You serious?”

“Yes.  It was derogatory.”

“First off, I said nigga.  Big difference.  And secondly, they called me that first.”

“Still derogatory.”

“If it was, black folks wouldn’t be saying it.”

“That’s not true.  It’s derogatory if someone other than a black says it.”

“Really?  Are gook, raghead, kike, spic, jap, chink, cracker, and wetback derogatory terms?”

“Of course, they are.”

“You’re right; they’re an insult.  And that’s why you don’t see other ethnic groups calling each other those names.  So, if nigga was such a horrible name, they wouldn’t be using it.”

“But there is no need for bigotry.”

“Where in the fuck did that come from?  I’m not being a bigot.  They’re intolerant of any ideas other than their own when it comes to race, religion and politics.”  Seth thought for a moment.  “Well, maybe I am when it comes to punishing lowlifes.  I am set in my ways in that aspect.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.  You sometimes say insensitive things.”

“Making fun of a sensitive subject is simply poor taste or dark humor.”

“Minorities wouldn’t think it was humorous.”

“People are too damn sensitive these days.”

“Sensitive?  They’ve been oppressed, so they have a reason to get upset.”

“A lot of people from different races have been oppressed and treated like shit throughout history.”

Wyatt seemed aggravated.  “Yeah, but black people were forced into slavery.”

“All kinds of people have been slaves from the beginning of time.  The white/ black thing has nothing to do with racism or bigotry in modern society.  It’s about people disliking people.  If all humans were the same in every aspect from lifestyles, beliefs, opinions, physical and mental characteristics, and accomplishments, some fuckhead would wind up finding a minuscule difference in another person so they could have a reason to dislike them.”  Seth peered at Wyatt.  “Sorry if I got you bent out of shape.  That’s why I didn’t want to tell you the damn story in the first place.”

“Whatever.  Can I see the video now?”

“I’ll show it to you on my laptop when we get to the hotel.”

“Why?  It’s on your phone.”

“It’s better on a larger screen.”

“Okay.  Where’s your laptop?”

“In the trunk.”

Wyatt scrutinized Seth’s bags in the back seat.  “Why the fuck is it back there?  All your other shit is here in the backseat.”

Seth could tell Wyatt was still upset.  “Chill out.  We’re almost there.”

Pain Before the Cane

Seth pulled into the hotel parking lot.  Wyatt glanced at his watch.  “Damn.  Where did the time go?”

“I’m going to pay for the room.  Hang out here.”

When Seth came back, he noticed Wyatt was standing next to the car smoking a cigarette.  “When did you start that?”

“I’ve been smoking.”

“Just with me.”

“Then, I guess now.”

“It’s a bad habit.”  Seth grabbed his bags from the car.  “You might want to bring your stuff in so some asshole doesn’t steal it.”

Wyatt grabbed his bag and followed Seth into their room.  “Show me the video.”

Seth tossed his bag on the bed.  “We just got in here.  Give me a chance to get settled in.”

“Hurry up.”

Seth shook his head as he opened his laptop.  “What’s gotten into you tonight?”

“Sorry.  I get weird when I get tired.”

“Play it as many times as you want.  I’m goin’ to take a shower.”

Thirty minutes later, Seth came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.  The entire time he had been taking a shower he had heard a ruckus.  “What the hell is going on in here?”

Wyatt was lying in bed laughing.  “I’m watching Cops.  It’s my favorite show.  They set up a sting operation by leaving an unlocked car in the bad part of town.  You wouldn’t believe how many dumbasses got busted for trying to steal it.”

“Yeah, I would.  I’ve done all sorts of shit like that myself to catch assholes.”

Wyatt muted the volume.  “What did you do?”

“I’ll tell you about it later.  Let me get dressed first.  And try to keep it down—our neighbors are going to think we’re some type of weirdos.”  Seth shook his head as he walked off, thinking how Wyatt was probably one of those people who annoyed others at the movies by laughing at everything.  When he came back, he pulled the comforter off Wyatt and laid it on the floor.  Wyatt had a strange expression.  “What am I supposed to cover up with?”

Seth laid on the comforter.  “Throw me a pillow.”

“I don’t have anything to cover up with.”

Seth took a deep breath.  “Nor do I.”

“This sucks.”

“Well, we’re sure in the hell not going to lay in the same bed and share it.”

“I’m not fucking gay!”

Seth sat up Indian style and peered at Wyatt.  “Where in the hell did that come from?  I didn’t insinuate anything about you being a turd burglar.”

Wyatt was lying with his arms behind his head.  He seemed aggravated.  “You should have thought about getting a room with two beds.”

“I did.  They’re full.”

“We should have gone to another motel.  This one is a shithole anyway.”

“What’s the deal?  Were you planning on jacking off under the covers or something?”

“Drop it.”

“By the way, I picked this one because it doesn’t have any cameras.  And the riffraff coming and going overshadows us.  Plus, smoking is allowed.”

“It’s fine.  I’m just tired and have my pet peeves about shit.”  Wyatt flipped through the channels on the TV.  “Cops is over.  Now there’s nothing on worth a shit.  Cheap-ass motel doesn’t even have cable.”  He turned off the TV.  “I’m freakin’ bored.” 

“Damn, you sure get whiny when you’re tired.  I would have figured hanging out with me would be enough entertainment.”

Wyatt rolled on his side, facing Seth.  “You’re right.  Tell me how you caught some assholes like they did on Cops.”

Seth went to the bathroom and turned on the exhaust fan, then sat in a chair next to the bathroom doorway.  He lit a cigarette.  “My operations aren’t quite the same as theirs.  The punks that get busted by the police only receive a slap on the wrist, then get set free after they learn how to become better criminals in jail.  Our judicial system has no deterrent to crime, unlike the shit that I do.  Even my small-scale stuff makes these thieves think twice about stealing your shit.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “I didn’t know you went after thieves.”

“Sure, I do.  Do you like it when some scumbag steals the stuff because they’re too lazy to work for their own shit?”

“Of course, I don’t.”

“That’s why I do it.  And it’s fun.  It’s kind of a pastime.”

“I can understand what you’re doing to the assholes that rape, murder and abuse people, but theft is a petty crime.”

“It’s only a petty crime to the ones who didn’t get their shit taken.  These so-called petty criminals have the same attitude as the abusers and rapists; they don’t give a shit about their victims, so I don’t give a shit about them.”

“So, what did you mean by small scale stuff?”

“They involve booby-trapped cars, exploding toolboxes and boom boxes and wallets filled with agony.  Shit like that.  And my sting operations cause pain, disfigurement, or an occasional death, unlike our weak-ass judicial system.”

“What the fuck is a wallet filled with agony?”

“Exactly that.  It’s a booby-trapped wallet, the longer bi-fold type that sticks out of the back pocket.  I modify them by installing a CO2 injector filled with embalming fluid, then I glue money to one side of the main pocket and align the needle from the injector on the other side.”

“Do you just walk around with it, hoping someone will steal it?”

“Not really.  I like to do the wallet trick in New York City because there are a lot of pickpockets there.”  Seth smiled.  “It’s hard finding enough time to spread around what goes around to all these assholes as it is, so I have to make every minute count.”

Wyatt picked up his notebook and wrote in it.  “I like that statement.  So how long does it take for someone to steal it?”

“If I dress like a cowboy while acting like it’s my first time being away from the farm, not long.  I can usually have ten of them stolen within a few hours.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “I take it you carry more than one wallet with you?”

“A bag full.  I try to have as many stolen in one trip as possible.  Like I said, I have to make every minute count.”

“You said the wallets have an injector with embalming fluid.  What does that do to someone?”

“When they open the wallet, they focus on the cash, but it’s glued in place.  This causes them to really go after it, and in the process, they wind up sticking the needle in one of their fingers or hand.  The needle has a tiny barb on the end, causing it to embed in their flesh.  When they pull back on the needle the CO2 injector is triggered, injecting the fluid into them.”

Wyatt was cringing because of his needle phobia.  “So, what happens then?  Do they get the needle out?”

“The needle is the least of their problems.  The embalming fluid immediately starts killing living tissue while preserving dead tissue.  It also starts sealing anything it comes into contact with, restricting blood flow to that area.  There is enough fluid to fuck up someone’s entire arm if they don’t get to the hospital in time.”

“Is it painful?”

“I’m sure it is, but I’ve never tested it on myself.”

“Then how would you know?”

“I’m just going by the reaction of the assholes that get stuck.  They usually run around the street hysterically while holding their hand and screaming at the top of their lungs.  So, yeah, I would guess it’s painful.  And in the end, they will either get their hand or arm amputated or die from a blood clot or infection.  It’s a win-win for everyone.”

“That’s fucking gross.  And who in the fuck wins?”

“First off, I do.  It’s fun watching these assholes run around the street in pain.  Society does since there are fewer thieves.  And don’t forget about the hospitals and morticians—they make money off these assholes as well.  Not to mention that I’ve already started the mortician’s job if one of these fuckers did die.”

Wyatt laughed.  “What about the amputated hands.  They could be used in a school for science class.”

“I wish, but unfortunately it doesn’t work that way.  They have to be destroyed right along with the rest of the medical waste.”

“That sucks.  All we ever got were frogs to dissect.  A hand would have been awesome.”

“I know how you feel.  I’ve always felt that criminals on death row should have their organs harvested to give back to society for the shit they have done.”

“Not quite what I was thinking.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want a part in me from some scumbag.”

“What if you daughter needed a heart transplant?”

Wyatt thought for a second.  “You’re right.  Fuck ‘em.”

“In fact, that should be a part of our punishment process; if you commit a crime you should have to give up some of your parts.  That way, if you keep fucking up you will eventually run out of organs.  The more heinous crimes equal more parts, less for petty shit.”

Wyatt laughed.  “Damn!  Too many strikes and you’re out.”

“That would be the point.”

“So, how many wallets have you had stolen?”

“I’ve lost count.  If I had to guess, around three hundred.”

Wyatt’s eyes widened.  “Wow!  That’s a lot of one-armed assholes running around.  Do you think Jim knows that you’re responsible for that?”

“Most likely.”

“Why?”

“The police department released a bulletin a few years ago with a photo of me disguised as a cowboy.  It warned people of what I was doing.  Fortunately, they thought the person was just some random psycho and never knew it was me.”

“Do you still do it?”

“Not dressed like a cowboy.  The last time I was disguised as an elderly lady with a purse full of agony.”

“That’s fucked up that someone would steal from an old person.”

“What’s fucked up is the damn cops were more worried about me fucking up some lowlifes than the people that were getting their shit stolen.”

“What about the exploding tool boxes and boom boxes?  Do you do them in New York as well?”

“I do them everywhere, but I have to be careful with those to keep kids from getting hurt.  I leave a toolbox in the back of my truck, or a boom box in the front seat of a car for easy pickins.  They have a tracking device, so I can follow the asshole that steals one of them.  Once I can ensure they are alone, I detonate it.”

“Does it kill them?”

“I use smaller charges, so they usually only lose limbs.  Except for this one time when a punk was walking down the sidewalk with one of my boom boxes sitting on his shoulder and the explosion blew off his head.”

Wyatt began laughing.  “That’s fucked up.”

“Not really—he never knew what happened.  He got to skip the pain before the cane.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“I don’t want to kill these fuckers—I want them to suffer, then be a gimp.  That way they will be reminded everyday of how they are a piece of shit.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “That is so fucking twisted.”

“Death is too easy.  If you kill someone, they usually don’t know it.  I like to rack ‘em up, fuck ‘em up, and make ‘em wish their time was up.”

“What?”

“It’s a saying from back when I was in the chamber.  I would secure a lowlife to a table, wall or rack, then torture the fuck out of them for days, weeks, or months, making them long for death.”

“That’s mighty white of you, pal.  You definitely have a knack for the sadistic shit.”

Seth laughed.  “I haven’t told you a sadistic story in quite a while.”

“I think these are fine for now.  I’m feeling a little nauseated anyway.  Go ahead and tell me about the booby-trapped cars?”

“They’re kind of boring.”

“That’s fine.  I don’t want to hear about anything too bloody before going to bed anyway.”

“Of course, there will be blood.”

“You know what I mean?  No guts and stuff.”

“There will be that as well.”  Seth laughed.  “Maybe you need something less gruesome like how I tarred and feathered this fucker.”

“That seems interesting.  Who’d you do it to?”

“This fucker named Buford.  He was a crooked cop.  He violated this guy’s second amendment rights.  CJ was illegally arrested for open carrying a rifle.  The crooked ass city covered it all up.  I pulled Buford out of his bed early in the morning, poured hot tar all over his ass, then covered him with feathers from his own pillow.  I dumped him off at the front door of city hall to make him an example to the rest of the city crooks.”  Seth sat looking at Wyatt.

Wyatt motioned with his hands.  “Is that it?”

“Yep.”

“What happened to Buford?”

“He died.”

“Why?  Did you do something else to him?”

“No.  Tar and feathering someone isn’t like it is in the movies.  The hot tar causes third degree burns and it sticks to the skin, causing infections.”

“I didn’t know that.  I thought it was done to humiliate someone.”

“It is.  That’s the purpose of the feathers.  They’re being humiliated before they die a painful death.”

Rollin’ Torture Wagon

“Okay, tell me about the booby-trapped cars since the tar and feathering story was kind of lame.”

“Rigging up a car with booby-traps involves a lot more planning and hands-on fabricating compared to the wallets or exploding boxes.  I’ll tell you about this one particular story; it was kind of an experimental project to see if I could turn a car into a drivable torture chamber.  I called it my rollin’ torture wagon.”

“What do you mean by experiment?”

“I modified the car’s booby-traps to be fully automated.  If it worked, I was planning on building more of them.  That way I could be in more than one place at a time; kind of like cloning myself.” 

Wyatt laughed.  “That’s funny.  So, what kind of car was it?”

“An older Mercedes.”

“Why?”

“Because they seem to be a magnet for low-budget assholes.”

“Oh.”

“I had put a lot of thought into designing and modifying it to get the most out of my efforts.  When I was done, I parked it at a mall in Dallas where vehicle theft was out of control, then headed back home.  I had installed cameras in it that linked to a wireless Internet connection so I could watch the outcome.  This was back when I was still spending a lot of time in the chamber.  I had the video feed connected to a large TV that was mounted on a wall.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “Why would you have a TV in the chamber?”

“So, the assholes in there could see what they were missing on the outside.”

“You never cease to amaze me.”

“You’ve said that before, but thanks again.  The next day, two white trash punks with tattoos broke into it.  The asshole that got in the driver’s side was a big guy, had a bald head and a thick goatee.  The other dude was skinny, had hair past his shoulders and a full beard.  They were wearing tank top shirts, worn blue jeans and high top shoes.  After they jimmied the ignition switch and took off, I remotely activated the system by calling a cell phone that was connected to it.  This was a precaution to keep a cop, tow person, or a kid that was with an asshole, from getting hurt.  Within seconds, a seat belt buzzer sounded.  I purposely designed it to be extremely loud and annoying, and it worked as planned—they put on their belts.  Unknowing to them, the seat belt latches and mounts had been modified, but before I went to the next step, I called another cell phone that I had left next to the center console.  The first few times I called they ignored it, but the passenger finally answered.  “What do you want?”

“You steal my car?”

He glanced at his buddy.  “Hey, Tommy, it’s the owner.  He’s asking if we have his car.”

Tommy began laughing.  “Tell that stupid fucker to go get fucked.  It’s ours now.”

“Hey, go fuck yourself.”  He hung up the phone.  I was watching the punks laugh and act stupid on the TV.  A few of the assholes in the chamber started shaking their heads, knowing something fucked up was going to happen.  Two of the assholes were yelling at the TV as if they were watching a movie, calling the punks dumbasses and telling them how to drive.”

Wyatt raised his hand to get Seth’s attention.  “Who was yelling at the TV?”

“Mark and Jack.  Mark was hanging on a nearby ceiling support post and Jack was bound in a rack.”

“Wait a second.  I’m confused.”

“About what?”

“I thought the ones you had in the chamber were being tortured.”

“They were, in the most gruesome and sadistic ways that not even your worst nightmare could conjure up.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.  Then why would they be acting that way?”

“You would have to be there to understand.”

“Try to explain it.  I’m confused.”

“It’s a combination of things.”

“Like?”

“When a person is subjected to mental and physical suffering for a long duration, their reasoning and mind set can become irrational and they can do some strange and unpredictable things.  Remember, we talked about this a while back?”

“I do.”

“Well, that’s part of it.  They had been in the chamber for so long that normal reasoning had slipped away.  They had also become extremely bored and any kind of activity outside of torturing them got them excited.  They were also the clowns of the chamber.”

“Bored?  How can someone be bored in a torture chamber?”

“From being restrained or confined for a long period of time without any interaction from me or anyone else; basically, treating them as if they were invisible, ignoring their pleas of why they were there and what was going to happen to them.”

“How long are you talking?”

“For some, years.”

Wyatt’s eyes opened wide.  “No shit.  You actually did that?”

“Yes, but not to everyone though, just the assholes that had ADHD.”

“Why?”

“Once I found out that a scumbag had ADHD, or any kind of phobia, I would implement that into their punishment.  Torture and confusion of the mind is sometimes more painful than the torture of the flesh.  I always mix the two, because fear after the adrenaline rush is over creates more pain.”

“What about Mark and Jack.  How long had they been in there?”

“Only a short while, less than a year, I think.  They were an odd pair and kind of dumb, in a hillbilly type of way.  They were friends before I brought them to the chamber, and all they did was argue with each other.  That’s why I called them the clowns of the chamber.”

“What did they do to get in there?”

“Tortured and killed some animals for starters.”

Wyatt had compassion for animals.  “I hope you fucked them up.”

“I think I’ve told you what I did to them.  They’re the ones that I had removed their bones and made a cradle with them.  The guys who I learned the dick jokes from.”

“Oh, yeah.  You didn’t mention their names earlier.”  Wyatt flipped the pages in his notebook until he came to the section regarding Mark and Jack.  He wrote their names on the page.  “I remember, they killed cats that were at an animal shelter.”  Wyatt cringed as he read his notes.  “I forgot what you had actually done to them.  I take it they were watching the car thieves on TV before you did all that to them.”

“Yes and no.  I had already removed the bones from Mark’s arms and legs; that’s why he was hanging on the post.”

“Continue on.  This is interesting”

“After the punks told me to go get fucked, I activated a winch that was connected to their seat belts, causing them to tighten down.  They tried to unlatch them, but I had modified the latches to lock together once there was pressure.  There were four cameras in the car.  One faced the driver, another faced the passenger, one out the front so I could see where they were driving and one out the back.  The TV screen was sectioned off in four blocks, showing all the cameras at once.  I was sitting in a recliner next to Jack as he was being forced in an awkward position by the rack.  He had to hold his head back while stretching his neck to see the TV.  Mark was comfortably hanging on the post as he watched.”

“How in the fuck was he comfortable?  His bones had been removed.”

“His limbs were pretty much numb from being shocked by an electric fence controller.”

“I’m not even going to ask.”

“So anyway, the punks were now fighting with their seat belts and bitching at one another.  I called them back to see if their attitude had changed.  The passenger answered it again.  He was panicking.  “Is this the owner of the car?”

“Well, yes, it is.  Is there a problem?”

“Your car’s seat belts are acting up.  They’re squeezing the shit out of us and we can’t get them off.”

“Put me on speaker phone.”

I heard some shuffling around for a bit.  “Done.”

The driver spoke out.  He was pissed.  “What the fuck is this shit!”

“It’s part of my security system.”

“I’m gonna sue your ass, buddy.”

“Really.  You’re the one who stole my property.”

“Fuck you, dude.  I know my rights.”

“In my world, you have the right to suffer before you die.”

“Fuck you, tough guy.  You ain’t gonna do shit.”

“You need to know the car is programmed to…”  He hung up on me.  I set the phone down and began eating popcorn as I watched the assholes on TV.  The passenger pulled out a knife and cut his shoulder strap in two.  He also cut a wire that I had sewn between the layers.  To his horror, two sharp rods with barbs came ejecting out of his seat, piercing him through each of his thighs.  A few seconds later, my phone rang.  “Angel of Death speaking, how can I help you?”

The driver was now panicking.  “Who?  What did you say?”

“You heard me, fucknuts.  What the fuck do you want?  I’m busy.”

“Is this a joke?”

“If it was, would it be funny?”

“Huh?  I don’t know what you’re asking.  I called because we need help.”

“Help with what?”

“Dude, stop playing around.  Josh is hurt bad.”

I looked closer at the TV.  “Not that bad.  The rod that was supposed to take out his nuts didn’t deploy.”

“What?  What rod?”

“Are you fucking retarded?”

“Whatever, dude.  We’re going to find some help—he could bleed to death.”

“Not likely.  The rods are perforated and filled with a clotting agent.”

I could hear Josh crying in the background.  He was worried about the rod that didn’t deploy.  “Sir, this is Josh.  Please help us.  We’re sorry for stealing your car.”

“There’s nothing I can do.  The car is in automatic torture mode now.  And besides, I’m busy.”

Tommy was getting aggravated.  “Fuck you dude.  I’ll find a cop.”

“You do that.  And by the way, if any of the car doors are opened or one of the hidden sensors is tripped, your nut stick will deploy.  It might also jar Josh’s loose as well.”

“What the fuck are you blabbering about?  What the fuck is a nut stick?”

“The sharp rod that is designed to rip through your nuts.  It’s hidden in the bottom of your seat somewhere, lurking around, just waiting to pop up and bust through your nuts.”

Tommy cringed as he thought about it.  “Okay, okay.  What do you want me to do?”

“Suffer before you die.”

Silence fell on the phone.  Tommy had muted it.  I turned up the volume of the TV so I could hear what they were scheming.  As I figured, they were contemplating if I was bluffing.  A few seconds later, Tommy unmuted the phone.  “Hey, I think you’re full of shit.  We’re going to go find a cop.”  He hung up.  I sat back and watched them as I smoked a cigarette.  I could tell they weren’t sure what to do.  They pulled into a convenience store and parked.  Tommy started to open his door, then changed his mind.  They sat there for a few minutes discussing what to do.  Suddenly, Tommy’s body began to violently shake as if he was having a seizure, then smoke began to pour out around his seat.  A few seconds later, he fell unconscious, then my phone rang.  I turned the volume down on the TV.  “What?”

“Something happened to Tommy.”

“There’s a ten-thousand-volt igniter connected to bands of copper that are sewn under the seat cover.  When the car is stopped for a given time, which I’m not privy to disclose, the driver will receive a flesh cooking shock.”

“Is he dead?”

“Maybe, if the current stopped his heart.  Check for a heartbeat.”

“Okay, okay…  He’s coming to, but he’s not coherent.  What do I need to do?”

“Get him driving, unless you want more pain.”

“Drive where?”

“I don’t give a fuck.  But I would suggest staying away from busy areas so cops don’t notice you.”

“Why?”

“The car has stolen license plates.  If you get pulled over one or more of the sensors will be activated.”

“Why are you doing this to us?”

“You thought it was okay to steal my car.  You wanted it, now you got it.”

“Why would you do this over a fucking car?  You’re fucking sick, dude.  Where did you come up with this shit?”

“Page seventy-two in the vigilante’s handbook.”

He stayed quiet.

“You there?”

“Yeah.”

“Just don’t sit there dumbfounded.  Slap your buddy and get his ass in gear before more bad shit happens.”

He shook Tommy.  “Wake up, dude, we have to go.”  He got my attention.  “He’s coming around.”

“Good.  And by the way, I left some money in the center console for gas when it gets low.  I also installed a fifty-gallon tank to keep you on the road longer.”

“How we supposed to get out and pump it?  I have the rods stuck through my legs and Tommy’s seat belt won’t release.”

“You pay someone to do it.”

“I thought Tommy will get shocked if we park too long?”

“You let me worry about that.”  I knew the shocking circuit would be delayed as long as the fuel door was open, but I didn’t want to tell him that.

“So, then what?  We just drive?”

“You’re catching on.”

“For how long?”

“Until the wheels fall off that bitch or until you’re dead.”

“What?  What do you mean?  You can’t be serious?”

“You have no idea.  The car has so many booby-traps that it’s a fuckin’ rollin’ torture chamber.  And you need to get your ass movin’ quickly—the timer is counting down.”

“I need to piss.”

“Then piss.”

“Where?”

“Your pants as far as I care.  Tick tock, numb nuts.”

I could see that Tommy had tears running down his cheeks and slobber dripping from his mouth as he regained consciousness.  He heard what I had been saying and leaned over toward the phone as Josh held it up between them.  “Dude, you’re so gonna pay for this.”

Josh muted the phone.  “Shut the fuck up, dude.  We need to play it cool for now.  Didn’t you hear what this fucker said about the car and how it’s wired with booby-traps?  Let’s get moving.”

“All right.  We’re going.”  Tommy put the car in gear and took off down the street.

Josh pointed to a road.  “Make this turn here.  It goes out in the country.  There shouldn’t be any cops out that way.”

A few miles down the road Tommy became angry.  “This is fucked up.  He can’t think we’re just going to drive forever.  Motherfucker is crazy.  He’s gonna pay for what he has done.  Tell him we’ll meet him somewhere, then we’ll get his ass.”  He pulled a pistol from his waistband and handed it to Josh.  “You can act wounded.  That way he won’t pay any attention to you.”

Josh scrutinized his own legs.  “I am.  Can’t you see what the fuck he did to me?”

“Quit whining.  You’re acting like a bitch.  My skin feels burnt as shit from being shocked, but I’m not crying about it.”

“Fuck you!”  Josh unmuted the phone.  “Hey, dude, we’re back to driving.”

“That’s good.  You fools just need to play it cool.  And don’t get stupid.”

Tommy sported a chicken-shit grin.  “Let’s meet up somewhere.”

“How do I know y’all won’t try to shoot me?”

Tommy eyeballed Josh and smiled.  “Because I don’t have a gun.”

“Yeah, but that whining bitch does.”

I could see the blood leave Josh’s face.  He muted the phone.  “He must have heard us.”

Tommy grabbed the phone and examined it.  “You dumb fuck!  You must have not muted it.”

“I know I did.  That’s not it.”  He looked around the car, then pointed to something on his side of the dash.  “Is that a camera?”

Tommy stared at it for a moment, then unmuted the phone.  “You’re a sneaky fucker.  We found your camera.”

“So.”  I knew they were looking at a decoy.

“So, fuck you.”  He peered at Josh.  “Break the motherfucker.”

Josh began hitting it with his fist.  “The damn thing won’t break.”  He tried to rip it off the dash.  “It’s stuck.”

I spoke out.  “Hey, dumbasses, that’s not a good idea.”

“Fuck you, dude.”  Tommy hung up the phone.

Jack was excited as he stared at the TV.  “What’s gonna happen when he breaks it?”

I looked over at him.  “Just watch and you’ll see.”

Josh found a can of de-icer in the glove box next to a roll of duct tape, then leaned forward and struck the fake camera with it.  To his horror, a fireball engulfed his head, igniting his long hair and beard.  Tommy was swerving all over the road as he helped Josh pat out the flames.  By the time they got the flames out, most of his hair had been burned off and his scalp and parts of his face had severe burns.  A thick cloud of smoke reeking of burnt flesh and hair filled the car.  He looked over at Tommy in a panic.  “Oh, my God!  How bad is it?  My head and face are burning.”

Tommy had a worried look.  “It will be okay.  We’ll get you to a hospital.”

Josh wanted to see how bad he had been burned, so he reached for his sun visor to look in the mirror.  When he pulled it down, numerous one-inch long flechettes came blowing out of a tube mounted in the dash and struck him all over the face and neck.  He screamed out as he tried to pull one from his right eye, but it was stuck.  Every time he pulled back on it, his eyeball would protrude from its socket.  He turned toward Tommy.  “Get it out of my eye!  It’s killing me.”

Tommy was horrified as he stared at Josh, noticing his skin was bright red and starting to form blisters between the few patches of singed hair that were left.  The dart shaped projectiles covered his entire face and neck, causing him to look like the Pinhead character from the Hellraiser series.  Tommy became nauseated from the rancid odor that was lingering, so he pressed the button on his door to roll down his window.  The window didn’t move, but several barbed spikes ejected from the door’s button console and impaled his hand.  He screamed as he tried to pull back, but his hand was stuck to the door.  He almost drove off the road and hit a culvert.  His heart was racing when he got the car under control.  He began to panic.  “I’m going to the police.”

“You can’t.  Didn’t you hear what he said about the booby-traps?”

“What else are we supposed to do?”

“Call that dude back.  Tell him we’ll do whatever he asks.”

“You call him.  I can’t hold the phone.”

Josh was gagging as he pulled flechettes from his skin while cupping his eye.  “I can’t do it either.  I have to get these out.”  He gazed at Tommy as he held his eye with his hand.  The flechette was sticking out between his middle and ring finger.  “Do you think I’m going to be blind?”

“Fuck, dude, I don’t know.”  He looked around the car.  “Where’s the cell phone?”  He noticed it lying on the floorboard by his feet.  “There it is.”  He tried to reach down to get it, but his seat belt was too tight.  “Dammit!  I can’t reach it.  I’m going to kick it over to your side since your shoulder strap is cut.”  He moved the phone with his foot, but it slid backwards.  “Fuck!  It went under my seat.”

Josh’s face was starting to swell and the pain was setting in.  “Dude, I’m hurting really bad.  Let’s drive to the hospital.  Maybe there is something they can do.”

Tommy thought about the nut stick that was hiding under his seat.  “We can’t stop or open the doors.”  He glanced at Josh.  “But I have an idea.  Find a pen and some paper.  We’ll write a note and explain what’s going on.  You can toss it out the window if we see a cop.”

Josh scrutinized Tommy’s hand as it was dripping blood.  “I don’t want to get stuck like you did.”

“You won’t.  You can break out the window with your elbow.”

“He’s not going to let us do that.”

Tommy examined the broken camera on the dash.  “How can he?  His camera is broken.”

Josh’s eye grew wide.  “You’re right.”  He looked around his window.  “I don’t see any sensors.  Let’s do it.”  He started to open the center console.

Tommy yelled out.  “Wait!  It could be wired.”

Josh shook his head.  “No, he said there was money left in here for us to buy gas.”

“Open it slowly.”

When Josh opened it, they closed their eyes for a second, waiting to see if something was going to happen.  Tommy took a deep breath.  “See if you can find a pen.”

Josh looked under a stack of money.  Relief overcame him.  “I see one.  And there’s paper in here too.”  When he grabbed the pen, he noticed it was secured to something.  “Oh, shit, I think it’s…”  Before he could finish his sentence, a spring-loaded blade mounted on the inside of the console wall severed his hand at his wrist.  Josh screamed at the top of his lungs as he waved his nub around, spraying blood all over the car.  Tommy locked up the brakes.  The car slid sideways and came to a stop in the center of the road.  In a state of panic, he grabbed the door handle with his right hand and pulled.  Suddenly, he let out a horrifying yell.  Josh was too preoccupied with his own pain to notice that Tommy was suffering.

Jack was confused.  “What’s wrong with the driver?  Did he get hit with the nut stick?”

I shrugged my shoulders.  “I’m not sure.”  I moved closer to the screen.  “I think so, but I don’t see it protruding out of his pants.”  I examined him closer.  “He’s a big dude and I didn’t position the rod for someone of his size.  His balls are sitting further forward than what I had planned.”  I turned and looked back.  “I think the rod went in his ass or something.”

Mark began laughing as he hung from the post.  “Better him than me.”

Jack shook his head.  “You’re a fucking idiot.  Have you seen yourself lately, you slinky looking bitch?”

“Fuck you and your wooden necktie!”

I sat back in my seat.  “Y’all don’t start up.  I’ve already told y’all not do that shit while I’m around.  At least act like you’re in a fucking torture chamber.”

Wyatt was shaking his head.  “You’re making that shit up.  I can’t see them acting that way.”

“No, I’m not.  Not only have I told you the truth about everything, I haven’t even exaggerated.  And don’t get the wrong idea.  Only these two fucking idiots acted like this.  Anyone else I would have cut out their tongue, or at least stretched the fuck out of it with a come-along.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“They were entertaining.  But in the end, they wound up getting theirs.”

“I would say so.”  Wyatt read from his notes.  “You cut off their tattoos, removed all the bones in their limbs, cut out their rib cages, cut off their hands and feet, sewed them into a pretzel, laid them in a cradle made of their bones, then hoisted them up into a large ventilation shaft where they lived for many years.”

Seth laughed.  “It sounds bad when I hear it coming from someone else.”

Wyatt grinned.  “You know you’re a sick fucker, right?”

“Maybe not sick enough—that still didn’t shut the fuckers up.”

Nut Stick

Wyatt yawned.  “It’s getting late.  Finish up what happened to Tommy and Josh.”

“Like I was telling Jack, I thought the nut stick had gone up his ass, but it turned out that it went into his perineum.”

“What’s a perineum?”

“The tender skin between your balls and asshole.”

Wyatt cringed.  “That’s gross.”

“Tommy thought so, too.  After the initial stun of the rod deploying, he began noticing a lot of pain coming from his rear-end.  He was in shock as he stared straight ahead.  Josh had finally calmed down and was in survival mode.  He wrapped his shirt around his nub, then secured it in place with the duct tape that was in the glove box.  He noticed Tommy was acting strange.  “Dude, we’ll get out of this, but we have to be smart.”  He noticed that Tommy was sitting still, looking out the windshield.  “What the fuck is wrong with you?  Get the fuck moving!”

Tommy gazed at Josh with a horrified expression.  “I think one of those rods went inside me.”

Josh searched for the end of it.  “I don’t see anything sticking out.”

“It’s inside me.”

“In your ass?”

“I don’t think so.  I think it went in behind my balls.”

“You sure?”

“I felt a piercing pain after I stopped, and I’m hurting really bad.  Do you see any blood?”

Josh shook his head.  “No.”  He noticed the cell phone was lying against the transmission hump on Tommy’s side.  “Look!  There’s the phone.  It must have slid out when you slammed on the brakes.”

Tommy had sweat pouring off his face.  “You sure you don’t see any blood?  I feel something wet.”

“I don’t.  Try to kick the phone over here.”

Tommy tried to move his leg.  “I can’t.  It hurts too bad.”

“What’s wrong with your leg?”

“Nothing, it just makes my insides hurt when I try to move it.”

Josh thought about his rod that didn’t deploy.  “Dude, just do it.  Kick it over here so we can get moving before something else happens.”

Tommy moaned as he kicked the phone over the transmission hump.  Josh could barely reach it with his fingertips.  “Got it!”  He peered at Tommy.  “Go!”

Tommy took off down the road as he exhibited a worried expression.  “I can feel my heartbeat inside my lower abdomen.”  He tried to move his hips.  “I can feel something.  I’m pretty sure the shaft is in me.”  He glared at Josh with a frightened expression.  “I could be bleeding internally.  I need to get to the doctor.  Tell him we will do whatever he wants if he will help us.”

Josh noticed the phone was wet.  He rubbed the substance between his fingers, then smelled it.  “What the fuck.”

Tommy noticed what Josh was doing.  “What is it?”

Josh looked confused.  “I think it’s piss.”

Horror overcame Tommy.  “Oh, fuck!  That’s the wetness that I have been feeling.”

“What do you mean?  Did you piss your pants?”

“No.  The rod must have pierced my bladder or something.”  A worried expression came over him.  “Call that dude now.”

When Josh called my cell phone, I handed it to Jack’s ear.  “Hello.”

“Who is this?”

Jack remained silent.

“Hello, anyone there?”

I could hear what Josh was saying from the TV.  Jack looked at me, not knowing what to do.  I held my thumb to my ear and my pinky to my mouth, making the universal phone sign.  “Say something, idiot.”

“This is Jack.”

“Jack?  Is this the same person I was talking to earlier?”

I got an idea.  I whispered in Jack’s ear.  “Act like me.”

Jack stared at me with a confused look.  “Seriously?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fun.”

“I don’t know what to say?”

I muted the phone.  “Listen.  If you mess with these assholes, I will postpone your scheduled surgery for a week or two.”  I thought for a moment.  “I have one better.  “If you can make those punks do something real fucked up I will put if off for several months.”

Mark became excited.  “Fuck, I’ll do it.”

I shook my head.  “Hush!  You’re already a dollar short and a day late.”

“I want off this fuckin’ post.”

“You can wish in one hand, shit in the other, then see which one gets filled first.  Now, shut the fuck up!”

I removed one of Jack’s arms from the rack, then handed him the phone.  He spoke softly.  “You there?”

Josh sounded worried.  “What’s going on?  I couldn’t hear you.  Is this the owner of the car?”

“I guess so.”

I snapped my fingers to get Jack’s attention.  When he looked at me, I ran the back of my thumb across the front of my neck.  He knew what that meant.  He took a deep breath.  “Yes, this is him.”

Jack was looking at me for approval.  I shook my head at him, then grabbed my balls and made a tough facial expression, indicating for him to be aggressive.  He raised his tone a little.  “Yes, this is Jack.”

“Hey, this is Josh.  I think we have a bad reception or something.  Can you hear me okay?”

“Yes.”

“We need your help.  We’ll do whatever you ask.”

“Hold on, I’m thinking…  You say you need my help.  I, uh…”

I took the phone from him.  “I’ll call your ass back.”  I hung up.  “What’s fucking wrong with you?”

Jack lowered his head.  “Sorry.”

I put a Bluetooth headset on Mark since he couldn’t hold the phone.  “Your buddy just got moved up the list, so let’s see how you do.”

He sported a chicken-shit grin.  “Call that fucker.  I’m gettin’ my ass off this post.”

I sat in my recliner and lit a cigarette.  Mark was a complete loudmouth idiot and regardless if he could get the fuckers to do something fucked up, I knew I was going to be entertained with him at the helm.

Mark was getting antsy.  “You call that fucker yet?  I don’t hear it ringing.”

“Be patient.  I’m watching Josh tape his face.”  Josh was tearing off small pieces of duct tape and was sticking them across his eye on each side of the flechette.”

“Okay, he’s done.  Make the call.”

“Chill out.  I’m doing it now.”

Josh was relieved when his phone rang.  “Thanks for calling me back.  I was starting to worry.”

Mark had a redneck accent.  “Shut tha fuck up, boy!  You’re fixin’ to have sum real shit to worry ‘bout when I gets done with ya.”

Josh was confused.  “Who is this?”

“Your worst fuckin’ nightmare.”

“Can I talk to Jack?”

“What, you want to jack my cock?”

“Uh, what was that?”

“You heard me, cock knocker.”

“Listen, we’re willing…”

“No, you fuckin’ listen.  I’ll rip your shit out.”

“Rip what?  I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“Clean out your ears, boy.  I hear nothin’ but a squirrelly-ass bitch.”

“Hey, Jack, I’m not trying to start a fight.  We’re at your mercy.”

“Damn straight you are.  And my name ain’t Jack.”

“Sorry.  What is it?”

“Call me Daddy.”

“Uh, okay.  We’re going to cooperate and do whatever you want.”

“Cool.  Then pull out your knife and kill that bitch.”

“Do what?”

“You have a hearing problem, boy?”

“Kill who?”

“That bitch sitting next to you.  Stab that fucker in his neck.”

Josh had a look of concern.  “I can’t do that.”

“Hand tha phone to Tommy.”

“Why?”

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to actuate your nut stick thingamajig.”

“He’s driving.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass.  Give that fucker the phone before I do some real fucked up shit to ya.”

“Sir, I’m not trying to argue.  He can’t take the phone because he only has one arm to drive with.”

“Then drive for him.”

He handed the phone to Tommy, then grabbed the wheel.  “This is Tommy.”

“If you can find a way to kill that one-eyed pussy next to ya I will let you go.”

“Who is this?”

“The badass that you stole tha car from.  Now gets to it, boy.”

Tommy glanced over at Josh as he held the phone to his ear.  “Can’t we find another way to resolve this?”

“No.  And you best be getting on with it if you know what’s good for ya.”

“I…  I can’t do it.”

“Put me on tha loudspeaker.”

Tommy nodded at Josh.  “Take the phone and put it on speaker phone.”  He motioned for Josh to mute it.

Josh nodded back.  “It’s muted.  What’s going on?”

“The crazy fucker wants me to kill you.”

“He told me the same thing.”

Tommy was troubled.  “This is getting way out of hand.  I don’t think we’re going to be able to reason with this backwoods fucker.”

“I know what you mean.  I feel like we’re in that movie Deliverance.”  Josh got an idea.  “I know.  We can make scuffling sounds, then I will moan out.  You can tell him that you killed me with a knife.  That way we both can get out of this.”

“That might be our only chance.  We need to do whatever it takes so we can get to a hospital.”

“So, you want to do it?”

“You think he will fall for it?”

“He sounds as dumb as a box of rocks, so yeah.”

Mark was looking at the TV.  “I can hear you fuckers.”

Tommy and Josh looked at each other as if they had been caught red-handed.  “Tommy’s face was red as a beet.  “Hey, we were just messing around with you.”

Mark was irritated.  “Fuck you!  You already ran your mouth.  And if you fuckers mute the phone again, I will...  Hold on a second.”  He was gritting his teeth as he stared at me.  “Hey.”

I muted the phone.  “What?”

“What kind of shit can I activate?”

“Nothing remotely.  The booby-traps are only activated if a sensor is triggered.”

He gazed at me with disappointment.  “Shit.  I guess put me back on.  I’ll try something else.”

I gave him a thumbs up.

“Hey, fuckers, you there?”

“Yes, this is Josh.”

“Hey, I accept your apology.  You can stop the car and get out now.”

Josh had a feeling something was wrong.  “Uh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”  The car swerved a little.  He glanced at Tommy and noticed he was looking woozy.  Josh put the phone to his ear.  “I need to get Tommy to the hospital.”

“I said it’s all good.  Y’all go ahead.”

“I’m not sure where we’re at.  We’re way in the country somewhere.”

I stood up, then muted the phone.  “It’s late.  I’m going to bed.  Tell me what happens in the morning.”

Mark had a shit-eating grin as he hung from the post.  “I have this, boss.”

“Don’t be a suck ass.”  I unmuted the phone and laid it on a table.  I could hear Mark talking to the punks as I strolled out of the chamber.

Early the next morning I came into the chamber in my night robe with a cup of coffee, eager to find out what had happened.  Right off the bat, I noticed the four camera views were blank on the TV.  I sat in my recliner.  “So, what’s happened to Tommy and Josh?”

Mark was acting strange.  “Not sure.  The phone went dead right after you left.”

I looked at the phone.  “The battery is still good.”  I glanced back at the TV.  “What happened to the feed?”

“Don’t know.”

I pulled out the remote and pointed it at the TV.  “Let’s see what’s going on here.”

Mark looked guilty.  “What are you doing?”

“Playing back what’s on the DVR.”

“What do you mean?”

“The DVR stores the video footage.  I’m going to go back and see what happened.”

His voice was shaking.  He seemed worried.  “You don’t have to do that.  I remember now.  They had a wreck and the car caught fire.”

He was looking away as I watched the playback.  The fucker had told them everything that had happened to him and Jack, about the chamber and that I was a psychotic fuck.  He informed them that the car was still booby-trapped and thought their idea of throwing the note out a broken window was a good idea.  They didn’t have a pen, but numb nuts gave them the idea to use narrow strips of the duct tape to make letters on a sheet of paper.  Tommy had ripped his hand from the spikes so he could tear out the pieces of tape while the one-handed, one-eyed Josh held the steering wheel.  Right before they got into town, Josh had broken out his window, triggering a glass-breaking sensor, resulting in them being sprayed with acid.  The excruciating pain of their flesh being eaten away caused Tommy to lose control of the car.  They wound up in a ditch where Josh’s nut stick jarred loose.  Mark had been right about the car bursting into flames.  That happened when Josh panicked and opened his door.”

Wyatt was sitting up in bed.  “That wasn’t a bad story, except for the nut stick part—it was kind of gross.  I still can’t believe Jack and Mark acted that way.”  Wyatt exhibited a look of curiosity.  “So, what did you do to Mark?  I bet you were pissed.”

Seth stood up and stretched.  “Not at all.  I knew he was going to pull some shit like that.”

“Weren’t you worried that Tommy and Josh could have told on you?”

“How?  Mark didn’t know my true identity or where the chamber was located.”  Seth laid on his comforter.  “And besides, they sure in the hell weren’t worried about some dumbass on the phone.  They were only concerned about saving their own hide.”

Wyatt flipped through his news clippings.  “Speaking of Jack, there’s nothing here about him or Mark.”

“I’m sure there’s an article or two about their disappearance somewhere, but not one linked to me.  I abducted them without anyone knowing.”

“There’s nothing about Tommy and Josh either.”

“Jim covered that one up.”

“Really?  How did he know you did it?”

“Who else would spend that much time and money turning a car into a rolling torture wagon?”

Wyatt laughed.  “No shit.”  He flipped through some more articles.  “There’s also nothing in here about the wallets or exploding boxes.”

“Those are petty compared to the other shit that I do, so investigators look at other nut jobs.  Jim is only contacted if someone is fucked up in an unusual way or grisly fashion, or if there is high-tech gadgetry involved.  That’s how he knew I was responsible for this big rig that killed a bunch of punks.”

“What big rig?  What did you do, run them over?”

“Not quite.  They probably wish they had been run over instead of being burned to death in a rolling drum of spikes.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “That doesn’t make sense.  What does a big rig, spikes and burning to death have to do with each other?”

“Everything.  I turned the trailer into an automated street cleaner.”

“What did you do?  Drive down the street, sweeping up punks with a rolling drum of spikes?”

“It didn’t sweep anyone up.”

“Then what do you mean it cleaned the street?”

“Cleaned the street of punks.”

“I’m confused.”

“It was a semi-truck trailer that automatically lured and killed thieving punks.”

Wyatt was intrigued.  “Tell me about it.”

Seth yawned.  “I’m getting tired.  We probably need to get some sleep if we’re going fishing in the morning.  I can tell you about it on the drive to the reservoir.”

Wyatt agreed.  “Yeah, I’m tired as well.”

Seth turned out the lights.  “Goodnight, John Boy.”

“I know that one.”

“Why am I not surprised.”

Automatic Punk Exterminator

The next morning Seth nudged Wyatt.  “Time to get up.”

Wyatt rubbed his eyes.  He was grouchy.  “What are you doing?  It’s too early.”

“We need to get rollin’ if we’re going to be on the water at sunrise.”

Thirty minutes later, they were pulling out of the parking lot.  Wyatt opened his notebook.  He had thought about the trailer all night and was anxious to know more about it.  “I want to hear about the automated street cleaner that you mentioned last night.”

“You’re not wasting any time getting story time started.”

“You left me hanging last night.  It sounds interesting.”

“Okay.  But when we’re on the boat, no talking shop.  I want to relax.”

“That’s cool.”

“I actually called it my automatic punk exterminator.  It was my largest and most elaborate scheme to date.  It lured, caught, tried, sentenced, executed and cremated the lowlifes in one automated system.”

“You serious?  That sounds freakin’ awesome.  How many are set up right now?”

“None.  I only built the one.”

Wyatt looked disappointed.  “Why?”

“Because the cops found it, and now they know what to look for.  Plus, they’re freakin’ expensive and time consuming to build.”

“I guess that makes sense.  So, what gave you the idea to do something like that?”

Seth laughed.  “From your favorite show, Cops.  They had parked a big rig on the side of a street.  As thieves opened the rear doors and climbed into the trailer they were greeted by cops.  The setup was a sting operation like they had done…”

Wyatt interrupted.  “Like with the car on last night’s show.”

“That’s right.  Since the rollin’ torture wagon experiment was a success, I wanted to do something bigger and more barbaric, something epic.  This was still back when I was in the chamber, but toward the end.  I bought a used semi-truck with a highboy trailer from a dude on Craigslist.  I had already designed what I needed to do in CAD, so I went straight to work on it.  First, I fabricated a steel drum made of expanded metal and lined the inside of it with spikes, then installed a door on the curved surface, similar to a raffle ticket tumbler.  The completed unit was eight feet long, had a diameter of four feet, and was installed horizontally inside a steel cabinet.  The drum rotated inside the cabinet like a front loading washing machine, but instead of the door being on the side, it was on the top.  Sensors monitored the position of the drum so its door would align with a door in the top of the cabinet when the system wasn’t running.  The inside of the cabinet had numerous propane torch heads designed to engulf the inside of the drum through the openings in the expanded metal.

After I installed the rotating incendiary unit in the front of the trailer, I installed an exhaust fan in the cabinet and connected it to the rig’s exhaust system with a duct.  That way the smoke being drawn from the unit exited the truck’s smoke stacks, camouflaging it.”

Wyatt laughed.  “That was sneaky.”

“Yeah, it was.  People seeing smoke puffing out of the exhaust flappers wouldn’t think anything was out of the ordinary, except for the smell.  Next, I built a deck around the incendiary unit.  The trailer’s floor to ceiling height was around nine feet.  From the floor to the top of the deck was five feet, leaving four feet of clearance from the top of the deck to the ceiling.  I installed a thick Plexiglas wall down the center of the trailer from the rear doors to the deck.  On the right side of the Plexiglas wall, I installed a steel door with an automatic door closer, sectioning off the front and rear of the trailer on that side.  I painted the door yellow, then mounted two signs on it that read, NO TRESPASSING and PRIVATE PROPERTY.  The section between this door and the deck was what I called the thug chute.  The walls were covered with a fire-resistant material, the floor was lined with propane torch heads and the ceiling had motion sensors.  I built a ladder to get from this area to the top of the deck, then sectioned off the top of the deck with plywood, making a three-foot wide crawl space that went over the trap door in the cabinet.  On the left side of the Plexiglas wall was for the eye candy.  I filled that area with small and large boxes.  The boxes had pictures of home and automotive electronics.”

Wyatt became impatient.  “Okay, okay.  That’s too much info.  Just tell me how the damn thing worked when a punk entered it.”

Seth shook his head.  “You’re definitely not a morning person.”

“You just got me all built up.  I’m anxious to know what happened to the thieves.”

“That would be easier for me, but if I don’t explain the details you will end up asking a thousand questions anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah…  Whatever.”

“All right, I’ll skip the rest of the details.  It took about three weeks from start to finish to build this thing.  When I was done, I drove it to Houston and parked it on the crappy side of town in a residential area.”

“Why Houston?”

“Their crime rate is high.  I wanted to get more bang for my buck.  And speaking of more bang, that’s why I decorated the outside of the trailer with enticing scenery for thieves.”

“What kind of scenery?”

“I thought you didn’t care about the details?”

“Well, I’m curious about that part.”

“I painted Jack’s Mobile Stereo World and Gold Emporium on each side of the trailer in huge letters, then stuck large pictures of big-ass flat screen TVs, stereo equipment, computers, KC off road lights, laptops, big rig air horns, Mr. T starter sets, gaming consoles, job site radios, cameras, gold teeth caps, cell phones and even some fucking gold grills.”

“Gold grills.  That’s mighty white of you.”

“Don’t even start.  If you noticed, the advertisements catered to every race.”

“How you figure that?”

“For starters, the KC lights and air horns.  Only rednecks mount those on vehicles.”

“I wondered why you had those on there.”

“And the job site radios and gold teeth caps were for the wetbacks.”

“Of course, they were.”

“The Mr. T starter sets were for white trash wannabe gangsters.”

“What the fuck is a Mr. T starter set?”

“A few gold chains and a couple of medallions.  Didn’t you ever see the A-Team?”

“Of course.”

“Then you should have known what that meant.”

“I don’t have your twisted personality.”

“That’s not twisted.  Everyone was saying that back in the eighties.”  Seth glanced at Wyatt.  “Oh, yeah, you’re from Bumfuck Egypt.”

“What the fuck does that…”  He thought for a moment.  “You’re right—I’ve been locked in a closet most of my life.”  He glared at Seth.  “I’m going to stop you before you say what you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t thinking anything.  Just glad you finally came out of it.”

Wyatt became upset.  “That’s what I was talking about.  I’m not fucking gay.”

“Who said anything about being gay?  I was talking about your sheltered life.”

“Just drop it.”

“It was never picked up, Mr. Sensitive.”

“Get back to the story, instigator.”

“I will, you knob mortician.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“A mortician sucks the fluid out of your body.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“A knob is another name for a dick.”

Wyatt thought for a moment, then gritted his teeth.  “You’re an ass smear.”

Seth pretended as if he was grossed out.  “Ewww, that’s sick.”  He laughed.  “Better than a closeted sausage jockey.”

Wyatt sarcastically responded.  “Ha ha, that’s funny.  Ya got any more?”

“Cum connoisseur, cock knocker, colon plow, elastical cum string, polyp poker, cock wrangler, penile inflator, or deflator, or both, depending on when you started.  I can go all day.”

“Whatever.”

“Rump ranger, cock slinger, penis glove, anal astronaut, urethra straw sucker, ass bandit.  Want more?”

“You’re probably running out of silly ass names anyway.”

“Bone smuggler, fag stick, knob hawk, ass vandal, colon cowboy, ejaculatory duct drainer, cum bucket.”

Wyatt motioned with his fingers.  “Keep ‘em coming.”

“Knob jockey, spermicidal maniac, queer bait, cock fiend, stick licker, urethra milker, cock scrub, sperm satchel, colon blast…”

“Okay, okay, that’s freakin’ enough.”

“How about in Spanish; Pene chupada, ano arar, arraigar masajista, culata caquero, mierda empaquetador, testiculos fastidiar, ano bandido…”

“You got to be fucking kidding me!  I said that’s enough.”

“Alrighty then, you flesh flute prodigy.”

“You’re freakin’ nuts.  Just tell me what happened when a fuckhead went into the trailer?”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to get your panties in a wad.”

“I’m not gay, so I’m not worried about it.”

“That’s the attitude I’ve been looking for.  Now back to the thieves.  Usually more than one thief comes to steal your shit.  That’s why I designed the trailer as I did; to prevent the others from getting spooked when one of them got their ass incinerated.”

“Did you get to watch?”

“Of course, I did.  I had cameras set up inside and out.  What would be the point in doing this if I couldn’t see all the excitement that those assholes were having.”  Seth peered at Wyatt with a serious expression.  “But I also used them to ensure only lowlifes got burned up.  The system could be shut down remotely if a kid, cop, or some other innocent person entered the trailer.  In fact, I had redundant emergency stop systems in place in case one failed.”

“Damn, that would be messed up if the wrong person went in the trailer.”

“Exactly.”

“Have you ever injured or killed an innocent person?”

“No.”

“I’m surprised with all the shit that you do.”

“I know.  Back when I was doing the long-term thing, I took my time and planned every step, reducing that chance.  Now it’s more chaotic and spur of the moment and I have to really pay attention to what I’m doing.”

“What would you do if someone did get hurt?”

“I don’t even want to think about that.”

“That’s odd.  I thought you had a plan for everything.”

“Of course, I know what I would do.  I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh.”  Wyatt couldn’t let it go.  “Would you turn yourself in?”

“Fuck no.”

“Then what?”

“What would you do?”

“I wouldn’t be doing this type of stuff in the first place.”

“Don’t be so sure about that.”

Wyatt had a strange look.  “There you go again bringing that up.  You can’t say something like that and not finish it.”

“I’m just saying if you were in my shoes, you might.”

Wyatt glanced out his window.  “Perhaps.”

Seth was proud of Wyatt.  He had come a long way from being the naive person he had first met back at the hotel.  Seth reached under his seat and pulled out a leather holster.  He handed it to him.  “I want to give this to you.”

He noticed it was Seth’s sickle.  “I can’t take this.”

“You’ve earned it.”

“Haven’t you had this for a long time?”

“Since day one.  I cut my first throat with it.”

Wyatt was intrigued as he gazed at it.  “I don’t know what to say.  Thanks, wouldn’t be enough.”  He glanced at Seth.  “I do appreciate this.”

“It’s all good.”

Wyatt wrote in his notebook, then set it to the side.  “Go on with your story.”

“Aren’t you going to take notes?”

“I’m getting tired of writing down everything.  I’ll remember it and write it down later.”

“Like I was saying, I had driven the truck to Houston.  I parked it in a gravel parking area of an abandoned beer joint.  I couldn’t have found a better location.  It was on a corner lot, and one of the streets was a four lane with lots of traffic.  The side of the trailer could be seen from this busier street, ensuring it would attract as many thieves as possible.  I had also left the truck’s hood open to make it appear that it had mechanical issues, and the cab had no sleeper, making it easier to notice the driver wasn’t around.

It didn’t take long for the parasites to find it.  Right before dark, a car full of thugs came driving down the street.  They almost came to a stop as they gazed upon the rollin’ treasure chest.  They made a few more passes, then left.  As soon as the sun set, three of them came back on foot.  They had blue bandanas around their heads and wore white T-shirts tucked into khaki pants.  Two of them had tattoos covering their arms, and the other dude had a tattoo on the front of his neck.  The trailer’s rear left door was welded shut, but the right door was secured with a padlock.  Two of the punks stood watch as the third one broke the lock with a crowbar.  When he opened the door, his eyes glimmered.  “Yo, Cody, check this shit out.”

Cody was the punk with the tattoo on his neck.  He seemed to be the leader.  He pulled the guy out of the way.  “Go fuckin’ keep an eye out with Matt.”  Cody couldn’t believe his eyes as he stood there, looking in the trailer with amazement.  The corridor on the right side of the trailer was dimly lit, but the area on the other side of the Plexiglas wall with the goodies was well lit; it was like a huge display case filled with everything a punk would want, and more.  He noticed the Plexiglas divided the trailer in half down the center, separating the boxes from the side he was on.  He noticed the second door.  The yellow one with the NO TRESPASSING and PRIVATE PROPERTY signs.  That door must allow access to the other side, he thought.  He eyed the punk that had broken the lock.  “Nick.  Go see if anyone is in the truck.”

“Okay.”  He took off around the corner of the trailer.  A minute later he came back.  “It’s empty.”

“That’s odd.  There’s no way someone would leave this unattended.”  He hit the floor with his fist a few times.  “Hey, anyone here?”

Matt walked over.  “What’s the deal?  We goin’ in, or what?”

Cody climbed up in the trailer and squatted down.  “You two keep an eye out and let me know if someone comes.”  He eased down the corridor, then slowly opened the yellow door, revealing another corridor.  At the end, he noticed there was a ladder that went up to the deck, and to the left of it was a red door that appeared to go into the side with the merchandise.  He ran back to his buddies.  “I didn’t see anyone.  There’s a door that goes to the other side.  I’m going to go check it out.  Shut this door and hide under the trailer so no one can see you.”

“Don’t take too long.”  Matt shut the door.

When Cody went through the yellow door, it closed automatically.  He quickly opened it, fearing he could get locked in.  Relief overcame him when he noticed there wasn’t a locking mechanism.  He eased up the ladder and looked around, making sure no one was there.  It was clear.  Now all he had on his mind was getting to the other side.  Anger overcame him as he examined the red door—it was made of steel and had several heavy-duty locks.  He began kicking it out of frustration.  Then out of the corner of his eye he noticed there was a small safe in the wall.  How in the hell did he miss something like that, he thought.  Above the safe was a sign that read, PLEASE DO NOT STEAL. YOU WILL GO TO HELL IF YOU DO.  He laughed when he read it.  To his surprise, the safe was unlocked.  His eyes glimmered when he saw a large shiny medallion hanging in the back of the safe.  He didn’t think twice about taking it as he reached in.  When he grabbed it, he noticed it was secured to a short piece of cable.  He jerked the shit out of it, but it didn’t budge.  Suddenly, the sound of a guitar playing startled him.  He noticed it was the intro to AC DC’s Highway to Hell when the drums kicked in.  The door to the safe slammed shut on its own, causing him to jump.  He ran to the yellow door and tried to open it, but now it was locked.  When the lyrics started, flames came shooting out from the bottom of the door.  He stepped back, then stood in confusion.  As the song continued, another row of flames came shooting out of the floor and forced him backwards, then another, and another.  He tried to yell for help over the music, but it was too loud.  Rows of flames continued to ignite as they were timed with the music.  He climbed halfway up the ladder and stood, staring in horror.  When the chorus began, a huge fireball erupted in the corridor, forcing him up to the top of the ladder.  To his horror, flames began to shoot out the bottom rung on the ladder, then the next rung, then the next.  He crawled into the corridor on top of the deck to escape the flames, but they followed him as he heard, I’m on the highway to Hell.  He took off on his hands and knees down the dark corridor.  Suddenly, the floor gave out and he fell into the drum.  He screamed as he laid on a bed of spikes.  He could still hear the music as he laid horrified.

Nick and Matt could also hear the music from under the trailer.  Matt was worried.  “I wonder where that’s coming from.”

Nick was angry.  “That fucker is checking out the stereos so he can get the best one.”

“That’s about fucking right.  All we get is the leftover crap.”

While Nick and Matt discussed who was going to get what, Cody was stuck to the bottom of the drum.  He tried to get up, but the spikes were embedded in his flesh.  Some of them were sticking out of his legs and one of his arms.  He tried to shout for help, but the music drowned out his pleas.  Fear overcame him when the drum began slowly turning.  When he was upside down, he slid off the spikes, falling onto the ones below.  After a few rotations, he had puncture holes all over his body.  One of the spikes had torn into his right eye, and another had severed his penis.  He screamed at the top of his lungs as he was pulled to the top of the drum again, then allowed to fall back, causing more and more puncture holes.  His body was being tossed around like a rag doll as the spikes jabbed holes in his flesh.  He was screaming at the top of his lungs as he was being tenderized like a piece of meat.  The pain was almost unbearable, then to his horror, flames began engulfing the inside of the drum.  He burned to death as the song ended.

Nick noticed some smoke.  He crawled out from under the trailer and looked at the exhaust pipes.  He was frightened as he stared at Matt.  “Someone started the truck.”

Matt peeked through the passenger’s window.  “There’s no one in there.”

Nick had a confused look.  “Then why is there smoke coming from the stacks?”

“Fuck, I don’t know.  That’s what engines do.”

“But the engine isn’t running.”

“Who gives a fuck?  There’s no one there.”

“We need to check on Cody.”

“Yeah, he’s probably taking all the good shit.” 

The two punks ran to the back of the trailer and climbed inside.  They ignored the signs as they went through the yellow door.  They forgot about Cody when they saw the safe mounted in the wall.  Matt tried to open it.  “It’s fucking locked.”

Nick noticed the sign above the safe.  “Hey, check out this creepy shit.”

“That’s fuckin’ weird.”

“What do you think it means?”

“Someone’s way of telling us not to fuck with it.”

Nick was nervous.  “You know, it could be a setup.”

“You’re right.  Go wait outside and keep an eye out.  I will try to get this open.”

“What about the sign?”

“Fuck it.  It’ll take more than a few words to keep me from getting mine.”

“Where do you think Cody is?”

Matt tried to open the red door.  “He probably went through here after he took what he wanted.”

“Yeah, the bastard probably took off on us.

“Go on outside and keep an eye out.”

“Okay, but get something for me too.” 

When Nick went through the yellow door, the safe unlocked.  Matt heard the click.  He opened the safe, then stood in amazement as he gazed at his treasure.  “Fuck Nick and Cody.  This shit is mine.” He said to himself.  He was already thinking of all the stuff he could buy as he reached for the medallion.  When Highway to Hell began playing, Nick came running to the yellow door, but it was locked.  He beat on it and yelled, “What the fuck dude, let me in!”  All he could hear was the music.  “Turn that shit down and let me in!”  He became angry and kicked the door.  “You sorry mother fucker!  I said let me in!”  He sat down and rested his back against the wall.  He was so angry that he was shaking, thinking how he had been screwed.

A few minutes later, the music turned off, then he heard the door click.  His feet couldn’t move fast enough as he hurried through the door and over to the safe.  He was relieved when he found it unlocked.  His eyes opened big when he saw the gold medallion.  “Fuck y’all motherfuckers.  This is mine.”  The drum was still hot when he fell into a pile of smoking body parts.”

Seth looked at Wyatt.  “One wave of punks came after another until the cops found it fourteen days later.  It was an absolutely pathetic sight to see how many lowlifes tried to take advantage of someone breaking down.”

“No one was broken down.  You parked it there.”

“Duh!  But they didn’t know that.”

Wyatt made a face.  “Duh!  How many punks got burned up?”

“Twenty-one.”

“No shit?”

“I should have figured out a way to move it before the cops were notified.  That way I could have parked it somewhere else and caught more scumbags.”

“Why didn’t you move it?”

“Some freakin’ thief stole parts off the engine.  I couldn’t risk fixing it myself and get busted.”

Wyatt laughed.  “That’s some funny shit.  But why didn’t you have it towed?”

“A tow driver would have noticed some of the modifications on the exterior and alerted the police anyway.  The next time I will booby-trap the engine.”

“The next time?  I thought they were too expensive and took too much time to build?”

“Yeah, that’s why you’re going to help me with the next one.”

Wyatt nodded.  “That might be fun doing something like that.  Of course, I won’t participate when it’s done.”

“Would you at least watch the cameras?”

“I don’t know.  Seeing something recorded is one thing, but live, that’s another.  For now, I would like to help build it.  I’ve never done any kind of mechanical stuff and it would be a great learning experience.”  Wyatt glanced at Seth.  “You said the cops found the rig fourteen days later.  What caused them to investigate it in the first place?”

“Because…”

Wyatt interrupted.  “I want to see if I can guess.”

“Okay, but it’s probably not what you’re thinking.”

“Some of the punks had been reported missing, so the cops were out looking for anything suspicious.”

“Nope.  No one gives a shit about scumbags.”

“Their cars.  The cops must have seen all the abandoned cars parked around the area?”

Seth laughed.  “That’s not it either.  Most of them had been stolen by other thieves.”

“You got to be fuckin’ kidding me.  How bad is this place?”

“Bad.  That’s why I picked Houston.”

Wyatt pointed.  “The smell.  I should have said that first.”

“Yes and no.  But it wasn’t the smell from the incinerator—the exhaust ran through a filtration system, removing most of the odor.  It basically smelled like someone was having a barbecue.”

“Then from what?”

“From this fat fucker.  He got stuck in the trap door.  His body started decomposing after a few days.”

“What fat fucker?”

“He came in on the tenth day.”

“If he was stuck, why didn’t one of the other assholes find him?”

“The system is automated and has sensors that detect movement.  It won’t allow access through the yellow door when there’s a fuckhead on the other side, or what I refer to as the thug chute.  Also, the safe will not open when there’s more than one in the thug chute.  I designed it that way so each asshole had the choice of being a thief without being influenced.  If they made the wrong choice, they would then have to face the music on their own.”

“That’s fuckin’ twisted; facing the music, literally.”

“I’m glad you caught that.”

“That’s messed up.  So back to the fat dude.  How did he die?”

“Smoke inhalation.”

“Why didn’t you get him out?”

“I tried.  I remotely activated the drum, rocking it back and forth, but he was torn in half instead of being pulled into the incinerator.  His ass end was blocking the passage way and there was no way in hell I was going to drag what was left of him out of there.  I would have had intestines and guts strung from one end of the trailer to the other.”

“Why would you have to drag out his remains?  Couldn’t you have forced him through the trap door?”

“You do not understand how big this guy was.  His ass almost filled up the corridor.  The trapdoor to the incinerator was smaller.  The only way to get him in the drum was to cut him up with a chain saw, and that wasn’t going to happen either.”

“Why would that bother you, considering all the sadistic shit that you do?”

“He was dead.”

“And?”

“When have I ever mentioned that I like to fuck around with dead people?”

Wyatt thought for a moment.  “I guess you’re right.  I can’t recall anything.”

Living Zombie

Wyatt noticed the sun was starting to rise.  “What a nice morning.”

“Sure is.  And we’re about thirty minutes from the reservoir.”

“I’m curious about something.”

“About what?”

“Did any more punks come after the fat dude got stuck?”

“Of course.”

“What did they do when they couldn’t get through the door?”

“Beat on the Plexiglas wall until they finally broke it.”

“I bet you were pissed when they stole all that merchandise.”

“Not at all—the boxes were empty.  What pissed me off was this fuckhead became upset when he found the boxes empty, and retaliated by cutting the tires on the truck and breaking the glass out of the windows.”

“Why would you care?  The cops confiscated it anyway.”

“That’s not the point.  His attitude was.  The fucker was already a thief, but then had the audacity to destroy someone’s property when he didn’t get his way.  I think I get more irritated at assholes like him than the ones who steal.”  Seth thought for a moment.  “I take that back.  Before the fat dude fucked up my rig, this scumbag brought her young child with her to steal some shit.  She was one of those people that thinks the world owes her lazy ass even though she has never worked a day in her life.”

“How could you tell that by just looking at her?”

“Her clothing, hygiene, the way she conducted herself.  She looked like the trailer trash that’s on your show, Cops.”

“I know the kind you’re talking about.” 

“Thanks to her I had to shut down the system as she fought at the medallion.  When she couldn’t get it free, she resorted to kicking the Plexiglas while cursing and acting a fool.  She finally injured her foot, which only angered her more.  After that, she began jerking the kid around and cursing her as if it was her fault.  When she climbed out of the trailer, the child was scared and wouldn’t come to the door.  The woman became irate when she had to crawl back into the trailer, then she whipped the kid with one of those carousel ass whoopins.”

“Why do people act like that?”

“In her case, because she was a parasite that blames everyone else for her problems.”

“It’s a shame that you couldn’t do anything.”

“I did do something.”

“I didn’t know you were there.”

“Close enough to where I caught up to her as she was driving away.”

Wyatt frowned.  “What?  She had a car?”

“Of course.”

“I can’t believe how people act sometimes.”

“That’s the problem with society these days.  People that don’t work have this attitude that they are entitled to everything you have.  They bitch and whine how they are in poverty, but do nothing to change their situation.”

“There are needy people.”

“You think so?  Go to one of these so-called needy people’s houses and see how needy they are.  I bet you will find a big screen TV, computer, air conditioner, cell phones, gaming consoles, Internet, cable and a refrigerator full of frozen pizzas, steaks and soda pop.  And guess who paid for all that shit?”

“I know what you’re saying, but there are homeless people.”

“The homeless have the choice to stay in shelters, and they also get free meals and medical treatment.”

“That’s still poverty.”

“If you want to see real poverty, go to parts of Africa and South America.  Those people have to walk countless miles a day just to get a cup of water to survive.  The lazy bastards we have here would rather die in a ditch before they lifted a finger to help themselves.  A person’s living conditions in America are simply based on personal life choices.  Don’t forget, this is a great country with vast amounts of opportunities.  Americans have the choice to be self-reliant, be a parasite on welfare, or live on the streets.”

“What about people with mental issues.”

“Of course, there are exceptions.  Just like with women that leave everything they have to get away from an abusive partner, or people who have endured a tragic life-changing event, or people with mental or physical issues.  I’m not talking about those people.  I don’t have an issue helping the ones that truly need help.  I’m talking about the lazy fucks that choose to be where they’re at in life.”  Seth glanced at Wyatt.  “And stop trying to turn my shit into something else.”

Wyatt felt bad.  “You want your knife back?”

“No.  I’m not an Indian giver.”  Seth frowned.  “Don’t even say it.  It’s just a saying.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“And I was right about her being trailer trash.  Her real name is Brandy Star, and at the time she lived in one.”

“That’s actually funny, but I noticed you said, is, instead of was, when referring to her name.  You must have not killed her.”

“Good observation.”

“Then what did you do to her?”

“There’s really not much to tell.”

“I don’t care.  I want to know what happened.”

“That night I snuck into her trailer.  She and this scumbag were passed out in the living room.  After I injected them with a sedative, I snooped through their crap.  Unfortunately for shithead I found his parole papers.  It even got worse for him when I did a background check, finding he had been busted for all kinds of things, including drugs, theft, assaults, burglaries, kidnapping, forgery, arson and a statutory rape.  The guy could have been the poster boy for habitual offenders.  Brandy had a child neglect, two drug possessions and several shoplifting charges.  The kid wasn’t around, so I didn’t have to worry about moving them to another location.  I really wasn’t in the mood to spend all night fucking them up and decided to keep it simple.  After I cut off shithead’s clothes, I laid him face down on the kitchen countertop where his head was laying on the stove.  There was no way to secure him with straps, so I drove some nails through his nut sack, ensuring I went through each testicle, and into the counter top.  I topped it off by sewing his mouth closed and his hands to his ass cheeks.  Brandy was lying on a sofa.  I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with her, so I nailed her feet to the floor for the time being.  When she finally awoke, we had a long talk about her life choices.  We’d been having a productive conversation until shithead awoke.  He was a lot more aggressive than what I would have expected considering his nuts had nails in them.  When he saw me sitting on the couch next to Brandy, he began yelling through his stitches.  “What the fuck is going on?”  He looked over his shoulder as he tried to move his hands.  “What the hell?”  When he moved his hips a sudden rush of pain filled his groin area.  “Oh, my God!  What have you done to me?”

“I nailed your nuts to the countertop.  Now shut the fuck up.  I’m trying to have a conversation with Brandy.”

“What?  What the fuck you talking about?”

“She’s been telling me how much of a piece of shit you are and how you like to beat on women.  She also told me you’re no good for her and is taking this opportunity to leave your ass.”

His eyes were filled with hate as he stared at her.  “You’re going to pay for this, bitch!”

I put my finger across my lips.  “I said be quiet, asshole!”

“I’m going to kill you, motherfucker!”

I turned on an electric burner that was right below his head.  “Maybe this will shut your ass up.”

He held his head as high as it would go as the coil began heating up.  “You’re fucking crazy!”

“That’s what I’ve been told.”  I sat back on the couch.  “If you keep quiet, I’ll let you off easy.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Means I will cut your throat when I’m done here.”

“Uh!  What the fuck, dude?  I haven’t done anything to you.”

Brandy looked frightened.  “He’s going to kill me.”

The shithead began sweet-talking her.  “Baby, I wouldn’t do that.  You know I love you.  He’s trying to turn you against me.”

I laughed.  “You’re so full of shit.  Go brainwash someone else.”

He became irate.  “Fuck you!  And fuck you too, bitch!  I’m going to rip your fucking heads off!”

“Then be a man and do it.” 

He began jerking his hips around as he yelled out curse words.

“Do it fucker.  Roll your ass off that counter.”

He was gritting his teeth as he fought to get loose.  He was so angry that he was tearing the stitches in his mouth as he shouted, “I’m going to rip you apart, motherfucker!”

“You’re going to have to rip yourself apart first.  But I don’t think you’re man enough to do it.”

The burner was now glowing red and the heat was starting to burn his face, causing him to have an attitude adjustment.  “Okay, okay.  You’ve made your point.  Please turn this off.”

I walked over to him.  “Stick your face on there for five seconds and I will show mercy.”

His eyes were filled with fear.  “What?  I can’t do that.”

“Sure, you can.”  To his horror, I shoved the side of his face on the coil.  He tore the stitches from his mouth, and before he could scream, I shoved a wooden spoon down his throat.  His body was violently shaking as his muffled screams were being drowned out by the sizzling sound of his flesh cooking.  Brandy had a grimace of terror as smoke bellowed out from his head, engulfing the trailer with a rancid odor.  He endured about thirty seconds of intense pain before he passed out.  I turned on the vent hood, then sat on the couch so Brandy and I could finish our conversation.  An hour later, I turned off the stove.  His entire head was black, and his skin was cracked open and oozing body fluids.  His eyes had ruptured and steam was coming out of their sockets.”

Seth gawked at Wyatt.  “That pretty much sums up what happened.”

“What about Brandy?  What did you do to her?”

“I left her bound in the chair overnight, then called her landlord the next morning.  He called the police and she was taken to the hospital.”

“Did she rat on you?”

“Nope.  She told them that a crazy ass Mexican had done it.”

Wyatt laughed.  “You and your disguises.”

“It wasn’t that.  I told her who I was.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “Why would you tell her your name?”

“Not that.  The Angel of Death.  I did it so she would know that I wasn’t lying.”

“Lying about what?”

“I had told her if she didn’t get her shit together that I would come and find her again and nail her to a wall right before I pulled out her intestines.”

“Did she believe you?”

“Sure did.  She’s been working and supporting herself ever since.”

“Does that make you feel bad that you didn’t give the other ones a second chance?”

“Each asshole gets what they deserve.  The worse they are the worse it is.  Every asshole tells me they are sorry and that they will change their ways.  Most of the time they are full of shit, but I believed her.  Also, she hasn’t been the only one I’ve given another chance, but most of them didn’t heed the warning and ran straight to the cops, then continued with their criminal ways.  They wound up getting it twice as bad in the end.  And speaking of twice as bad, I found that punk that had cut the tires on the truck.”

“Do I even want to know what you did to him?”

“Originally, I was just going to beat the shit out of him, but after I reviewed his criminal record and found out that he was a paroled child molester, I barbed wired his ass.”

Wyatt laughed.  “Did you spank him with a piece of barbed wire?”

“He wishes.  Sex offenders get it worse than anyone.  His name was Richard.  He was fifty-two years old and kind of on the heavy side.  This fucker looked like a pervert.”

“And what does that look like?”

“He was wearing tight blue jean shorts and his shirt was too small for his gut.  The top of his head was bald and surrounded with hair that was dyed jet black.  The top of his head looked like a fuckin’ island.  He had four earrings in each ear and two loops in his left eyebrow.  And of course, he had nasty ass cold sores on his lips.  His appearance is what triggered a background check.  The sick fuck had molested a five-year-old boy back when he was in his early-forties.  He served nine years in the pen and had just gotten out a few months prior to fucking up my rig.  It’s pathetic how these fuckers just can’t learn to act right.  That’s why I turned him into a living zombie.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I got done with him, he moved and sounded like a zombie.”

“Did you fuck up his brain?”

“Nope.  He could think just fine.”

“Don’t give me bits and pieces, tell me the story.”

“Later that evening, I found him behind a convenience store buying some crack.  I shot him with a tranquilizer dart, then took him to Sam Houston National Forest.  He was too heavy to carry or drag, so I strapped him to a two-wheel dolly and rolled him deep into the woods.  At the time, I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to do with him until I came upon an old, barbed wire fence.  I knew what I had planned was going to get bloody, so I injected him with a clotting agent and got my Super Glue ready.  After I stripped him down, I cut his arms from the shoulder to his wrists, inserted barbed wire in the gashes, then sewed him up.  I did the same thing to his legs.  I also gashed, wired, and stitched him on each side of his spine from his shoulders to his butt, along each jaw line, down each side of his neck, and of course, one down the top of his dick.  Preventing blood loss was the biggest obstacle to overcome, but I had applied several layers of the glue to each of his wounds, and between that and the clotting agent I had it under control.  I injected him with adrenaline, then left his nude ass in the middle of the forest.  Well, I didn’t actually leave.  I stayed back so I could watch what happened when he woke up.”

Wyatt looked troubled.  “Why would you do something like that?”

“So, I could see what happened.”

“Not that.  Why would you put wire in him?”

“I’ve never done something like that before and wanted to try it.”

“What happened when he came to?”

“Just laid on his back and moaned.  After an hour or so I got bored and went over to him.  “Get the fuck up.  I wanna see how painful it is.”

He could barely move his mouth as he stared at me with uncertainty.  “What’s wrong with me?  I can’t move.”

“I inserted barbed wire into your body.” 

His eyes opened wide.  “I don’t understand.”

“It’s really simple.  I cut you open, inserted some rusted barbed wire into the gashes, then sewed you closed.”

“Oh, my God!  Why would you do such a thing?”

“So you won’t stick your dick in any more kids.”

“I’m in a lot of pain.  Please don’t do this to me.”

“It’s already been done.”

Tears were running down his cheeks.  “Please get me some help.”

“Go get it yourself.”

“I can’t move.  It’s too painful.”

“Sure, you can.”  I glanced at my watch.  “I’m going back to the car to get a blow torch.  If you’re still here when I get back, I’m going to burn you to death.”  As I walked away, he begged for mercy.  When I came back, he was gone.  I followed his blood trail to where he was laying alongside a fallen tree.  It appeared that he had rolled across the ground.  When he saw me, he went into survival mode.  “You get the fuck away from me!  You hear me?  You’re not going to touch me!”

I lit the torch.  It was one of those weed burners that connected to a small propane bottle.  “I’m sure the kid you stuck your dick into felt the same, so I will give you the same treatment that you gave him.”

He tried to move his arms as I brought the flame closer.  “You have no right to do this!”

“Neither did you.”

“I served my fucking time!  And who the fuck do you think you are?”

I taunted him with the flame.  “The fucker that is fixin’ to chase your ass around these woods with this.”

“Screw you, asshole!”

He hollered muffled screams as I burned his face and head.  The wires in his limbs were preventing him from defending himself as he laid helplessly on the ground.  After a few seconds, I pulled the flame back.  His face was bright red and his hair was smoking as he stared up at me.  “Please don’t do that anymore.  I’ll do whatever you ask.”

I shut off the torch.  “Get your ass up.”

He tried to move his arms, but they were stuck in the stretched-out position beside him.  “I…  I can’t.”

“Can’t couldn’t do shit.”  I reached down and bent his left arm at the elbow.  When he screamed at the top of his lungs, a piece of the barbed wire ripped through some of the stitches in his jaw.  He was bawling as his arm stayed in the bent position.  I stood up and scratched my head.  “Damn, dude, that’s fucked up.  Maybe I should have used thinner wire.”

He began crying like a baby.  “Look what you have done to me.  Please get me some help.  I don’t want to die.”

“Then you’re going to have to walk your ass out of here.”

He slightly raised his head, noticing his penis was bent into the shape of a horseshoe.  “Oh, my God!  What’s wrong with my penis?”

“It has a wire in it.”

He had a horrified expression as he gazed at me.  “Why is it bent like that?”

“It was sticking straight out when I got done with it, but when you rolled across the ground you must have bent the shit out of it.”

“Please call an ambulance.  I don’t want to lose my penis.”

I tossed some quarters on his chest.  “There’s a payphone about ten miles from here.  You better get to hoofin’ it before you get a bad infection.”

He had a fearful look.  “What?”

“I found the wire over there.”  I pointed to where there was an old fence.  “It was all rusted and shit.  I don’t think a tetanus shot is going to help.”

He cut his eyes, looking around.  “Where am I?”

“A long way from the hospital.”  I tapped my watch.  “There will be wild animals coming out soon, so you better do something besides lay there.”

Panic overcame him.  “Please don’t leave me here!  I need your help.”

He screamed as I lifted him to his feet.  “There you go.”  He could barely stand as the pain from just trying to keep his balance was excruciating.  His left arm was still bent, his right one was hanging straight down against his body and his mouth was hanging open.  Suddenly, he vomited all over the front of himself, and he looked as if he was going to pass out.  He had tears running down his cheeks, snot dripping from his nose and puke dangling from his chin.  Leaves and dirt were sticking to his blood covered body, and sections of the barbed wire were starting to protrude where they crossed his elbows and knees.  I knew he wasn’t going to be able to move with the wires running the full length of his limbs.  I pushed him backwards, causing him to hit the ground like a tree.  The impact knocked him out, and while he slept, I cut the sections of wires where they crossed his elbows and knees.  It was a few hours until dark, so I injected him with some morphine and adrenaline.  I lifted him to his feet as he came to, then strapped a camera to his forehead.  “If you want to live, you need to find your way out of here.”  I raised my arm, showing my watch.  “You have three hours of daylight left.”

The injections made him feel spunky.  “Get the fuck away from me, you fucking freak.”  He took off into the woods, taking short, straight-legged steps.”

Wyatt was almost drooling.  “That was some sick shit, but the molester deserved it.  I hope you know what happened to him.”

“Of course.  That’s why I strapped the camera to him.  It was a wireless long-range spy camera with built in infrared for the dark.  When I got back to my car, I turned on the monitor, then started laughing my ass off.  Richard was walking stiff legged, arms motionless, and bitching about what I had done to his penis.  Over the next two hours, he walked around like a zombie, occasionally leaning against a tree to inspect his dick.  It now looked like a curled pig’s tail covered in blood from bumping into stuff.  He began to panic when the sun was setting and tried to pick up the pace, but the effects of the morphine had weakened.  Now that he was feeling the pain, he was making a moaning sound with each step.”  Seth glanced at Wyatt.  “The next part was thanks to Murphy’s Law.”

“What does that mean?”

“You know.  It’s when shit happens at the worst possible time.  Like if you decide to run outside and get your newspaper in the nude, thinking you will be back in the house in a flash before anyone sees you, then find that your damn door is locked.  That kind of shit.”

“I know what it is.  I was referring to the molester.”

“Oh.  Thanks for letting me explain it.”

“You’re welcome.  Now tell me what happened.”

“Numb nuts saw a light flickering and thought it was a house or something, but it turned out to be some hikers hanging out around a campfire.  He was shot when he came walking up looking and sounding like a zombie.”

Wyatt was laughing.  “That fucker has some shitty luck.”

“I would say it was karma.”

“So, did he die?”

“No, but he probably wishes he did though.  He wound up getting a severe infection from the rusted wire and had to have both of his legs, one arm and his penis amputated.  The fucker got off easy.”

“I don’t know if he got off easy or not.  He only suffered for a short time, but at least he’s alive.”

“Death would have been better than having to live all fucked up without a dick.  He’s also lucky that I do the fuck and go now.  Back when I was in the chamber, I would have used sterilized stainless steel wire and made the fucker do calisthenics every morning until he died of old age.”

Scuba Diving in Hell

Seth drove through a set of open gates, then through a junkyard filled with old boats. 

Wyatt was looking out the window.  “Why are we here?”

“This is the place that rents the boats.  There’s an office and boat dock around the corner.”

“It’s kind of a shithole.”

“Yeah, but the owner is a cool dude, and it’s off the beaten path.”  Seth parked a little way from a small building that was next to a boat dock.  He noticed it looked different.  “I was here a few years ago, but it looks like someone new owns the property.  Go in and rent a boat.  If it doesn’t come with fishing gear, buy us some.”  Seth handed Wyatt some money.

“You’re not coming in with me?”

Seth pointed.  “They’ve installed cameras.  I don’t want to be recorded—I’m not wearing a disguise.  Also, don’t give them your driver’s license if they ask for it.  Tell them you left it at home or something.”

“Why would they ask for it?”

“Because they might be gay and want to come to your house tonight to play hide the snake.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “Don’t start.”

Seth laughed.  “Just messin’ with ya, pal.  But they might want it for their records or insurance or something.  We can’t risk it going into a database with Jim looking for us.”

“What if they won’t rent us a boat without it?”

“Then see if they have a cheap flat bottom for sale.”

“That’s kind of wasting money just to go fishing.”

“You only live once.  And besides, we might as well do something fun on this trip.  So far all we’ve done is talk about blood and guts; I need a break from it.”  Wyatt got out, and as he strolled across the parking lot, Seth yelled out the window, “And don’t forget the bait.”

A few minutes later, Wyatt came stomping across the parking lot.  He got in the car and slammed the door.  Seth could tell he was acting strange.  “What’s wrong?”

“Fucking assholes were rude!  Let’s go.”

“What the fuck did you do?”

“I didn’t do shit!  Let’s get out of here.

“I’m not moving until you tell me what’s going on.”

Wyatt looked distraught.  “When I asked about the boat, they started making fun of me.  Then I almost got into it with this big asshole.  Then the other asshole pulled out a baseball bat and said he was going to crack my bitch-ass head open.  I was so pissed off, I wanted to do something, but there were two of them.”

“Slow down.  Who made fun of you?”

Wyatt’s hands were shaking.  “I don’t know who they were; just two assholes.”  He gawked at Seth.  “I’ve never been treated like that, but it’s over, so let’s get going before they come out here.”

Seth motioned with his hand.  “Calm down.  Now tell me what happened.”

Wyatt lit a cigarette as he stared at the door to the building.  He seemed worried.  “They started asking where I was from because of my accent.”  Wyatt gazed at Seth with a troubled expression.  “Do I sound like a fucking Yankee?”

“You don’t have a southern accent if that’s what you’re asking.  And what the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

“They fucking called me one.”  Wyatt became upset.  “Am I a Yankee?”

“What?  I don’t know.  I think Yankees are from the northeastern states or something.  What the fuck happened in there?  Did you do anything to piss them off?”

“No.  I just asked if they rented boats, then they started in on me.”  Wyatt motioned with his thumb.  “Come on, let’s take off.” 

“Why didn’t you punch them in the grill for running their mouths?”

“They’re a lot bigger than me.”

“You’re going to have to learn to stick up for yourself.”

“I…  I did.  I got the taller asshole back.  Now can we go?”

Seth was curious.  “What did you do to him?”

Wyatt surveyed the parking lot.  “No one has seen us.  I will tell you when we take off.”

“What the fuck did you do?”

“I’ll tell you after we leave.”

“No, not until you tell me.”

“You’re going to get mad.”

“I won’t get upset.”

“You promise?”

“Yes.  Now spill it.”

“After the fuckers made fun of me, I told them they were fucking dumbasses.  The taller dude told me he was going to beat my ass.  He pulled out a bat and pointed it at me.  When I was backing away, I knocked over a display of fishing lures.  The big dude grabbed a hold of me from behind while the other fucker said I was going to have to pay the piper or take an ass whooping.”

“And?”

“I paid him.”

Seth was getting angry.  “How much did you pay the assholes?”

“Not sure.  I gave them my wallet, then came out here.”

Seth looked confused.  “Why would you do that?”  He glanced at the building.  “Fuck them bastards!  I’m going in there to get it back.”

Wyatt grabbed Seth’s arm as he opened the door.  “I didn’t give them mine.”

Seth gawked at him for a moment, then at his bag in the backseat.  “You didn’t give him one of my wallets, did you?”

Wyatt looked down.  “Maybe.”

“Why in the fuck would you have one of those with you?”

“I don’t know.  I thought it would be cool to walk around with it.”  Wyatt lowered his head.  “Are you mad?”

Seth laughed as he closed the door.  “Why would I be?  The fuckers were asking for it.”  He put the car in reverse.  “I guess we do need to get out of here before they realize what you did.”

About that time, Wyatt noticed the two men had come out of the building and were looking at him and Seth.  “Look!  They’re coming.”  His eyes grew wide.  “That dude still has the bat.  Oh, shit!  The other dude has a shotgun.”

Seth noticed the man with the bat was tall and skinny, and the other one was big and burly.  “Damn!  That one dude is big.”  Seth put the car in reverse and started backing up.  The man threw the bat, breaking the windshield.  Seth stopped, then glanced at Wyatt.  “Was there anyone else in the building?”

Suddenly, a gun blast echoed out the same time the car was struck by pellets.  Wyatt was panicking.  “Fucking go!  They’re shooting at us!”

Seth had a serious expression.  “Answer me!  Was there anyone else in the building?”

“No.”

Seth noticed there were only two trucks in the parking lot, and no one was at the boat docks.  He put the car in drive and slammed the accelerator to the floor, heading straight for the men.  The tall man jumped out of the way, but the other one stood his ground as he fired a second shot.  Seth ran him over as he rammed into the building.  The car busted through the front wall, plowed through the interior, then came to a stop when it hit the back wall.  Wyatt was terrified as he looked at all the destruction.  The front of the car was smashed and covered with debris.  The engine was making a loud knocking sound, then died a few seconds later.  The tall man came running into the building the same time Seth rolled down his window.  Seth noticed he was middle aged and looked like an old-school surfer.  He was wearing a white muscle shirt, Hawaiian shorts, his skin was tan and his long, bleached blond hair was frazzled and sun damaged.  He was wearing a puka shell necklace and hemp bracelets, and his bleached white teeth seemed to radiate from his dark skin.  The man looked horrified as he surveyed all the damage.  “You ignorant motherfucker!  Look what the fuck you did to my building.  I’m going to have your ass for this.”

Seth lit a cigarette, then gazed at him as the cigarette hung from his lips.  “Fuck your building.  Look at my car.”  Seth reached out the window while moving his fingers.  “Give me the keys to your truck.”

The man pointed at him.  “Fuck you, asshole!  Your ass is grass, boy!”

Seth noticed the man’s finger was swollen.  “It looks like your ass is grass, from taking my friend’s cash, you fucking piece of white trash.”

“Fuck you, smartass!”  He picked up a broken board.  “I’m going to fuck you up.”

“I’ll shove that in your ass and turn you into a Popsicle.”

“Get the fuck out and try it.  I’ll bash your fucking head in.”

A voice came from the front of the car.  “Todd, help me!”

Seth pointed to the front of the car.  “I think your buddy is calling for you.”

Todd ran over to the front of the car and began moving broken boards, sheetrock, and insulation off the front of the car.  “Mike, you under here?”

“Yes.  I’m hurt really bad.”

Seth laughed.  “Hey, get that fucker off my hood before he scratches it.”

Todd glared back at Seth.  “Fucking help me!”

Seth leaned out the window.  “Hey, I said don’t scratch my shit!”

The man shook his head at Seth, not believing that he was just sitting there smoking a cigarette.  After he moved some of the materials, he noticed Mike’s lower body was being crushed between the front bumper and the wall.  He gazed at Wyatt in a panic.  “Call an ambulance.”

Seth blew smoke out the window.  “Hey, chief, looks like you need to call a hearse or something.”

Todd became angry.  “What the fuck is wrong with you two?  Are y’all on drugs or something.  Don’t just sit there.  I need a hand getting Mike out.”

Seth began clapping, then glanced at Wyatt.  “Why aren’t you clapping?  Numb nuts needs a hand.”

Wyatt was sitting dumbfounded as he gawked at him.  “We need to get out of here.”

Todd was keeping an eye on Seth and Wyatt as he quickly moved debris off Mike.  “Y’all are going to pay for what y’all did.”

Wyatt was worried as he whispered to Seth.  “What the fuck dude?  Stop fucking around.  Start the car and let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Seth flicked his cigarette butt at Todd, striking him in the side of the neck.  “I can’t.  The car is all fucked up.”

“Then let’s take off on foot.”

“I ain’t walkin’ anywhere.”  Seth honked the horn, causing Todd to jump, then yelled out the window.  “Which one of you fuckers owns that white Z71 out in the parking lot?”

Todd noticed Mike had stopped moving.  He felt his pulse; he was dead.  He grabbed a piece of broken two by four and headed for Seth’s window.  “Get the fuck out!”

Seth pointed at him and talked in a little kid’s voice.  “Mommy, mommy, look.  It’s an orangutan with a wooden banana.”

Wyatt opened his door and took off running.  He ran out the hole in the front of the building then across the parking lot.  When he ran behind a boat, he noticed Seth wasn’t behind him.  He began to panic.  He looked around, picked up a pipe that was lying on the ground, then ran back to the building.  He was relieved when he saw Todd laying on the floor while Seth held a gun on him.  Seth noticed Wyatt’s pipe.  “Smart move finding a weapon.  I thought you had left me high and dry.”

Wyatt didn’t want to tell Seth he had been scared.  “It was instinct.”

Seth handed him some keys.  “We got us a new ride.”

Wyatt nodded toward Todd.  “What about him?”

“I’m glad you asked.”  Seth glared at Todd.  “You have a problem with my friend?”

Todd pumped his fist.  “I have a problem with both of you.  You killed my friend and destroyed my building.”

Seth shook his head.  “You caused this, numbnuts.  Don’t blame us.”

He held up his finger.  “What about this shit.”

“You caused that too.”

“Fuck you!”  He glared at Wyatt.  “And fuck you too.  I’m going to make sure the both of you go down.”

Seth eyed Wyatt.  “This is your rodeo.  What do you want to do with him?”

“I… I don’t know.  Tie him up, I guess.”

“This fucker will tell on us when he’s found.”

Todd glared at Wyatt.  “If you allow something to happen to me you will get the same as him.  It’s called being an accessory to a crime.  Be smart and don’t go down with this piece of shit.”  Todd held up his hand.  “I won’t even say anything about my finger.”

Wyatt’s attitude changed.  “You started it.”  Wyatt noticed Todd’s finger was extremely swollen and blue.  “And you deserved that, so fuck you.”  He looked at Seth.  “I see what you mean.  We’re going to have to do something, but I don’t know what.”  He peered at Todd for a moment, then glanced back at Seth.  “I don’t want you to kill him, but I also don’t want him to tell on us.”

“I need you to take care of a few things before I decide what I’m going to do with him.”

“Okay.”

“First, go close the gates that we came through.”  Seth nodded toward an office area.  “Then go in there and find the DVR and put it in the bed of the Z71.  And go ahead and move our stuff to it as well, but leave my laptop on the back of the car.”

“What’s a DVR?”

“It’s what the cameras are connected to.”

Wyatt started to walk off, then stopped.  “What are you going to do to him?”

“I don’t know yet.  I need to run a background check to see if he’s a molester or some shit.  Or for that matter any type of punk.”

“Why, do you think he is?”

“A punk or a molester?”

Wyatt was worried that if he turned out to be a sex offender Seth would do something bad.  “A molester.”

“It’s hard to say.  If I had to guess, I would say he’s got some drug related stuff on his record.  Maybe a rape or two.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Look at him.  He looks like a punk.  A man of his age that spends that much time whitening his teeth and tanning his body has some serious self-esteem issues.  And who in the fuck still wears a puka shell necklace?”

“Maybe he’s just going through a midlife crisis.”

“Maybe the Robert Plant wannabe likes dudes, and maybe he was just liking on you earlier.”

Wyatt looked nauseated.  “What?  No, way.”

Seth laughed.  “Yeah, that’s it; he was just peacocking.”

“You’re fucking crazy.  I didn’t put off any kind of vibe that I was like that.”

“Didn’t matter.  He probably wanted to plow some Yankee colon.”

“That’s fucking nasty.”

Todd was shaking his head.  “Hey, fuckers, I’m right here.  And I’m not gay.”

Seth glared at him.  “Shut the fuck up!  I’m not talking to you.”

Todd gritted his teeth.  “Well, don’t act like I can’t hear you.”

Seth nodded to the front of the car.  “Look at your butt buddy over there.  You want to wind up like him?”

“Fuck you!”  He started to get up.

Seth kicked him back to the ground, then pointed the gun at him.  “Chill the fuck out.”  Seth peered at Wyatt.  “Better get that stuff done—he’s getting antsy.”

“Don’t do anything until I get back.”  Wyatt took off toward the gate.

Seth glared at Todd.  “Give me your license.”

“Fuck you!  I ain’t givin’ you shit!”

Seth screwed a silencer on the end of his pistol.  “You can do it with or without the holes; your choice.”

“Fuck you, dude!”

Seth pointed the gun at the ground and pulled the trigger.  The round struck two inches away from Todd’s leg.  “License, please.  And I won’t miss next time.”

He put his hands out in front of him in a defensive manner.  “Easy, dude.”

“Hand it over.  And why are you putting your hands out; they’re not made of Kevlar.”

“I…  I don’t have it with me.”

“Then tell me what your number is.”

“I can’t remember it.”

“Then what’s your social security number?”

“I can’t remember that either.”

“I hope you remember how to get to the hospital.”  Seth shot a round into his knee. 

Todd was holding his leg as he fought the urge to scream.  “Oh, fuck!  I can’t believe you shot my leg!”

Seth reached out.  “Hand it here before you have to say legs.”

“Huh?”

Seth shook his head.  “That means I will shoot your other leg.  Then you will be saying, oh, fuck!  I can’t believe you shot my legs.”

He reached in his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, then tossed it at Seth’s feet.  “Take it.  You can keep it if you just let me go.”

“I don’t want your money.”

“Listen, dude.  I have some silver bars and cocaine in my safe.  You can take that too if you let me go.”

“I’m not interested in your shit.”

“What do you call taking my truck?”

“A trade.”  Seth nodded toward the car.  “You fucked up my ride.”

He scrutinized the car, then looked back at Seth.  “I didn’t do that.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“You’re wrong, buddy.  You are so wrong.”  He surveyed the front of the car.  “And that’s sorry what you did to Mike.”

“You did that too.”

“Are you fucking nuts?”

“What?  You want to be shot in the nuts?”

Wyatt strolled up to Seth.  “I got the DVR thing unhooked and in the truck.  I also moved our stuff.”  He noticed Todd’s leg was bleeding.  “I told you not to do anything until I got back.”

“He won’t give me his driver license number—he must not want us to know something.”  Seth handed Wyatt the gun.  “He said he wanted to be shot in the nuts if he moves.”

Todd gritted his teeth.  “Fuck you!  I didn’t say that.”

Wyatt looked worried.  “Where’re you going?”

“To run his license plate number.”

Todd’s eyes opened wide.  “Hold up, dude.  You don’t have any right invading my privacy.”

“Your criminal record is public information, Nimrod.”  Seth laughed as he grabbed his laptop and walked away.

Todd whispered to Wyatt.  “Hey, man.  Let me go before he comes back.  You don’t want to be doin’ this.”

Wyatt’s hands were shaking as he held the gun.  “Just…  Just be quiet.”

He could tell Wyatt was frightened.  “If you let me go, I will tell the cops you had nothing to do with this.”

“Just chill out.”

Todd was getting desperate.  “I don’t have a clean record.”

“What?”

Todd noticed Wyatt’s expression.  “What’s he going to do?”

“Just be quiet.”

“I’m going to go out the back.”  Todd stood up.

Wyatt raised the gun.  “Don’t do it.”

“You’re going to have to shoot me in the back.”  He limped away, exiting a rear door.  Wyatt took off running to find Seth.  He ran out to the Z71, only finding the laptop sitting in the front seat.  His heart was racing as he ran to the side of the building, then to the other side.  He didn’t know what to do, so he ran to the front gates.  Seth was nowhere to be found.  He ran back inside the building.  Relief overcame him when he saw Seth digging through a cabinet.  “I’ve been looking for you.  Todd got away.”

Seth pulled an oxygen tank from a shelf and set it on the floor.  “No, he didn’t.”  He handed him a diving mask and regulator.  “He’s tied up on the dock.” 

Wyatt looked confused.  “What do you mean?”

“After I saw his record, I figured he would try to run.”

“Oh, shit!  What was on it?”

“I’ll let him tell you.  Follow me.”  Seth laid the tank on his shoulder, then picked up a five-gallon bucket.

When they got to the dock, Wyatt noticed Todd was tied to a post with a rope.  “Why is he out here?”

Todd was angry and blurted out, “Because he’s a fucking lunatic.”

Seth pointed at him.  “I told you to keep quiet.”

“You fuckers have no right to do this.  You’re already in enough trouble.  If you harm me, you’re going…”

Seth kicked him in the face.  “I said shut the fuck up.”  He eyed Wyatt.  “Go grab an anchor off one of the boats.”

“Why?”

“Todd is going diving.”

Wyatt stood frozen.  “Hold up.  This is getting out of hand.  We can’t do this.”

Seth glared at Todd.  “Tell him all the shit you have done so he will understand.”

He remained quiet.

“Hey, asshole, you can speak when spoken to.”

“Fuck you!”

Seth climbed up on a boat, then came back with an anchor.  He pulled a chain from the bucket.  He wrapped one end of it several times around Todd’s ankle, then secured the other end to the anchor.  He tossed the anchor off the dock, then stuck his knife under the rope securing Todd.  “Bon voyage, fuckhead.”  He cut the rope.

Todd screamed as the anchor pulled his lower body into the water.  He was holding onto the dock post for dear life.  “I’ll tell you!  I’ll tell you everything!  Please get me out!”

Seth pulled the anchor up and set it on the dock.  “Get to rattin’ on yourself.”

Todd was gripping the post with all his strength as his lower body dangled in the water.  “Please get me out!  I beg you.  I’m about to have a heart attack!”

Seth knelt beside him.  “You’re not going anywhere—the anchor is on the dock.”

His eyes were filled with fear.  “There are limbs and shit in here!  I can’t stand it!  Please get me out.”

Seth pulled his body onto the dock, then glanced at Wyatt.  “He’s got an odd phobia.  He’s not just terrified of water, but what’s in it as well.”

Wyatt looked just as frightened as Todd.  “Let’s get out of here before someone sees us.”

“Be patient.”  Seth glared at Todd.  “Tell him what you did, starting with the most recent.”

Todd was shaking as he held onto the post.  “I got arrested for having marijuana.”

“Not the petty shit, fuckstick.  Tell him about the wreck.”

“Ten years ago, I ran into a car when I was high.”

Seth motioned with his fingers.  “And?”

“The driver was killed, and the passenger was crippled.”

“And?”

“That was it.”

Seth scooted the anchor toward the edge of the dock with his foot.  “No, it’s not.”

Todd’s fingernails were embedded in the wood.  “I was charged with manslaughter for reckless driving.  That’s what’s on my record.”

Seth shook his head.  “Maybe so, but I called a buddy.  I might know more than you think, so if you don’t spill the beans, and all of them, I’m going to send you on your way.”

A tear ran down his face.  “I’ve served my time.”

Seth moved the anchor closer to the edge.  It was teetering as he rocked it with his foot.  “It’s almost falling off.”

“Okay, okay.  The car flipped over in a drainage ditch.  I could have saved them, but I took off on foot so I wouldn’t get in trouble.  That night it rained and the driver drowned.  The other person had been thrown from the car.  She got a bad infection in her legs and they had to be amputated.”

“Why did she get an infection?”

“Because she didn’t get treatment fast enough.”

“Why?”

“Because I left her there.”

“How long was it before someone found her?”

“Two days.”

“Why did you run?”

“Because I had a lot of drugs in the car.”

“How much time did you get?”

“Two years.”

“Why such a short time?”

“Because I got a deal when I gave up the person who I was hauling the drugs for.”

“How old was the girl?”

“Twelve.”

“Who was the woman that got killed?”

“Her mother.”

“Do you feel bad?”

“Yes.”

“Did you learn your lesson?”

“Of course, I did.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, you’ve scared the shit out of me.”

“Not this.  Have you been acting right since you’ve been out of prison?”

“I…  I guess so.”

“Then why has your driver’s license been suspended?”

“I…”

Seth rocked the anchor.  “Say it.”

“I got another DWI.”

“How many does that make since you’ve been out?”

“Two.”

Wyatt was panicking as he marched up to Seth.  “We just need to get out of here.”

“The woman was someone’s wife, daughter, or friend.  Her death caused a lot of pain for others.  And the girl has to live the rest of her life in a wheelchair.”

“I know what you’re saying.  I feel for them.  I really do.  But that was a long time ago.”

“What if it was your wife and daughter that he did that to?”

Wyatt began pacing.  “I know, I know.  But I don’t want to be a part of this.”

“You’re not.  All you’re doing is listening to what this fucker has to say.”  Seth peeped at Todd.  “What else have you been busted for since you’ve been out?”

Todd gazed at Wyatt.  “Please make him stop.”

Seth backhanded him.  “He said he didn’t want any part of this, so I’m making the decisions.  Now answer my question.”

“Twice for burglary.  I also had the possession of marijuana charge.”

“What were you busted for before you went to prison?”

He looked down.  “I got accused of…”

Seth interrupted.  “Not accused.  You know you’re not Mr. Innocent.”

“That’s when I was younger.”

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?  Tell my friend what you did.”

Todd gazed at Wyatt.  “I got busted for selling drugs a few times and stealing a car.”

Seth motioned with his fingers.  “Get to the bad shit.”

“I…  I was blamed…”

“Not blamed.  You pled guilty to get a lesser sentence.”

“They said I…”

“No one said anything.”

“I didn’t touch that girl.”

“Now we have it.  What did you do to her?”

“They said…”

“You pass the buck again I’m going to cut off your dick.”  Seth pulled out a knife.

“I had sex with an under-aged girl.”

“How old was she?”

“Fourteen.”

“How old were you?”

“Twenty-four.”

“How long did you serve for that?”

“Five years.”

“Was that long enough?”

“I served my time.”

“Really?  Is she done serving what you bestowed on her?”

“I…  I don’t know what you mean.”

“Has your dick somehow been magically erased from going in her?”

Todd looked confused.  “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Yeah, it does.  You say you’ve severed your time; does that mean she’s no longer been raped?”

“I didn’t rape her.”

“Really?  Was she a willing participant?”

“Uh, she was doing drugs and stuff.”

“Maybe so, but where did she get the drugs?”

“They were around.”

Seth knelt, then stuck the tip of his knife against Todd’s thin shorts, poking him in the balls.  “Stop beating around the bush before I stab you in the bush.”

“Fuck, dude!  I’m not.”

“I have all day to cut you into pieces.”  Seth shoved the knife in, causing the blade to cut through his shorts.

Todd jerked his hips away.  “Okay, okay!  I’ll tell you everything!  Please don’t do that.”

Seth wiped the blood off his knife on Todd’s shorts, then stood up.  “Did you rape her?”

“I had sex with her when she was passed out.”

“You’re still avoiding the question.”  Seth pointed the knife at him.

“Yes.  I raped her, I guess.”

“You guess?”  Seth jabbed the knife through Todd’s hand, binding it to the post.  “You either did or didn’t stick your dick in her.”

Todd yelled out, “I did!  I raped her!”  He scrutinized his hand, noticing it was covered with blood.  “Oh, my God!  You have no right to do this to me!”

“I’m sure the girl felt the same.  Now tell my friend there why you would do that to a kid.”

“I was high.”

“I know a lot of people that get high and they’re not running around raping people.”

Tears were running down his face.  “It wasn’t like that.”

Seth peered at Wyatt.  “See, my speculation about this fucker was right.”

Wyatt looked like he wanted to throw up.  “Dude, what are you doing?  We’re out in the open.  We’ve been out here too long.  Someone could have seen us.”

“If someone comes, I will handle it, so chill out.  I want to get the whole story out of him.”

Wyatt was terrified.  “He’s admitted to having sex with an under-aged girl while they were doing drugs.  You’ve made your point, so let’s get out of here.”

“Don’t let this fucker make it seem he made a one-time drug induced mistake.”  Seth glared at Todd.  “Enlighten my friend here how many times you had sex with that girl.”

Todd’s facial expression looked as if he had seen a ghost.  “What?”

“You heard me.”

“I…  I…”

Seth pulled out a large hunting knife.  “Check out this bad boy.  It can cut you into pieces like a hot knife through butter.”  Seth pointed it at him.  “Starting with your cock if you fucking lie again.”

Todd was shaking with fear as he stared at the blade.  “I didn’t count the times.”

“Make a guess.”

“Uh, twenty-something.”

Wyatt’s mouth fell open as he stared at Seth.  “You were right.  How did you know?”

“I’ve been doing this a long time and can read these assholes.”  Seth holstered his knife, then nodded toward Wyatt as he glared at Todd.  “Why did you fuck with my friend earlier?”

“I act stupid when I’m high.”

Seth shook his head.  “Why the fuck are you still getting high; hasn’t that caused enough trouble in your life?”

“I can’t help it.  I’ve tried to stop.”

Seth knelt, then patted him on the head.  “You just haven’t had the proper motivation yet.”  He peered at the boats that were docked.  “And why in the fuck do you own a marina if you’re scared of water?”

“I…  I just do.”

“That sounds fishy.”

Todd looked worried.  “It’s not.  I’m just trying to get my life on track with a legitimate business.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be running drugs out of here, would you?”

Todd’s eyes opened wide.  “No.  I wouldn’t do that.”

“You told me earlier you had cocaine in your safe.”

“That’s for medicinal use.”

“Sure, it is.”  Seth glanced at Wyatt.  “So, what do you think we should do with him?”

“Do you think he’s using these boats to smuggle drugs?”

Todd interrupted.  “I’m not doing that.”

Seth glared at Todd.  “Mind your own business—I’m talking to my friend.”  Seth glanced at Wyatt.  “I don’t give a shit about that.  I’m referring to the bad shit that he’s done to innocent people.”

“I don’t know.  Maybe you’ve scared him enough.”

“Listen.  He’s a fucking punk and always will be.  Everything he’s done was his choice.  He has not learned his lesson and will not change.  And don’t forget he tried to punk you out earlier.”

“I’m not worried about what he did to me—I got his ass back for that.  And the other stuff happened a long time ago.”

“Do you think time makes everything okay?”

“I don’t know.”

Seth walked up to Wyatt.  “Okay.  If you think the ones he hurt are all peachy now, we’ll walk off this dock and leave him here.”

Wyatt thought for a moment.  “I’m…  I’m sure they’re still suffering.  There’s got to be something else you can do besides killing him.”

Seth peered at Todd.  “If you can fix the girls legs, bring back her mom, and take the rape away, I will let you go.”

Todd was trying to pull the knife from his hand.  Seth marched over to him and kicked him in the ass.  “Did you hear what I said?”

“I can’t do any of that, but I’m sorry for what I did.  Please have mercy.”

Seth knelt.  “Since my buddy isn’t quite ready for what I would like to do you, I will give you mercy by letting you live, but you have to pick a punishment.”

Todd’s eyes lit up.  “Really?”

“Don’t get so excited until you hear what your choices are.  There are only two, but you’re not going to like either one of them.”

Wyatt moved closer to Seth and asked, “What are they?”

“The first one is simple.  He can cut off both his feet and his dick while we watch.  That would give both the girls a little payback.”

Todd began panicking.  “No, no, no!  I can’t do that!  I would rather die.”

Seth laughed.  “Well fuck, that’s what I wanted in the first place.”

Wyatt was shaking his head, knowing Seth wasn’t going to leave without doing something to Todd.  “What’s his next choice?”

Seth held out his hands, indicating for both of them to calm down.  “Okay, okay.  Since he has an absolute fear of water and the creepy logs, rocks and tree limbs under it, he can choose to be strapped to a weighted vest, given an air tank and a diving helmet, then be dropped off in the middle of the lake.  Of course, he will have to be nude.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “That’s killing him.”

“No, it’s not.  He can walk along the bottom.”

“He will run out of air.”

“That’s a possibility if he doesn’t walk in a straight line.  The one tank will give him about an hour or so of air.  If you want, we can even tie a whole bunch of them together and he can drag them along the bottom.”

“Does he have that many air tanks lying around?”

“The cabinet was full of them.”

Wyatt thought about it for a moment.  “That’s doable.  That way we have time to move on down the highway before he has a chance to say anything.”

Seth noticed Todd was shaking with fear.  “What’s wrong, pal.  You don’t like your second choice?”

He remained quiet.  Seth knew making him walk on the bottom of the lake, touching every stump, log, and branch with his nude body was the worst thing that could happen to him.

Wyatt peered at Todd.  “Hey, that’s not a bad deal, considering your other choice.”

Todd gazed at him.  “I’ll do anything but that.  Or cut off my penis or feet.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “Trust me.  You’re getting off easy.”

Seth glanced at his watch.  “If we’re going to do this, we need to get moving—we’ve been fucking around long enough.”

Wyatt felt relieved.  “Let’s get it done.”  Wyatt had no idea that Seth’s plan was the most horrifying thing that he could conjure up for Todd. 

Seth stood up and peered at Wyatt.  “Go see if one of these boats has a key.  If so, get it started, if not, go into the building and try to find one.  I’m going to drag Todd back in the building and get him suited up.”

“I’m on it.”  Wyatt took off.

Todd began freaking out when Seth approached him, so he injected him with a tranquilizer.

Thirty minutes later, Seth came driving down the dock in a golf cart.  Wyatt was waiting on the boat.  He looked down, noticing Todd was lying in the dump bed.  He was nude and only wearing an old-school diving helmet.  Seth pulled close, then handed Wyatt five air tanks, some hoses, fittings, small anchor, a chain, and some tools, then rolled Todd into the boat.  Wyatt looked confused.  “Why is he unconscious?”

“He began freaking out so I tranq’ed him.”

“Why is he naked?”

“I told you he would be.”

“I didn’t hear that part.  But what’s the reason?”

“So, his skin will rub against all the tree branches and weeds.”

“That was thoughtful.”  Wyatt noticed the helmet was old.  “Is that going to leak?”

“No.  The oxygen tanks will create a positive pressure on the inside.”

“Why didn’t you use the regulator you had earlier?”

“He will be panicking and could suck in water around it.  I want him concentrating on all the shit laying on the bottom instead of worrying about his air.  Plus, the helmet will give him better vision.”

“I had seen a modern helmet in the cabinet.  Why didn’t you use that one?”

“Because this one is creepy as fuck.”  Seth pointed across the lake.  “Head out that way.  I’ll get him ready.”

“You can’t throw him in unconscious.  He might drown.”

“I’m not.  I will inject him with adrenaline first and wake him up.”

“Got it.”  Wyatt drove the boat out of the dock, then headed out.

Seth secured the tanks together with numerous layers of duct tape, then connected hoses from the tanks to a manifold.  The manifold had a line running to the diving helmet.  He fed a chain through the eyehole on a small anchor, then wrapped the chain tightly around Todd’s waist, securing it in place with two padlocks.  A few minutes later, Wyatt shut down the motor.  He walked up to Seth, noticing Todd was hanging off the side of the boat by a rope.  “How’s he doing?”

“See for yourself.”

Wyatt peeked into the window of the helmet and noticed Todd was wide-awake.  “You must have already given him the shot?”

“Yep.”

When Todd noticed Wyatt, he began yelling for help.  Wyatt glanced back at Seth.  “He’s having a panic attack.”

“I’m sure.  He’s terrified of water.”

Wyatt noticed Todd’s arms were secured to his side with rope.  “You going to leave him tied up?”

“No, I will cut him loose right before he takes the plunge.”

Wyatt looked over the side of the boat.  “How deep do you think that is?”

“I’m not sure.  Let’s go see if there’s a depth finder on board.”  Seth and Wyatt went to the boat’s console.  Seth started the boat, moving at a slow speed for a few minutes, then shut it down.  He tossed an anchor overboard, then he and Wyatt went back to the rear of the boat.  Seth tapped on Todd’s helmet as he peered through the window.  “The depth finder indicates the water is almost thirty feet deep.”

Todd began shaking his head.  “Please don’t do this!  I beg you.”

Seth smiled.  “There’s more.  I positioned the boat right above a pile of debris.  It appears to be an old home site that was left behind when the dam was built.”

Todd’s body began shaking.  “No, no, no!  You can’t do this!  I will do whatever you ask.”

“I saw old trees lying on the bottom.  A couple of them are still standing, so you might get tangled up in one when you’re descending.”

Todd hysterically jerked his body around as he stared with wide eyes at Seth and Wyatt.  Seth patted the top of the helmet.  “It’ll be all right.  You just have to walk about a mile on the murky, limb and stump covered floor.”  Seth secured an underwater magnetic compass to Todd’s wrist.  “Follow the compass so you can walk in circles.”

Wyatt interrupted.  “You mean so he won’t walk in circles.”

“I know what I said.”

Todd began screaming.  Wyatt could hear the muffled sounds.  “Why is he freaking out so much?”

“I told you he’s terrified of water and the shit lying on the bottom.”

“That’s weird.”

“It’s his phobia.  For him it will be like scuba diving in hell.”

“That doesn’t scare me.”

Seth knew Wyatt feared needles and confined places.  “Look at it this way.  He is as scared of his phobia as you are of yours.  What he is going to do is the same as if you were trapped on one end of a dimly lit tunnel that was not much bigger than you when you’re on all-fours.  The floor is covered in syringes, and there are syringes sticking out of the walls.  The syringes are filled with a dark colored fluid; some might even have blood in them.  You have to crawl out before you run out of air.”

Wyatt’s face was flush.  “I…  I should have let you cut off his dick and feet.”

“Since you mentioned that, we can give him a way out once he hits bottom.”

“How?”

“We can secure a chain around each of his ankles.  A key can be secured to each of the chains.  The two keys will unlock the two padlocks securing the chain and anchor around his waist.”

“How would he get the keys?”

“I will give him a knife so he can cut off his feet.”

“That’s too twisted.  We can’t do that.”

“We aren’t going to do shit.  That will be left up to him.  He can still take the low road and try to walk his ass out, or take the high road by cutting off his feet and swimming to the surface.  Wouldn’t you want another way out of the tunnel?”

Wyatt thought for a moment.  “That’s fine.  We’ve already come this far.”

Seth smiled.  “Wow!  That was surprising.”

“That’s what he gets for being a rapist.  Fuck him.”  Wyatt looked across the lake.  “No one can see us anyway, and if they did, I will blame the whole thing on you.”

Seth laughed.  “That’s the spirit.”  Seth tied a small piece of rope to the end of a knife, then tied the other end to Todd’s left wrist so he wouldn’t drop it.  He tapped on the helmet to get Todd to calm down and pay attention.  “Hey!  You have two keys around your ankles that unlock the padlocks to the chain around your waist.”  Seth pulled on the knife.  “Here’s a knife so you can cut off your feet.”

Seth set the air tanks in their upright position.  “We’ll have to throw these overboard the same time we cut him loose.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “Don’t forget about the keys.”

Seth displayed a guilty expression.  “They’re already secured to his ankles.”

Wyatt leaned over the side of the boat, noticing Todd had a chain around each of his ankles.  “I like how you had already planned on that.”

“I wasn’t going to follow through with it unless you approved.  And besides, I knew you would come around.”

“Fuck it.  It is what it is.”

“At least he still gets to keep his dick.”  Seth laughed.

“Isn’t he just the lucky one?”  Wyatt scanned the lake, then noticed a boat in the distance.  “Oh, shit!  There’s a boat.”

“They’re not coming this way.”  Seth leaned over the boat and put his face next to the window on the helmet.  “Have you ever heard of The Angel of Death?”

“I beg you!  Please don’t do this!”

Seth hit the top of the helmet.  “Listen!  Have you heard of The Angel of Death?”

Todd was gasping for air.  “Yes.”

“That’s me.  If you survive this and say a word to anyone, I will hunt you down and do some real barbaric shit to you.  Do you understand?”

Todd’s eyes were huge as he stared at Seth.  “What?  You can’t be.”

“Run your mouth and you’ll find out.  You better feel lucky that my friend was here, or I would have done something a lot more fucked up than this.”  Seth began to move away, then leaned back over.  “You definitely picked on the wrong Yankee today.”  Seth pulled out a knife and cut Todd’s arms loose.  Todd immediately grabbed the handrails and tried to pull himself up, but he wasn’t strong enough to lift the weight of the anchor and helmet.  Seth handed his knife to Wyatt, then picked up the air tanks and balanced them on the side of the boat.  He looked at Wyatt as he reached out for his knife.  “Hand me the knife so I can cut the rope.”

Wyatt scrutinized Seth for a moment, then reached over and cut the rope that was holding Todd above the water.  Seth pushed the tanks overboard the same time Todd made a splash.  Wyatt handed Seth his knife.  “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Seth holstered it, then glanced at Wyatt.  “I…  I…”

Wyatt laughed.  “The cat has finally got your fucking tongue.”  Wyatt went to the console and started the boat.  Seth sat next to him and smoked a cigarette as they headed for shore.  When they docked, Seth pulled out his silenced pistol and emptied his magazine in the side of the hull slightly below the water line.

Wyatt looked confused as the boat began sinking.  “Why did you do that?”

“Just to make it harder on the cops when they go snooping for evidence.  And I’m going to burn down the building as well.”

When Seth got to the building he set up gas cans on a teeter tottering system like he had done at Earl’s place, then he and Wyatt took off in the Z71.

Tangled Web We Weave 

Seth noticed some smoke pouring into the sky as they drove down the highway.  “Check it out.”  He pointed.  “That’s Todd’s building.”

Wyatt was nervous as he stared out the window.  “How far have we gone?”

“About five miles.”

“I shouldn’t have cut the rope.  I don’t know what got into me.”  He peered at Seth.  “I don’t want to get in trouble.”

“First off, you know I would take the blame, so don’t let that worry you.  And secondly, deep inside you know he got what he deserved.”

Wyatt took a deep breath.  “I know, I know.”  He looked out the window.  “What do you think Todd is doing right now?  Do you think he’s already cut off his feet?”

Seth had a mischievous expression.  “I doubt it—the knife was very dull.”

His eyes opened wide as he stared at Seth.  “What?  Did you do that on purpose?”

“I do everything for one reason or another.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I couldn’t take a chance that he would survive—he would have ratted on us.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “What does that have to do with a dull knife?”

“If it was sharp, he could have easily cut through the joints of his ankles and made it to the surface.  If there happened to be a boat in the area he could have been rescued before he bled out.”

Wyatt’s heart was beating fast.  “I got caught up in the moment and didn’t think any of that through.  Do you think there is a chance he could still do it even with a dull knife?”

“No.”

“Even if he’s panicking?”

“Nope.  The knife will never cut through cartilage and tendons.”

Wyatt thought for a moment, then a feeling of relief overcame him.  “You’re right.  Even with a sharp knife he probably couldn’t have done that anyway.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because it would have been too painful.”

“Not really.  His adrenaline rush would have helped him overcome the pain.  People will do some amazing things when they’re desperate.”

Wyatt’s heart started beating fast again.  “Could there be a chance that he could still do it since he’s desperate?”

“No.  I told you he won’t be able to do it.  And if he tries, he will only cause a lot of tissue damage and will bleed out before he reaches the shoreline.”

“Do you think there is a chance he could still walk out?”

“I thought you didn’t want him to die?”

“I don’t want him to tell on us, especially since I helped.”

“He’s not.  He will run out of air before he makes it out.”

Wyatt frowned.  “Why, were some of the tanks empty?”

“No.”

“Did you do something that will cause his air to run out sooner?”

“Yes and no.”

“You told me he had plenty of air to make it out.”  Wyatt wasn’t concerned for Todd anymore; he was worried that Seth hadn’t been honest with him.  “Did you lie to me?”

“No.  His air tanks are full and if he walks in a straight line and doesn’t fuck around he can get out.”

“Then how can you say he will run out of air?”

“Remember what I told him about following the compass so he could walk in circles?”

“Yeah.  You meant to say so he wouldn’t walk in circles.”

“No, I meant what I said.  I had taken the compass apart and demagnetized it by heating the magnet to its curie point with a torch.  The damn thing will be pointing no telling where every time he raises his arm to look at it.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “That’s messed up.  The fucker will be stomping around in the mud, going in circles.”

“Maybe, but at first, he will probably just stand in the same spot where he landed for a while due to his extreme phobia, then he will get desperate when his air starts to get low and either try to cut himself free or start walking, but either way he’s fucked.”  Seth noticed Wyatt displayed a look of dismay.  “What’s wrong?  Is something bothering you?”

“Maybe.”

“Don’t worry; Todd is suffering immensely for his transgressions.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “What?  That’s not what I meant.”

“You don’t want him to suffer?”

“I haven’t given it any thought.”

“Then what’s wrong with you?”

“I’m bothered about the fact you kept me in the dark about what you were planning on doing with him.  You might not have lied to me, but you did mislead me.”

“That’s not entirely accurate.  You just didn’t put two and two together.  And I was just doing what was in your best interest.  Leaving a loose end like that could cost us.”

“From here on out I want to be aware of everything, even if you are trying to protect me.”

Seth nodded.  “I can do that—you’ve come a long way since the hotel.”

Wyatt couldn’t see the smoke anymore.  “Now that we’re in the clear we need to change vehicles.”

Seth was proud of Wyatt.  “I’m glad you’re thinking ahead.”

Wyatt noticed a sign that read, San Augustine, five miles.  “A town is coming up.  We can find another car there?”

Seth turned on his left turn signal.  “That’s not a good idea.  In fact, we’re going to take this road coming up and completely avoid San Augustine.”

“Why?”

Seth turned on a rural road.  “We need to avoid the next few towns because someone could recognize this truck.  We also need to pull over in a secluded area and see if there’s something in the toolbox that we can use to disguise it.”

“That’s a good idea.”

A few miles down the road, Seth pulled into a cemetery and parked in the back.  He opened the toolbox and found a razor knife and some spray paint (two cans of gray primer and one black).  He removed the razor blade from the knife and handed it to Wyatt.  “Scrape off the stickers on the back window and the Z71 decals on the sides.”

Wyatt examined the side of the truck.  “You mean that one?”

“Yes.”

“I might scratch the paint.”

“You want to go to prison and get pounded in the ass by a big black dude?”

Wyatt began removing the decals as Seth painted the hood and both front fenders gray.  When he was done, he painted the chrome bumpers and rims black, then he used a rolled-up piece of paper as a paintbrush and began changing some of the letters and number on the license plate.  Wyatt was squatting next to him, watching as he changed the letter C to an O, S to an 8, T to an I and a 7 to a 2.  “Good thing you have black paint.”

Seth stood up.  “I would have used pieces of rolled up electrical tape to form the numbers and letters if I didn’t.”

“What if you didn’t have tape?”

“There is always black tape; it’s used all over the wiring system.”

“Sounds like you’ve done this before.”

“Once or twice.”  Seth nodded to a wooded area.  “We need to unload the toolbox over there.”  Seth backed up to some trees.  They unbolted the toolbox, pushed it onto the ground, then took off.  Wyatt was staring at the hood as Seth drove down the highway.  “That makes the truck look like shit.”

“Yeah, but if it’s reported stolen the cops will be looking for something different.  We’re fine for now, but we might swap it out if something comes up.”

“What about getting one from a used car lot?”

“The police will be checking all the nearby towns for any vehicles that were stolen or sold today.”

“Then where are we going to get one?”

“We have several choices; we can take one off a lowlife…”

Wyatt interrupted.  “I don’t want to do that.  Throwing Todd’s ass in the lake was enough excitement for one day.  What’s another option?”

“We can go to my house.  I have several vehicles we can use, and you said you wanted to see the new chamber anyway.”

“Is it close to here?”

“About two hours to the southwest.”

“I think we need to leave the state as quick as possible.”

“That’s probably better—you would have got creeped out anyway, ruining everything I’ve accomplished.”

Wyatt rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, I’m just a sick and twisted bastard now that I’ve gotten my hands dirty.”

“You know what I mean.  It’s better that you’re being eased into this.”

“Eased?  This is a freakin’ crash course.  And I’m sure I can handle whatever you have going on back at your house.”

He laughed.  “I doubt that.  I’m still not used to it and I did the shit.”

“So, what’s the other option?”

“We can head to Oklahoma.  I have a car in a storage building in Stillwater.”

“That sounds good.  Head that way.”

“We’re already heading north.”

“Why do you have a car in Stillwater?”

“Because I occasionally go there to fuck with this guy and it’s a backup in case something goes wrong.”  Seth glanced at Wyatt.  “Remember earlier when I mentioned Barry Muller?”

“Sort of.  You said he had blamed you for something and you paid him a visit after you left the Bayou.”

“That’s right.  He’s kind of an old shadow.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Seth nodded to Wyatt’s bag in the backseat.  “Get out your folder.  You should have an article about how I, The Angel of Death, killed a woman in Dodge City, then dismembered her, scattering her body parts all over the city with clues.”

Wyatt pulled his bag up front, found his folder, then flipped through it.  He shook his head.  “No, I don’t.”

“I thought you had all the articles relating to the shit I do.”

“I do if they made it to the media.”

“That one did.  I read about it online.”

“I don’t have it.”  Wyatt shrugged his shoulders.  “So, what happened?”

“The husband of the woman eventually confessed that he had done it, so…”

“Hold on.”  He began flipping through the pages.  “I do remember it now that you mentioned the husband.”  He stopped on a news article.  “Here it is.  It looks like he originally blamed you to cover up what he had done.  Later, he told the police that his guilt got to him, so he came clean.  So, what’s important about this one?”

“He came clean after I found his ass.”

“What did you do to him?”

“Helped him change his mind about passing that shit off on me.  I don’t harm innocent people and I’ll be damned if I was going to get blamed for his wife’s death.”

“Did you threaten to kill him?”

“Hell no, I made him wear my shoes around.”

“Kind of like what I’m doing?”

“Not at all.  You haven’t done anything compared to what he had to do.  This was back when I was doing the long-term thing, so he got hands on.”

“What do you mean hands on?”

“I made him fuck up some lowlifes.”

“Like how?”

“Sick and twisted shit.  Guts and ass up to his elbows type of stuff.  I’ll tell you about it on the drive up to his house.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “His house?  Why are we going there?”

“To visit him.”

Wyatt’s eyes opened wide.  “In prison?”

“No, I said at his house.”

“I would have figured he was still in prison since he admitted to killing his wife.”

“He was only in jail for a few months, then a mental institution for about a year.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Sure, it does.  After he admitted to killing his wife, he went nuts and began saying he was The Angel of Death, confessing to everything I had done.  Barry’s attorney had him subjected to a mental-health evaluation and he was found to be suffering from a dissociative disorder.  The doctors claimed it was from the overwhelming stress of losing his wife in such a traumatic way.  He was released and cleared of all charges, but he did wind up staying in a mental institution for a while.

“I’m surprised the investigators didn’t jump on the chance to say they had caught The Angel of Death to save face.”

“I’m sure they wanted to, but they couldn’t link him to the other murders because his statements didn’t match the facts, and his statement regarding his wife’s murder was simply thrown out because of his mental state.  It also probably didn’t help that while ol’ Barry was sitting behind bars, I was still doing my thing, proving he had fibbed about being me, which in turn discredited his original confession.”

“If you had stopped, he would have looked guilty in the long run.  You could have lived a normal life.”

“Normal life?  Where would be the excitement in that?  And besides, I don’t want someone else blamed for the shit that I have done.”

Wyatt laughed.  “Well, you could have at least gotten a long vacation out of it.”

Seth smiled.  “Yeah, you’re probably right.  I guess I could have taken a few years off.  It would be nice to take Missy around the world.”

“You can still do that.”

“Jim has everybody and their mother looking for me at airports and shipyards.  And that’s not just here in the states, but all over the world.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of having to look over your shoulder?”

“Now that I’m with Missy I do—it’s not fair to her.”

“Then maybe you should think about setting up the next scumbag that you go after.  At least long enough to take that vacation with her.”

“Actually, I have this asshole that I have been saving for something special; maybe I will alter my plans for him.”

“You should before it’s too late.  And speaking of assholes…”  Wyatt held up a news clipping that showed a picture of Barry.  “He doesn’t look crazy.  Did he really go nuts, or was that a scam?”

“He really did have a mental breakdown.”

“Was it from the loss of his wife?”

“No.  He skillfully planned her death and had no remorse for that.  He went crazy because of the shit I made him do.”

“Did you make him kill someone?”

“I made him torture some scumbags in the most gruesome ways possible.”

“Who were they?”

“Handpicked child molesters; Rodney, Don and Carl.”

“Why did you pick them?”

“Because they were child molesters.  Duh!”

“I meant, why them over all the other sex offenders?”

“I knew what I had planned was going to be sick and twisted, so I wanted the lowest form of human beings for the festivity.”  Seth glanced at Wyatt.  “And that would be someone that commits sexual crimes against young children.”

“If you handpicked them, then they must have been the vilest of them all.”

“I actually had a list of about eight names and addresses; Carl, Rodney, and Don happened to be the only ones home when I came knocking.” 

“How do you know they weren’t innocent?”

Seth frowned.  “Really?  I thought you were passed that phase?”

“Don’t take it wrong.  I’m just being the devil’s advocate.”

“Fuck the devil, and how can a molester be innocent?”

“A vengeful ex could have lied.”

“I’m not fucking stupid.  The assholes had raped or molested numerous kids.”

“How would you know that?”

“By looking up their record on the Internet thanks to the National Sex Offender Registry.”

“You can do that?”

“Anyone can.  Not only do you get to review all the shit they have done, but you also get a picture of them and their freakin’ address.  That’s how I was able to put my list together.  Like I said a few days ago, the registry is like a smorgasbord for vigilantes.”

“I remember what you said about there were more red dots than actual map.”  Wyatt shook his head.  “That’s really fucked up that there’s that many perverts running around.”

Seth smiled.  “Maybe when our trip is over, we can have a competition to see who can cut off the most molester dicks in one night.”

He laughed.  “In reality that’s what those fuckers deserve.”

“I’m being serious.  I get tired of playing by myself.”

“You really do that?”

“Hell yeah.  My record is fourteen in a twenty-four-hour period.”

Wyatt grinned.  “What did you do with the penises?”

“Remember the ham sandwiches Missy made for us?  It wasn’t ham.”

Wyatt laughed.  “You’re full of shit.  And besides, Missy made those.”

Seth had a serious expression.  “Why wouldn’t I do something like that?  Look at all the other unusual shit that I do.  And you know Missy is crazy as fuck.”

Wyatt’s face turned flush.  “What?  Why would you let me eat those?”  He rolled down the window and began gagging.

Seth began laughing.  “I’m just messing with you.”

Wyatt wiped some slobber from his lips.  “I can’t believe I fell for that.  I should have known better.”  He rolled the window up.  “So, I take it there is no penis record as well?”

“Oh, that’s real.”

“Then what did you do with them.  And be serious this time.”

Seth gazed at Wyatt.  “You’re awful interested in them.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “Don’t start.”

“They’re at my house hanging on a steel ring.”

“That’s weird.”

“Maybe so, but now I know what I’m going to give you for your birthday.”

“Dude, you’re the one that kept them like souvenirs.  Maybe I need to be worried about you.”

Seth laughed.  “No shit.”

“So how did you get the three child molesters?  Did you make Barry go get them?”

“No, I rounded the fuckers up myself when I was in Oklahoma, then took them to an abandoned house that was located several counties away from where he lived.  The house was owned by the city, and they had acquired it a few months earlier for a new outer loop project.  The surrounding properties had also been bought out.  It was a perfect place where I felt secure.”

“Where did you get that information from?  Did you just drive around and look for an abandoned house?”

“Sometimes I do it that way, but in this case, I had gone on the city’s website and look at their past city council agendas and minutes.  Once I checked out the place and made sure it would work, I backed up a truck with a camper shell to the rear door and unloaded all my supplies that I would need.  I also laid out several escape routes and set up my motion sensors to be on the safe side.  I didn’t want Barry to be able to describe the location, so I snuck into his house in the middle of the night and tranq’ed him while he was asleep.  When he awoke, the first thing he noticed was some oil burning lanterns sitting on the floor around him.  He was confused as he looked around, then he noticed an eerie sight; Rodney, Don and Carl were standing along a wall with their arms above their heads, staring back at him with horrified expressions.  Barry rubbed his eyes, then stood up.  “What’s going on?”

They remained silent.

He noticed something around his waist.  He pulled on it.  “What is this,” he said under his breath.  He glanced back at the men.  “Where am I?  Why am I here?”  He noticed a table that was covered with all sorts of strange looking items (tools, surgical instruments, and medical supplies), then he noticed a large medieval looking wheel that was mounted to a wall.  It resembled a game show style spin-the-wheel, kind of like Wheel of Fortune, but with unusual and filthy terms written on it.  The back of the room was dark, but he could see the outline of strange looking items, possibly furniture.  He walked closer to the men, then panic overcame him when he noticed their arms were chained above their heads.  He ran to the front door and tried to open it, but it was nailed shut.  He strode over to a window and pulled back the curtain.  Horror overcame him when he noticed it was boarded up.  He ran into the kitchen.  I was sitting at the kitchen table eating a sandwich, wearing a black long sleeve shirt tucked in faded blue jeans, worn cowboy boots and a NRA ball cap.  “Hey, Barry, wanna sandwich?”

He had the deer-caught-in-the-headlights look.  “Uh…  What’s going on?”

“Having a snack.”

He was a normal looking man, around forty years old, bald on top, average height, small beer belly and a round face.  He kind of reminded me of Elmer Fudd.  He was standing motionless, but with caution.  “How did I get here?”

“I brought you here.”

“I don’t remember anything.”

“Of course, you wouldn’t—I drugged you.”

I could see the confusion in his eyes.  “What?  I don’t understand.  Why would you do that?  Who are you?”

“I’m who you wanted to be.”

He looked around the room to see if there was anyone else, then noticed a back door.  He took off quick as a rabbit for the exit, but it was locked.  I pushed a chair out with my foot.  It squeaked as it slid across the wood floor.  “Have a seat.”

He turned and leaned his back against the door.  “I don’t know who you are or why you have brought me here, but you need to let me go.”

I nodded toward the chair.  “Sit down, Elmer.  We need to go over our agenda and the rules.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

I pulled a remote from my pocket.  “The first thing we’re going to establish is what happens when you don’t follow instructions.”  I held up the remote.  “If I push this button, the belt around your waist will shock the fuck out of you.”

He pulled up his shirt and examined it, then tried to move it around.  “How is this on here?”  He glared at me.  “You need to remove this.”

“You need to shut the fuck up.”  I pressed the button.  He immediately fell to his knees, then onto his side.  His body was violently shaking, then he vomited and shit his pants at the same time.  I released the button.  “Now that I have your attention, go in the bathroom and clean up, then come join me.”

He sat up on the floor.  Tears were running down his cheeks.  “Oh, my God!  Why are you doing this?”

I waved the remote.

He stood up.  “Okay, okay.”

I pointed to a door.  “Bathroom is that way.”

He kept his eyes on me as he walked to the bathroom.  Five minutes later, he poked his head out the door.  “The water is off.  I have no way of cleaning up.”

“It took you five minutes to figure that out?”  I knew he had been trying to open the window.  “There’s some wet wipes under the sink cabinet.  And stop trying to escape.  If the belt gets too far away from the remote it will automatically energize the electrodes.”

He looked guilty.  “I wasn’t trying to.”

“I know better than that.”

“Uh, I…”  He closed the door.  A few minutes later, he poked his head out again.  “I don’t have any clean clothes.”

I stood up.  “You can have Carl’s.  He looks to be your size.”

“Who?”

“The nasty fucker in the living room, standing on the right.”

“I don’t want to wear anyone else’s clothes.”

I strolled into the living room.  “Get out here.” 

He yelled out, “I’m naked.”

“I don’t give a shit.”  He wouldn’t come out, so I gave him a quick shock.

“Okay, okay.”  He came walking in the room nude from the waist down.  He was covering his genitals with his hands.  “This isn’t right, what you’re doing to me.”

The three men were staring at us as we stood in front of them.  I eyed Barry, then pointed to the taller man on the far left.  “This is Rodney.”  Barry noticed the man was slightly stocky, mid-fifties, his medium length dirty blond hair was greasy, and his face was tan and rough looking.  I pointed to a short man in the center.  “This is Don.”  Barry noticed he was short and overweight, bald on top, baby faced and had an earring in each of his ears.  He also had tattoos covering his neck and some small ones on his face.  I pointed to the man on the right.  “This is Carl.  He’s about your size, so you can take his pants.”

Barry shook his head, noticing Carl looked like the stereotypical white trash crack head; he had sores all over his face and his thin mustache and goatee had patches of missing hair where it didn’t grow.  Barry noticed his clothes were filthy and he could even smell the body funk radiating from them.  “I don’t want to wear his pants.  I’ll stay naked.”

“Fuck if you will.  Strip the fucker down and get dressed.”

“I can’t do it—it’s gross.”  He had a sad expression and looked as if he was going to cry.  “Why are you doing this?  I want to leave.”

“You better start getting some balls if you’re going to wear my shoes around.”

He reached for Carl’s belt.  “This is sick.”

Carl threw his hips around as he yelled, “Get the fuck away from me!”

I grabbed Carl’s face and squeezed it.  “You remember what I told you?”

Carl looked down.  “Okay, okay, I’ll cooperate.”

A frightened expression came over Barry.  “What’s going on?  Please tell me.”

Rodney had been gritting his teeth, fighting the urge to speak out, until now.  “This coward says he’s that Angel of Death dude, and if we don’t do what he says he will make us suffer.”

I hit Rodney in the face with a club, knocking out several of his front teeth, then glared at Barry.  “Get to changin’ before I get aggravated.”

He stepped back.  He had a disturbed look.  “Why did he say you were The Angel of Death?”

“Because that’s who I am.”

“Seriously?”

“Look around.  Who else would have this shit?”

He had already seen the wheel of torture and the stuff on the table when he first awoke.  “It looks like someone collects oddities and unusual things.”

I pointed to the large items in the back of the room.  “What about those?”

“I can’t really see them.”

“Grab a lantern and go check ‘em out.”

He walked across the room holding a lantern in one hand while covering his privates with the other.  I watched as he went from one item to the other, then the light stayed motionless for a while.  “Stop fucking around and get your ass back over here.”

He came back with an odd expression.  “What are those?”

“Torture devices.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“They look fake.”

“They’re not.”

“You left a Halloween prop in one.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, it’s supposed to look like a corpse, but I’m not fooled.  I think y’all are just trying to mess with me.”

I went and pulled the corpse out of a steel cage, then dragged it over to him.  “Does this look fake?”

He stared at it for a moment.  “I don’t know.”

I sauntered over to Rodney and picked up some of his teeth off the floor, then handed them to Barry.  “Those look fake?”

He looked confused.  “I don’t understand.”

“It’s really simple.  I’m who he said I am and you’re going to do what I say since you wanted to be me.”

Horror overcame him.  “Are you going to kill me?”

“That’s up to you.”

He was shaking with fear.  “What are you planning on doing?”

“Make you get dressed for starters.”  I pointed to Carl.  “Strip his ass down.”

Carl remained quiet as Barry tried to undress him.  “I can’t get his pants off—his legs are chained to the wall.”

I cracked Carl on the head with a club, knocking him unconscious, then tossed Barry some keys.  “Any more excuses?”

“No, Sir.”  He removed Carl’s pants, then began to put them on.”

“Underwear too.”

He looked nauseated.  “Do I have to?”

“Yes.  Peel them fuckers off his ass and put ‘em on.  And don’t call me sir.  You can call me Mr. Miyagi or Sensei.”

“Huh?”

“It seems appropriate since I’m going to be your instructor.”

“Instructor for what?”

“You wanted to be me, so I’m going to teach you what I do to child molesters.”

“I don’t understand.”

I pointed to Carl.  “Get those off.”

He looked away as he pulled down Carl’s dingy underwear.  “This is sick.  Please don’t make me put these on.”

“They’re just fucking underwear.  If you’re going to be whiny about this, you’re definitely going to have an issue with what’s in store for ya.”

He stood dumbfounded as he held them.  “What do you mean?”

“Get dressed.  And I’m not telling you again.”  I pulled out my sickle.

He quickly got dressed, then got on his knees.  “Please let me go.  I beg you.  I’m sorry for what I have done.”

I put the blade to his neck.  “If you lie I will cut your throat; tell the truth and you get to live.”

He raised his hands to be submissive.  “I will.”

“How much you know about me?”

“I’ve done my research.”

“Then you should know what kind of predicament you are in.”

“Yes, Sir…  I mean…  What was it?”

“Mr. Miyagi—it has a nicer ring to it than Sensei.”

“Yes, Miyagi, I do.”

“Mr.”

“Yes, Mr. Miyagi, I do.”

I holstered my sickle.  “Looks like we’re getting off on the right foot.  Now tell me why you killed your wife?”

“I…  I…”

“Let’s not waste a lot of time with this.  Let’s get the confession part out of the way so you can start torturing these fuckheads.”

He glanced back at the men.  “You want me to do what?”

“Hey, focus, Daniel-san.”

Confusion came over him.  “I don’t understand.”

“I’ll make it easy for you.  Once you tell me what you did to your wife and why you thought it was a good idea to blame me, you’re then going to torture these assholes in the most barbaric and horrific way possible.”

He just sat and stared at me.

I motioned with my hands, indicating what.  “I’m not dealing with a dummy, am I?”

“No, Sir…  I mean, Mr. Miyagi.”

“Then tell me why you killed your wife?”

“She had been cheating on me.”

“Why didn’t you just leave her?”

“It never made it to that.  She died the night that I found out.”

“You mean she was killed?”

A tear ran down his face.  “I feel bad for what I have done.”

I shook my head.  “Sure, you do.”

“I really didn’t mean to do it.  I had lost my temper and one thing led to another.  She hit me, then I accidentally hit her too hard.  She fell back and hit her head on the edge of the fireplace.  She stopped breathing.”

“You ever heard the expression men are not supposed to hit women?”

“It was an accident.”

“You ever heard the expression men are not supposed to hit women?”

“I know, I know.  I have to live with it.”

“You’re definitely going to do that in ways that you never dreamed.”  I walked over and sat on the edge of a table that was covered with the tools and medical supplies.  “I assume you got scared and the only thing you could come up with to cover your ass was to blame me.”  I picked up a pair of scissors.  “Why me?  Why didn’t you just make it look like an intruder did it?”

“I had been doing a lot of research on you and knew I had a better chance of getting away with it.”

I tossed him the scissors.  “Go ahead and start removing all their clothes while we have our discussion.”

“Why?”

“Ask why again and you’re going to be naked.  If fact, anything you refuse to do is going to happen to you.  Is that clear?”

“Yes.”  He began cutting off Carl’s shirt.

“Why were you doing research on me?”

“I was writing a book about modern day serial killers.”

“First off, I’m not a fucking serial killer.  Second, why didn’t the police put two and two together and…”  I waved my finger at him when it dawned on me.  “You fucking got rid of all your research.  That was a smart move on your part.”  I stared at him for a moment.  “And you apparently didn’t use your Internet for the research—they would have found that as well.  Am I correct?”

He wouldn’t look at me.  “That’s your speculation.”

“I don’t think it’s a speculation.  CSI would have found that, discrediting your bullshit story.”

He shook his head to say no as he faced away from me.

“Yeah, you would be getting butt pounded right now instead of undressing Don’s sexy body if you used your own Internet service.  You must have used a Wi-Fi connection at some business with an untraceable laptop.  Does that sound about right?  And don’t lie to me—I have ways of finding things out.”

He was still looking away as he began cutting off Rodney’s clothes.  “Something like that.”

“Something my ass.  Sounds like you had this whole thing planned from the beginning.”

The truth was written all over his face when he turned and looked at me.  “That’s not true.”

“Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.”

Spin-the-Wheel of Torture Game

Barry threw Rodney’s underwear on the floor.  “They’re all undressed.”

I tossed him a box of catheters.  “They’re going to need blood later, so put those in.”

He scrutinized the box for a moment.  “Put them in where?”

“Don’t play dumb.  I know what you do for a living.”

His eyes opened wide.  “You do?”

“Yeah, you’re a fireman, and I also know you’re an EMT, so I shouldn’t have to hold your hand.  Now get those in.”

“You have any alcohol pads?”

“An infection is going to be the least of their worries.”

He stood staring at the box.  “I can’t do this.”

I shot him with a tranquilizer dart.  When he awoke, he had an I.V. line running between his neck and a bag hanging on a portable I.V. stand.  He stood up while holding his hand on his neck.  “Oh, my God!  It’s hurting.  What’s in my neck?”

“A fourteen-gauge cannula.”

“Fourteen gauge?”  He knew that was a very large cannula, commonly used in resuscitation settings.  “Why have you done this?”  He began gagging.  “Get it out!  Please get it out!  I can’t move my neck.”

I was twirling a cannula.  “I have another one.  Do you want it in the other side of your neck?”

He looked as if he was going to throw up.  “Why are you doing this?”

I could tell he was needle phobic.  “Ask why again and I’ll stick a needle in your eye.”

He examined the I.V. bag.  “What are you putting in me?”

“Just saline…  For now.”

“I will do whatever you ask if you take it out.”

“You’re going to do whatever I ask anyway.  Now get your ass over there and get the catheters in their necks.”  I tossed him some bags of blood.  “When you’re done, hang those on the nails that are in the wall above them.”

“I…  I don’t…  Please don’t make me do this.”

I stood up.  “Do it now.  And start with Carl since he’s still unconscious.”

He did okay with Carl, but when he got to Don, he felt nauseated.  “I can’t.  He’s looking at me.”

“Then jab the needle in his eye.”

Don jerked his head to the side, facing away from Barry when he overheard my comment.  Barry began gagging as he inserted the needle into his neck.  “I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Stop being a puss.”

“This is fucking sick.”

“I wouldn’t have thought this would have bothered you being an EMT.”

“It’s different when you’re helping people.”

“You are helping peop…”  Seth thought for a moment.  “I know what you mean.  They’re not people, they’re scumbags.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Don was getting aggravated as Barry worked the needle around.  “Dude, you’re fucking hurting me!  Get the damn thing in.”

“I almost got it…  Done.”  Barry stepped back.  “Sorry about that.  He made me do it.”

I snapped my fingers.  “Hey, don’t get all chummy with the scumbags.”

He shook his head as he walked up to Rodney.  “Just look away and I will get it done quickly.”

Rodney shouted, “You’re not fucking touching me!”

I pointed at him.  “Keep opening your mouth and see what it gets you.”

Every time Barry tried to insert the needle, Rodney would throw his head around.  Barry finally became frustrated and gawked at me.  “He’s moving around too much.”

“Hold his fucking head.”

He tried to force Rodney’s head sideways, but he was too strong.  Rodney finally latched onto Barry’s wrist with his mouth.  Barry jerked his arm away.  “He fucking bit me!  I’m bleeding.”

“Good thing I knocked out some of his teeth.  And it’s his blood, so stop fucking around and get it done—we have other things to do.”

“I can’t.  He won’t be still.”

“Then use a vein in his dick.”

Rodney and Barry peered at me at the same time.  Barry shook his head.  “I’m not touching his penis.”

“Then I will put one in yours.”  I picked up a cannula.  “I’ll stick this fucker in your frenulum, ensuring it goes down your piss tube, then feed it with an acid drip.”

Rodney began moving his hips around as Barry tugged at his penis.  “Get the fuck away from me, you motherfucker!”

Barry became frustrated.  “Be still.  I don’t have a choice.”

It was like watching two monkeys fucking a football; Rodney was hysterically jerking around as Barry poked holes in his dick.  I sat back on the table.  “If he doesn’t cooperate jab the needle in his left eye a few times—that usually works for me.”

“You could help.”

“I don’t think so.  I’m just going to chill out and watch you.”

Barry shook his head.  “This isn’t right.”  He shoved his shoulder into Rodney’s stomach to restrain him, then inserted the catheter.  His hands were covered with blood as he glared at me.  “That was fucking sick!”

“Better him than you.”

“It’s still sick.”  He examined his hands.  “I need to clean this off.”

“Get used to it.  You’re going to get more on you anyway.  And speaking of blood, go ahead and hang the bags.”

He hung Carl’s bag, then connected the line to his catheter.  “Why…  I mean, what are you going to make me do to them?”

“When you get done, I will show you.”  I noticed he was connecting the wrong bag to Don.  “Hold up.  You’re connecting him to the wrong blood type.”

“You gave me the bags.”

“Yeah, but I wrote their blood type on their forehead, and it’s also marked on the bags.”

“Oh, I was wondering what that was on their heads.”

“Duh, you’re an EMT.  You should have known that.”

He shook his head.  “I’m under stress.”

Rodney was pissed as Barry stood next to him.  “You get the fuck away from me, bitch!”

Barry hung the bag, then began to connect the tube to the catheter in his penis.  “Sorry, this might hurt a little.”

Rodney gritted his teeth as Barry moved around his sore penis.  “That fucking hurts!  Stop moving it around so much.”

“Sorry, dude.  I have no choice.”

Rodney noticed I had moved to the other side of the table and wasn’t paying attention.  He whispered.  “You need to take him out.”

Barry glanced toward me, then peered up at Rodney.  “I don’t know if I can, but I’ll try if I get the chance.”

I was standing next to the wheel that was mounted on the wall.  “Hey, when you two get done conspiring, I need to borrow Barry for a second.”

Barry looked like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.  “We’re not conspiring.”

“Okay.  Then when you’re done fucking around with his dick, come over here.”

Barry quickly stood, then stepped back.  “Yeah, I got it connected.”

“Good.  You ready to get medieval up in here?  I know I’m pumped.”

He felt like throwing up as he gazed at the perverts.  “I don’t think I can do anything else to them.”

“Sure, you can.  Just treat them like your wife.”

He glared at me.  “That’s uncalled for.”

“There’s gonna be a lot of things you’re going to consider uncalled for before this night is over.”

“Why would you want to harm them?  What did they do to you?”

Now that Carl was awake, I walked over to him and laid my hand on his shoulder.  “You want to tell Barry why you’re in here?”

He looked down.

“I didn’t think so.  It is humiliating.”  I peered at Barry.  “He didn’t do anything to me, but this nasty fucker did molest his five-year-old daughter.  Our lovely judicial system let him out of prison after serving only five years, then he got busted a few years after that for molesting his girlfriend’s child.  Unfortunately for him, he served only four years for that, so here he is, volunteering his services to ensure you get the proper training.”

Carl lowered his head.  “I served my time.”

“Make sure you send that in a post card to someone who gives a shit.”  I stood in front of Don.  “Now this piece of shit likes the little boys.  Same thing with him; just boys instead of girls.  He’s just another repeat sex offender.”  I patted Don’s head as he was looking down.  “You have anything to say?”

“I served my time.”

“Of course, you did.”  I glanced at Barry.  “That’s all these fuckers ever say.  It’s almost seems they think the phrase, served my time, magically erases what they have done.”  When I walked up to Rodney, I acted like I was going to punch him in the face.

He flinched.  “Fuck you!”

I thumped him on his sore dick.  “You’re going to be gettin’ yours later.”

He gritted his teeth as blood oozed from his mouth.  “You’re a sorry mother fucker!”

“Better than a child fucker.”

“Screw you!”

“I’m going to ignore that comment so you can tell Barry what you did.”

“I ain’t doin’ shit.”

I peered at Barry.  “This sorry bastard kidnapped a seven-year-old girl from a playground and raped her repeatedly for several days.  How many years do you think he served?”

Barry crossed his arms.  “Who knows?”

“Do you not have a problem with assholes that harm children?”

“Of course, I have a problem with that.”

“Then start acting like you give a shit or you’ll be hanging on this wall next to them.”

“I would guess twenty years.”

“That still wouldn’t be long enough in my book, but only twelve.”  I threw another air punch at Rodney.  “I can’t wait until you’re screaming and begging for death.”

“Fuck you!  Your ass is going to pay for this.”

I shook my head.  “There’s always one in every group.”  I glared at him.  “You wanna tell Barry what else is on your record?”

“Fuck you!”  He spit at me.

I raised my hand, palm out, toward Barry.  “Tag me.”

Barry looked confused.  “What?”

“This is your deal, but I want in.”  I wiggled my hand.  “Tag me.”

He raised his hand even though he was confused.  I quickly gave him a high five, then turned and began beating the shit out of Rodney’s face.  He was yelling out profanities as he threw his head around to protect his face.  Barry picked up his I.V. stand and began to run.  I paused as I peered back at him and shouted, “I will gut your ass right now if you move!”

He set the stand back on its wheels.  “Dude, I don’t want any part of this.”

“Dude?”  I glared at him.

“Sorry, I mean Mr. Miyagi.”

I pulled a pair of pliers out of my pocket, then grabbed Rodney’s face.  “Stick out your tongue.” 

He was holding his mouth tightly closed while mumbling no.

I shoved the tip of the pliers between his lips, smashing them against his tender gums where his teeth had been knocked out.  When he screamed, I reached in and grabbed his tongue with the pliers, then pulled back as hard as I could.  When his tongue came out several inches, I shoved a long piercing rod through his bottom lip, through his tongue, then through his top lip.  I bent the ends of the rod so it wouldn’t fall out, then kicked him in his swollen dick.  His eyes were rolling around and he was foaming at the mouth as I handed the pliers to Barry.  “Put those in your pocket.”  I handed him some piercing rods.  “If these other assholes get out of line give them the same treatment.”

Barry turned and vomited, then sat on the floor.  “I don’t feel well.”

“I can give you an adrenaline shot.”  I pulled a syringe out of my pocket.

He raised his hand, indicating for me to stop.  “I’m okay.”  He stood up and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.  “This is getting out of hand.”

“How you figure that?  We’re just getting started.”

He surveyed Rodney.  “Look what you did to him.”

“Sorry.  I know this is your gig.  I shouldn’t have done that.  It’s yours from here on out.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know what the fuck you meant.  Stop being a bitch.”

He became angry.  “I’m not a bitch!”

“Well then, get your non-bitch ass over to that wheel on the wall.  I want to show you how this game works.”  He followed me across the room.  I sat on the edge of the table.  “See the pointer?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re going to spin the wheel and whatever the pointer lands on is what you’re going to do to one of those assholes.”

He was shaking his head as he read some of the words that were written in the pie sections of the wheel; Meat Snatch, Gash and Stitch, Jaws of Life, Tongue Twister, Enema of Horror, Nailed, Dissection, Musical Hair Patches, Eye Deflation, Intestinal Jump Rope, Cooked Until Dripping, Spoon of Pain, Needle Works, Ball Squats, Cut and Rip, Two Headed Cock, Bone Collector, Joint Screws, Fused, Human Tesla Coil, Barbed Wired, Shit Faced, Root and Rod, Colon Blow, Skin Deep, Boiling Nuts, Sewn, Muscle Stimulator, Urethra Tug-o-war, Crack a Cap, Tendon Rubber Bands, Weenie Roast, Musical Extremities, Root Canal, Needle Mania, Tattooed Wall Art, Rod and Prod, Slice and Dice, Sex Change and Torched Beyond Recognition.

I was laying out some tools as he stared at the wheel.  “You ready to take it for a spin?”

He shook his head.  “This isn’t going to happen.”

“Either you spin the wheel and do whatever it lands on to one of the fuckheads, or I will spin it and do it to you.”

He walked backwards.  “I’m not doing it.”

I spun the wheel.  Barry’s eyes opened wide as he stared at the pointer.  His heart was beating faster and faster as the pointer’s clicking sound slowed down.  When it stopped, he took off running before he had a chance to read it.  He screamed as I tackled him, pinning him to the floor on his stomach.  I leaned toward his ear.  “You lucky bastard.  Guess what it stopped on?”

He tried to throw me off.  “Get the fuck off me!”

I pulled up his shirt and cut a hand size square into his back with a box knife, then ripped the skin off his body.  He was screaming at the top of his lungs as I stood up.  I tossed his skin next to his head as he laid on the floor in the fetal position.  “Cut and Rip.  That had to be the weakest ass item in the group.”

He gazed up at me.  “You have no right to do this!”

“Yeah, I do.”

“How in the fuck do you figure that?”

“Same right you had in killing your wife, so suck it up.”

“I told you that was an accident.”

“So, she cut herself into pieces, then scattered herself around the city?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t give a fuck.  Get your ass over to the wheel before I spin it again.”

He tried to stand up.  “My back is killing me.”

“Maybe so, but I can say you have to be the luckiest bastard I have met.  Do you realize the pointer almost stopped on Ball Squats?”  The section on the other side of Cut and Rip happened to be Two Headed Cock, which is just as bad.

He just looked at me.

“That’s where you are forced to tear your ball sack apart, allowing your nuts to hang by their spermatic cords.  The Two Headed Cock is where your dick gets split down the center, creating two dicks.”

He swallowed.  “What?  That’s horrible.”

“I’m heading over to spin it again, and I highly doubt you will get another easy one.”

He jumped to his feet and ran past me while holding his I.V. stand.  I sat back on the table as he stood next to the wheel.  “I almost forgot.  See the paper hanging next to the wheel?”

He examined it, noticing it was a numbered list.  “Yeah.”

“It’s a set of rules.  I will go over the most important ones.  First, talking shit is a must—messing with their minds is as important as the physical part.  And you need to keep reminding them of why they are being tortured.”

“I’m not a bullshitter.”

“Just do your best.  I know the art of talking shit is something that is acquired over time.  But the rest of the rules are non-negotiable.  If they close their eyes, you have to sew their eyelids open, or cut them off.  If they talk too much shit, you have to sew their mouth closed, or do the piercing like I’ve already done to Rodney.  If they puke when their mouth is sewn closed or pierced, you will need to cut out the sides of their face.  And they can only be tortured when they are awake.  Also, you need to control bleeding so they don’t die too soon.  If they…”

He interrupted me.  “I get it.  I can read the list myself.”

“Okay, know it all.”  I stood up.  “Go ahead and spin the wheel.  I will hand you what you need from the table.”

He looked down, then took a deep breath.  “Do I have a choice?”

“Sure, you get to pick which asshole gets what.  But you only get to pick the ones that are awake.”

“That’s not what I mean.  Is there something else I can do instead of this?”

“Yeah, you can join them and take your chances.”

He scrutinized the wheel.  “There could be a chance I could get something that’s not that bad.  I’ve already been lucky once.”

“You know we’re going to be doing this all night, or maybe even for several days if the scumbags last long enough.  You’ll be lucky if you don’t have to do every one of those twice, unless you die first.”

His eyes opened wide as he realized the magnitude of the horrific events that were unfolding.

A Dickless Child Molester

Barry looked nauseated as he stood by the wheel.  “How can you do such horrible things?”

“I’m not having a debate with you regarding what I do, if it’s right or wrong, or your opinions about it.  You’re simply here to give payback for the children that these scumbags hurt, so spin that wheel and let’s get the party started.”

“I don’t want to go to prison for this.”

“I can tell you that everything that happens here will stay here.  Everything will be cleaned up and not one trace of evidence will be found.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because I am good at what I do just like anyone in their profession.  And I have been doing this for a long time.”

“You might tell on me.”

“Sure.  The Angel of Death is going to rat on someone else for fucking up some child molesters.  I’m just as deep in this as you are.  Now stop messing around and spin the wheel.”

Barry took a deep breath, then gave the wheel a good spin.  He watched the pointer like a hawk as it moved quicker than the eye.  When it began to slow down, he felt like he was going to have a panic attack.  When the wheel stopped, his heart felt like it was going to bust through his chest.

I smiled.  “Weenie Roast.  You’ll like that one.”

He looked back at me with a troubled look.  “What is that?”

I handed him a propane torch.  “Cook one of their dicks until there’s nothing left of it.”

He looked nauseated.  “What?”

“You heard me.  I want their dick skin cracked open, piss juice boiled away, leaving only a charred stub.”

His hands were shaking as he took the torch.  “Who do I do this to?”

“I said it’s your choice.”

He walked over to the men.  They had horrified expressions as they stared back at him.  He approached Don.  “I guess I pick him.”

Don had been quiet up to this point, but he was now panicking.  “No, no, no!  Don’t do it.”  He gazed at me as Barry lit the torch.  “You said you wouldn’t hurt me if I was cooperative.”

“That’s correct.  I’m not; he is.”

Don looked terrified as he stared at Barry.  “Don’t do it!  I beg you!  I will do whatever you want.  Please don’t hurt me!”

Barry’s hands were shaking.  “Sorry, dude, I have no choice.”

Don was pumping his fist, his eyes were huge and the veins in his neck were sticking out as he shouted, “Do not touch me!  Do you hear me?  Get the fuck away from me!”  He began jerking his hips around as Barry moved the torch closer.  When the flame touched his penis, he farted really loud.  Barry shut off the torch and stepped back.  “I can’t do it.”

I pulled out my tranquilizer pistol.  “If that’s the way you want it.”

Barry held his hand out.  “Wait!  What are you doing?”

“I’m going to tranq’ you, then hang your ass on the wall.”

He relit the torch, then began burning Don’s penis.  Don screamed at the top of his lungs as the smell of burnt flesh and smoke engulfed the air.  Barry was holding his eyes closed as he turned his head away from Don.

I yelled out over Don’s screams, “Pay attention!  You’re burning everything but his dick.”

He pulled back the flame.  “The smoke is burning my eyes.”

“Don’t stand above his dick where the smoke is, kneel down.”

He knelt on one knee, then started back.  I stood next to him and watched over his shoulder.  “That’s it.”  Steam was puffing out of Don’s dick hole and boiling blood was dripping on the floor.  “Cook it until it stops dripping.”

“Is that enough?”

“No, I want all the moisture in that fucker burned away.  I want it dry and brittle like a mummy’s dick.”

Rodney was being quiet and looking away, but Carl was watching in fear as Don violently jerked around, screaming as loud as a person could scream.

Don finally passed out, but Barry kept the flame on his penis until it looked like a shriveled up, burnt weenie that had been forgotten on a campfire.  He shut off the flame, dropped the torch, then ran off to the side and vomited.  When the smoke cleared, I noticed Don’s entire groin area had been burned.  “Damn!  Come check this shit out.”

Barry eased over with his hand over his mouth.

“You burned the shit out of his entire groin area.  Look, his nut sack has ruptured and is dripping fluids.”

Barry turned and vomited again.

I picked up the torch.  “I’ll have to show you next time how to concentrate the flame only on the area that needs to be burned.”  I nodded toward the wheel.  “Let’s do another one.”

He stood up and wiped his mouth with the front of his shirt.  “Can we wait a bit?  I’m feeling nauseous.”

I glared at the perverts as they held their heads down.  “We don’t want Rodney and Carl to feel left out.”

Carl looked up.  “Please don’t do this.  I beg you.  Please have mercy.”

“I’m sure the kids you molested felt the same, so I will…  I mean, Barry will, show you the same mercy.”

His attitude changed.  “Fuck you!  You have no right!  You will not touch me!”  Slobber was dripping from his mouth as he jerked around.  He looked like a rabid animal.  “I will fucking kill you!”  He began hitting the back of his head on the wall as he shouted, “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!”

Barry quickly walked across the room.  I looked back at him.  “What’s wrong?”

“Why is he acting like that?”

“Sometimes these assholes act this way when they realize they have no control of their destiny.  But don’t worry, it will change when you start inflicting pain on his ass.”  I pointed to the wheel.  “Go spin it.”

He walked around the edge of the room, staying as far away as he could from Carl, then stood dumbfounded.

“Spin the damn thing!”

“All right.”  He spun it.

Carl was still bitching and moaning.  I grabbed his face and squeezed.  “Stop making so much racket or I’ll have Barry sew your mouth closed.”  I pushed his head back, slamming it against the wall.

He gave me a death stare as he gritted his teeth.  “You’re going to get yours.”

The sound of the pointer was echoing in the room.  I pointed to my ear.  “Hear that?  It’s slowing down.  Maybe he’s going to pick you next.”

He glared at me.  “You two fuckers aren’t going to touch me.”

I nodded toward Don.  “He said the same thing.”

“Fuck you!”

When the clicking sound stopped, Barry glanced at me and yelled, “Nailed.”

“Nice.  Grab a hammer and the large nails from the table.”

He gathered them up, then walked over to me.  I could see that he was holding the hammer tightly.  “Who do you pick?”

He wasn’t taking his eyes off me.  “Not sure.”

“Make your choice.  And be smart.”

He loosened his grip, then pointed the hammer at Rodney.

“That’s disappointing—I was hoping you were going to choose the loudmouth.”  I holstered my sickle that I had hidden next to my side.  Barry’s eyes opened wide when he noticed I had been holding a weapon.  I winked at him.  “Hammer verses a Sickle.  That would have been interesting.”

“I…  I wasn’t going to do anything.”

“Sure, pal.  Now take those nails and drive five in each of his shoulders, three in each knee and two in each of his elbows.”  I strolled over to a couch that was in front of the molesters.  “And hurry up—we don’t have all night.”  I thought for a moment, then laughed.  “Actually, we do.”

Rodney was breathing heavily and whining like a puppy as Barry stood in front of him.  He positioned one of the nails on his right shoulder, then barely hit it with the hammer.  Rodney’s lips were sliding up and down the rod as he begged for mercy.  Barry lowered the hammer.  “He’s staring at me and begging for me to stop.  This is cruel.”

I was sitting on the couch, feet propped and smoking a cigarette.  “No crueler than what he did to that young child.”  I sat forward.  “Come here.”

He walked over.  “Yeah.”

“In fact, tell him you’re going to show him the same mercy that he showed that little girl, then beat the nails in him like you were a fucking savage.  And you better do it just the way I said because I’m not going to give you any more warnings.”  He started walking away.  “And make sure you leave the nail heads sticking out a little—it makes it grosser when they can see them.”  I leaned back and propped my feet up.

He walked up to Rodney, then looked down at the floor.  “I’m going…”

I shouted, “Look him in the eyes!”

He glared at Rodney.  “I’m going to show you the same mercy that you showed that little girl.”  He jabbed the nail in his shoulder, then slammed the hammer down on it.  Rodney was throwing his head around and screaming as loud as he could through his pierced mouth as Barry beat nail after nail into his right shoulder.  When Barry started on his other shoulder, Rodney was foaming at the mouth and his eyes were rolling around in his head.  When he was done with the shoulder he stood back, holding the hammer downwards as it dripped with blood.  He looked back at me.  “My ears are freakin’ ringing from him screaming.”

“He’ll be hoarse here in a minute.  Get back to it.”

Rodney was staring at Barry with surrender in his eyes.  His voice was raspy and he could barely talk.  “Please stop.  I beg you.”

I laughed.  “See, I told you he would mess up his vocal cords.”

Barry had to reach up to drive the nails in his elbows since they were secured above his head.  Rodney only let out faint moans at first, then passed out.  When Barry knelt to drive one in his knee I yelled out, “Hold up!  He’s unconscious.”  I tossed him a cigarette.  “Take a break for a while.  You can start back once he’s awake.”

Barry sat on the floor, covered in blood.  “I don’t smoke.”

“You do while you’re being me.”

He picked up the cigarette.  “I don’t have a lighter.”

“Use the torch.”

He lit it, then made a painful expression.  “My back is killing me.”

“If you keep up the good work, I will bandage it for you.  I might even numb it up for you.”

“Will you remove the needle from my neck?”

“Let’s see how you do with the next few punishments.  So far, you’ve only had to do easy stuff.”  I pointed to Rodney.  “He’s awake.”

Barry examined him.  “No, he’s not.”

“Yeah, he is.  He’s just pretending to be asleep.”

“Really?”

“When you’ve done this as long as I have, you can tell when someone is playing possum.”

Barry grabbed his hammer and knelt in front of Rodney’s knee.  Before he had a chance to hit the nail Rodney began jerking his leg around.  Barry couldn’t hold his knee in one place long enough to hit the nail.  “He’s moving around too much.”

“Then start beating his feet until he cooperates.”

“If you say so.”  He barely swung the hammer.

“Slam that fucker as hard as you can.  Break every fucking bone in his foot.”

Barry began beating Rodney’s foot like a crazed manic.  It was almost like he was taking his aggression out on the foot.  I yelled out.  “He’s unconscious again.”  I strolled over to Rodney and gave him an adrenaline shot.  “We don’t have all night to drive nails—we have more exciting stuff to do.”  I regarded Don and Carl.  “Either one of you want your shot now instead of later?”

Don was awake and looking down.  I thumped him on the head.  “What’s wrong?  You scared of needles?”

“Look what you did to my penis.”

I laughed.  “A dickless child molester, go figure.

He looked up as tears ran down his face.  “You had no right to do this.”

“You had no right sticking it where it didn’t belong.”

I glanced at Carl.  “What about you?”

He glared at me.  “Do what you will—I’m not going to beg.”

“Cool.”  I looked at Barry.  “I’ll be back in a minute.”  I strolled into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee.

Barry noticed Rodney was moving around, so he took initiative and went back to hammering.  When I came back into the living room, I noticed Barry was leaning against Rodney, using his weight to restrain him as he drove in the nails.  I stood looking at him as I sipped my coffee.  “Nice job, buddy.”  Rodney had blood running down his arms, chest, sides, and legs.  His head was hanging forward, allowing slobber to drip from his mouth.  His dazed eyes were barely open as he stared at the floor, but he was still conscious—he was moaning with each blow of the hammer.  I grabbed him by his hair and lifted his head.  “You’re not gonna die on us, are you?”

He could barely talk.  “Please just kill me.”

“Over nails?  That’s way too soon in the game.”  I released his head, then glanced down at Barry.  “When you’re done with his knees, put a row down his shins, then put a few in each hip.  Also, pop one in his chin for shits and giggles.”

When Barry was done, he tossed the hammer on the floor.  “Can we take a break?”

“No, but you can go spin me a winner.”

“What do you mean?”

“No more nails or burnt dicks.  I want something sick.”

I sat on the couch as he walked over to the wheel.  He spun it.  When the clicking sounds stopped he shook his head.  “Enema of Horror.”

I rolled my eyes.  “Of course, it is.  That would have been awesome, but we don’t have running water.”

He scratched his head.  “What is that?”

“That’s where you shove a water hose in their ass, allowing the pressure to rip their intestines apart.”

“Why is it on here if you knew the house didn’t have water?”

“I use the wheel at home.”

His eyes opened wide.  “What?”’

“Just spin the damn thing again.”

When the clicking stopped, he remained quiet.

“What does it say?”

“Can I spin it again?”

“Hell no.”  I noticed he moved the wheel.  I marched over to him.  “What are you doing, cheater?”  I looked at the pointer.  “Intestinal Jump Rope.  Damn, you go from one extreme to another.”

He gazed at me with a confused expression.  “What is that?”

“You’re going to have cut one of their stomachs open, pull out their intestines, then jump rope with it while it’s still attached.”

He turned white as a ghost.  “I accidentally bumped the wheel.  It was on something else.”

“Bumped my ass.  What was it on before you moved it?”

“Uh…”

“No, uh.  Just say it.  And don’t lie to me.”

“Eye Deflation.”

“Well, that would have been another boring one.  Thanks.”  I handed him a razor knife.  “Now get over there and get to exercising.”

He stood motionless.  “I thought the eye thing would have been gross—that’s why I moved it.  Please let me do that one.”

“Since you’re a cheater you get to do both.”  I handed him a syringe with a thumb loop.  “Use this to suck all the fluid out.”

Barry scrutinized the wheel for a moment, then looked at me.  He held up the syringe and knife.  “Come on.  Please don’t…”

I put my finger across my mouth.  “We’re done with that.  No more warnings.  Get over here and do it.”  I peered at the molesters.  “Now, which one of you gets their intestines pulled out and an eyeball draining?”

Don was still crying over his dick, but Carl was holding his head high, in a cocky way.  I was looking at him as he stared back.  “I hope you pick this cocky fucker to be your exercise partner.  He seems to have the stamina for such an activity.”

Carl gave me a squinted eye glare.  “Fuck you!  You better not touch me.”

“Oh, yeah, whatcha gonna do about it?”

He jerked violently at his restraints.  “Let me loose and you’ll find out, you fucking psycho!”

I motioned to Barry.  “Get your ass over here.”

He sauntered up.  “What?”

I was nodding toward Carl.  “Who do you pick?”

He started to speak.  “Uh, I don’t know.”

I pointed at Carl while hiding my finger with my other hand.  “Which one?”

Carl glared at me.  “I see what you’re doing, asshole.” 

Barry was still unsure.  “Probably…  Uh…”

Carl noticed the knife in Barry’s hand and blurted out.  “Kill that fucker!”

Barry looked down.

“Just don’t stand there; do something!”

Barry stuck the knife in his pocket as he continued to look down.

Carl’s face turned red from anger.  “You spineless bitch!”

I pulled a needle with some thread from my pocket.  “You wanna sew his mouth shut?”

He shook his head.

“I would if I was you.”

Carl smiled with a chicken-shit grin.  “He’s just a bitch.”

Barry exhibited a frightened expression, so I motioned for him to follow me.  After we walked across the room so the assholes couldn’t hear me, I regarded Barry.  “Get some fucking balls and put that fucker in his place.”

“He scares me.”

“What?  We’re not little kids on a fucking playground.  Get your ass over there and shut him up.”  I handed him the needle.  “You better do it.”

He took the needle, then glanced over at Carl.  “Why is he acting like that?  I would be terrified.”

“I’ve already told you; people can react strangely when they have no control of their destiny, and it doesn’t help that he’s a burned-out crack addict.  Before this is all over each one of these fuckheads will go from whining, crying, and begging to cursing and threatening, then flip flop again.”

“That’s strange.”

“Just be glad you’re on this side of it.  Now walk over there and get to stitching.”  I pulled out another needle with thread.

“What’s that for?”

“Your mouth.”

“Okay, okay.  No need for that.”  He marched up to Carl.  He pushed his head back, then tried to stick in the needle, but Carl was throwing his head side to side as he yelled curse words and threats.  Barry looked over his shoulder at me.  “I can’t keep him still.”

“Get creative.”

“Like how?”

“Figure it out.”

“Can I do anything I want?”

“Yes, as long as you don’t kill him.”

Barry grabbed the torch.  “Be still or I will burn you.”

Carl spit at him.  “Fuck you!  You’re not going to do shit!”

Barry lit the torch, then began burning his face.  At first, Carl screamed out curse words and threats as he threw his head around, then within a few seconds he began to shout out pleas of mercy.  I would have probably stopped, but Barry kept burning him; he seemed to be taking out his aggression on Carl’s face like he had done with Rodney’s foot.  I strolled up shaking my head.  “Dude, he’s passed out.” 

“So.”

“He can’t feel it.”

He shut off the flame.  “He will when his ass wakes up.”

I laughed.  “True dat.”  Carl’s hair was still on fire and his face and head were covered in third degree burns.  “Well, since he’s out you’re going to have to pick Don or Rodney for your exercise partner.”

He held up the needle.  “What about sewing his mouth closed?”

“What’s the point now?  He won’t feel it.”

Barry pulled out his syringe.  “I guess I’ll do this first.”

Don was still weeping as he softly spoke, “Just kill me.”

Rodney was looking away as if that would make him not noticeable.

Barry walked up to Rodney, held his head back by shoving his forearm in his throat, then stuck the needle in his left eye.  Rodney was screaming as Barry used his thumb to pull back on the plunger.  I could see Rodney’s eye deflate as the fluid was being sucked into the syringe.  It was getting smaller and smaller as it collapsed on itself, finally turning into what looked like a shriveled-up raisin dangling in the open eye socket.  Barry threw the syringe on the floor, then leaned forward, hands on knees, while gagging.  I picked up the syringe.  “We’ll save this for later for experimental purposes.”

He glanced back at me.  “What?”

“I want to pump this back in his eye later.”

“What the fuck?  Why would you want to do that?”

“Why not?  It’ll be cool to see if he can still see out of it.”

“That’s fucking sick.”

“Speaking of sick, you need to get the jump ropes done.  I’m going to chill out for a while.”  I went and sat on the couch.

Barry pulled out his knife, then just stood staring at it.  “I don’t think I can…”  He looked at me as I was stretching.  He knew what that meant; I was getting ready to exercise.  He shook his head, then stuck the tip of the razor against Rodney’s stomach.  His hands were shaking as he made a small incision.

I yelled out, “What are you doing?”

He pulled the knife back.  He looked confused.  “Isn’t this what I’m supposed to do?”

“He’s out.”

Don noticed Carl and Rodney were both unconscious.  He was frightened as he gazed at Barry.  “Please don’t.  You have already gotten me back.  Please don’t do it.  I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Hey.”

Don gazed at me as I was relaxing on the couch.  “What?”

“I thought you wanted to die?”

“I don’t.  I was just saying that.  I didn’t mean it.”

“What about your dick?”

“I can learn to live without it.”  He scrutinized the knife in Barry’s hand.  “I don’t want to die.”

“Then luckily for you, having your intestines pulled out, won’t kill you.  Not anytime soon, anyway.”

“Please don’t do it.  I will do whatever you want.”

“Build a time machine, go back in time, then not put your dick in those kids.  If you can do that, then you can skip PE.”

He looked confused.  “Huh?”

“That’s what I thought.”  I tossed Barry a red sweatband.  “Put that on your head.”

He picked it up.  “Why?”

“Because it will be funny.”

He put it on.  “This is fucking stupid.”

Don was panicking.  “Please be serious and listen to me.  I will…”

I raised my hand, indicating for him to be quiet.  “Hush.  It’s going to happen.”

“It doesn’t have to.  Please have mercy.”

“It’s what Barry spun.  He has to do it to one of you.”

He nodded toward Carl.  “Do it to him.”

“Can’t—he’s unconscious.”

Don began making choking sounds, then lowered his head, acting like he was out.

Barry looked at me and shrugged his shoulders.  “Now what?”

I was getting irritated.  “Really?  The fucker is faking.  Stop wasting time and get to it.”  I pulled out my sickle.

Barry knew he had no choice, so he slit Don’s stomach open in one slice.  Don screamed as his intestines protruded from the wound.  Barry turned away, holding his hand over his mouth.  He gawked at me as he talked through his hand.  “I’m going to do it, just give me a minute.”

“You need to get them pulled out so you can cauterize him before he bleeds to death.”

“I need a stick or something.”

“Why?”

“To get them out.”

“Use your hands.”

He reached back without looking, grabbed an intestine, then tried to pull it out.  “It won’t come out.”

“Then cut more.”

When he made the cut longer, Don’s intestines came falling out on their own, piling on the floor around his feet.  Barry took off running into the kitchen.  I could hear him vomiting.  I yelled out.  “Hurry the fuck up—he’s going to bleed out!”

He was white as a ghost as he walked back in.  “I…  I don’t think…”

I was glaring at him.

“Never mind.”  He picked the torch off the floor.

“About time you’re taking initiative.”

He burned the edges of cut flesh, then turned and started dry heaving as a cloud of rancid smelling smoke engulfed the air.  When he caught his composure, he peered at me.  “I’m not trying to be difficult.  This is fucking sick.”

“Can’t be any sicker than what you did to your wife.”

He glared at me.

“I’m just saying; you dismembered her.”

“I told you I was in a state of shock.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Well, I was.”

“But you had planned it out with such calculation.”

“That’s how you see it.”

“Doesn’t matter either way.  You, and these fuckers, are getting what y’all deserve.”

He looked back at them for a moment.  “I don’t even know them.”

“They’re child molesters; that should be enough.”

“Maybe so, but it’s not right that you’re making me do this.”

“Oh, Daniel-san, you should be thankful that your intestines aren’t piled on the floor.”

“You’re going to get caught for this.”

I glared at him.  “Is that a threat?”

His attitude changed.  “That’s not what I meant.  I meant doing this kind of stuff might catch up to you.”

“Maybe, but not tonight.”  I made a circle motion with my finger.  “Jumpy jump, jumperton.”

He glanced at Don.  “He’s unconscious.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“I see.  You can break the rules since they’re yours.”

“First off, you’re just stalling.  And jump roping with his intestines wouldn’t be painful to him.  But you are on to something; let’s wait until they’re all awake to fuck with their heads.”  I laid back on the couch.  “I’m going to take a nap.”  I reached in my pocket and pulled out a pair of handcuffs, then tossed them to him.  “Handcuff yourself to Carl’s ankle.”

“Why?”

“So, I don’t have to decapitate you when you try to pull something.”

“I…  I wouldn’t do anything like that.”  He cuffed himself.

“Sure, you wouldn’t.  And toss the knife over here.”

It landed a few feet from the couch.  “It’s just a razor knife.”

“I know what it is, but if I was in your shoes, I would have cut off Carl’s foot with it, then grabbed the revolver from the table and shot me with it.”

He surveyed the table.  “You left a gun on there?”

I laughed.  “Take a nap and be quiet.”

He scrutinized the mess around him (intestines, blood, snot, vomit, feces, and urine).  “I can’t.  It stinks over here.”

“Then stay awake—I don’t give a shit.”

Musical Extremities

I wanted to rest, but I knew better than to fall asleep as I laid motionless with my arm across my eyes.  The molesters were now awake, and I could hear them and Barry whispering to each other.  A few minutes later, they had gotten quiet, meaning they were up to something.  Shortly after that I heard more whispering.  I could hear bits and pieces of their conversation; Carl was telling Barry how to pick the lock on his handcuffs with a piece of wire.  I began making snoring sounds to see what they would do.  They took the bait—I could hear the wood creaking, indicating someone was walking across the pier and beam floor.  I peeked out from under my arm, noticing Barry was tippy toeing around the table that was covered with the supplies.  I quickly sat up and shouted, “What the fuck are you doing!”

He jumped when I startled him, then stood motionless like a deer caught in headlights.

Carl was staring at him.  “Fucking do it!”

Barry hysterically sifted through the items, then picked up a pistol.  He pointed it at me as he quickly moved between me and the perverts.  “Don’t try anything or I will shoot you.”

Carl looked like he had been in a car wreck with a gas truck as he stared at me.  “You got his ass now, Barry.  Pull the trigger and kill that piece of shit.”

I stuck a cigarette in my mouth.  “Now this is an interesting situation.”  I lit it, then took a long drag as I gazed at Barry.  “You have two choices; you can get over there and knock out Carl’s teeth before you jump rope, or join Don’s new group; The No Dick Club for Dickless FuckHeads.”

Barry squeezed the gun tightly.  “Fuck you and your dumbass sayings!  You’re going to do what I say now.”

Rodney could barely talk.  “Please call the police.”

Don was awake, but in a lot of pain and extremely weak.  “I need an ambulance.”

I blew smoke at Barry.  “How about we call someone that gives a shit.”

The three assholes started getting loud as they yelled at Barry to shoot me.  I pointed at Barry.  “You better make the right decision, Nimrod.”

“I am.”

I made a gun shape out of my hand, pointing my index finger at him, then moved my thumb as if I was cocking a hammer.  “You sure it’s loaded?”

He quickly flipped out the cylinder, then slapped it closed.  “Yep, so fuck you, dumbass.”

I jerked my hand back as if I had fired it.  “Then what’s the plan, sport?”

“I’m going to call the police.”

“You sure that’s what you wanna do?”

“Fuck you, asshole!  You’re not telling me what to do anymore.”  He laughed.

“What’s funny?”

“My research paid off.  Not only did I get away with blaming you for that bitch’s murder, but I’m also the one that busted your ass.”  He grinned.  “Oh, how things work out.”

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

“And you’re not as much of a badass as you think.”

“Well, you’re no longer Daniel-san.  You are now my stooge.”

“Fuck you!  I’m the one with a gun.”

“A gun with a shaved firing pin.”

His eyes grew huge.  “Huh?”

I lunged from the couch and took him down.  He fought with me for a short bit until I beat him senseless.  His heart was racing as he saw a blurry me standing over him with a syringe.

An hour later, he opened his eyes.  He was cold, feeling nauseous, and his head was throbbing.  He sat up, noticing he was nude, then he saw me sitting on the couch sipping coffee.  He was a little dazed.  “What happened?”

“You made the wrong choice, stooge.”

A flickering light caught his eye.  He noticed a fireplace was burning some wood.  “How long have I been out?”

“About an hour.”

He felt of his neck, noticing the cannula had been removed.  “Thanks for taking this out.”

I laughed.  “I don’t think you’re going to be appreciative in the long run.”

He looked back at the molesters, noticing they were staring back with horrified expressions.  Their mouths were sewn shut with thick, black thread and their eyelids had been cut off.  Numerous bags of blood were hanging on the wall behind them, and plastic tubing ran between the bags to different parts of their bodies.  He peered at me with a disgusted look.  “What have you done?”

“From here it looks like art.  It’s kind of like a Monet though—the closer you get, the more of a mess it is.”

Barry stood up, swaying a little as he tried to keep his balance.  He was still groggy, but something didn’t feel right to him.  When he looked down, he noticed his groin area was covered with a large bandage.  A small diameter hose was hanging out the bottom of it and it was dripping a yellowish fluid.  He immediately felt around the bandage, noticing it was flat against his skin.  He looked at me with a frightful expression.

I patted a small cooler that was sitting on a table next to me.  “It’s in here.”

“What!?!”  He started to peel back the bandage.

“I wouldn’t mess with it—I had a difficult time getting the bleeding under control.”

A grimace of terror overcame him.  “Oh, my God!  You cut my dick off!”

I lit a cigarette.  “The way I see it, you have about a six to ten-hour window to get to the hospital so they can sew it back on.”

He ran to the cooler and frantically opened it.  His eyes grew huge as he stared at his severed penis lying on ice.  He was so shocked that he just stood there quietly, staring in disbelief.

I leaned back, crossed my legs, then stuck one of my arms behind my head.  “I was hoping to fuck with these assholes for a few days, but it looks like we’re going to have to turn this into a crash course so you can get your shit put back on.”  I reached over and slammed the lid closed.  “I would suggest getting the jump ropes done instead of standing there wasting time.”

He wouldn’t move as he glared at me with hate.

I tapped my watch.  “Time’s tickin’ away, pal.”

He tried to grab the box, but I was holding it down.  He began freaking out.  “Give me the fucking box!”

I punched him in the bandage, causing him to fall to his knees.  After he gowned out, he glared at me and wailed, “Why have you done this to me?”

“Don’t act stupid—you know the reason.”

Tears were running down his face.  “I won’t be able to live a normal life now.”

“Now you’re being pitiful.”

“But I won’t.”

“If they can sew Bobbitt’s shit back on, they can sew yours on.”

A feeling of relief overcame him.  “I forgot about him.  They did put it back on.  I need to get to the hospital as soon as possible.”

“You can go after you’re finished with the fuckheads.”

He looked down and noticed blood was dripping from under the bandage.  “Oh, shit!  You made it bleed.”

“If you don’t get your ass up, your balls will be bleeding too.”  I pulled out a knife.

He crawled across the floor toward Don, screaming like an insane person.  He grabbed the intestines, then began slinging them around frantically as he sat on his knees; he looked like a kid throwing a temper tantrum.  I pulled out his dick and held it up.  “Do ‘em right, or I will toss this in the fireplace.”

“Oh, my God!  I can’t believe this is happening!”  He stood up and began slinging the intestines around and around, jumping over them as they passed by the floor.  Blood and feces were being slung all over him and the room as the soft tissue began tearing apart.  Don was staring in horror, but Rodney and Carl were looking away, trying not to vomit as the air was being engulfed with the foul odor of a diarrhea shit storm.  I stretched out on the couch and stuck my arm behind my head.  “That’s enough.”  I tossed the syringe across the floor.  “Pump that back in Rodney’s eye.  And take your time doing it so you don’t fuck it up.”

He picked up the syringe.  He glared at me as blood and feces dripped from his body.  “It’s already fucked up, but whatever!”

I laughed.  “Rodney’s sticking his tongue out at you, boy.”

Barry noticed I had sewn Rodney’s mouth closed, but I left the piercing rod in place, so his tongue continued to stick out.  “Damn!  You stitched the fuck out of his tongue too.  That was an asshole thing to do.”

“So, what?  Now get that shit pumped in before I show you what an asshole is.”

He grabbed a hand full of Rodney’s hair and aggressively shoved his head against the wall, then stuck the needle in.  Rodney was trying to fight back, but Barry shoved his thumb against his other eye.  “Be still before I smash your fucking eye out!”

I laughed.  “If you would have had that attitude to start with, you would still be sporting around a dick.”

He tossed the syringe on the floor.  “You’re fucking sorry.”

“That’s what you get for trying to pull that stunt earlier.”  I motioned for him to move over with my hand.  “Get the fuck out of the way.”  When he moved, I could see that Rodney’s eye was filled back up.  “Hey, can you see out of it?”

Rodney didn’t respond.

“If you don’t tell me I will have Barry drain your balls.”

He looked down.

Barry shook his head as he glared at me.  “Duh, his fucking mouth is sewn shut; he can’t speak.” 

“That doesn’t stop him from moving his head to say yes or no.  And get your ass over there and spin the wheel, smart-ass.”

“Why should I?  You’re probably going to kill me anyway.”

“If you do what I ask you will leave here alive.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Do I lie?”

He popped off in an arrogant voice.  “I’m sure, with all the sorry-ass shit you do.”

I sat up.

He quickly changed his tone.  “No, you don’t.”

“And how do you know that?”

“From my research.”

“Now let me rephrase it to where you will understand it; do what I say, or you will die in the most painful and horrifying way possible.”  When Barry walked off, I went and stood in front of Rodney.  “Well, can you see out of it?”

He shook his head no.

His eye was deformed and completely red.  I put my hand between his eyes, then waved the blade from my knife in front of it.  He didn’t blink.  I turned the blade sideways.  His eye moved, indicating he could only see shadows.

Barry came walking up.  “I spun the fucking wheel.”

“What did it land on?”

“Musical extremities.”

“Nice.  Not sure if you’re going to be able to handle that one without killing someone, but what the hell.”  I looked at the three assholes.  “Which one of you wants to volunteer to die first?”

They remained silent.  Don was a despicable sight.  I pointed to him.  “I wouldn’t choose this fucker—he’s having too much fun.”  Carl was looking down.  “Maybe him.  He’s not all fucked up like these other two and can probably take the loss of blood.”

Barry pointed to Don.  “I’ll do him.”

“Of course, you picked him, you defiant prick.”

“I just want to get this fucking shit over so I can go to the hospital.  Now go get what I need.”

“Please.”

“Please get my shit.”

I laughed.  “I should have cut off your balls instead of your dick.”

He patted the backside of his wrist.  “Time’s tickin’ away, as you put it.”

I knew he was in don’t-give-a-shit mode, so I shrugged off his mouthiness.  After I gathered the items from the table, putting them on a cart, I rolled it over to him.  “Use the saw to cut off his arms off at the elbow.  Make sure you cauterize his wounds so…”

He interrupted.  “I know, I know.”

I glared at him.

He lowered his head.  “Sorry.”

“…he doesn’t bleed out so soon.”  I pointed at a needle.  “Here’s a curved sewing needle and thick thread.  Use it to sew his left arm to his right, and vice versa.”  I laid back on the couch.  “And keep the blood loss under control.”

“What about his fuckin’ legs?  The damn wheel says extremities.”

“I don’t give a fuck.  Do ‘em if it gets your rocks off.”

Barry didn’t waste any time—Don’s left arm was lying on the floor before I had a chance to get comfortable.  I could see blood gushing out of his nub, and before I had a chance to say something Barry was burning the end of it with the torch.  He was now showing initiative.  “Hey, I would have cut off your dick earlier if I knew that was the motivation you needed.”

He didn’t look back.  “Fuck you!”

Rancid smelling smoke had engulfed the air and Don had torn his stitching apart, allowing him to scream at the top of his lungs.  Barry didn’t slow down as he moved to his right arm, severing it at the elbow.  When he was finished cauterizing the nub, he stood looking at me while holding an arm.  “Do I really need to sew this on?  It’s not like it’s going to function.”

“That’s not the point.  It’s the grossness of the whole thing.”

He began stitching.  “Whatever, dude.  I mean Mr. fucking Miyagi.”

“Make sure you let it hang a few inches by the thread, Daniel-san of a Bitch.”

“Ha, ha, funny guy.  I’ll let this motherfucker hang to China, far as I care.”

He half ass sewed it on, then did the other arm.  He didn’t hesitate as he went after Don’s right leg with the saw.  Don was on the verge of passing out as he finished up.  Barry stood looking at him.  “Why is he still conscious?”

“I gave him, and the other two pricks, a special shot that will keep them awake.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“Their hearts might explode, but at least they will get to feel it if it does.”

“Whatever.  I only care about getting out of here.”  He started for the wheel.

“Hold up.  Go roll the mirror over here.”

“What fucking mirror?”

“It’s behind the couch with the other stuff.”

He rolled an old mirror on wheels out of the dark.  “Now what?”

“Position it in front of Don so he can see himself.”

Don’s eyes opened wide when he looked at his reflection.

Barry was shaking his head.  “What is the fucking point in this?”

“You realize this is the first time he has taken a good look at himself.”

“So?”

“He probably had hope until now.”

He shook his head as he scrutinized Don.  His torn and trampled intestines were lying all over the floor, the open cavity in his stomach was oozing large amounts of thick fluid, his penis was burned beyond recognition and his dangling limbs made him look like a marionette that would only be found in the darkest parts of Hell.  “Why would he have hope?  He’s a fucking mess.”

“Hope of being rescued.  Living another day.  Same reason you’re being my little bitch; in hopes you will get your dick sewn back on.  He had no idea what shape he was in until now.”

“I don’t have time for this shit.”  He went and spun the wheel.  When it stopped clicking, he yelled out, “Great, Ball Squats.”  He remembered what they were.  “What kind of shit do I need from the table?”

“Grab a hammer and some of the large nails.”

He walked up holding the hammer as I was stretched out on the couch.  I motioned for him to back up with my hand.  “For the sake of your well-being, step back so you’re not tempted to do something regrettable.”

“Well-being?  You’ve already fucked that up for me.”

“That’s not true—you will still be a man, sort of.”

“Whatever.”  He held up the nails.  “What do these have to do with Ball Squats?”

“Be patient and you will find out.”

“I don’t have time to be patient.”  He pushed his hips forward.  “You made sure of that.  Better hope they can fix it right, asshole.”

I waved my finger at him.  “I’m getting tired of your mouth.”

“Just tell me what you want me to do.”

“Watch your mouth, for starters.  Now get over there and unchain one of those assholes, then make them face the wall while bending over.  Nail their hands to the wall and their feet to the floor.  And make sure their legs are about three feet apart.”

“None of them are going to let me do that without a fight.”

“I wouldn’t expect otherwise.”

“I’m going to choose Rodney.”

“You have to pass on him.”

“Fuck that.  You said I can choose who gets what.”

“Ball Squats requires the use of legs.  His knees are nailed.”

“Then I’m choosing Don.”

“That’s a copout—he’s about to croak.”

“So.”

“Why are you so scared of Carl?”

“Fuck him.  I ain’t scared of shit.”  He marched over to Carl and hit him in the head with the hammer, then looked at me.  “Where are the keys?”

I tossed them to him.  “I bet you wish you could turn back a couple of hours.”

He ignored me as he removed Carl from the wall.

“You could be doing this with your dick tucked neatly in your underwear, or Carl’s underwear I should say, instead of lying in this box.”

He continued to ignore me as he slid a chair under Carl’s stomach to support him, then he nailed his hands to the wall.

“I’m curious about something.  Can you still feel your dick like how some people say they can feel their arm after it’s been severed?”

He slid Carl’s feet apart and nailed them to the floor.  He looked back at me.  “If you’re done running your mouth, tell me what’s next.”

“First, tell me if you can still feel it.”

“No, I cannot.  In fact, I can’t feel shit.”

“That’s because I numbed you up—I didn’t want you distracted by the pain.”

He just glared at me.

“You’re welcome.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“What?  You want me to cut off your asshole and stick it next to your dick?”

“Just tell me what to do.”

“Drive a few nails in the floor at an angle directly below his sack.  And make sure they stick out a little.”

He did what I asked.  “Now what?”

“Let’s wait until he’s awake for the next part.”  I threw a cigarette at his head.

He ducked.  “I don’t have time for that.”

“Fuck you, then.  Go spin the wheel.”

Two Headed Cock

Barry spun the wheel, and when the clicking stopped, he laughed.  He strode up to Rodney.  “Hey, fuckhead, it landed on Two Headed Cock.  Now you get your cock ripped in half.”

I shook my fist.  I was excited.  “Fuckin’ A, Bubba!  That child raping fucker definitely got the right spin.”

Barry had a cocky look.  He pointed to Don.  “I choose him.”

I gritted my teeth.  “He doesn’t have a dick, fuckstick.”

He pointed to it.  “Yeah, he does; it’s a stub.”

“That’s fine.  The next time I won’t show you leniency.”

He clinched his fists.  “What the fuck you mean by leniency?  You cut off my fucking dick!”

“But I removed your cannula.”

“Fuck you!”

“Keep acting up, you unappreciative asshole, and see what happens to you.”

“You’re the asshole!”  He punched Don in the face, relieving some of his frustration, then grabbed Rodney’s hair and lifted his head up.  “It looks as if you’re going to have your pee pee cut in half after all, jerk off.”  He shoved his head away, then glared at me.  “Where’s the shit to do it?”

“On the table where everything else is at.”

“No shit.  What do I need?”

“Grab the hand cranked winch.  It already has the fishing line and a fishhook attached to it, and a guide ring.  You will also need some nails and a hammer.”

He loaded up the cart, then pushed it next to Rodney.  “Now what?”

“Stretch his dick until it tears in half down the center from the base to the head.”

“And?”

“Figure it out—it can’t be that difficult.”

He picked up the hook, noticing the gap was about two inches and the shank was about six inches long.  In a sarcastic tone, he said, “I don’t think you have a big enough one.”

“If you say so, pal.”

He pulled some of the fishing line out of the winch, then grabbed a section with both hands and tried to break it.  “This shit is going to break.”

“No, it’s not.”

He tossed the slack on the floor.  “It’s fishing line.  You should have brought some steel cable.”

“Stop being difficult.  It’s high-strength braided line.  And it’s ten times stronger than steel of the equivalent diameter.” 

He grabbed the end of the line, then dangled the hook in front of Rodney’s face.  “Better you than me, asshole.”

I laughed.  “At least he still has a dick.”

“That’s all right—you’ll get yours.”

“I didn’t quite hear you.”

“I wasn’t talking to you.”  He gritted his teeth as he grabbed Rodney’s dick.  He pulled back on it, then began poking at it with the hook as he said, “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, I hope you fucking die.”

“You better be talking to him.”

Rodney was jerking around as Barry poked holes in his dick.  He could only mumble as his good eye bulged out of its socket, staring down at his bloody penis.  Barry thrust the hook through it.  “Who else would I be talking to?”

I could see that the hook was cockeyed, midway down his penis.  “Hold up, smart-ass.  Get it as close as you can to his base—I want the whole thing ripped in half.  Also, get it straight, from the top to the bottom—I want an even split.”

Barry shook his head as he glared at me.  “Who gives a shit?”

“I do.”

“It’s not going to magically split down the center like you think anyway.  The hook is going to simply rip it off.”

“You wanna bet?”

“What’s the stakes?”

“If it doesn’t rip down the center, creating two halves from base to tip, I will let you skip on out of here.”

“What if it does?”

I patted the cooler.  “I’ll toss your shit in the fireplace.”

“That’s fucking bullshit!  I have too much to lose.”

“Okay.  Instead of doing that, how about adding your balls in here?  That way it’ll be a complete set.”

“Get real.”

“I’ll keep it simple then.  You will have to tell the police what you did to your wife after I let you go.”

He thought for a minute.  “That’s doable.”

“There will be stipulations, though.”

“Of course, you’re going to add some other bullshit.”

“It’s not that big of a deal. You can’t mention any of this.  If you do, I will find you again and you will be the one hanging on the wall.”

He nodded.  “You’re on.”  He tried to pull the hook out of Rodney’s dick.  “The fucker is stuck.”

“The hook has a barb.  You’re going to have to tear it out.”

Rodney was throwing his head around and moaning as Barry moved the hook around.  His facial expression was making my dick hurt.  Finally, the barb pulled out, tearing a piece of dick meat with it.  I pointed.  “What the fuck is that hanging out of his dick?”

Barry looked closer.  “A vein.”

“Nice.  Now stick it correctly this time.”

The muscles in Rodney’s neck were sticking out as he endured the pain of the hook being shoved back through his penis.  Barry wiped his hands on Rodney’s chest, then glanced at me.  “How’s that?”

I could see that the hook was lined up correctly and close to the base as I had instructed.  “Good job.”

Barry picked up the winch.  “What do I do with this?”

“It has a bottom plate with holes.  Nail it to the floor.”  The fishing line was already connected to the hook, so all that was left was to secure the winch. 

He knelt.  “You want me to do it here?”

“No, back away about ten feet.”

He moved the winch back, then nailed it in place.

“Go ahead and roll up the slack.”

He spun the handle.  “Done.”

Rodney’s lower abdomen was being slightly pulled outwards by his penis.  I pointed to a steel ring-shaped device that was dangling on the line.  “Slide that up to his dick and attach it to his head.”

Barry examined it.  He noticed it had a small ring that was welded to a larger one.  The fishing line was going through the smaller ring, and the larger one was adjustable.  “What the fuck is this for?”

“It’s a cock ring that I designed.”

“For what?”

“For this game.”

“I know that, but what’s its purpose?”

“The larger ring is adjustable, and it locks down behind the head.  The smaller ring sits on top and guides the string and hook.”

He looked confused.  “If you think this will help split his dick in two, it won’t.”

“Get it secured so we can find out.”

He slid it up the line, then locked it in place.  “Can I start cranking the winch?”

Rodney was shaking his head and yelling through his stitches.  “Please don’t do it!  I beg you!”

Barry glared at him.  “Shut the fuck up.”  He strode to the winch and grabbed the handle.

I sat up.  “Go slow.”

“I want to get this done.”

I lit a cigarette.  “If you go too fast it will not be as painful.  I want it to take at least an hour.”

Barry glared at me.  “That’s not fucking fair.”

“To who?”

“To me—I want to get to the hospital.”

“Make it last an hour, and not a second sooner.”

“Whatever.  But don’t be mad if it happens before then.”

I pointed to the table.  “Go get a tape measure.”

He went and got it, then tossed it to me.  “Here.”

I tossed it back.  “Go measure his dick.”

He shook his head as he handled Rodney’s penis.  “Four inches.”

I laughed.  “He’s got an inch on you.”

He glared at me.  “Mine is lying in a fucking box!  It’s flaccid.”

“His is flaccid as well.” 

“What the fuck ever!”

I tossed him a stopwatch.  “One hour.  That’s a little over an eighth of an inch every two minutes.  I want him to scream until he tears out his stitches or dies.”

He shook his head.  “You’re fucking sick.”  He began cranking the handle very slowly, causing a clicking sound as the winch’s locking mechanism snapped into place.  Rodney was moaning as he looked down, noticing the base of his penis and lower abdomen were being pulled out as the line tightened.  The hole around the bend of the hook was now oblong, like how a heavy earring stretches the hole in an earlobe.  After a few more clicks from the winch the hook jumped forward as it tore through flesh.  Rodney was throwing his head around and moaning as blood ran out of the wound.  Barry measured the cut.  “About a quarter of an inch.  I’ll wait about five minutes.”  He sat down to rest.

“No time for that.”  I pointed to Carl.  “He’s stirring around.”

“And?”

“Get your ass up and go stick fifty fishhooks in his ball sack instead of sitting down.”

He mumble, “Sick bastard,” as he ambled to the table.  He moved some stuff around.  “Which ones?”

“The tiny ones.”

“Where in the fuck are they?”

“Red plastic box.  Also, grab the piano wire while you’re over there.”

He sat down behind Carl’s rear.  “I need a knife to cut the wire.”

I tossed him fingernail clippers.  “Go ahead and tie a three feet piece of wire on each hook.”

An angered expression came over Barry.  “Wait a minute.  Why in the fuck can I use wire for this, but not for Rodney?”

“Stop whining and just use it.”

Carl was looking over his shoulder at Barry, mumbling unrecognizable words through his stitches.  His burned skin was peeling, and his hands and feet were extremely swollen.  Even though he was in pain, he still had a little spunk left in him and wasn’t going to go down without a fight—he farted in Barry’s face.

Barry stood up.  “You nasty fucker!”

I pointed at the floor behind Carl.  “Get back down there and finish it up.”

“He’s farting on me.”

“Then move over.  You can tie the wire on the hooks without being right up in his ass.”

Barry was bitching as he picked up his stuff off the floor, and as he was bending down, Carl farted again.  Barry started to pull the chair out from under him, but I got his attention.  “Hold up.  What are you doing?”

“I’m going to beat his ass with it.”

“Leave that there—it will make it easier when you’re sticking in the hooks.”

“He’s fucking farting on me.”

“You’ve already said that.”

“Can I do something about it, or will you get mad?”

“You tell me.”

He held his hands out, palms up.  “How in the fuck should I know?”

I pointed across the room.  “Go read what number seven is.”

He looked confused.  “Read what?”

“The rules that I showed you earlier, you no listening fuck.”

He marched over to the paper and stared at it for a moment, then came back with a poker that had been lying in the fireplace.  The red-hot tip was glowing as he shoved it in Carl’s ass, causing rancid shit and flesh smelling smoke to fill the air.  At first, the sizzling sound of the heated metal coming into contact with moist butthole was louder than Carl’s muffled screams, until he tore his stitches loose, then his screaming was almost deafening until he passed out.  Barry pulled the poker out, then stepped toward me with an aggressive look.  His expression changed when he noticed I had a pistol lying in my lap.  I nodded toward the fireplace.  “Go put it back up before you make another bad decision.”

When he came back, he started to sit down behind Carl.  I tapped my watch.  “Time to crank the winch a few clicks.  You’re getting behind.  It’s been about thirty minutes.”

“Good.  That means I will make the time frame.”

Rodney’s penis was extremely swollen and soreness had set in.  When the hook sliced through his flesh again, the stitches in his mouth began to tear loose as he tried to scream.  His body was so tense that the hole in his left eye squirted out some fluid.  Barry measured the gash.  “It’s about half an inch.”

I could see blood and urine dripping out the bottom.  “We need to stop the bleeding.  Go grab a butter knife from the table and heat it up with the torch, then slide it all the way through the cut so the internal veins will be cauterized.”

Rodney’s eyes rolled in the back of his head when Barry shoved the blade behind the hook.  I began laughing when a puff of smoke came out of Rodney’s piss hole.

Barry shook his head as he walked over to Carl.  “I’m glad you’re being entertained.”

“Hold up, smart-ass, you’re too slow to do two at once.  Stay with Rodney until his dick is split.”

“Sorry I’m not up to your standards, asshole.”

Barry’s comments were starting to get on my nerves.  “Hey, I know you’re still pissed about your dick, but chill out.”

“Still?  When in the fuck am I supposed to be okay with it?”

“Get over there and crank the winch a few clicks before I give you something to really bitch about.”

Barry was angry as he cranked the winch.  I could tell he had moved the hook too much by Rodney’s reaction.  I could hear his screams clear as day even though his mouth was sewn closed.  He was almost like a ventriloquist the way he was able to throw his voice.  If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought Don was the one screaming, but he was on the verge of death.  I walked over and surveyed his penis.  The cut was now about two inches long.  “You dumbass.”

“Sorry, but I’m sure it hurt like a bitch.  And besides, that’s what you’re after anyway.”

I shook my head.  “No harm no foul, I guess.  But let’s wait about fifteen minutes.”

Barry seemed aggravated.  “Why?”

“Because I want the numbness to wear off.”

“This is bullshit.  I need to get to the hospital.  I think you’re stalling on purpose.”

“Hold up, stooge, no one said you get to leave after Rodney’s cock is split.  There’s a lot more pain that needs to be dished out, and you’re not going to be done until they’re all dead.”

He shook his head.  “What the fuck do you want me to do in the meantime?”

I noticed Rodney’s penis was dripping blood.  “Cauterize his wound for starters.  After that you can tie the hooks to the wire to make up a little time.”

He heated the knife, stuck it in the wound, then sauntered away leaving the blade sizzling in the blood and piss.

About twenty minutes later, Barry went to the winch.  “Wires are done.  Can I crank it?”

“Go ahead and rip it, but do it very slowly.”

He turned the winch a few clicks.  “Is that enough?”

I was standing next to Rodney.  “Not yet.”

“Why do you get to rip it more?”

“I’m not.  The closer the hook gets to the end, the more his dick stretches.”

“Oh.”  He turned the winch.  “How about that?”

The tension was so tight that it was causing Rodney’s penis to be stretched to about seven inches.  The hook had now split it about two thirds of the way.  He was in so much agony that his body was trembling and the veins in his neck were bulging out like a body builder lifting weights. Suddenly, his eye squirted again, but like a squirt gun.  I pointed to the butter knife.  “Reheat it.  And make sure you get it real hot—he’s bleeding badly.”

The blade was glowing red.  “Is this good?”

“Yes, but make sure you slide it back and forth in the wound.”

When he shoved in the blade, smoke bellowed out at the same time Rodney tore the stitches and rod from his mouth as he let out a horrifying yell.  Barry wasn’t fazed by Rodney’s screaming and violent jerking as he worked the knife around.  When the bleeding slowed down, I pointed to the winch.  “Let’s go ahead and rip it apart.”

“Kick ass.”  He jabbed the butter knife in Rodney’s thigh, then stood by the winch.  “Can I do it fast?”

“No.”

Barry seemed excited as he cranked the winch handle slowly.  “What’s it doing?”

“Stretching the shit out of it.”

“How long is it?”

“About nine inches.  And I think it’s fixing to…”  His penis made a snapping sound as the hook jumped forward, ripping the last of it in half.

Barry was holding his hand over his mouth as he looked at the two halves as they flopped around.  “That’s fucking sick.”

Rodney was looking down while weeping.  I leaned against the wall next to him.  “Whatcha think?”

He could barely speak.  “Please stop hurting me.”

“That’s not going to happen, but I was talking about the bet.  Who won?”

He remained silent.

“I will get Barry to pull your testicles out your urethra if you don’t speak up.”

“You did.”

I glanced at Barry.  “Did you hear that?”

He was glaring at me.  “I already know that, and you don’t have to rub it in.”  He examined Rodney’s penis.  “And how in the fuck was that possible?  It shouldn’t have done that.”

“You would be right if it was a normal hook.”

He looked confused.  “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Didn’t you notice the inside of the hook was filed down to a dull edge?”

He just glared at me.

“I had shaped the edge so it would guide itself, and with enough tension it cuts instead of tearing.”

I could see the anger in his face.  “That’s cheating.”

“How’s that?”

“It just is.”

“The name of the game is Two Headed Cock.  He now has two dick heads, so you lost and have to spill the beans.”

“I ain’t spillin’ shit.”

“We’ll discuss that later, but first you need to cauterize him before he bleeds out.”

Rodney was still looking down.  “I’m sorry for what I’ve done.  Please just kill me.”

I leaned toward his ear and whispered.  “Sorry isn’t enough for what you did.  I’ve decided to take you home with me.”

Barry was kneeling next to Rodney’s penis.  “What did you just say?”

“You need to worry about what you’re doing, then get over there and start back on Carl.”

Barry lit the torch and began to use the flame to cauterize Rodney’s penis, but I motioned for him to stop.  “Use the knife.”

He looked confused.  “What?”

“Heat up the knife like you’ve been doing.”

“What’s the point?  His dick is mutilated.”

“I want to see if I can split it in fours.”

He turned red with anger.  “This is bullshit!  I don’t have…”

“Hush!  I’m going to do it in a few months after he’s healed.”

His mouth fell open.  “What?”

“You heard me.  And you need to speed it up—time is running out.”

He heated up the knife blade, then poked at Rodney’s penis with it.

“Not like that.  Grab one of his dick halves and run the blade along the inside of it like you’re spreading jelly on a piece of toast.”  I went and laid on the couch.

He felt like vomiting as he handled the bloody pieces of flesh.  Rodney was so weak that all he could do was moan.  When Barry was done, he came to me holding his hand over his bandage.  “I’m starting to hurt.”

I pulled a syringe out of my pocket and tossed it to him.  “Inject that at the base of your stub.”

He looked at the fluid in the syringe.  “What is this?”

“A numbing agent.”

“I don’t know; it might not be safe.”

“It’s the same shit I’ve already used on you.”

“You could have got it mixed up with something else.”

“I doubt it.”

“You could have chosen the wrong one.”

I pulled a hand full of syringes out of my pocket, then looked through them, examining the different fluids by color.  “Nope, that’s the right one.”

“See what I mean.”  He tossed it back to me.  “I’ll pass.”

I stuck it back in my pocket with the others.  “Suit yourself.”

“Do you have any Tylenol?”

“Do I look like a fucking pharmacy?”

“Yeah, with all the shit you keep on you.”

I laughed as I pulled a baggy from my pocket.  I tossed it to him.  “Take one of those.”

“How much more do I have to do when I’m done with Carl?”

“You answered your own question.”

“What does that mean?”

I pointed to Don.  “He won’t feel anything else, so he’s done.  And I have other plans for Rodney.  So, Carl is the only one left in the game.”

Carl was awake, and when he glanced at Don, noticing he was dead, he began sobbing.  Barry looked disturbed as he stared at the molesters.  “It’s not right what you made me do to them.  I feel dead inside.”

“Save the emotional shit for later.  Your last participant is waiting to complete his squats.”

He sat down behind Carl with the hooks.  “What was it that you wanted me to do?”

“Stick the hooks in the outer skin of his ball sack.  And make sure you space them evenly around it.”

Carl was looking back.  His face was swollen and covered with blisters that were oozing a clear fluid.  His lips were lined with holes and tears, and some of the holes had pieces of broken string hanging from them.  The skin on both his butt cheeks were red, and the redness of the skin turned to darker shades of red as it got closer to his burnt anus.  His anus was oozing a brownish fluid and it was running down his ass crack before dripping off his balls.  He was in a lot of pain, but still angry.  “Don’t touch me!  You fucking hear me?”

He went from cursing to screaming when a hook pierced his flesh, then he began jerking his hips around to prevent Barry from inserting another hook.  Barry became annoyed, so he grabbed his penis and pulled down on it.

I laughed.  “And you thought wearing his underwear was bad.”

He shoved in another hook as he forced Carl to hold still.  “I don’t have a fucking choice, do I?”

“No one is making you fondle his junk.”

“Fuck you!”

The veins in Carl’s neck were bulging out and his body was covered in sweat as he endured the pain.  Desperation was written all over his face as he twisted his neck, looking at Barry, shouting, “Let go of my fucking dick!  You’re ripping it off!”

Barry didn’t let up.  “Fuck you too, asshole.”  He stuck in another hook.

Carl was screaming at the top of his lungs, so I ambled over to see what was so painful.  Barry was bending his dick in a sharp angle for leverage as he stretched the fuck out of it.  I grabbed my crotch.  “Damn!  Are you tryin’ to tear it off?”

“Fuck you.”  He leaned over so he could make eye contact with Carl.  “Hold still or I will.”

I pointed at him as he sat on the floor.  “Watch your tongue, dickless.”

“Go sit back on the couch.”  He stuck in another hook.  “I have shit to do.”

Carl was breathing heavily and covered in sweat as he rested the side of his head on his arm.  He was staring into space and moaning as he endured the pain.  Barry stuck in the last hook, then looked back at me.  “What the fuck do you want me to do next?”

“Tie the wires to the nails you drove in the floor.  And make sure they have the same amount of tension.”

Carl was panicking as he looked over his shoulder at me, then Barry, then back at me.  “What are y’all going to do?”  He made a painful expression.  “Oh, shit!  I can feel him pulling on my nuts.  Please make him stop.”

A few minutes later, Barry stood up.  “Now what?”

“Pull the chair out from under him.”

When he removed the chair, Carl lowered his rear-end into a squatted position, relieving the tension on the wires.  “Oh, my God!  That feels so much better.”  He peeked over his shoulder at me.  “My anus is hurting really bad.  Please make it stop.”

Barry shrugged his shoulders as he glared at Carl.  “What the fuck is this?  How’s that supposed to be torture?”

“I was going to have you build a fire under his waist, giving him the choice to tear his sack apart or burn off his dick, but he gave me a better idea.”

“He didn’t say anything.”

“He said he wants his anus to stop hurting, so we’re going fix that for him.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.  His asshole is destroyed.  There is nothing you can do to fix it.”

“I can fix it from hurting.”  I slid the couch forward a few feet.  “Get a crowbar and bust through the ceiling.”

He stood on the couch and knocked a hole in the ceiling.  I took the bar from him, then handed him a chain.  “Wrap that around the ceiling joist.”

“Now what?”

I handed him a pulley.  “Hang that from the chain.”

“Got it.”

I tossed him a rope.  “Feed that through the pulley.”

When he stepped down, I pointed to the kitchen.  “Get the broom; it’s in the kitchen.”

When he came back, I picked up one end of the couch.  “Stick it under here.”

The handle of the broom was holding the end of the couch about five feet off the floor.  I pointed to the rope that was hanging from the pulley.  “Tie it around the couch.”

I pulled the other end of the rope, taking up the slack, then cut it off where it was about a foot from Carl’s ass.  “There’s a large steel ring on the table; bring to me.”  I tied the end of the rope to the ring.  “Grab a handful of large fishing hooks and some string.  Also, get the rectal dilator.”

“I don’t see the fishhooks.”

“Blue box.”

“Got it.  What’s a rectal dilator?”

“It looks like…”  I walked over and pointed to it.  “That.”

He tried to hand me the items.  I waved my hand, indicating no.  “Those are for you.  I’ve done my part.”

He seemed aggravated.  “I thought you were helping so I could get done?”

“I was just bored.”

He held the items out.  “Then you can fucking do it.”

“I’m not going near his asshole.  That’s your job.”

“You want me to do what?”

“Stick the dilator in Carl’s ass, crank it open until he rips, then line his pucker hole with the hooks.  You can tie the string to the hooks before or after you stick them in.”

“Why in the hell do you want me to put hooks in his ass?”

“You’re going to pull out his colon.”

“Why?”

“I’ve already told you, so his anus won’t hurt him anymore.”

“That’s just going to cause him more pain.”

“Not from his anus—it will be laying on the floor.”

“You’re fucking insane.”  He shook his head as he stuck the tool in Carl’s anus.  “This is nasty.”

Carl was screaming at the top of his lungs as his asshole was being stretched.  Barry turned and gagged.  “It’s cracking open and bleeding.  It looks like a volcano.”

Out of curiosity, I examined him, noticing his anus was as black as charred wood.  He was burned so badly that the dilator had cracked open his skin.  The cracks encircled his anus and they were flowing with blood.  “It does look like a volcano.”

Barry took the hooks and string to the table.  “I’m doing this shit over here.”

“Make sure you leave the strings three feet long.”

A few minutes later, he walked up to Carl with hooks hanging from strings.  “Hey, asshole, ready to have your ass pulled out.”

Carl looked horrified.  “You can’t do that to me!  I can’t take any more pain.  I beg you for mercy.”

Barry started to stick in a hook, then paused as he glanced at me.  “I need some gloves.”

“For what?”

“I don’t want to get shit on me.”

“Your hands are already covered with Don’s shit.”

“Whatever, dude.”  He began sticking in the hooks, one after another, as Carl jerked his hips around and screamed.  When he was done, he tied the ends of the strings to the ring, then kicked the broom out from under the couch.  The rope pulled Carl’s ass upwards, causing the hooks below to stretch his nut sack.  He was holding himself in a mid-squat position to equalize the tension between his anus and balls.  Carl had a grimace of terror as I sauntered up to him, then leaned against the wall.  “You’re in a hell of a predicament.”

“Oh, my God!  You’re killing me!”

“Not really.  A human can take a lot of punishment and keep on ticking like Timex, including having their ass ripped out or their ball sack torn apart.”  I lit a cigarette.  “So, which one you going to choose first?”

He was suffering immensely.  “Please cut me loose.  I can’t take it anymore.”

“Can’t couldn’t do shit.  Now either push up with your legs and rip your sack apart, or squat down and rip your colon out.”

“Please don’t do this to me.”

“I’m not doing anything to you.  It’s your choice what’s going to happen.”

“You can’t do this.  Please have mercy.”

“Okay.”  I went and laid on the couch.  My additional weight caused his sack to stretch to about seven inches and his colon to bulge out like a really bad case of hemorrhoids.  Barry was standing off to the side covering his eyes.  I flicked my cigarette butt at him, striking him in the side of his head.  “Pay attention, fuckhead.”

Carl was making a howling sound as his legs trembled.  Barry looked nauseated.  “This is too much.”

I began throwing my upper body back and forth, causing the couch to bounce.  Each time the couch lowered, Carl’s butthole and balls would grotesquely stretch.  I yelled out, “How’s that for mercy, asshole?”

He was throwing his head around and screaming at first, then he began gagging when his body went into some type of seizure from the intense pain.  Suddenly, the hooks ripped his ball sack apart.  The couch dropped about two feet as his rear-end flew upwards, jerking his legs straight.  Blood was running down the inside of his legs and his anus was now protruding by a few inches.  Barry turned away and dry heaved as Carl belted out a pain-filled wail.  I cut the rope from the couch, allowing Carl to squat down. 

I pointed.  “Hey, Barry, check that out.”

He noticed Carl’s testicles were hanging out.  “Oh, my God, oh, my God!  That’s freakin’ sick.  His shit is hanging by some cords.”

“They’re called spermatic cords, or vas deferens.”

“Who gives a shit what they’re called.  It’s grotesque.”

I slid the couch back, then pointed to the rope that was hanging from the ceiling.  “Swing on this like Tarzan.”

He had a disgusted look.  “Just kill the dude—he’s gone through enough.”

“Who are you to say when he has had enough?”

“And what gives you the right to say he hasn’t?”

“When he chose to stick his dick in a child.”

Barry tried to climb up on the rope.  “I can’t pull myself up—it hurts my groin too much.”

I tied a loop in the end of the rope.  “Stick your foot in that for support.”

When he stepped up, the rope pulled Carl’s rear-end back into the upwards position.  His anus was being pulled out about the same as it was with the couch’s weight.  I grabbed Barry and pulled him backwards, then gave him a good push.  Each time he swung by I gave him a shove.  Carl was on the verge of passing out as Barry swung back and forth as if he was on a swing.  Barry began yelling for me to stop as I pushed him harder—he was almost touching the ceiling.  Suddenly, Barry went flying across the room as Carl’s intestines came shooting out of his ass like a snake-in-the-can prank.  Barry fell onto the table, knocking everything off as he rolled across it before falling to the floor.  I could see him lying on his back holding his bandage as he yelled curse words at me.  Carl’s body was violently shaking, and I knew he was about to pass out.  I yelled out to Barry, “Stop lying around and get your ass over here before he passes out.”

Barry came stumbling over, then leaned forward with his hands on his knees.  “You hurt my fucking…”  He glared at me.  “I don’t even know what to call it, asshole.”

“Stub or nub.”

He noticed a large amount of Carl’s intestines were hanging out of his rear-end.  They ran from his ass up to the pulley.  “Oh, shit!  That’s fucking gross.”

“Definitely makes your problems seem trivial.

“Fuck you!  You still cut off my dick.”

“Before you start bitching and moaning, pull out the slack.”  I pointed to Carl’s ass.”

“You’re fucking sick.”

I motioned with my fingers.  “Get it done before he passes out.”

Barry gagged, bitched, and cursed at he pulled on the slippery intestines.  “Why is it so fucking hard to pull out?  Aren’t they just in here?”

“They’re anchored by connective tissue and blood vessels, so no, they just don’t simply pull out.”

“This is fucking sick!” They seemed to keep coming as he pulled out a foot at a time.  He finally became aggravated.  “What the fuck!  How much is in here?”

“Intestines are usually around twenty-five feet.  Your flying acrobatics show only pulled out about ten feet.”

“Fuck you!  That was sorry.”  About that time the intestines stopped coming out.  “I think that’s it.”

“I think you’re right.”

“Now what?”

I checked Carl’s pulse.  His head was hanging down and he was barely breathing.  “He’s on his way to Hell.”

Barry had a disturbed look.  “How can you do such evilness?”

I glared at him.  “Hold up, motherfucker!  You think I’m evil for avenging some innocent children?”

Barry looked worried.  “I should have said, such horrible stuff.”

“So, now I do horrible shit?”

He lowered his head.  “I’m just pissed off because of my penis.”

“So, what?”

“So, what?  You cut it off.  That was fucking sorry.”

“That’s what you get for murdering your wife and blaming me for that shit.”

He glared at me.  “She fucking cheated on me!”

“And you had cheated on her first.”

His eyes opened wide.  “No, I didn’t.”

I pulled out my tranquilizer gun.  “We’ll see about that.”

He held his hands out.  “Hold up!  You’re right.  I had been.”

I holstered my gun.  “Sounds like you’re the one with moral issues.”

“You’re right.  I’m sorry.”  He was worried that something bad was going to happen to him.

I could see the fear in his eyes.  “Chill out.  I’m not going to kill you.”

He took a deep breath.  “Now what?”

I glanced at my watch.  “It’s about two hours before sunrise.  Let’s call it a night.”

“That’s it?  I can go?”

“First, I need to remove your belt and bandage your back.”

“Don’t worry about my back.”

I opened the cooler and began moving around the ice, then pulled out a beer bottle.  I handed it to him.  “This will take the edge off.”

He looked at the cooler for a moment, then glared at me.  “You had this in there?  That could have gotten bacteria on my dick.”

I laughed.  “You’re worried about that while you’re covered in body fluids.”

He looked worried as he stared down at his stain-covered bandage.  “Oh, shit!  Do you think I’m going to get an infection?”

I removed the belt.  “No—I sterilized your stub.”  I could see him holding the neck of the beer bottle tightly.  “Just because your belt is off don’t mean I won’t shove that up your ass.”

He popped the top.  “I wasn’t planning on doing anything.”

“Don’t fuck up now—you’re almost home free.”

He downed the beer, then tossed the bottle on the floor.  “Can I go?”

“Take off.”  When he started for the cooler, he passed out.  I had laced his beer with a sedative and PCP.  While he slept, I loaded him, the molesters and all the items I had brought with me in the back of the camper shell.  I doused the inside of the house with gas, set it on fire, then got the hell out of dodge.”

Nuthin’ But a Thang

Wyatt was laid back in his seat.  He was almost asleep.  “Damn!  That was a long-winded story.”

“Sorry about that.  But I’m surprised you didn’t ask any questions.”

Wyatt noticed a large city coming up.  It was dark out and the lights were lighting up the sky.  “Where’re we at?”

“Dallas.”  Seth glanced at Wyatt.  “Wow!  Still no comments or questions about what I made Barry do?”

He shook his head.  “The fuckers got what they deserved.”

Seth smiled.  “I’m glad you feel that way.”

He laughed.  “Well, maybe one question.”

“Let me guess; what happened to Barry?”

“Yep.”

“The house we had used was several counties away from where he lived.  While he was unconscious, I took him to another abandoned house that was on the outskirts of his town.  He never saw the outside of the other house, so I sat him on the front porch in a rocking chair.  When he awoke, I made sure he saw me pulling a body bag out the front door.  He tried to stand up but he was dizzy.  “What’s going on?”

I dropped the end of the bag.  “You passed out, so I brought you out here for some fresh air.”

The bag moved, startling Barry.  “What is that?”

“It’s Rodney.  I told you I was taking him with me.”  I dragged the bag to the back of my truck, then rolled it over the tailgate and into the camper.  Barry was walking down the steps.  I quickly closed the camper shell so he wouldn’t see the other bodies.  I wanted him to think they were still inside the house.  I walked to the driver’s door.  “Let’s go.”

He stopped a little way away, looking as if he wanted to run.  He remained quiet while standing cautiously.

“If you run you won’t get your dick back.”

“How can I trust you?”

“Really?  Like I couldn’t have killed you by now.”  I pulled out a gun.  “Get your ass in before I change my mind.”

When he got in, I handed him a tow sack.  “Put that over your head.”

His hands were shaking.  “Why?”

“So, you won’t be able to find this house again.”

He put the sack on.  “Please don’t kill me.  I did everything you asked.”

“Chill out, dude, I’m not going to kill you.  I just don’t want you to find this house again.”  I took off.

“Where are you taking me?”

“I’m going to drop you off on the side of the road a few miles away so you won’t be able to tell the cops where we were if you decide to get stupid.

“You’re going to make me walk?  I need to get to the hospital.”

“I have a bicycle in the back I will give you.”

“Huh?”

“Hey, it’s better than walking.  And something else, do you remember our bet?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Drop the sir bullshit.”

“Yes, I do.”

“If you don’t keep your end of it what’s going to happen?”

“You will come find me.”

“That’s right.  And don’t think witness protection will prevent that either.”

“I know it wouldn’t.”

“Are you going to mention what happened back there?”

“I can’t.  I was involved.”

“That’s the right answer.  And you need to say that you cut off your dick when you got high on PCP and that you don’t remember how your neck got punctured or how your back got messed up.”

“Okay.”

“Or just tell them you had a wreck on your bike, and when you got up your dick was lying on the ground.”

“Okay.”

“Maybe adding that a car ran over your ass would be better.”

“Okay.”

“You can say you had the ice chest because you were carrying a lunch with you.”

“Okay.”

“Why are you being so cooperative?”

“I just want this to be over.”

“Just tell them anything, but leave me out of it.”

“Okay.”

Thirty minutes later, I pulled over.  “Get out.”

He started to climb out.  “I can’t see anything.”

“You can take off the sack.”  I went to the back of the truck and pulled out a bicycle, then put the kickstand down.  I set the cooler next to it.  He looked frightened as he stood next to the bike.  “Can I go?”

“Of course.  But I have a question for you.”

“What’s that?”

“You interested in an internship?  I need some help.”

He looked confused.  “I…”

“Just fucking with you.”  I laughed as I walked off.  “Good luck with your dick.”  He took off on the bike in the opposite direction, disappearing into the dark.

Wyatt was laughing.  “Do you know what happened after that?”

“He was taken to the hospital when someone reported that a naked man was riding down the highway on a bicycle.”

“Were they able to sew his dick back on?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t work.  And it probably didn’t help that I kept him unconscious an additional twenty-four hours.”

“Do you think he told the police what had happened?”

“Like I said earlier, he was deemed to have a mental-health disorder, so even if he did, they wouldn’t have believed him.”

“What happened to Rodney?”

“A few months later, I split his dick halves in half, just like I said I was going to do.  A year after that, I split the four sections in half.”  Seth laughed.  “It looks like he has an octopus hanging out of his crotch.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “It looks?  I take it he’s still alive?”

“Sure is.”

“Is he in your chamber?”

“No.  After I cut off his limbs, tongue, blinded him and busted his ear drums, basically turning him into a human slug, I left him on the steps of this anti-death penalty organization.”

“Why did he get it so much worse than the other two?  They were child molesters as well.”

“I know.  I despise all sex offenders, but his crime was calculating.  It’s bad enough when a pervert harms their own children, but this bastard set out to kidnap and sexually assault someone’s child.  He’s the absolute worst kind of predator.”

“You’re right.  I hope he suffered.”

“Immensely.”

“Good.”  Wyatt noticed the bright lights of Dallas were tranquil.  “This is the first time I’ve been here.  Can we stop to get something to eat?”

“We need to get gas.  You can grab a bag of chips or something.”

Wyatt pointed.  “Take the next exit.  The sign says there’s a gas station with a Taco Bell.”

Seth pulled onto the access road.  “I need you to hide in the floorboard while I get gas.”

“What about Taco Bell?”

“Fuck Taco Bell.  We can’t take a chance being seen together.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

“Go ahead and get down.”

Wyatt was sitting on the floorboard on his side when Seth pulled up to a pump.  “Hurry up.  This is uncomfortable.”

“It shouldn’t take long.”  A few minutes later, Seth got in.  “Slight change of plans.”

“What’s going on?”

“Stay down for a bit longer.  I need to go check something out.”  He pulled out of the parking lot and headed down a side street.  “You can sit back in the seat.”

Wyatt looked around, observing houses.  “Where’re we at?”

Seth nodded.  “See that guy walking?”

Wyatt noticed a black man walking down a sidewalk.

“It’s dark, but yeah.”

“I need to have a chat with him.”

Wyatt seemed eager.  “What did he do?  Are you going to kill him?”

“He’s an old informant.  Remember how I told you I get information from scumbags.”

“Yeah.”

“He’s one of them.”  Seth parked the truck on the side of the street.  “Lock the doors and stay here.  I won’t be long.  If a cop comes, pretend you’re asleep.”

“Okay.”

Seth quickly took off into the dark.  Wyatt was a little worried as he waited, but he had come to trust Seth, knowing he would keep him safe.  A few minutes later, Seth tapped on the glass.  Wyatt rolled down his window.  “What’s going on?”

“Climb into the backseat.  I don’t want this joker to see you.”

Wyatt looked around.  “Why is he…”

“Hurry up, he’s coming.”

Seth walked around the front of the truck, then motioned to the man to get in.  He got in the passenger’s side as Seth started the truck.  No one said anything as they drove off.  A few miles down the street the man pointed.  “Take this road.”  A short time later, he pointed to another street.  “This is it.  Look for a yellow house.  There should be a black Suburban sittin’ on twenty-fo’s in the driveway.”

Wyatt was peeking out the window, noticing the street was lined with older houses and junky cars; it appeared to be a ghetto.  Seth noticed the Suburban was at the house.  “Is that an indication he’s there?”

“That’s his friend’s ride, so most likely.”

Seth drove on past, then parked down an alleyway.  He glanced at the man.  “You’re coming with me when I go in.”

He shook his head.  “Hold up, man, that’s not part of the deal.”

Seth shot him with a tranquilizer dart, then looked at Wyatt.  “Drag his ass back there and get up here.”

He crawled into the front seat.  “Why did you do that to him?”

“So, he won’t rat on me.”

“Rat on you for what?”

“Have you heard of Clayton Warner?”

Wyatt shook his head.  “No.”

“He’s a murdering rapist.  A few months ago, he and two accomplices, Darren and Andre, were robbing a house when the owners came home.  They raped the woman, then killed her and her husband.  Andre turned himself in, stating he was there just to steal stuff.  Clayton and Darren have been on the run.  The asshole in the backseat told me Clayton is hiding out at his friend’s house.”

“That’s the one with the Suburban?”

“Correct.”  Seth backed out of the alleyway, then drove by the house.

“What are you going to do?”

“Go in and see if he’s there.”

“Is that smart?”

“It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

“What about me?”

“I can drop you off somewhere.”

“I don’t know what to do.”  He thought for a moment.  “You know you could call the police.”

Seth just stared at Wyatt.

“I know.”

Seth noticed a car wash.  “I don’t see any cameras.”  He pulled into a bay, then handed Wyatt a handful of quarters and a ball cap.  “Put that on, then go spray down the truck with foam, especially the windows.  And stay out in the open so people can see you, and don’t look around—that will make you look suspicious.”

“Why are we doing this?”

“I need to change into my gear.”

“Why here?”

“Because it draws less attention than being parked on the side of the road.  And the foam will hide what I’m doing.”

“Less attention?  We’re right out in the open.”

“And why would anyone pay attention to someone washing a vehicle?”

“I see your point.”  He got out.

Seth crawled into the backseat, tied up and gagged his informant, then sat on the passenger side with his bag.  A few minutes later, he rolled down the window a little and yelled, “Rinse it off, then get in the driver’s seat.”

Wyatt looked confused when he got in.  “Why am I driving?”

“I need to finish getting ready.”

He noticed Seth was wearing an armored vest with neck protection.  “What about your nuts?”

Seth shook his head.  “You need to stay focused.  This could go badly—I’m going into an unknown environment.”

“Sorry.”

Seth secured a groin protector to the bottom of his vest.  “And I have already thought of that.”  He glanced at the speedometer.  “You’re going fifteen miles under the speed limit.  That will draw attention.”

Wyatt sped up.  “What am I supposed to do when we get there?”

“Stay in the truck.”  Seth pointed.  “Turn right.”

“This isn’t the same street.”

“I know.  It’s one street over.”  Seth removed the bulb from the dome light.  “When we get to the alleyway, don’t use the brakes.  Slow the truck down by putting it low gear, let it coast so I can jump out.”  He looked at his watch.  “It’s a four-minute trip from the car wash.  When you drop me off, go back and keep washing the truck until I call you.”  He handed Wyatt a two-way radio.  “If you see anything unusual give me a heads up.”

“Like what?”

“Use your best judgment.”

“What about the guy in the back?”

“Don’t worry about him—he’ll be out for several more hours.”  Seth put an earpiece in his ear, then pressed a button that was clipped to the front of his vest, causing Wyatt’s radio to make a screeching sound.  “We’re good to go.”  Seth pointed.  “The alleyway is coming up on your right.”

Wyatt looked worried.  “What are you going…”

Seth interrupted.  “Go back to the car wash and act normal.  When I call you, come back to this exact place and pull down the alleyway and stop.”

“What if something goes wrong?”

“I will come to the car wash.”

“What if you don’t?”

“I’ll be dead.  Now put the shifter in low.”  When the truck slowed down, Seth jumped out, then disappeared into the darkness.  Wyatt’s hands were shaking as he drove away.  His mind was being flooded with all the things that could go wrong.  He knew he had to calm down, so he lit a cigarette.  He turned on the radio, then turned it off.  He noticed he was driving too slowly, so he sped up.  The windshield looked foggy, so he turned on the defroster, making it worse.  His heart was racing as he adjusted the temperature control, worrying that someone might notice the foggy windshield.  Finally, he saw the lights of the car wash.  He felt relieved until he noticed all the bays were full.  He began to panic, noticing people were everywhere.  He didn’t know what to do.  Then he saw the vacuum cleaners.  A weight felt like it had been lifted when he parked next to one.  He put out his cigarette, then got out.  When he pulled some change from his pocket, he dropped several quarters, causing them to scatter.  He almost tripped over his feet as he ran after them.  He took a deep breath, knowing he had to calm down before someone noticed he was acting strange.  There was a man standing next to a bay; he seemed to be looking at him.  His heart felt like it was going to explode as he stared back.  He got in the truck, contemplating if he should take off.

“Sir.”

Wyatt jumped when a man’s voice startled him.  He rolled down the window.  “Can I help you?”

“Do you have change?”

He noticed it was the man who had been staring at him.  “Sure.  How much do you need?”

“A dollar.”

He was shaking as he handed him four quarters.  “Keep your dollar.”

“Thanks, man.”  He walked off.

Wyatt leaned his head back and began taking deep breaths to calm his nerves.  When he got his heart rate down, he got out and started the vacuum.  Suddenly, it dawned on him that he wouldn’t be able to hear the radio with all the noise, so he tried to turn off the vacuum, but it didn’t have a stop button.  He hung the hose back on the holder, then went to the other side of the truck and opened the passenger’s door, but the noise was echoing through the truck—he had left the other door open.  He crawled across the front seat and closed it, reducing the noise.  A car pulled up next to him as he was on all-fours, knowing he looked out of place.  He quickly picked up some trash out of the floorboard, then threw it in a trashcan.  Relief overcame him when the vacuum shut off, then he noticed a bay was open.  He got in the truck, but before he was able to pull in, someone beat him to it.  Now he felt like he was sticking out like a sore thumb.  He backed up, then a car horn echoed out; he almost backed into another vehicle.  He put the shifter in drive, then took off down the street.  Suddenly, his heart felt like it stopped when he couldn’t find the radio.  He quickly turned into a convenience store to turn around, then noticed the center of the street had a concrete divider to prevent just that.  Sweat was pouring off his head as he took off in the same direction he had been going.  A short way down, he started to make a U-turn at a red light until he noticed a cop car sitting in the oncoming traffic.  He locked up his brakes, finding himself stopped in the middle of the intersection.  Cars were honking their horns as they drove past him.  He looked back to see if he could backup, but a truck was behind him.  He panicked as he made a left turn, running the red light, knowing the cop was going to come after him.  When he got through the intersection, he glanced back.  Relief overcame him when he noticed the car was only a security car.

He continued down the road for a little way, then turned around.  He felt nervous about going back to the same intersection where he had just caused the commotion, but he couldn’t risk getting lost.  He was already worried that he might not be able to find his way back, as it was.  When he got to the car wash, someone was parked at the vacuum pump where he had been.  He slowly drove by, looking for the radio; it wasn’t there.  What if Seth had already radioed him, he thought.  He took off for the alleyway, knowing it was his only option.  Sweat was now dripping off his face as he sped down the street.  A few blocks from the alleyway his heart was beating so hard that he could feel the pulse in his ears.  When he saw the alleyway, he was unsure what to do.  When he drove by, he didn’t see anything, wondering if Seth had been caught, but that couldn’t have happened—there were no cops around.  He went down a few blocks, then turned around.  Suddenly, a voice startled him.  “Come to the alley, over.”

He moved Seth’s bag, finding the radio.  A huge weight felt like it had been lifted.  He grabbed the radio.  “I’m here.”

There was silence for a moment.  “Here as on the radio, or at the alley?  Over.”

“Pulling into the alley now.”

Seth threw something in the back of the truck, then got in.  “Let’s get the fuck out of here!”

Wyatt took off down the street.  “Was he home?  Did you kill him?  What happened?”

“We’re good.”  Seth was drenched in sweat.  “Why do you have the heater on?  It’s hotter than hell in here.”  He turned on the air conditioner.

Wyatt was drenched in sweat himself.  “Well, what happened?”

“That’s a good question.  Why were you so close?”

“It was a calculated guess.”

“Calculated my ass.  Did everything go okay?”

“Piece of cake.”

Seth noticed how sweaty he was.  “If you say so.”

“You mad?”

“No, but I need to teach you how to communicate on a radio.”

“You’re the one that came up with this scheme at the last second.”

“And you did well.”

“Nuthin’ but a thang.”

Seth took off his gear.  “You want me to drive?”

Wyatt lit a cigarette.  “I’m good.  Now tell me what happened?  Was Clayton there?”

“He was.”

“Did you kill him?”

“I killed his friend.”

Wyatt’s eyes opened wide.  “Really?  Why?”

“Why not?  He was protecting the piece of shit.”

“What did you do to Clayton?”

“Nothing yet.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “Are you planning on going back?”

“Hell no.”

“Then what did you mean by yet?”

“He’s in the back of the truck.  Didn’t you feel me throw him back there?”

“I thought you kicked the tire or something.”

“Why in the hell would I do that?”

Wyatt remained quiet for a moment.  “What are you going to do with him?”

Seth lit a cigarette.  “We can take him to Barry’s house and make him torture the fuck out of him.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “That would be a bad idea.”

“He already has the experience, and we were planning on going by there anyway.”

“He could have ratted you out, and you don’t know if Jim is involved.  He could be watching.”

“I have Barry’s house wired with hidden cameras.  He just sits around all day with lip stick on, trying to get his dick hard to adult films, especially the porn that John Wayne Bobbitt appeared in, Frankenpenis.”

Wyatt gazed at Seth with an odd expression.  “Seriously?”

“Not really, but he does do weird stuff like that though.”

“And you want me to go there.  No thanks.  And I don’t care what you do to that piece of shit in the back of the truck, just as long as I’m not involved.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to be.”  Seth glanced at his watch.  It was almost 11 PM.  “I have some land west of Lubbock.  There’s an old barn that I use as a workshop.  We can be there in about seven hours.”

“Why do you want to go there?”

“It’s in the direction we needed to go anyway, and it’s secluded.”

“Why does it matter if it’s secluded?”  He thought for a moment.  “You wanna do something to Clayton.  I said I didn’t want to be involved.”

“Define involved.”

Wyatt just stared at Seth.

“Is hanging out in the truck while Clayton and I discuss his behavior involved?”

“That’s fine, but if the cops show up, I will say you made me come along.”

“That’s the spirit.”  He pointed to a side street.  “Turn here.”  A little way down, Seth held his hand out.  “Stop.”

“Right here?”  Wyatt noticed the area was dark.

“Yes.”  When the truck stopped, Seth got out, opened the rear door, then dragged Clayton’s body into the rear seat.  He got back in the front.  “Let’s go.”

Wyatt took off, then looked back, noticing the man was rolled up from head to toe in some type of dark fabric.  The fabric was being secured in place with some type of cloth straps.  “What did you wrap him in?”

“A curtain.”  Seth twirled his finger.  “Turn around.”

Wyatt pulled into a driveway, backed up, then took off the other direction.  “How many fucking bodies are you going to stick back there?”

“We’re going to be driving down an interstate and I don’t want nosy ass truck drivers getting into our business.”

“What about the other dude?  Are you taking him to Lubbock?”

“Not sure yet.”  Seth pointed to a Taco Bell.  “Lookey there.  You’re going to get your fake-ass Mexican food after all.”

“You serious?  I can stop?”

“Just make sure you park away from the building.”  Seth handed him a wig and fake mustache.  “Put those on before you go in.”

Wyatt put them on, then adjusted the mirror as he looked at his reflection.  “I look like a dweeb.”

“You’re fine.”  Seth opened his laptop.  “Good; Taco Fuck has Wi-Fi.”

Wyatt got out.  “You want anything?”

“T Bone’s wallet, if he has one.”

“Who?”

“The fucker in the back.”

“I thought his name was Clayton?”

“The other asshole.”

“Oh, you never said his name.”

“T Bone is his street name.  I don’t know what his real one is.  Just go through his pockets and see if there’s anything in them that identifies him.  And be careful—he could have a needle on him.  Also, see if they have cell phones.”

Wyatt tossed a wallet to Seth.  “That was on T Bone.”  He set two cell phones in the seat.  “They both had one.”

Seth picked them up.  “Freakin’ Obama phones.”  He removed the batteries.

“Why did you do that?”

“So we can’t be tracked.”

“That’s smart.  Do you need anything else?”

“That was it.”

“I’m going in, want anything to eat?”

“No thanks.  I ate something at Clayton’s shack.”

He did a double take.  “What?”

“They had some barbeque.  Sorry I didn’t bring you some.  I had too much shit to carry back.”

“That’s freakin’ weird.”  He walked away.

Twenty minutes later, Wyatt came back.  “Sorry it took so long.  There was a bunch of people.”  Wyatt noticed Seth was playing a game on the laptop.  “Did you find out anything?”

He closed it, then stuck it in his bag.  “Sure did.  T Bone is wanted by the police for burglary.”

“Why didn’t he run when he saw you?”

“He doesn’t know who I am.  He thinks I’m a private investigator.”

“Well, isn’t this your lucky day.”

“Night.”

“You know what I mean.  So why are you just now finding out he’s a lowlife?”

“I always had a suspicion, but I wasn’t interested in him at the time.”

“So now what?”

“Let’s head to Lubbock.”

Wyatt started to pull out of the parking lot.  “Which way?”

“Right.”

A few miles down the road Seth noticed an overpass.  “Take the next exit on your right and get on interstate 35.”  He leaned his seat back.  “When you get to Denton, head west on Highway 380.  I’m going to take a nap.”

Wyatt turned on the radio, then lit a cigarette.

Mind Rapist

Seth sat up and rubbed his face.  He seemed agitated.  “What a fucked-up dream.”  He looked out the window.  “Where are we?”

Wyatt was having a hard time holding his eyes open.  “About ninety miles west of Denton.”  He peered at Seth.  “About time you’re awake—I was about to fall asleep.”

Seth climbed into the back seat, then threw T Bone out the window.  Wyatt swerved as he was looking back.  “What the fuck did you just do?”

Seth climbed into the front seat.  “Four’s a crowd.”

Wyatt was staring into the rear-view mirror.  “Oh, my God!  Someone is going to run him over.”

Seth lit a cigarette.  “The fucker rolled off into the ditch.”

“How in the fuck would you know that?  It’s dark.”

“I heard his body hit a sign.”

Wyatt looked disturbed.  “Did you do that on purpose?”

“No.  It was his lucky day, I suppose.”

“That probably killed him.”

“Probably.”

“What if the cops find him?”

“I’m sure they will, but we’ll be long gone.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “Damn, dude.  You’re grouchy when you wake up.  Why in the hell would you do such a thing?”

“The fucker rubbed me the wrong way.”

“You threw his ass out the window for that?”

“No, I threw his ass out the window because he stole shit from hard working people.”

“Why now and not earlier?”

“He was in my dream and stealing my shit also.”

Wyatt laughed.  “You’re fucking nuts.”

“Thanks.”  Seth tossed his cigarette out the window.  “Take Highway 114.  It should be coming up in a few miles on your right.  Stay on it all the way to Lubbock.”  Seth rolled onto his side.  “I’m going back to sleep.”

Two hours later, Wyatt tapped Seth on the shoulder.  “We’re getting close to Lubbock.”

Seth sat up and stretched.  He glanced at his watch.  “We’ve made good time.  When we get to Lubbock, continue on Highway 114.  My place is about forty miles out.”

“You going back to sleep?”

“Naw, I’m good.”

“Can you drive so I can take a nap?”

“You can sleep when I’m in the barn with the asshole.”

An hour later the sun was starting to rise.  Seth pointed to a road.  “Take this right.”

Wyatt turned onto a gravel road.  The terrain was flat and dusty.  “This is nothing but wasteland.”

Seth opened his laptop.  “My place is wooded compared to this.  It’s about twelve miles from here.”

Fifteen minutes later, Wyatt noticed the road turned to dirt.  “Really, a dirt path.”

“Yeah, stay on it.  We’re almost there.”  Fifteen minutes later, Seth pointed.  “Stop at the gate.”

Wyatt could see a barn sitting in a group of trees off in a field.  “Why are we stopping here?”

“This is it.”

“I thought you said it was wooded.”

“It is compared to everything else.”

“There are only a dozen or so trees.”

“And how many did you see in the last thirty minutes?”  Seth opened the gate, then closed and locked it when Wyatt drove through.  Wyatt still had the trees on his mind when Seth got back in the truck.  “I’m surprised you would have a place like this that’s right out in the open.”

“Dude, trees don’t hide shit when you’re being watched.  But the open terrain does let me keep an eye out.”  Seth turned his laptop sideways.  “I can see for a long way.”

Wyatt noticed the screen was divided into camera shots.  He could see all the way around the barn and in all directions.  “That’s cool, but someone could be hiding on the inside.”

“I would know if they were.”  Seth selected another group of images.  “There are eight more cameras on the inside.  I also have a security system, and if it’s triggered, I get an alert.”

Wyatt peered at the screen and noticed the inside of the barn looked like a large workshop.  It had a concrete floor, workbenches, and machinery.  He also noticed it was full of stuff.  “You have a lot of crap in there.”  When he got close to the barn, he noticed the exterior of it looked old.  “The outside doesn’t match the inside.”

“I know.  I did that to make it less appealing to thieves.”  Seth pointed.  “Drive around to the backside and pull under the lean-to.”

Wyatt parked.  “Can I come in?”

“Sure.”  Seth unlocked a door, then quickly walked to a keypad and entered a code.  “Seven seconds.”

Wyatt was looking around.  “What?”

“The entry delay is set to seven seconds so no one will have time to fuck with the security system.”

“Oh.”  Wyatt noticed the barn was full of items covered with tarps, old cars, rat rods, crates, machinery and an RV.  He opened a door to an old car.  “This thing is in good shape.”

Seth handed him a piece of paper.  “Here’s the code to the alarm.”

“What is this for?”

“In case you ever need a place to come to.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s always good to have somewhere to go when you’re in a pinch.”  Seth opened a cabinet.  “All the keys to the vehicles are in here.”  Seth picked up a printer off a shelf.  “This will print registration stickers.”  He pointed to another one.  “That one will print inspection stickers.”

Wyatt looked worried.  “Why are you telling me this?  Is there something you’re keeping from me?”

“Not at all.”  Seth walked to the RV and opened the door.  “You can hang out in here while I’m dealing with Clayton.”

“Hang out?”

“Watch TV, sleep, take a shower, whatever.”

“I am sleepy, but I want to see what you’re going to do to him.”

Seth used a cart to bring Clayton into the barn.  “I’m going to have to secure him before he awakens.”

Wyatt noticed he appeared to be in his mid-thirties.  He was stocky, bald headed and had a goatee without a mustache.  “He looks like a punk.”

Seth tied a rope around Clayton’s wrists, then lifted him up to where his feet were slightly above the floor.  “We need to remove his clothes.”  Seth held out a knife.  “Want to do the honors?”

Wyatt shook his head.  “Hell no!  And why in the fuck do you always strip them down.”

“Because I’m gay.”

“Be serious.”

“For several reasons.  It ensures that they have no weapons, tracking or recording devices.  But mainly it makes them feel vulnerable, establishing who’s in control of their situation.  Also, it saves time if I need to…”

Wyatt interrupted.  “I get it.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I do.  You want to humiliate them.”

“Yes and no.  I’ll show you how it makes a difference later.”  He cut off Clayton’s shirt.  “Check out his tat.”

Wyatt noticed a large set of wings that covered his entire back.  “That must have been painful.”

“Probably, but it would definitely make great wall art.”

“Don’t do anything like that while I’m around.”

Seth opened a plastic box and pulled out a syringe and a glass vial.  “I’m going to wake his ass up.”

“What is that?”

“Adrenaline.”  He drew up some of the liquid, then injected it in Clayton’s neck.  “You might want to retreat to the RV for a while.”

“I’m okay for now.”

A few seconds later, Clayton’s eyelids began moving.  Wyatt backed away.  “He’s waking up.”

“Why are you acting scared; he can’t get you.”

“I know.  I just want to hang out back here.”

When Clayton opened his eyes, he looked around for a moment, then peered at his hands, noticing he was being restrained.  “What the fuck is this?”  He glared at Seth and Wyatt.  “What the fuck is goin’ on?  You fuckers are messin’ with tha wrong person.”

Wyatt noticed Clayton was muscular.  He moved next to Seth and softly spoke.  “Do you have a gun on you?”

“Why?”

“He could get loose.”

“He ain’t going to do shit.”

“He could break the rope.”

“I doubt that.  It’s a dynamic climbing rope.”  Seth lit a cigarette, then looked at Clayton.  “My buddy here wants to know what your name is.”

“Fuck you, white boy!”  He glared at Wyatt.  “Fuck you, too!  I’ll rape your punk ass.”

Wyatt noticed he had mean looking eyes.  “He’s staring at me.  Don’t provoke him.”

Seth blew smoke at Clayton.  “He said you better tell him now before he bitch slaps you.”

“Fuck you, peckerwood!”  He glared at Wyatt.  “If you got something to say to me, you can fucking address me, you balless bitch!”

Wyatt lowered his head.

“When I get loose, I’m going to make you beg for death.”

Seth leaned his ear toward Wyatt’s mouth, smiled, then looked at Clayton.  “He said you’re too much of a pussy to make threats like that.”

Wyatt elbowed Seth’s arm.  “Stop putting words in my mouth.  He’s already pissed at me.”

Clayton pulled himself up as if he was doing a chin up, then began biting the knots in the rope that was around his wrists to untie them.

Wyatt looked frightened.  “He’s going to get loose!”

“No, he’s not.  I tied the fuck out of them.”

Clayton lowered himself down.  “I’m going to kill you motherfuckers when I get loose.”  He began violently jerking at his restraints. 

Wyatt wanted to run.  “Hey, this is getting out of control.”

Seth walked around to Clayton’s backside to prevent from being kicked, then cut off his pants and underwear.  Clayton’s expression changed from angry to shocked.  Seth stood next to Wyatt.  “My buddy is waiting for your name.”

“Uh…”

“Your name is Uh?”

“Why am I here?”

Seth laughed as he eyed Wyatt.  “I told you being nude has an effect.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “I don’t know what to say.”

“It won’t last long, though.”  He flicked his cigarette butt at Clayton.  “What is your name, and if you lie, I’m going to burn your armpits until they’re charred.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “Why his armpits?”

“I don’t want to fuck up his dick yet.”

“Who said anything about his dick?”

Clayton became defensive.  “Hey, you ain’t touchin’ shit!”

Seth pointed across the barn.  “Roll the oxygen and acetylene cart over here.”

Clayton tried to kick Wyatt as he walked by.  “You fucking cracker-ass bitch!”

Seth waved his finger at him.  “Watch it, punk.”

“Fuck you!  You ain’t gonna do shit.”

Wyatt stayed away from Clayton as he pushed the cart to Seth.  “Did you see what he tried to do?”

“Yeah, he’ll pay for that later.”  Seth lit the torch.  “Now this thing is a lot hotter than the propane ones I use.”  He adjusted the flame.  “Check that shit out.”

Wyatt squinted as he gawked at it.  “That’s bright.  Do I need a hood or shield?”

“No.”

“Then why do people wear them?  I heard you can go blind if you look at the light too long.”

“You’re thinking of welding.”

“Oh.”  He quickly waved his hand in front of the flame.  “That’s hot.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“How hot is it?”

“Around six thousand degrees.”

“Damn!  I bet that will hurt.”

“It will completely incinerate the flesh.”

Clayton didn’t know what to think as he watched Seth and Wyatt talk as if he wasn’t in the room.  He pulled himself up and began swinging on the rope.  “When I break this motherfucker, I’m going to rip your fucking heads off!”

Seth nodded.  “Check out Tarzan.”

Clayton lowered himself down.  His eyes were full of anger as his body swung back and forth.  “Fuck you, you fucking racist!”

Seth shut off the torch.  “What?”

“You heard me!”

“Hold up, punk.  You’re the one that’s been throwing around the racial slurs.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “Why did he call you that?”

“He’s just trying to push our buttons.”

“I thought Tarzan was white?”

“I thought so too.”

Clayton began doing pull ups to be aggressive.  “Fuck you!  Fuck you!  Fuck you!  You racist motherfuckers!”

Seth lit the torch and tried to burn Clayton’s feet as he was holding himself up, but he kept kicking the torch.  Seth stepped back and glanced at Wyatt.  “Go get me a branding iron.  They’re several of them hanging on the wall over there.”  He pointed.  “And hurry.”

Wyatt took off in a slow run.  When he came back, he was breathing heavy.  “Will this one work?”

Seth shook his head.  “You’re out of shape.”

Wyatt handed him an iron.  “It’s adrenaline.”

Seth laughed.  “He’s not going to like this one.  He already thinks I’m a racist.  Go get another.”

“Why?”

“It came from the King Ranch.”

“So.”

Seth held up the bottom so Wyatt could see it.  “Their brand is a K. 

“And?”

“He will have KKK all over him.”

“Oh.”  He took off across the barn, then came back with several irons.  “Pick one yourself.”

Seth grabbed one that looked like the letter B.  “This will work.”

“What’s the B for?”

“In his case; bitch.”

Clayton was gritting his teeth.  “What the fuck is wrong with you fuckers?  You axe like I’m not here.  You need to have sum fuckin’ respect.”

Seth heated the iron until it was red hot, then approached Clayton.  “Try to kick me again, asshole.”

He didn’t heed the warning.  Seth burned a line across his calf.  Clayton shouted, “You motherfucker!”  He kicked again, resulting in another burn.  He pulled himself up higher to get away.

Seth waved the iron.  “Stick your foot down here.”

“Get the fuck away from me!”

“Tell me what your name is, and I won’t burn you anymore?”

Wyatt looked worried.  “Dude, I told you not to do anything when I’m around.”

“Then go sit in the trailer.”

“I want to hear what he has to say.”

“He’s not going to cooperate without motivation.”

“That’s fine.  Just don’t get carried away.”

“You know I wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, like you didn’t with Todd.”

“That was nothing.”

“Not to me it wasn’t.”

Clayton’s body was straining as he held himself up, listening to Seth and Wyatt bickering as if everything was normal.  He became desperate, thinking they were crazy.  “It’s Marvin.  My name is Marvin.”

“Try again.”  Seth pressed the iron to the bottom of his ass, causing him to fall.

Clayton threw his legs around in a panic.  “Get the fuck away from me!  You hear me?”  Get the fuck back, you crazy motherfucker!”  His kicking caused him to start spinning, and each time his back faced Seth, he would burn a B into his flesh.  Clayton pulled himself back up, then with all his strength, he pulled his lower body up, throwing his legs around the rope.  He was now hanging upside down as he glared at Seth.

Wyatt couldn’t believe his eyes.  “He’s like an acrobat or something.”

“More like pain induced encouragement.”  Seth heated the iron, then pointed it at him.  “Name.”

“Marcus Cunningham.”

Seth laughed.  “Spell your last name.  And do it quickly.”  He held the iron toward Clayton’s face.

“Uh…”

“No uh.  Spell it now.”  He pushed the iron closer.

“C U N I G H A M.”

“Hey, dumbass, you should have picked an easier name to spell, like Fox or Jones.”  Seth pressed the iron to his forehead.  Clayton screamed as smoke engulfed his face.  He released the rope with his legs and fell.  The weight of his body caused the rope to stretch, then he bounced into the air like he was bungee jumping.  Seth glanced at Wyatt.  “I told you the rope wouldn’t break.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “That was fucked up.”

Clayton rubbed his forehead on his arm, then glared at Seth.  “You sorry motherfucker!  You have no right.”

“We’ll discuss rights and who did what after you tell me your name.”  Seth lit the torch.  “If you lie to me again, I’ll burn your dick.”

He kicked Seth in the chest.  “Fuck you!  Get the fuck away from me, cocksucker!”

Seth shut off the torch as he regarded Wyatt.  “Fucker kicks like a horse.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Treat him like one.”

Wyatt followed Seth to a workbench.  “What are you doing?”

“Gonna make some horseshoes for his feet.”

“What does that mean?”

“Exactly what I said.”  Seth drew an outline of a pair of horseshoes on a steel plate.  “How do those look?”

“Not like horseshoes.”

“His feet aren’t shape like a hoof, they’re long and narrow, but they will serve the same purpose.”  Seth used the torch to cut out the shapes, then he drilled holes in them.  He held one up.  “Whatcha think?”

“Why would you waste your time doing that?”

“It’s fun coming up with new ideas.  I don’t like being repetitious.”

“How are you going to put them on so they don’t fall off?”

Seth picked up a bag, then pulled out a long nail.  “With these.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “I told you not to get carried away while I’m here.”

“I’m not.  I would have heated them with a torch first if you weren’t around.”  Seth strolled up to Clayton.  “Tell me your name.”  He held up the shoes.  “Or I will nail these to the bottom of your feet.”

“Fuck you, dude, you’re not going to touch me!”

Seth forced Clayton’s leg back, straddling it like a horse’s leg that is being shoed, then began nailing the shoe to his foot.  Clayton screamed at the top of his lungs as the nails penetrated his flesh and bones.  He was kicking Seth with his other foot, but he was too close to cause any damage.  Seth took the blows as he drove in nail after nail.  Some of the nails were exiting the top of his foot and some were bending when they hit bone.  Sweat was pouring off Clayton’s body as he endured the pain.

Wyatt walked up when Seth was done.  “One is enough.”

Seth picked up his other leg.  “They come in pairs.”  He began driving in the nails.  Wyatt wanted to look away, but he couldn’t.  It was kind of like a car wreck, you know you shouldn’t look, but you do.  Wyatt noticed Clayton was being still.  “He’s out.”

Seth hammered in a few more nails, then released his foot.  Blood was dripping on the floor as Clayton’s body slightly swung back and forth.  Wyatt looked aggravated.  “You didn’t have to do that.  You already know his name.  You’re just playing games with him.”

Seth tossed the hammer on the floor.  “I need him to tell me who he is.  I don’t want to punish the wrong asshole.”

Wyatt’s eyes opened wide.  “You’re not even sure if this is the right guy?”

“I’m pretty sure he is, but it’s best that we verify it.”

“Oh, my God, what if he’s someone else?  Look what you’ve done to him.”

“He deserved it anyway.”

“How can you say that?”

“He’s a thug.”

“And you know this how?”

“I just do.”

“If you want me to understand what you’re doing, then I need something more than, I just do.”

“All right.”  Seth pointed to a tattoo of a crown with the letters CK on Clayton’s chest.  “He’s a gang member.”  He pointed to a teardrop tattoo under his left eye.  “This indicates he has killed someone, and if he hasn’t, then this is what he gets for being a wannabe killer.  He also had five dots on his wrist.  That indicates he’s been in prison.”  Seth picked up his pants, then pulled out several bags from a pocket.  He held them up.  “Crack.”  He tossed them on the floor, then pulled out a wad of money from another pocket.  “Ones and fives.  He’s a dealer.”

“Okay.  You made your point.”

“I haven’t even told you what I found in his house.”

“I said you made your point.  From here on, can you use another tactic to get information from him?”

“Like what?”

“Something less barbaric.”

Seth thought for a moment.  “Can I mind rape him?”

“What the fuck is that?”

“I’ll just mess with his mind; no physical torture.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t have an issue with that.”

“That’s until I find out if he was the one who raped and killed that couple.”

“I will go along with that.”

“Cool.  I need to keep him asleep while we get everything prepared.”

“We?”

“Yes, you’re going to help.”

“What are we preparing for?”

Seth injected Clayton with a sedative.  “What you requested; to mind rape him.”

“Oh.  I didn’t think it involved me.”

“If I can’t do what I want, then you’re going to participate.”  Seth looked around.  “I have an old skeleton in here somewhere.  See if you can find it.”

“Why would you have that?  And I don’t want to touch it if it’s someone you killed?”

He laughed.  “It’s a medical prop.  I bought it at a garage sale.”  Seth thought for a moment.  “I remember where it’s at.  It’s in the back of the rat rod.”  Seth pointed.

Wyatt noticed a rusted mid-thirties truck with a chopped top.  “In that thing?”

“Yes.  Go get it and bring it to the work bench.”  Seth went and rounded up some items, then met Wyatt at the bench.  He handed him a hatchet.  “Break the ribs from the spine, then cut them in several pieces.  While you’re doing that, I’m going to build a table.”

Thirty minutes later, Wyatt came over to see what Seth was building.  He scrutinized the contraption, noticing it looked like a tabletop that was mounted on an angle.  The top of the table, or platform, was made of two by six boards and it was around two feet wide by six feet long.  The platform had legs; short ones on one end and long ones on the other, causing it to be at a forty-five-degree angle.  There was a volleyball-sized hole cut out on the higher end.  Wyatt looked confused.  “What is this?”

“It will be easier for me to show you.”  Seth slid the contraption next to Clayton.  “Lower him down on the table.”

Wyatt untied the rope, then lowered him as Seth aligned his body with the tabletop.  Seth untied the rope.  “Let’s get him secured before he wakes up.”

Wyatt noticed Clayton was lying on his stomach and his face was in the hole.  “Why is his face in there?”

Seth handed him a ratchet strap.  “After you strap down his head, he won’t be able to look back.”

Wyatt laughed.  “It looks like he’s lying on one of those massage tables, but on an angle.”

“He’s gonna get a massage all right.”  Seth secured Clayton with ratchet straps by running them around his body and the table, from his shoulders to his ankles.

Wyatt shook his head as he counted nine straps.  “You sure he’s strapped enough?”

Seth tossed him a roll of duct tape.  “Tape his arms to the table legs.”  Clayton’s arms were already hanging down, running parallel with the legs, making them easy to secure.

“Why are we doing this if you’re not going to harm him?”

“To make it realistic.”  Seth grabbed a cart and rounded up some stuff.

When he came back, Wyatt noticed the items.  “Why do you need that axe and knife if you’re not going to harm him?  It doesn’t look like you’re going to mess just with his mind.”

“Just consider all this stage props.”

He noticed there were some bags filled with a red substance.  “What is that?”

“Blood.”

“Why would you have those here?”

“It’s my blood and I keep several bags in the refrigerator in case I need some.”

“I’m not going to ask.”

Seth picked up a syringe and a glass vial.  He filled the syringe, then began injecting the fluid in Clayton’s left shoulder.  He moved the syringe to his right shoulder, then injected him again.

Wyatt looked concerned.  “Why are you doing that?”

“Numbing him up.”  Seth refilled the syringe, then injected some of the fluid in the side of Clayton’s back, then the other side.

“For what?”

“I’m going to make him think that he’s paralyzed.”  Seth began injecting the fluid down his spine.

“Why?”

“Why, why, why.  Because you don’t want me to do anything bad to him.”

“You know why…  I mean, the reason I don’t want him harmed.”

“Yeah, until I find out that he’s the murdering rapist.”

“Then you can do whatever you want to him.”

Seth filled the syringe, then injected it into Clayton’s second lumbar vertebra.  “That should numb his lower body.”

“Why…  I mean, you should have injected him at the top part of his spine instead of sticking him all over.”

“I thought you didn’t want anything to happen to him?”

“I don’t.”

“That would have shut down his organs.”

“Oh.”

Seth laid out the items he would need on Clayton’s back.  “We’re ready to go.  Now it’s time to wake him up.  He injected him with adrenaline.

A few seconds later, Clayton began panicking.  “What’s going on?  I can’t move.”

Seth knelt so he could make eye contact.  “You accidentally fell from the rope and damaged your spine.”

His eyes grew large as medallions.  “What?”

“I need you to answer some questions.”

“Oh, my God!  I can’t feel my legs.”

“Stop worrying—the doctors can probably fix it.  But if you don’t tell me what I want to know, I’m going to do something they can’t fix.”

He became angry.  “You did this to me on purpose, motherfucker!  I ain’t tellin’ you shit!”

“You ever heard of a blood eagle?”

“Fuck you!”

Seth opened a book and laid it on the floor in front of him.  “See the images?”

“Fuck you!”

“That’s called the blood eagle.  It was a method of execution that the Viking’s performed.”

“Fuck you!”

“First, they would cut the skin from the back of their victim, exposing the rib cage, then they would take an axe and cut the ribs from the spine.”

“Fuck you!”

“Then they would force the ribs outwards, fracturing them of course, so they would stick out.  It’s supposed to resemble blood-stained wings.”

“Fuck you!”

“Then they would pull the lungs out through the wounds, laying them on the back, causing a very slow and painful death.”

“Fuck you!”

“The ritual was referred to as a blood eagle.  That’s what I’m going to do to you.”

His facial expression changed from angry to fearful.  “What?”

“Oh, now I got your attention.  And lucky for you, your spine is severed so you won’t feel any pain, but you will die when your lungs are pulled out.  It might take a few hours though, and during that time you will have difficulty breathing, kind of like a slow drowning, but without the water.”  Seth slid a mirror under Clayton and positioned it at an angle so he could see his left side.  Seth held up a knife.  “I’m going to cut away your flesh.  Let me know if it hurts.”

Clayton was staring at the blade.  “Okay, okay.  I’ll do anything you ask.”

“What’s your name?”

“G Fly.”

“Not your street name, asshole.”  Seth moved the knife to his back.

Clayton could see Seth in the mirror as he stood next to him, but he couldn’t see what he was doing.  “Please don’t cut me!”

Seth opened a bag of blood, then poured it onto his back.  “Too late.”

Clayton’s eyes were huge as he stared into the mirror, noticing blood was running down his left side before dripping to the floor.  “My name is Carlton Williams.  Please stop!”

Wyatt was standing on the other side of Clayton.  Seth nodded toward him.  “My buddy Wyatt here is a psychic.  He has this special ability to know when someone is lying.  If you want me to stop, you’ll have to tell the truth.”

“I’m telling you the truth.  Carlton Williams is my real name.”

“My buddy says you’re lying.”  Seth picked up a large piece of pork skin that was laying on Clayton’s back, covered it with blood, then tossed it on the floor in front of him.  “See what that lie got you.”  Seth winked at Wyatt.

Wyatt played along.  “Oh, shit, I can see his rib cage.”

“Oh, my God!  Is that my skin?  Please stop!  I’m not lying!”

Seth pointed a hand axe at him, ensuring he saw it.  “Yes, you are.”  He placed a wooden block on Clayton’s back, then began hitting it with the axe.  “Uh-oh!  These break off easier than I would have thought.”  Seth rolled a rib from the skeleton in the blood, then tossed it on the floor.  “I accidentally broke that one off.”

Clayton’s eyes looked as if they were going to pop out.  “Please stop!  I beg you.  You’re going to kill me.”

“What is your real name?”

“It’s Clayton Warner.  You can call the police.  I’ll go to jail.  Just please don’t hurt me anymore.”

“Hurt you?  Can you feel this?”

“Uh, no.  But I don’t want to die.”

“Why would you go to jail?  What did you do?”

“Uh…  Selling drugs.”

“My buddy is shaking his head no.”  Seth slammed the axe against the wood about ten times, jarring Clayton’s body with each blow.  “All the ribs on the right side have been broken from your spine.”

Clayton exhibited a grimace of terror.  “You did what!?!”

“Now I need to bend them back.”  Seth made pulling motions as if he was bending ribs back, but he was actually tightening up the straps that were going around Clayton’s upper body.”

Clayton’s facial expression conveyed pain.  “Oh, fuck, I can feel my rib cage bending!”  He didn’t know the pressure was from the straps.

“I’m done with one side, now I’m going to do the other.”

“I robbed a house.”

“And?”

“That was all.”

Seth wacked the board a few times.  He tossed two more broken ribs on the floor.  “Sorry, your eagle is going to be fucked up.”

“My buddies killed the homeowners.”

“Did you participate?”

“No.  They did it all.”

Seth jerked his back around, then stumbled backwards holding a rib.  “Damn!  It broke off when I was trying to bend it out of the way.”  He tossed it on the floor.

Clayton was panicking.  “They raped the woman also, but I wasn’t involved.”

Seth hit the board a few more times, then dumped out two bags of blood, causing it to pour off his sides.  “Oh, shit!  I think I cut an artery!”

Clayton looked nauseous as he scrutinized the ribs lying on the blood-covered floor.  “I was there just to rob the place.  I didn’t want that to happen.”

Wyatt made a gagging sound.  “I can see his lungs.”

“You wanna pull one out, or do I get to do both?”

Clayton vomited, then became teary eyed.  “I’ll take my punishment.  Just call the police.”

“Why?  You didn’t do anything.”

“I did.  I raped her too.”

“I think you’re lying so we will stop.”

“I’m not.”

“I know Andre is in jail, but where’s Darren?”

“I will tell you if you call the police.”

Seth knelt in front of him.  “I really want to finish the blood eagle, so if you don’t want to rat on Darren, that’s fine.”

“Will you stop if I tell you?”

“Yes.”

“He’s with some friends in Fort Stockton.”

“You know the address?”

“He’s stayin’ in an apartment building on the corner of Eighth and Trevor.  Apartment 218.”

“How sure are you that he’s there?”

“I just left Fort Stockton to stay with Tig here in Dallas.”

“We’re not in Kansas anymore, bud.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

Seth glanced at Wyatt.  “Wanna take a trip to Fort Stockton?”

“By myself?”

“No, with me.  We’ll cruise down in the black Dodge Magnum.”

Wyatt noticed it was parked with the other vehicles.  “That one is okay, but can we take the black hot rod with the white racing strips?”

“That’s a blown 69 Camaro.  It drinks the gas and will cause too much attention.”

“What about the…”

“Pick between the Magnum or that white Caddy.  They will blend in with everyone else.”

Clayton interrupted.  “I need help.  I’m having a hard time breathing.”

Seth tossed a rib on the floor in front of him.  “Hush, I’m talking to my buddy.”

Wyatt shrugged his shoulders.  “The Magnum, I guess.”

“We can take the Camaro when we go on another road trip.”

“Really?”

“Sure.  Our next trip we’ll try to act right so it won’t matter if we stand out.”

“That sounds good.  When do you want to leave for Fort Stockton?”

“Soon as we’re done here.”

“Do you think Darren is really there?”

“It’s worth checking out.”

“Sounds good.  I’ll go with you.”  Wyatt pointed toward Clayton.  “What about him?”

“We’re going to stick him in that cage over there.”  Seth pointed.

Wyatt looked at the cage that was next to the vehicles.  It was huge.  “Did you build that?”

“Picked it up at a safari that was going out of business.”

“Why do you want to put him in there?”

“So he won’t piss and shit on my floor.”

“He’s going to do that in the cage.”

“The floor is already covered in piles of shit.”

Wyatt’s eyes opened wide.  “Don’t tell me you’ve had someone in there already.”

“Then I won’t.”

Clayton began weeping.  “Why are you two acting like I ain’t a person?  I have rights too.”

Seth patted the back of his head.  “You lost those rights when you killed the Johnson’s.”

“Please don’t put me in the cage.  I need to get to the hospital.  I don’t want to die.”

Seth laughed.  “Your back is fine.”  He loosened the straps that were squeezing his rib cage, then released his head.  “It was all bullshit.”

Clayton raised his head and took a deep breath, then looked over his shoulder.  “I’m covered in blood.”

Seth held up the empty bags.  “Not yours.”

“I felt you breaking my ribs.”

Seth held up several of them.  “Just props.”

Clayton’s eyes opened wide.  “I don’t understand.”

Wyatt laughed.  “You got mind raped, fool.”

Eye for an Eye

Four hours later, Seth pulled up to the apartments that were on the corner of Eighth and Trevor.  “Wake up, we’re here.”

Wyatt rubbed his eyes.  “Where’re we at?”

“The apartments.”

He looked around.  “Where is everyone at?”

“It’s almost 2 PM.  Probably still asleep.”

“What’s the plan?”  He gazed at Seth and did a double take when he noticed he was disguised as an older white woman.  “What the fuck!  When did you do that?”

“When you were asleep.”

“How long have we been parked here?”

“I did it while I was driving.”

“That took some skill.”

Seth put on a Pizza Hut hat.  “I’ll be back in a minute.  Have the car running and ready to go.”

“You want me to drive?”

“Be in the driver seat in case I do.”  Seth got out, grabbed some pizza boxes from the backseat, then went up some stairs.  A few minutes later, he and an older white man came out of an apartment.  He was wearing worn blue jeans with holes in the knees, a white tank top, long dirty-blond hair, unkempt facial hair, and his skin was tan.  The man was limping as Seth followed him closely.  When they got to the car, Seth made him get in the backseat, then shot him with his tranquilizer gun.  Within a few seconds, he fell over in the seat.  Seth opened the driver’s door.  “Slide over.”

Wyatt noticed Seth had some blood on his shirt.  “Are you okay?”

“It’s Darren’s.”  He backed up, then took off in a hurry.

“Is everything okay?”

“We need to get out of here before the cops come.”

“What happened?”

“I had to take out two punks that were in the apartment.”

“Did you kill them?”

“I shot them in the head if that answers your question.”

Wyatt looked worried.  “Did anyone see what happened?”

“Not that’s alive.”

“Why is Darren bleeding?”

“He thinks I’m a bounty hunter and wasn’t being cooperative, so I had to shoot him in the leg for motivation.”  Seth looked into the backseat.  “Get back there and tie him up.  There’s some rope in the glove box.”

Wyatt crawled into the rear seat.  “He freakin’ stinks.”

“He’s a scumbag.”

Wyatt began gagging.  “I think he shit his pants.”

Seth laughed.  “Don’t get it on the leather.”

Wyatt looked nauseated as he crawled into the front seat.  “That dude is gross.”

“He’s a scumbag.”

“You’ve already said that.”  Wyatt looked around.  “Are we in the clear?”

“We should be, but I’m going to pull into this car wash coming up and wash off the black paint.”  Seth noticed Wyatt looked confused.  “It’s been painted with temporary auto paint.  The high-pressure water will blow the black paint right off the factory white.  It’s a common practice for me to do this.  That’s why I wanted to take the Caddy or this one.”

Seth pulled into a car wash.  Wyatt got out and watched as the black paint washed right off into the drain.  They drove in with a black car and left in a white one.

Four hours later, Seth was pulling back up to the barn.  “We’re here, sleepy head.”

Wyatt had slept most of the trip.  He sat up and stretched.  “I feel a lot better.  He glanced over the backseat, then looked at Seth.  “Why is he still out?”

“I gave him a sedative.”

“Then you’re going to drag his stinky ass out of here.”

Wyatt opened a door as Seth drove into the barn.  Clayton was sitting Indian style in the cage.  He looked pissed as he watched Seth drag his buddy across the floor.  He stood up and grabbed the bars.  “Just to let you know the cops are on their way.”

Seth approached him.  “How do you figure that?”

“Some kids snuck in here when y’all were gone and I told them what was happening.  The cops will probably be here at any moment.”

Seth laughed.  “They’re not coming.”

“Yes, they are.”

“No, they’re not.  They’re the ones who hired us to do this.”  Clayton looked troubled as Seth walked off.

Wyatt went up to Seth as he was putting stuff on a pushcart.  “Are you sure he’s not telling the truth?”

“You forgot that I have this place wired with cameras.  No one came in here.  He’s just trying to save his ass.”

“That makes sense.”  Wyatt noticed a strange looking tool on the cart.  “What is that?”

“It’s a battery-operated rescue tool, also known as the Jaws of Life.”

“What are you planning on doing with that?”

“It’s for motivational purposes?”

“I’m not even going to ask.”

“Probably for the best.”

Wyatt noticed other items on the cart (potato peeler, spoon, bag of salt, bucket of gravel, chains, locks, syringes, medical supplies).  “Interesting group of items.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

Wyatt picked up a strange looking device.  It had a T handle on top of a two-inch diameter shaft that was eight inches long.  The handle had a lever on one side, resembling a motorcycle’s brake lever.  The shaft had a pointed end, and there were slits all the way around the middle section of it.  Wyatt pulled in the lever, causing barbs to protrude from the slits.  “What is this for?”

“Pulling out buttholes.  I call it the ass plucker.”

Wyatt tossed it back on the cart, then gawked at his hands.  “Has it been used?”

“Of course.”

Seth pushed the cart next to a ceiling support post.  He secured two chains to the post, then secured one of the chains to Darren’s ankle.  “Do you wanna shoot Clayton with a dart so I can chain him up?”  He held out his tranquilizer gun.

Wyatt shook his head.  “No thanks.”

“You sure you want to watch this?  I thought you were going to stay in the RV?”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, but just don’t get carried away.”

“Like how?”

“Don’t do any barbaric shit like in your stories.”

“I’ve restrained myself while on this trip.”

“Maybe, but it looks as if you’re going to do something messed up by the items you have on the cart.”

“Those are just in case you change your mind on what I can and can’t do.”

“I’m not going to.”

“Just let me know when I can go full psychopath on these assholes.”

“Never.”

“We’ll see about that.”  Seth went over to Clayton.  “I need to move you next to your buddy.  Is there going to be an issue, or do I need to go ahead and knock you out?”

“Fuck you!”

Seth shot him with a dart, then dragged him to the post and secured him with the other chain.  He glanced at Wyatt.  “Hand me a scalpel from the cart.”

Wyatt handed it to him.  “What are you going to do?”

Seth knelt next to Darren.  “I’m also going to need two of the red boxes with the wires, the long rod and the staple gun.”

Wyatt noticed the boxes had long wires hanging from them.  “What are these wires for?”

“The wires are the electrodes.  The box contains the electronics.”

“What the hell.  Why would you do that?”

“So, I can shock the fuck out of them from the inside.  Their legs will have a different polarity than their arms.”  Seth cut off Darren’s clothes, then sliced his abdomen open.  He shoved one of the boxes down into his intestines.  “Hand me the rod.”

Wyatt was holding his hand over his mouth as he handed it to him.  “Dude, this is restraining yourself?”

Seth took the rod and stuck it into Darren’s upper right chest, then forced it under his skin toward his abdomen.  He pulled the end out the gash, tied one of the wires to it, then pulled the rod out.  The wire was now under his skin from his abdomen to the top of his right chest.  He unhooked the wire, then shoved the rod in Darren’s right arm above his elbow, around the front of his shoulder, then out the same hole in his chest.  He tied the wire back on, then pulled it under his skin.  He repeated the same thing between his wrist and elbow, then between the end of his index finger and wrist.  The wire made a complete run from his abdomen to the end of his finger.  Seth clipped the excess hanging from his finger, then closed the puncture holes with super glue.

Wyatt looked nauseated.  “Why did you do that?  I thought you weren’t going to do anything barbaric.”

“I’ve already told you it’s so I can shock him.  And it’s not what I would consider barbaric.”

“Then we need to define it.”

“You see any guts or limbs lying on the floor?”

“No.”

“Then it’s not barbaric.”

“That’s your opinion.”

Seth laughed.  “I see your point.  Doing this kind of shit is small stuff to me.”

“Will it hurt?”

“I don’t know.  This will be the first time I’ve done this.”  Seth did the same thing to Darren’s left side, then ran the wires from his abdomen to his big toes.  “Hand me the stapler.”

Wyatt was flush as he handed it to him.  “Is this the time to try new things?”

“Just as good as any other, I suppose.”  He stapled the wound closed, then poured superglue all over it.  He held up the stapler.  “Do you wanna do Clayton?”

“You know the answer.”

Seth cut Clayton’s abdomen open, then began running the wires.  Thirty minutes later, he stood up.  “Go get me some more superglue.  There’s some in the cabinet by the work bench.”

Wyatt walked off, and when he came back, Seth was stapling the wound closed.  “Go ahead and glue his cuts.”  Seth glanced at his watch.  “They’ll both be out for a while.  I’m going to go chill out.”  He pushed the cart off to the side.  “I’ll be in the RV.  Come get me up when they’re awake.”

Two hours later, Wyatt came into the RV.  “They’re up and want to talk to you.”

Seth was sitting on a couch reading a book and smoking a cigarette.  He peered over his reading glasses, noticing Wyatt displayed a disturbed expression.  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He set the book and his glasses on a table.  “Bullshit.”

Wyatt closed the door.  “They’re just being aggressive because of what you did to them.”

“And?”

“They told me if I didn’t let them go that they would find me in the middle of the night and do horrible things to me.”

Seth stood up.  “Then we’ll just have to make sure they won’t be able to do such when I’m done with them.”

“They’re planning on killing you too.”

“Good.”  When Seth strolled out of the RV, he noticed the two men were messing with their chains.  Clayton was sitting and Darren was standing.  “Hey, fuckheads!”

Clayton glared at Seth, then looked up at Darren.  “That’s the punk I was tellin’ you about.”

Seth walked up.  “I heard you two were running your mouths.”

Darren grabbed his chest, fell to his knees, then onto his side.  “I think I’m having a heart attack.”

Clayton crawled over to him.  “He needs your help!”

“You dillweeds think I’m gonna fall for that shit?”

Clayton tried to charge Seth, but his feet were too sore from the steel shoes and he fell to his knees.  “What the fuck did you do to me?”  He tried to lift his arms.  “My arms and legs are sore as shit.”  He rubbed his stomach.  “And what is this shit?”

“An experiment.”

He glared at Seth as if he wanted to kill him.  “You’re a sorry motherfucker!”

“You better stop eye fucking me, asshole.”

“Or what?”

Darren stood up, limping on his leg that had been shot.  He laid his hand on Clayton’s shoulder.  “It’ll be all right, bro.  I’ll get us out of this.”

Seth laughed.  “A compassionate rapist.  I’ve seen it all.”

Darren gritted his teeth.  “Fuck you, asshole!”  He looked down at his waist, then at Seth and Wyatt.  “And why in the fuck are we naked?  You two some kind of sick perverts?”

“If I was, I wouldn’t be interested in you, stubby.”  Seth flicked his cigarette butt at him, striking him in the face.

He glared at Seth.  “I’m gonna kill your ass when I get loose.”

As Wyatt stood by behind Seth, Darren glared at him.  “And I’m gonna prison rape you, boy.”

Wyatt’s eyes narrowed.  “Why the fuck does everyone want to rape me?”

“Because they’re fags.”  Seth lit another cigarette, then pointed at Darren.  “Speaking of killing and raping people, what was your role with the Johnson’s?”

“Who in the fuck are you talkin’ about?”

“The people in Dallas that you raped and murdered, dumbass.”

Darren grinned, displaying a few missing teeth.  “Come over here and find out.”

Clayton was still glaring at Seth.  “Don’t tell that piece of shit anything.”

Darren thought he had Seth figured out.  “He’s just another lowlife bounty hunter.  I’ve fucked guys like him in prison.”

“It’s good to know you like butt fucking dudes, homo.”  Seth flicked his cigarette at him, striking his chest. 

He wiped the ashes from his skin.  “Homo?  You’re the one who has two men stripped down naked and chained to a fucking pole.”

Seth lit another cigarette.  “And stop making me waste my smokes, asshole.”

“Flick another one over here and I will shove it up your ass.”

“There you go again, wanting to stick something in a dude’s ass.  You’re definitely a fag.”

“Screw you!”

Clayton was still staring with hate-filled eyes.  Seth pointed at him.  “I told you to stop eye fucking me.”

“Screw you, white boy!”

Seth grabbed the spoon from the cart, then tossed it at his feet.  “Pop out one of your fucking eyes!”

Clayton threw it back.  “You can shove that up your ass!”

Seth picked it up.  “Speaking of ass, I’m going to make Darren go colon diving in yours.”

Darren gritted his teeth.  “Dude, you lost your fuckin’ mind.”

Seth pulled a remote out of his pocket, then eyed Wyatt.  “This will be a true test.  I wanna see if I can make him pop out his fuckin’ eye with the spoon.”

“That’s freakin’ sick.”

“I’ve tried before with others, but with bad results.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never been able to inflict enough pain without destroying their body.” 

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Think about popping out your eye with a spoon.  Could you do it?”

Wyatt blinked as he thought about it.  “No fucking way.”

“That’s what I mean; there’s something about the eyes.  I have better luck making assholes rip off their dicks than popping their eye out with a spoon.”

“And why a freakin’ spoon?”

“Because it’s gross, but hopefully the internal electrodes will make him do it.”

“I thought…”

Darren interrupted.  “What the fuck?”  He noticed Wyatt and Seth were acting like he and Clayton weren’t in the same room.  He clinched his fist.  “What the fuck is wrong with y’all?” 

Clayton could barely walk as he went over to Darren.  “That’s what I was trying to tell ya; these fuckers are insane.  Don’t get caught up in their bullshit.”

Seth tossed the spoon back on the floor.  He glared at Clayton.  “Shove that around your eye and sever it from the arteries and optic nerve.  And don’t fuck it up.  I want it in one piece.”

Clayton started to throw the spoon again, but Seth energized his electrodes.  Clayton’s body trembled as he fell to his knees.  Darren charged Seth, but his chain jerked him back.  “You motherfucker!  I’m going to kill you!  You hear me?  I’m going to rip you apart!”

Seth ignored Darren’s threats as he peered at Wyatt.  “I only have it set on three.”

“How high does it go?”

“Ten.”  He shut it off as he looked back at Clayton.  “Pop out your fucking eye.”

He fell to his side.  “Oh, my God!  What have you done to me?”

“Pop it out, now.”

He glared at Seth.  “Fuck you!”

Seth turned a knob to five, then pressed a button.  Clayton’s body began flopping around on the floor.  His mouth was wide open as he tried to scream, but he was only able to make loud moaning sounds.  Darren was freaking out as he fought at his chain.  Seth shut off the unit.  “Let’s have it, Clayton.”

He was moaning in agony as he laid on the floor.  “Please stop.”

“Do it now, or I will zap you some more.”

Tears were running down his face as he picked up the spoon.  He stuck it to his eye, then moved it away.  “I can’t.  I can’t do it.”

Darren’s body was red from anger.  Slobber was dripping off his chin like a rabid animal as he reached for Seth.  “You sorry piece of shit!  I’m going to rip you apart!”

Wyatt was standing a few yards behind Seth.  “Dude, this is getting out of hand.”

“I want his fucking eye.”

“Just shoot the bastards and let’s get out of here.”

“That would be too easy for these raping lowlifes.”

Darren stood erect as he held his chin up.  “Yeah, I raped the shit out of her as her old man watched.”  He hit his chest.  “Fuck you!  Come and get some if you got the balls!”

Seth turned Darren’s knob to three to immobilize him.  He fell to his side and shook as if he was having a mild seizure.  Clayton jumped to his feet and limped toward Seth, stopping when his chain jerked him back.  “You have no right to do this, you motherfucker!”

Seth turned Clayton’s knob to eight, then lit him up.  He fell to the floor and violently shook as his arms and legs stuck straight out while blue arcs jumped between his steel shoes.  A few seconds later, he passed out.  Seth grabbed something from the cart, then knelt beside Darren as he twitched on the floor.

Wyatt noticed Seth had a strange looking tool.  “What are you doing to him?”

“Putting a castration band around his balls.”  He stood up and handed Wyatt the tool.  “They use those on livestock.”

Wyatt noticed the top of Darren’s balls were squeezed.  “I don’t see the band.”

“It’s there, it’s just very tight.”  He handed Wyatt a band.  “Here’s what they look like.”

Wyatt shook his head as he examined it.  “It looks like a Cheerio.”  He tried to stretch it.  “It’s strong.  I can’t believe you put this around his balls.  He’s not going to be happy when you let him up.”

Seth laughed.  “Maybe it’ll calm his ass down a little.”  Seth de-energized his shocker.  “Get your ass up.”

Darren immediately felt his balls.  “Oh, shit!  Get it off.”  He tried to grab the band with his fingers.  “I can’t get a hold of it.”  He stood up in a bowlegged stance.  “I’ll do whatever you ask if you get it off.”

Seth pointed to the spoon.  “Pop out one of your eyes with the spoon.”

He looked confused.  “Huh?”

“You heard me.”

He scrutinized the spoon for a moment, then glanced at Clayton.  “That’s…  I thought...”

“I know what you’re thinking; he’ll have to do it too when he wakes up.”

“Please don’t do this to me.”

“You have a problem with the way you’re being treated?”

“It’s inhumane.  You have no right doing this.”

“I bet Mr. and Mrs. Johnson felt the same.”

Something changed.  He went from being submissive to violent.  “Fuck you!”  He grabbed his chain and began violently jerking at it.

Seth glanced at Wyatt.  “The shocker apparently isn’t going to be enough motivation.”  He marched up to Darren and hit him in the head with a club.

Wyatt looked confused.  “Why did you do that?”

“I need to secure him in a different way.”

“Why didn’t you just tranq’ him?”

“I’m tired of messing around with these assholes.  It’s time to get a little more aggressive.”  Seth slid the table that Clayton had been on earlier over to the men.  He peered at Wyatt.  “Help me pick up Clayton and lay him on his back.”  They lifted him on the table.  Seth strapped him down, leaving his arms and head free.  “Go get me some channel locks off the work bench.”

“What are you going to do to him?”

“Try to make him pop out his eye by crushing his toes since I can’t do anything barbaric.”

“That’s still too much, but I guess it will be okay.”

“I’m glad you approve.”

Wyatt popped off as he was walking away, “You don’t have to be sarcastic.”

Seth laid Darren’s back against the pole in a sitting position, then strapped him down.

Wyatt walked up.  “What are you going to do to him?”

“Making sure he can see all the fun that Clayton’s fixin’ to have.”  Seth connected the two men to I.V. bags filled with blood, then injected them with adrenaline.  He gazed at Wyatt.  “You might want to wait this one out.  Toes breaking might be too much for you.”

“Ha ha.  I think I can handle it.  And you don’t have to be so pissy.  You’ve always got to do things your way, so taking it easy for once isn’t going to kill you.”

“It might not kill me, but it’s definitely going to backfire on us by pussy footing around with these kinds of scumbags.”

“Why would you say that?”

“You’ll see.  I’ll play along since I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Wyatt laughed.  “That’s the spirit, old chap.”

Seth shook his head.  “Don’t cry when it backfires on you.”  He walked off and came back with a large mirror with an adjustable arm.  He mounted it on a table next to Clayton’s head.”

“Why are you doing that?”

“So, he can see his entire body.”

A few minutes later, Clayton starting coming around.  He looked into the mirror, then lifted his head to look at Seth.  “What the fuck are you doing now, freak?”

“Same thing I’ve been trying to do, rapist; make you give me an eye.”  He held up a pair of channel locks.  “I’m going to break your toes if you don’t.”

He laid his head down and laughed.  “You’re so full of shit.  And you better hope you don’t wind up in the same prison I’m in.”

“Why would I go to prison?”

“The cops are gonna find out the sick shit that you’ve done.”

“Why would they find out?”

“When you hand me over, I’m going to rat your ass out.”

“I thought criminals have a code against tattling?”

“Not with your kind.”

“Who do you think I am?”

He raised his head and grinned.  “One of those chicken-shit bounty hunters.  We’ll all be takin’ turns pounding your ass.”

“You’ve been listening to your buddy too much.”

He looked around.  “Where the fuck did you move him to?”  He noticed him tied to the post.  “Hey, Twink, you all right?”

Seth laughed.  “What the fuck is a Twink?”

Darren had just awakened and was still drowsy.  “Hey, man, he hit me with something.  My head is hurting really bad.”

Clayton gritted his teeth as he stared at Seth.  “Fuck you, cocksucker!  You’re gonna get yours.”

Wyatt stepped forward.  “Just calm down.”

Clayton spit on Wyatt’s face.  “Fuck you too, bitch!”

Wyatt became furious and hit him in the face with the bottom of his fist.  “Screw you, asshole.”

Clayton began laughing.  “You hit like a punk.”  Wyatt started to hit him again, but Clayton reached out and slapped him in the face.  Wyatt stepped back, then stood in shock.

Clayton laughed.  “You wanna act like a bitch, I’ll treat you like one.”

Wyatt raised his fist.  “You…”

Seth grabbed his arm.  “Hold up.  He’s not worth bruising your hand.”

“He fucking hit me!”

“I know.”  Seth handed him a short club.  “Knock his teeth out.”

Wyatt handed it back.  “I can’t do it.”

Clayton laughed.  “I told you he’s a bitch.”

Wyatt was boiling with anger.  “Why is he acting like this?”

“Because you wanted me to pussy foot around with him, so he has no fear.”

Wyatt became defensive.  “Just do whatever you want.”

“You sure?”

“Hell yes!”  He glared at Clayton.  “I was trying to do you a favor, asshole.”

Clayton grinned.  “Fuck you!”  He spit at him again.

Wyatt looked as if he had been bullied on a playground.  “Make him stop.”

Seth handed Wyatt the channel locks.  “Rip out his tongue.”

“I can’t.”

“Then smack him in the face with them.”

“I can’t do that either.”

“Then what can you do?”

“I don’t know, but I want to get his ass back.”

“How about if I make him punch himself a whole bunch of times.  Will that be satisfying?”

Wyatt shrugged his shoulders.  “Maybe.”

Seth glared at Clayton.  “Punch yourself in the face.”

“Come over here and I’ll bitch slap you too.”

Seth stepped forward.  “I said punch yourself!”

Clayton swung, but Seth grabbed his arm and stretched it out away from his body.  He glanced at Wyatt.  “Rip a finger off.”

“I…  I can’t.”

“Then hold his arm.”

Wyatt grabbed it but Clayton was too strong.  “He’s pulling me toward him!”

Seth sliced a gash in Clayton’s bicep with a knife, causing his arm to go limp.  “Now you can hold on to the damn thing.”

Wyatt gagged as he stared at the open wound.  “I don’t want to do this.”

Clayton was staring in disbelief as he reached for his arm with his other hand.  “What the fuck did you do?”

Seth grabbed a hold of Clayton’s small finger with the channel locks and bent it backwards.  Wyatt turned his head away.  “Oh, my God, I can hear his bones breaking.”

Seth twisted the finger around, then ripped it from the joint.  He grabbed another finger and squeezed down on it.  He yelled over Clayton’s screams, “Punch yourself in the face, asshole!”

Clayton was able to twist his body a little as he reached for his arm.  “Let go of my fucking finger!”

Seth bent it backwards, then twisted it.  “Punch yourself or I’ll rip it off.”

Clayton began hitting himself.

“Harder!”  Seth twisted the finger more.

Clayton was yelling out a roar like a Marine in boot camp as he violently punched himself.

“Hard as you can, asshole!”

Blood starting running out of his mouth and nose as he beat his face while continuing to yell.

Seth released his finger.  “You can let go of his arm.”

Wyatt stepped back as he held his hand over his mouth.

Seth laughed as looked at Wyatt.  “Was that satisfying enough for ya?”

“That was intense.”

Clayton pulled his arm to his chest as he breathed heavily.  “You motherfuckers are going to pay for this.”

“Then I better get out my wallet for what’s coming up.”  Seth picked up the Jaws of Life so Clayton could see it.  “I’m really going to have to pay after I use this on you.”

“Fuck you!  You have no right to do this to me.”

“That was the same thing your buddy said.”  Seth eyed Darren as he was holding his head down.  “You’re being awful quiet.”

He didn’t look up or say anything.

“You apparently have more sense than your asshole friend here.”

Clayton raised his head.  “Screw you!”

Seth handed Wyatt the spoon.  “When he asks for it, give it to him so he can pop out his eye.”

Clayton jerked at his restraints.  “You ain’t gonna make me do shit, motherfucker!”

“You have no idea how much shit you’re actually going to do before this is all over.”

He laid his head back.  “I’m done with your bullshit.”

Seth opened the Jaws of Life and stuck the spreaders around his left foot.  “You might want to watch this.”

Clayton was looking at him in the mirror.  “Just stop playing games and call the police already.”

Seth looked at Wyatt.  “See, even after all this he still does not know what kind of predicament he’s in.  If I had been able to set the mood from the beginning, he would have been begging instead of being aggressive.  I told you pussy footing around would backfire.”

He shrugged his shoulders.  “I know.  It’s my fault that he spit on me and slapped my face.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over that.  That kind of stuff happens regardless, but usually only once.”

Clayton began laughing.  “You two fuckers axe like I’m not in da room, disrespecting me and shit.”

Seth shook his head.  “See, now he’s so relaxed he’s talkin’ ghetto.”

Clayton raised his head and smiled.  “You gonna find out about the ghetto, motherfucker, when yo’ ass is in da pen with da brothas.  And I know what y’all are up to.”  He glared at Wyatt.  “What did you call it?”  He thought for a second.  “Mind meld.  You motherfuckers are just trying to do that shit again.”

Seth shook his head.  “Do I look like fucking Spock?  It was mind rape, asshole.”

“Whatever, peckerwood, but I ain’t fallen fo’ that no mo’.”

“I’m done fucking around.  When you’ve had enough pain pop out one of your damn eyes.”  He pressed a button on the Jaws of Life.  Clayton screamed as his left foot was being crushed.  Blood was gushing out as it was being flattened like a pancake.  The sound of the bones breaking, and the steel horseshoe bending, was almost as loud as his screaming.  Seth opened the jaws and moved the tool to his ankle, then began crushing it.  Clayton was screaming at the top of his lungs as he threw his head and arms around.  The larger bones sounded like fireworks popping as they were being crushed like glass.  Wyatt turned away when he noticed blood was squirting out of ripped skin like leaks in a water hose.  Seth didn’t hesitate as he moved the tool to Clayton’s knee.  When the jaws started crushing his bones, Clayton reached out.  Seth released the button and yelled at Wyatt.  “He wants the damn spoon.”

Wyatt didn’t look as he held it out.  Clayton grabbed it and began working it under his right eye.

Seth yelled out, “Don’t fuck it up or I’ll make you pop out your other one.”

Clayton was gagging and the muscles in his neck were sticking out as he worked the spoon around.  Between the pain and grossness factor he gave up, pulling out the spoon.  He laid his head back and began weeping.  “Please don’t make me do this.  I’m sorry for what I have done.”

Seth pressed the button and began crushing his knee.  Clayton’s eyes rolled in the back of his head and his body went limp.  Wyatt was worried as he stood looking between his fingers.  “Oh, my God!  Is he dead?”

Seth pulled a syringe out of his pocket.  “No.  He passed out.”  Seth injected him in the neck.  “But he’s fixing to be back and full of piss and vinegar.”  He glanced at Wyatt.  “And that little concoction I just gave him will keep him awake for a while, and possibly cause his heart to explode if he gets too excited.”

A few seconds later, Clayton raised his head and screamed.

“Welcome back, sunshine.”  Seth moved the jaws to his right foot.  “Ready for some more motivation?”

Clayton held his hands out.  “Please stop!  I beg you.”

“I’ll show you the same mercy you showed Mrs. Johnson.”

“But I didn’t torture her.  What you’re doing to me is cruel and unusual.”

Seth shook his head.  “You’re an absolute piece of shit for saying that.”

“Well, it is.  And it’s violating my constitutional rights.”

“And you’re a fucking dumbass as well.”  Seth started crushing his foot.

Clayton was in so much agony that he shoved the spoon under his left eyeball, twisted it around, then popped it out.  His eye rolled down his chest, then to the floor.  Clayton was sobbing as he held his hand over his bloody socket.

Seth peered at Wyatt.  “There’s some clotting agent on the cart.  Pour it all over his wounds so he doesn’t bleed to death.  And make sure you rub it.”

Wyatt had a look of disgust.  “With my hands?”

“No.  There’s a box of gloves on the cart.”  Seth picked the spoon off the floor, then strolled over to Darren.  “You’re next.”  He tossed the bloody spoon at his feet.

Darren looked horrified as he pulled at his restraints.  “I didn’t do anything to those people.”

“Then who did?”

He looked toward Clayton.  “He did it.”

Clayton turned his head.  He could barely talk from screaming and his voice was extremely raspy.  “You lying motherfucker!”

Seth pointed to Clayton.  “You said he participated.  In fact, you tried to blame everything on him back when you were getting mind raped.”

Darren became upset.  “You know I had nothing to do with any of that.”

Clayton glared at him as he held his hand over his eye.  “Fuck you, Twink!  You ain’t gonna pass all the blame off on me.  You know what you did.”

Seth picked up the jaws.  “Hey, Twinky, pick an eye.”

He held his hands out.  “Hold up, man.  I’ll do my time.  Just call the police.”

“Why would I call the police if you didn’t do anything?”

He was staring in fear as Seth opened and closed the jaws.  “I did, I did.  I raped the woman also.  I’ll go to jail, please don’t touch me with that thing.”

Seth leaned in close.  “Who raped her first?  And say it so your buddy can’t hear you.”

He whispered, “G Fly, me, then Andre.”

Seth shook his head.  “So, Andre rolled over on y’all.”  He looked back at Clayton.  “Tell me who raped Mrs. Johnson first.  I also want the order, and if your lie is different than your buddy’s lie, I’m going to make you pop out your other eye.”

Clayton was passed the breaking point; he didn’t care if he lived or died.  “I raped her first.”  He nodded toward Darren.  “Then him.  Andre got thirds.”

“Who killed them?”

Darren spoke up first.  “Clayton cut her throat, and I stabbed the man.”

Seth picked up the jaws.  “Which eye do I get?”

Darren looked confused.  “Wait!  I told you the truth.  You said you would call the cops.”

“I didn’t say anything about calling anyone.”

“Why would you do this?  You won’t be able to collect any money if you kill me.”

“I’m not a fucking bounty hunter, dipshit.  You should have figured that out by now.”

Wyatt was gagging as he massaged the clotting agent into Clayton’s knee.  He set the package down, then came over to Darren.  “I don’t have the stomach to address your wounds too, so just do it.”

Darren looked at him as if he was a long-lost friend.  “Please talk some sense into your friend.”

“He’s The Angel of Death and he doesn’t have any sense when he’s in the presence of assholes like you.  And he’s not going to stop hurting you until you pop out your damn eye, so just do it and get it over with.”  Wyatt walked off.

Darren stared at Seth.  “Who did he say you were?”

“Definitely not a fucking bounty hunter.  Now do you want to do it with or without the motivation?”  Seth pointed the jaws at him.

“I…  I…”

Darren moved his legs around hysterically as Seth tried to grab one with the tool.  Suddenly, the tip of the jaws grabbed a hold of his left calf, pinching the blood out of it.  He grabbed the spoon.  “Okay, okay.”  He stuck it to his eye, then pulled it away.  “This is sick.  Can we make a compromise?”

“Did you compromise at the Johnson’s?”

“You can’t make me do this.”

“The hell if I can’t.”

Wyatt yelled out, “Try the shocking thing again.  I’m curious if it will work, and if it does, I won’t have to clean up the mess.”

Seth laid the tool down, then pulled out the remote.  “I’m glad you’re thinking there, chief.”  He looked at Darren.  “I’m going to light your ass up, and when you have enough, you can join the one-eyed fucker’s club.”  He turned the knob to eight, then pressed the button.  Darren’s body was violently shaking as foam spewed from his mouth.  Ten seconds later, Seth shut it off.  Darren held his hands out.  “Oh, my God!  You’re cooking my innards.  Please don’t do…”

Seth pressed the button for another ten seconds.

Darren picked up the spoon.  “I…”

He pressed the button until Darren’s skin above the wires began turning a darker color.  At first, he just laid motionless, then slowly moved the spoon to his eye.  He gagged as he pushed it between his eyeball and eyelid, then in one motion ripped it out of the socket.  Seth picked it up and handed it to Clayton.  “Stick that into your socket.”

Clayton didn’t argue or try to resist as he worked Darren’s eyeball into his head.

Seth laughed.  “Nice.”

Wyatt was shaking his head.  “Was that necessary?”

“I don’t know, but it’s funny.”

He examined Clayton, noticing the eye was pointing in another direction from his own.  “The damn thing is crooked.  And now he has two different colored eyes.  That’s freakin’ sick.”

Seth picked Clayton’s eye off the floor, rubbed it on his pants to get some of the dirt off, then handed it to Darren.  “Give yourself a case of strabismus.”

He looked as if he was about to pass out.  “What?”

“Stick the damn thing in your empty socket so you can have catawampus eyes.”

He took the eyeball and worked it in as blood oozed down his face. 

Wyatt took a deep breath.  “Are we done?”

Seth laughed.  “Just getting started.”

Clayton raised his head.  His face was covered in blood as his different colored eyes pointed to different directions.  “Please don’t hurt me anymore.  I beg you.  Please have mercy.”

“I bet the Johnson’s pleaded with you as well.  Did you show them mercy?”

“You’ve gotten me back, please call an ambulance.”

“What do you mean I’ve gotten you back?”

“The eye for an eye thing.  I get it.  That’s why you did that, right?”

“The eye thing was just for breaking into the Johnson’s house and stealing their shit.  I’m fixing to get a pound of flesh for the rape and murder thing.”

911

Seth injected Clayton with a sedative.  When he fell asleep, he amputated his left leg above the knee, sewed the stub closed, then did the same thing to his right foot.  He tossed the severed parts in a trashcan.  Wyatt was standing off to the side shaking his head.  “I guess he won’t be needing those anymore.”

Seth looked at Darren.  “You need some shit cut off too?”

He held his hands out.  “Please don’t.”

Seth glanced at Wyatt.  “You wanna go on a quick road trip?”

“To where?”

“Roswell, New Mexico.  I have some business there I need to take care of.” 

He looked at Clayton and Darren.  “What about them?”

“They’ll get theirs when we get back.”

“That’s not what I meant.  Are we just going to leave them like they are?”

“No, they can wait in the cage.”

“Can we take the Camaro this time?”

“Sure.”

Wyatt was excited.  He unlatched Clayton, pulled him off onto the floor as if he was an animal carcass, then began dragging him toward the cage.  Seth laughed, then glanced at Darren.  “I’m going to unstrap you, then I want you to walk to the cage.  If you try anything I’ll light your ass up.”  He pulled out the remote.

“I’ll do it.  Just don’t hurt me anymore.”

Seth unlatched the straps.  “Don’t get…”  Darren took off running.  “…Stupid.”  Seth pressed the button, causing Darren to take a nosedive.

Wyatt came walking out of the cage.  “What the hell?”

“At least you won’t have to drag him as far.”

He began to reach down to grab Darren’s arms, then stopped.  “He’s still being shocked.  Will it shock me if I touch him?”

“If you grab a hold of different parts of his body at the same time it will.”

“Can you shut it off?”

“Just grab one of his arms.”

“He has pissed on himself.”

“That’s not all he’s done.”

Wyatt noticed his legs were covered in feces.  “You drag him in there.”

“He doesn’t have shit on his arms.  Pick one and start pulling.”

Wyatt gagged as he dragged Darren into the cage.  Seth locked the door.  “Seriously?  You’re getting sick over that?”

“It stinks.”

Seth shut off the electrodes.  Darren rolled into the fetal position and began crying.  “I want to go home.”

“I’m sure the Johnson’s feel the same.”  Seth looked at Wyatt.  “There’s a jug of blue Gatorade on the work bench.  Set it next to the bars so they can stay hydrated.”  Seth strolled over to a car that was next to the cage.  He set a phone on the hood, then walked to the Camaro.  He glanced at Wyatt.  “Open the door.”

Wyatt’s adrenaline was pumping as the car drove by.  The exhaust had a deep rumbling sound as the engine lopped from the high-performance cam.  Seth ran back to the barn and turned on the security system, then locked the door.  Wyatt was waiting for him when he got back in.  “Do a burn out.”

“We’re on dirt.”

A few miles down they came to a paved road.  “You can do a burn out now.”

“We can’t act stupid, or we’ll get pulled over.  We’re going to be drawing enough attention as it is.”

Wyatt looked disappointed.  “I know.”

Seth stopped on the road.  “But there ain’t any cops way out here.  Hang on.”  Seth brought the engine up to five thousand RPMs, then popped the clutch.  At first, the car’s tires squealed as smoke bellowed out from the rear, then the car took off.  Wyatt was holding on for dear life as Seth shifted through the gears.  The car was accelerating so fast that he was being forced to the back of his seat.  Wyatt glanced at the speedometer.  “We’re only going sixty?”

“That’s the RPMs.  We’re going about a hundred and fifty.”  Seth let off the throttle and slowed down.  He looked at Wyatt.  “And it was six thousand RPMs, not sixty.”

Wyatt was still gripping the door handle.  “I’ve never been in a fast car before; that was a rush.”

“It can be addicting.”

“You got me hooked.  I wish I had something like this to mess around with, but they’re too expensive.”

“You can find older cars and do the work yourself.”

“I’m not a mechanic.”

“You can learn.  The Internet is full of information.”

“Where did you get this one?”

“I bought it stock and did the work myself.”

“When did you have time to do something like this?”

Seth laughed.  “I don’t spend all my time hanging out with lowlifes.  That’s why I have the place back there.”  Seth pulled out his laptop.  “Speaking of lowlifes, let’s see what they’re up to.”  He handed it to Wyatt.  “Click on the smiley face icon.  That’s the camera system.”

“What’s your password?”

“Sugar britches.”

“No, seriously, what is it?”

“That’s it.”

“Why in the hell would you pick that?”

“Don’t ask.”

Wyatt laughed.  “I would have figured it would have been something manlier, like Grim Reaper or Mr. Death or something.”

“Those would be predictable.”

“And you think I’m gay.”

“It’s a password.”

“All right, sugar britches.”  Wyatt turned the laptop sideways so Seth could see it.  “The camera images are too small.”

“Click camera seven.”

Wyatt gave a thumbs up.  “That’s better.  I can see them now.”

“What are they doing?”

He glanced at Seth.  “It’s weird that we’re watching nude men in a cage.”

“I’m not.  That’s why I gave you the laptop.”

“Thanks.”  He looked at the screen.  “Clayton is awake and sitting on the floor with his back against the bars.”

“Is he alive?”

“He’s drinking the Gatorade out of the jug, but he doesn’t look so good.”

“What about the other asshole?”

“It looks like he’s trying to dig out.”

“That figures.”  Seth pulled out his phone.  “You wanna mess with them.”

“Like how?”

“I left a phone on the car next to the cage.  When I call it, it will vibrate and fall off.  The phone is modified, so when they dial 911 it will call me.  If they dial anything else, they will get a recorded message that the phone is out of range.”

Wyatt laughed.  “Do it.  That will be funny.”

“Watch the camera, I’m dialing it now.”

“They must hear it ringing—they’re looking at the car.”  Wyatt laughed.  “It just fell off and landed next to the bars.”

Seth hit end.  “Let’s see how long it takes for them to call 911.”

“Not long.  Darren just reached through the bars like a monkey and grabbed it.”

“What’s he doin’ now?”

“Messin’ with it.”

Seth’s phone rang.  He put it on speaker, then disguised his voice to sound like a female.  “911, please state your emergency.”

A hysterical voice yelled over the speaker.  “Oh, my God!  I’ve been abducted!  Please send the police as soon as possible.  This crazy fucker has me and…”

“Ma’am, slow down.  Is there a threat to your life?”

“Yes!  Please send the police.”

“What is your location?”

“I don’t know.  We’re locked in a barn.”

“Do you know what city and state you’re in?”

“Dallas, Texas.”

“Is there another victim there?”

“Yes, he’s hurt badly.  The bastard cut off his legs and made us pull out our eyes.”

“Ma’am, are the suspects still there?”

“No, but he’s coming back.”

“What is your name?”

“Twink…  I mean Darren Collins.”

“Is the other victim with you a male or female?”

“Male.”

“What’s her name?”

“Clayton.  And he’s a dude, not a chick.”

“What’s her last name?”

“I don’t know.  Please send some help.”

Another voice echoed out.  “Tell them what that racist fucker did to me.”

“Whose voice was that?”

“It was Clayton.  He’s upset.”

“Ma’am, I need you to describe your location.”

“I’m in a barn locked in a fucking cage.  I don’t know anything else.”

“Please remain calm.”

“Remain calm?  They’re coming back to kill us.”

“They’re?  How many suspects are there?”

“Two.”

“Are they white or black?”

“Both white.”

“Can you describe them?”

“They’re fucking psychopaths.”

“Ma’am, please describe what they look like?”

“We don’t have time for that.  Please trace the call and send some help.”

“Ma’am, the phone you’re using has the GPS blocked.  I need some type of description of your surroundings.  Can you see anything outside or hear any specific sounds?”

“No, nothing.”

“Where are the suspects?”

“They left in a car.”

“Can you describe the vehicle?”

“Black hotrod with white stripes.  The engine is sticking out of the hood.  It’s real loud, you can’t miss it.”

“Are you sure you’re giving me an accurate description?”

“Yes, I saw it myself.”

“I thought you said they pulled your eyes out?”

“Just one.”

“Is this a prank?”

“No.  You can look me up.  I’m wanted for killing someone.  My name is Darren Collins.”

“You know it’s a felony punishable by lethal injection if you fabricate a story to a 911 operator.”

“I’m telling you the truth.”

“Okay, ma’am, do you know where they were heading?”

“Roslyn in Mexico I think.”

“We’re getting some choppers in the air to search for the car.”  Wyatt began laughing.  Seth put his finger across his lips telling him not to be so loud.

“Please find them.”

“I need you to remain calm.  We also need to terminate this call to preserve your phone’s battery.”

“No, no.  Don’t hang up.”

“Ma’am, don’t worry.  We’re going to start searching all the barns in Texas.  Remain calm and keep me informed if anything changes.”

“Okay.  I will.”

Seth hung up the phone and began laughing.

Wyatt shook his head.  “What a dumbass.”

Five minutes later, the phone rang.  Seth answered.  “Pizza Hut.”

“Who?”

“This is Pizza Hut.  How can I help you?”

They hung up, then it rang again.  “911, what’s thy emergency?”

“This is Clayton.  My buddy has been talkin’ to y’all.”

“Who is this?”

“Clayton.  I’m the one locked in a cage with Darren.”

“What do you want?”

“I need some help.  The bastard cut off my leg and foot.”

“I told your buddy to be patient.  Just chill out.  Help will be there soon.  Now I’m going on break.”  Seth hung up the phone.

Wyatt pointed.  “We’re crossing into New Mexico.”

The phone rang again.  “I’m busy.”  He hung up, then glanced at Wyatt.  “We’re halfway there.”

Wyatt laughed as he looked at the screen.  “You pissed off Darren.  He’s stomping around and stirring up a cloud of dust.”

“Fucking idiots.”

An hour later, Seth pulled into a small airfield, then parked next to a hanger.  “Hang out here.”  Seth got out and met with a man that was working on a plane.  A few minutes later, he got back in the car.  Wyatt was laughing.  “Your phone has been ringing non-stop.”

“I’m sure.”  He handed Wyatt a map.  “See the red circle?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s here.”

“And why are you showing me this?”

“This is a private air strip.  See the man that I was talking to?”

“Yes.”

“If anything happens, you can come here and he’ll fly you home.”

Wyatt looked worried.  “Why?  What’s going on?”

“Just a safety precaution.  You know I plan for everything.”  The phone rang again.  “What?”

“This is Darren.  Did y’all find that car?”

“No, but the swat team has been going barn to barn.  They’re narrowing them down.”

“How long…”

Seth hung up, then eyed Wyatt.  “I wouldn’t have left the damn phone if I had known how aggravating it would have been.”

Fifteen minutes later, the phone rang again.  “Yeah!”

“No one has shown up yet.”

“Listen, the marines are now combing the land.  Be patient and stop calling so much.”  He hung up.

Over the next two hours they kept calling back.  Seth finally stopped answering.  Thirty minutes from the barn Seth’s phone rang.  He shouted, “We got them bastards!”

Darren was excited.  “Did you arrest them?”

“We shot them.”

“Oh, my God!  Thank you so much.  Y’all have saved us.”

“I bet we did.  The two perps had escaped from a psycho ward, and the taller one was going to make robes out of y’all.”

He began bawling.  “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Why are you crying?”

“Because this nightmare is over.”

“And I have more good news for you.  We’ve triangulated your flux capacitor and should be closing in on your position soon.”

“Oh…  There’s no need in that now.”

“We still have to bring you in for killing folks.”

“Hold up…”  Seth and Wyatt could hear them talking to each other in the background, debating if they still wanted the cops to come.  “We’ve already escaped, so you can call off your search.”  The phone went dead.

Seth looked at Wyatt.  “What the hell are they doing?”

“Darren is trying to dig out again.”

Human Skin Condom

Seth and Wyatt pulled up to the barn and parked under a lean-to.  Seth strolled up to the cage as Darren was on all-fours digging at the concrete.  “What the fuck you doin’?”

He was startled.  “Huh?”  When he recognized it was Seth, his expression changed to as if he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.  “I…”  He looked down.

Seth noticed he was holding the phone.  “Hey, that’s my phone that you’re using as a fucking shovel.”

He stood up while exhibiting a confused expression.  “I…  I didn’t think y’all were coming back.”

Wyatt noticed their penises were erect.  He pulled Seth to the side.  “Why are their dicks hard?”

“I put a shit load of Viagra and some other drugs in their Gatorade.”

“Why would you do that?”

“You’ll find out later.”  Seth turned his focus back to Darren.  “We had to cut our trip short.  It was all over the news how these two assclowns were being held hostage by these really cool psychopaths.”

Darren grabbed the bars.  “I thought…”

Clayton interrupted.  “It was them the whole time, Twink.  They’ve been fuckin’ with us.”

Darren glanced at him.  “What?”

“There’s no help coming.  It was all bullshit.”

“But…”  He turned and glared at Seth.  “That was fucking you?”

“Hey, at least you’re not going to prison, cry baby, but you still owe me a pound of your flesh.”

“Fuck you!”

Seth tossed two ropes in the cage.  “Tie Clayton’s arms to one side of the cage and his feet…  I mean his leg, to the other side.  And I want him stretched out tightly so he can’t move.”

“I ain’t doin’ shit!”

“That’s what you said about your eye.  Now get over there before I make you pop out your other one.”  Seth pulled out the remote.

“He’s already gone through enough, asshole.”

Seth glared at Clayton.  “Come tie this mouthy fucker up.”

“I’m not playing your games anymore.”  He grabbed his penis.  “And this shit ain’t funny either, motherfucker.  I know you had something to do with it.”

Seth pulled out a knife.  “Last man standing doesn’t get his dick cut off.”

Darren surveyed the blade.  “What the fuck, dude, why would you even bring that kind of shit up?”

Wyatt had a troubled look.  “Are you joking?”

“If it was a joke, would it be funny?”

“I’m going to the RV if you do that.”

“Then you better head that way.”

Darren had a serious expression.  “You’re insane.”

Seth looked at his watch.  “One of y’all fuckers better be tied up in five minutes or there’ll be two dicks lying on the floor.”

“You wouldn’t do something like that.  You’re not that sick.”

“You’re right.  Some other sick fucker made y’all rip out your eyes.  Now do it before I come in there.”

Darren bowed up.  “Try it and see what happens.”

Seth walked off, then came back.  He energized both their electrodes, causing Darren to fall to the floor.  He strolled into the cage, then stuck his knife to Darren’s crotch.  He tried to look but his body was frozen stiff.  Horror overcame him when Seth held up a bloody object.  He dangled it.  “This is what happens when I come in here.”  He walked out and locked the door, then shut off the electrodes.

Darren immediately sat up and grabbed his penis.  “Oh, thank God!”  He gazed at Seth with a confused expression.

Seth held up a piece of flesh.  “It’s part of Clayton’s leg.  I just wanted to show you how easy it would be.  But the next time it’s going to be for real.”  Seth looked at his watch.  “Two minutes left.”

Darren began pacing back and forth while pumping his fist, then he charged Clayton.  At first, they wrestled around on the floor like wild animals while exchanging blows and curse words, then Clayton’s body gave out; he was too weak to put up a long fight.  Darren tied Clayton’s arms to one side of the cage, then his leg to the other.  He was covered in blood as he glared at Seth.  “Now what?”

“First, you can put your eye back in.”

“Huh?”

“Your fucking eye.  It got knocked out.”

He looked around, then noticed it was lying on the floor.  “It’s been stepped on.”

“I don’t give a shit.  Stick it back in.”

He tried to wipe it off.  “There’s dirt stuck to it.”

“Who cares?  It’s not like the damn thing works anyway.”

“I don’t want to get an infection.”

Seth laughed.  “Really?”

Darren looked down.  “This isn’t right.”  He pushed the deflated eyeball into his socket.

Seth tossed a razor blade in the cage.  “I want you to cut the outer skin all the way around the base of Clayton’s dick.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“What do you think?  And just the outer layer.”

Darren knelt next to Clayton, then combed his long hair back with his fingers so he could see.  He grabbed Clayton’s hard penis, then began cutting it.  Clayton screamed and his body trembled as the blade sliced his skin.

Wyatt had been quiet.  “Dude, I don’t think I can watch this.”

“Watch what?  Two lowlife rapists being forced to give justice to their victims.

“I don’t think Darren is being forced to do anything.”  Wyatt glanced at Seth.  I think he’s actually enjoying that.”

“What else would you expect from a predator?”

Wyatt looked confused.  “I know you put Viagra in their Gatorade, but how can his penis be hard when it’s being…”  He looked at Clayton’s penis as Darren was carving on it like a pumpkin.  “Whatever you call that?”

“I guess it’s because they’re gay.”

“I’m being serious.”

Seth noticed Darren was done.  “Now I want you to peel his skin off by rolling it up, from the base to the head, like you’re taking off a condom.”

Darren didn’t even flinch as he began pulling at the skin.  Clayton was in so much pain that he blew his voice box screaming.  When Darren had enough of the skin loose, he began to meticulously roll it up.  Wyatt held his hand over his mouth.  “See what I mean.  It looks like he’s enjoying that.”

“He enjoys inflicting pain on others.”

“But that’s his friend.”

“Doesn’t matter.  He apparently has doubts about his masculinity, and hurting others makes him feel superior.  That’s why he raped that woman; it was an expression of power and domination, not sexual desire.”

“Why would he have doubts about his masculinity?”

“Fuck, I don’t know.  Maybe mommy and daddy didn’t give him enough attention when he was a kid, or maybe it’s because of his small dick, or maybe it’s because he’s simply an evil prick.  But regardless of the reason, stubby is going to pay for his transgressions.”

Wyatt was looking between his fingers as he watched Darren.  He pointed.  “Clayton is definitely getting his.”

“Wait until you see what Darren’s going to get.”

Blood was running down Clayton’s hips and his body was trembling.  He stared at Seth and Wyatt and shouted, “Oh, my God!  Please make him stop!  He’s killing me!”

Darren wasn’t fazed by Clayton’s suffering as he finished pulling off the last portion of skin.  He tossed it on the floor, then stood up and gave Seth a death stare.  He looked like a crazed ape-man; his face was covered in blood and his long dirty-blond hair was covering most of his face.

Seth held his hands out, palms up.  “What?  You got something you need to say?”

Darren began pacing like a wild animal as he pumped his blood-covered hands.  “Yeah!  I heard what you fuckers were saying.  If you think I’m going to let you do anything else to me, you’ve got another thing comin’, you fucking punk!”

Seth went over to one of the cars, then music filled the barn with the Judas Priest song, You’ve got another thing comin’.  Darren looked horrified as Seth opened the door to the cage and sauntered in.  Before he had time to react, Seth grabbed him by his throat and threw him against the bars.  Clayton was screaming for Darren to kill Seth.  Wyatt was in shock, contemplating if he should help or not.  Darren tried to fight back at first, but Seth was crushing his throat.  He couldn’t breathe, so he grabbed Seth’s hands, then to his horror, Seth pushed him upwards against the bars until his feet came off the floor.  A few seconds later, he passed out.  Seth continued to hold him against the bars as he looked for Wyatt.  He wasn’t anywhere to be found, then he peeked over his shoulder and noticed he was stomping on Clayton’s head.  He yelled over the music, “Get me some ratchet straps.”

Wyatt kicked Clayton in the stomach, then ran out the door.  When he came back, Seth secured Darren to the bars from his chest to his feet in a standing position.  Seth went and turned down the music, then lit a cigarette.  “What was that all about?”

Wyatt was breathing heavy.  “You tell me.”

“I thought you had run away.”

Wyatt leaned up against the bars.  “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Doesn’t matter—you did well.”  Seth looked at Darren and Clayton.  “They’re going to be out for a while, let’s go soak up some AC in the RV.”

“Is there anything to eat in there?”

“Clayton’s dick skin and leg meat.”

“No thanks.”

“Then I guess you will have to settle for some SpaghettiOs.”

Around an hour later, Seth and Wyatt heard a commotion as they were relaxing in the RV.  Seth opened the door, noticing it was Darren and Clayton arguing; they were cursing, threatening and calling each other inappropriate names.  Seth and Wyatt came over to see what was going on.  Seth lit a cigarette.  “What’s wrong with you two?”

Clayton raised his head off the floor.  “Fuck all of y’all.”  He was pissed.  “Bunch of racist motherfuckers!”

“Why would you say that?”

Darren laughed.  “Because he’s a dumb toad.”

Clayton spit at Darren.  “Fuck you, peckerwood!”

Seth grabbed the bars.  “Come on, fellas, there’s no reason to be such potty mouths to each other; I thought y’all were pals?”

Darren was glaring at Clayton.  “We were until this rat bastard told where I was at.”

Clayton glared back.  “Don’t you call me a fuckin’ rat!  You’re the one that told him I raped that woman.”

“You did too, dumbass!”

“But he didn’t know that I had been first until you opened your mouth, you fucking prick!”

“What does the order have to do with anything?”

“That’s why he did this to me, you fucking piece of shit!”

Darren turned his head to where Clayton could see his bloody eye socket.  “Look at this shit, asshole.  You ain’t the only one that got fucked up.”

Clayton stared at him for a moment.  “You fucking serious?  Look what the fuck you did to my dick!  Look at my fucking legs!”

Darren pointed downwards with his head.  “I got a fucking rubber band around my balls.  And a fucking bullet in my leg.”

“Fuck you!  That ain’t the same.”  He glared at Seth.  “And fuck you too, you racist white motherfucker!”

Darren grinned.  “You’re just a dumb…”

Seth interrupted.  “That’s enough of the name calling Darren.  You’re going to hurt his feelings.”

Clayton’s eye was full of rage.  “I’m way past that shit.  Y’all are some sorry motherfuckers for what you let Darren do to me.”

“If it’s any consolation you’re going to get to return the favor.”

Darren stopped grinning.  “Huh?”

Clayton’s eye opened wide.  “What was that?”

“Do you wanna peel Clayton’s dick skin off?”

His expression changed to aggressive.  “Let me at that motherfucker.”

Seth tossed a potato peeler into the cage next to Clayton.  “I want you to use that on his dick.”

He jerked at his ropes as he stared at Darren.  “Let me loose, I’m going to rip that motherfucker apart!”

Seth peered at Wyatt.  “Go around to the side of the cage and untie the rope.  I’m going to untie his hands.”

Darren began to panic as he tried to get his arms loose.  “No, no, no.  Please don’t let him loose.”  He looked down at his erect penis.  “Oh, my God!  You can’t let this happen!”

As soon as Clayton was free, he grabbed the potato peeler and crawled on his side to Darren.  He sat down and grabbed Darren’s dick.  “My turn now, motherfucker.”

Darren had a horrified expression.  “He made me do it!  Please don’t…”  He screamed at the top of his lungs as Clayton began peeling his skin.  He was moving the peeler very slowly.  “Hows you like this, you sorry motherfucker?”  The peeler was digging in and pulling out chunks of flesh.  Clayton tapped the peeler on the concrete to dislodge the pieces, then would start back right where he stopped.  Darren was in so much pain that he couldn’t catch a breath as he screamed out for mercy.  When Clayton was done peeling a long section of skin from the base to the head, he moved the peeler over and started again.  When he was about halfway done with the second run he paused and looked up, then sarcastically popped off, “Just like how granny peeled her taters.”

Darren had drool dripping off his chin.  “I can’t…  I can’t take the pain!  Please stop!”

When Clayton got to the end the curled-up piece of skin fell to the floor next to the other pieces.  “You didn’t stop when I was beggin’ you.”  He moved the peeler over to start a new run.  “Payback is a bitch.”

Wyatt was looking between his fingers.  “What’s wrong with these fuckers?”

Seth laughed.  “That’s pure payback right there.”

Darren screamed until he was hoarse, then he began making loud agonizing moans.  When Clayton was done with his penis, he grabbed Darren’s ball sack with both hands and began twisting it where the band was squeezing it tightly.  He kept twisting it until the skin began to tear, then he twisted it the other direction until it started coming apart.  He dug his fingers into the tear, then pulled down.  The sack ripped off leaving his testicles hanging by their spermatic cords.  Darren’s body shook as if he was having a seizure, then his eye rolled into the back of his head as he passed out.  Wyatt turned and began gagging—the sight of Darren’s raw penis with two testicles bouncing around below it made him nauseous.  Clayton tossed the bloody sack over his shoulder, then began stabbing Darren in the abdomen with the peeler.  Seth held out the remote.  “That’s enough!”

He jabbed the peeler into Darren’s thigh, leaving it in place, then scooted backwards as he glared at Seth.  “Is that what you wanted, you sick bastard?”

Seth reached between the bars and injected Darren with adrenaline.  As soon as he awoke, he examined his genitals.  His voice was raspy as he shouted, “Oh, my God!”  He glared at Clayton.  “What have you done to me?”

Clayton hocked up a loogie, then spit on him.  “Fuck you, bitch!”

Darren’s eye was filled with rage as he stared at Clayton.  “I’m going to kill you, you black piece of shit!”

Seth leaned against the bars.  “You want some payback?”

He looked back at Seth.  “Cut me loose!”

“First, I need…”

Darren shouted out, “I said cut me loose so I can kill that nigger!”

Clayton crawled back to Darren, grabbed his penis with both hands, then starting bending it.  Darren belted out a raspy scream as Clayton fractured the fibrous envelope of his penis.  Seth pointed at Clayton.  “That’s enough.”

He backed way.  “He better keep his racist mouth shut!”

Darren was groaning in agony.  “You broke my dick, you asshole!”

Wyatt walked over to Seth.  “This is freakin’ sick!”

“I’m surprised you’ve stuck around this long.”

“I’ll probably wish I hadn’t later.”  He scrutinized Darren’s penis.  “Why is it staying bent?”

“Like he said, it’s broken.”

“How can that be, it doesn’t have any bones?”

“No, but it does have a membrane that can tear and leak blood.  It’s called a penile fracture.”

Wyatt looked nauseated as he gazed at Darren and Clayton.  “I can’t believe a person can go through that much trauma and still be alive.”

“You ready for a cage match?”

“I’m not getting in there.”

“Not you.  I’m gonna make those two assholes fight it out like they’re in an octagon.”

“Oh.”

Seth grabbed the bars as he looked at Darren and Clayton.  “I have some real sick and twisted shit planned for the asshole that goes down.”

Wyatt blurted out, “What can be sicker than what’s already happened?”

Seth cut Darren’s straps.  “Y’all get after it.”

Darren lunged on top of Clayton and starting pounding him in the face until he was dazed.  Seth shook his head.  “That’s enough.”

Wyatt laughed.  “That didn’t last long.”

“Clayton was too weak to fight back.”

“Now what?”

Seth tossed the ass plunger into the cage.  “Shove that in his ass.  Once it’s in there pull in the lever on the handle, then rip out his colon.”

Wyatt looked away.  “I’m going to the RV.”

“Okay.”

Wyatt started to walk away then turned around.  He covered his mouth as he watched the gruesome sight; Darren was standing over Clayton while pulling on the tool.  Clayton’s rear end was being jerked around as Darren tried to pull out his insides.  Seth noticed Wyatt displayed a troubled expression as he looked at the gruesome sight.  “Don’t forget what these assholes did.”

“I haven’t.”

“Do you think I’m crossing the line?”

“No, it’s just too much for me to watch.  I think they need to suffer—it could have been my daughter that they had raped and murdered.”

Suddenly, Darren stumbled backwards as intestines came pulling out of Clayton’s rear end.  Seth eyed Wyatt.  “Then you definitely don’t want to look now.”  He nodded toward the RV.  “Go hang out in the RV for a while.”

“No, I want to see this through.  I just need a short visual break before I throw up.”

“If you want, go get the large bag of salt and the jar of habanero pepper juice off the cart.”

Darren sat down.  His body was trembling, and he was covered in sweat, blood, and feces.  “I’m not feeling good.”  He laid on his back. 

“Don’t get too comfy—you’re not done yet.”

Wyatt ambled up with the salt.  He noticed Darren’s penis was covered in dried blood and dirt.  “His dick looks like part of a carcass that was dug up.”  He looked away and gagged a little when he noticed Clayton had several feet of intestines coming out of his rear end.

Seth peered at Darren.  “Find Clayton’s dick skin.”

He laid his arm across his face.  “I’m done.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Just kill me.”

“That can be arranged after I skin you alive with the peeler.”

He began sobbing.  “Please just leave me alone.”

“Do I need to count to three?”

“I’m exhausted.”

“One.”

“You’re a ruthless bastard.”  He sat up and looked around.  “I don’t fucking see it.”

Seth pointed.  “It’s right there.  Stop being lazy.”

He picked it up.

“Put it on.”

He glared at Seth.  “What?”

“Put the fucker on your dick like it’s a condom.”

“You’re fucking sick!”

“Think of it this way.  It’s just like a sheep skin condom, so you will be able to feel everything.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “A human skin condom; that’s creative.”

Darren sat dumbfounded.

“Don’t start getting difficult now.  I can have Clayton pull out your ass if need be.”

He started to put it on.  “It hurts too much.”

“Clayton!  You want some payback?”

Clayton could barely lift his head.  “I want all of y’all to burn in hell.”

Seth glared at Darren.  “He said he wanted to burn the hell out of you.”

He knew arguing and begging wasn’t going to make a difference, and he knew Seth wasn’t going to let up until he did it, so he rolled the skin on his penis.  He took a deep breath.  He was at his limit.  “Let’s just get this over with—I’m tired of the games.  You can kill me, turn me in, I don’t care anymore.”

Seth glanced at Wyatt.  “They’re both exhausted.  Let’s go take a break so they can recoup.”

Two hours later, Seth and Wyatt came back to the cage.  Seth noticed Darren was laying in the fetal position.  “Hey, you dead?”

He opened his eye.  “Leave me alone.”

Clayton was lying on his side facing away from Seth and Wyatt.  His penis and rear-end were extremely sore, preventing him from moving around too much.  He sounded weak as he spoke in a raspy voice.  “What gives you the right to do this?”

“Stop asking me that.”

Seth noticed Darren had taken the skin off his penis.  “And you need to put your condom back on—you’re not done yet.”

His penis was extremely swollen and tender.  “Me and Clayton are done.  We’re not going to do anything else that you say.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

He became sarcastic.  “What are you going to do, shock us to death?”

“No, I’m going to try something different.”  Seth went and got a crossbow and a propane torch.  He handed the torch and a hand full of aluminum bolts to Wyatt.  He loaded the bow, then held it outwards.  “Heat up the end of the bolt for me.”  When it was glowing red, Seth aimed the crossbow at Darren.  “Put the dick skin on now!”

“Fuck you!”

Seth shot Darren in the thigh.  He screamed as he tried to pull it out, but it was stuck in his bone.  The hot metal was causing steam to puff out around the hole.  Darren held his hand out as Wyatt heated another torch.  “Okay, okay.  I’ll do it.”  He picked up the skin and put it on.

Seth tossed a bag of salt next to him.  “Now pack that in the end of his colon.”

Clayton became upset as he laid still as a sculpture.  “Don’t touch it!  You hear me, Darren?”  He raised his head and looked back.  “You agreed we wouldn’t hurt each other anymore.”

Seth shot Clayton in the back.  He screamed for a moment, then laid his head down.

Darren picked up the intestine and began to stick the entire bag of salt, including the bag, into the end of the colon.

“No, dumbass, just the salt.”

Wyatt gagged as he watched Darren pack in the salt with his fingers.  “That’s nasty.  It looks like he’s force feeding a snake.”

Seth laughed.  “Now that you mentioned it, it does.”

Wyatt noticed Clayton was lying motionless.  “Why is he just lying there?”

“He’s either going into shock or he’s given up due to the trauma to his body.”

“Is he going to die?”

“He will if he doesn’t get treatment.”

Clayton could barely speak.  “Just let me die.”

Darren set the bag of salt down; it was half-full.  “I can’t get any more in.”

“I want all of it in there.”

He held up the end of the intestine, showing it was overflowing with salt.  “It’s full.”

“No, it’s not.  You’re going to have to work it down.”

Darren took a deep breath.  He seemed frustrated.  “You’re fucking demented.”

Wyatt shook his head as he watched Darren as he was holding the end of the intestine with one hand while milking the intestine downwards with his other.  He strolled up to the bars.  “Hey, I have a question for you.”

Darren ignored him.

Wyatt grabbed the bars.  “You better acknowledge me, asshole.”

Darren laid the intestine down and glared at Wyatt.  “What?”

“If you knew this was going to happen, would you have done what you did?”

“What kind of fucking question is that?”

“Say it, asshole, I want to know.”

“What the fuck do you think?”

“I don’t know—I’m not a murdering piece of shit.”

Darren held his bloody hand out.  “Really, you’re going to judge me?  Look at the shit y’all have done.”

Wyatt shrugged his shoulders.  “At least I’m on this side of the bars.”

“Fuck you!”

Seth grabbed the bars.  “He’s not going to ask you again.”

Darren took a deep breath.  “No.”  He glared at Wyatt.  “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Yes.”

“And why do you care anyway?”

“Because I have a daughter, that’s why.”

Wyatt looked at Seth.  “I was just curious if these assholes were truly held accountable, would they still commit heinous crimes.”

Seth pointed at Clayton’s intestine as he glared at Darren.  “It’s not going to fill itself.”  He glanced at Wyatt.  “It would definitely be a deterrent, but the libs will never allow such.”

“It pisses me off thinking my daughter could be victimized because our judicial system doesn’t create any kind of fear for these kinds of predators.”

“Unfortunately, this type of shit wouldn’t stop all of them.”

“Yeah, but it would definitely make a lot of them think twice about doing something.”  He looked at Darren.  “Isn’t that right, you one-eyed prick?”

Darren didn’t look at him.  “Fuck you!”

“Just think.  If you wouldn’t have stopped at that house, you would still have your dick and balls.”

“Leave me the fuck alone!”

Seth was proud of Wyatt, knowing he was ready for the next step.  “When we’re done here, we need to make a trip out to the desert in New Mexico.”

“Why we going there?”

“To see if this scumbag is still hiding out.”

“What are you going to do to him if he is?”

“I’m just going to have a talk with him.”

“You sure?”

“I might have to tranq’ him, or even put a few bullets in his legs, but outside of that I’m going there just to speak with him.”

Darren popped off.  “And maybe you fuckers will get your asses shot off.”

Seth rolled a jar of jalapeno juice across the floor toward Clayton.  “Pour that in there when you’re done, smart-ass.”

Darren’s hands were covered in blood, feces, and salt as he fondled the slippery organ.  “What the fuck is that?”  He removed the lid and smelled the liquid. 

“Just pour it in.”

Wyatt was curious.  “What are you trying to do?”

“He’s making a jalapeno sausage.”

He laughed.  “But he would need some meat.”

“Exactly.”  Seth peered at Darren.  “Now slide that thing over your cock and jack off with it.”

He glared at Seth with disgust.  “What?”

“You heard me.  Use it like a pocket pussy.”

“You’re fucking insane!”  He stood up.  “Fuck you, you twisted piece of shit!”

Seth pulled out the remote and energized his electrodes on their highest setting.  Darren fell to the floor as his skin made a sizzling sound.  A few seconds later, Seth shut it off.  “Get after it.”

Darren began weeping as he laid on the floor.  “Please don’t make me do this.”

“I’m not going to warn you again.”

He pulled the intestine over to him as he laid on his side, then began stroking it.  Within seconds he shouted, “Oh, my God!  It’s burning!”  He pulled out and began blowing at his raw penis.  “It feels like it’s on fire!”  He pulled off Clayton’s skin and started blowing harder.  “My dick is burning really bad!”

Seth loaded another bolt.  “Do I need Wyatt to heat it up?”

“What the fuck do you want me to do?”

“Stroke that colon.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You didn’t have a problem sticking your dick in Mrs. Johnson, so I shouldn’t hear any complaints.”

Seth glanced at Wyatt.  “Heat it up.”

Darren held his hand out.  “Okay, okay.”  He picked up the intestine.

Seth pointed at the floor.  “Don’t forget your condom.”

He was so angry that he wanted to scream.  “You…  You are a fucking asshole!”  His hands were shaking with anger as he pulled the skin over his penis.  “I fucking hate you!  I hope you fucking die!”

Seth moved his fist next to his groin as if he was jacking off.  “Get to spanking it, asshole.”

He picked up the intestine and slid it over his penis, then he began stroking it.  He made agonizing facial expressions as the salt and jalapeno juice burned his raw skin.  A few seconds later, he got on his knees and leaned forward as he put one of his hands on Clayton’s hip.

Wyatt shook his head.  “Oh, my God!  He’s getting into it.  What a sicko.”

Darren glared at Wyatt.  “Fuck you, asshole!  The juice is dripping on my scrotum.”

Seth laughed.  “Or lack of.”

He glared at Seth.  “You must be getting off on this shit.”

“I’m getting off seeing two scumbags getting theirs.”

Wyatt had a disturbed look.  “Oh, fuck!  I just realized what you meant by, lack of.”  He pointed at Darren.  “Look between his legs.  You can see his testicles bouncing around.”

Darren looked away as he kept sliding the intestine up and down.  “How long am I supposed to do this?”

Seth glanced at his watch.  “Wyatt and I are going to the RV to hang out in the AC.  Every time I see that you’re not screwing that ass sleeve in the camera I’m going to pop you with a dart from across the barn.”

He shouted as Seth and Wyatt walked off.  “You can’t do this to me!”

Two hours and four darts later, Seth strolled up to the cage.  “That’s enough.”

Darren fell to his side.  He was covered in sweat and exhausted.  “Please stop hurting me, I beg you!”

Clayton was sobbing as Wyatt cut his hands free.  Seth grabbed the bars.  “The first one who rips off the other one’s dick will not be tortured anymore.”

Clayton went from being submissive to a savage as he spun around and climbed on top of Darren.  He straddled him, then began punching him in the face ground and pound style.  Seth laughed.  “It looks like he has a freakin’ tail.”

Wyatt gagged as he looked at the disturbing sight.  “That’s something most people will never get to see.”

Clayton’s intestine was being dragged around behind him as the two men wrestled around, leaving a thick trail of brown sludge behind it.  The bolts in Darren’s body had bent from him rolling around and they were tearing long gashes in his flesh.  The men were covered in grotesque body fluids and their violent movements were causing their wounds to bleed.

Seth laughed.  “We could sell this on pay-per-view.”

Clayton shoved his thumb in Darren’s open socket, then spun to a side mount.  He grabbed Darren’s penis and tried to tear it off, but he didn’t have the proper leverage.  He mounted Darren backwards, then with all his strength, he pulled back on his penis, stretching it to twice its length.  Darren was screaming at the top of his lungs as he punched Clayton in the back.  Suddenly, Clayton fell backwards when Darren’s penis ripped in half.  Clayton pulled himself forward, then grabbed Darren’s testicles and ripped them off.  Darren had managed to pull a bolt out of his side and began jabbing Clayton in the back.  Clayton screamed as he rolled onto the floor.  Darren stood up and thrust the bolt into Clayton’s chest several times, then put his foot on his abdomen to hold him down.  He grabbed Clayton’s penis with both hands, drove his nails into his flesh, then tore it off at the base.  He tossed it on the floor, then buried his fingers into his ball sack.  He ripped it into pieces, causing Clayton to go into some type of seizure.

Darren stood up and stumbled a little, then noticed blood was squirting out of him.  He looked down to see where it was coming from.  Horror overcame him when he saw that half his penis was missing.  He fell to his knees, then to his back.  He and Clayton laid on the floor moaning as blood gushed from their bodies.

Seth laughed.  “Well, I guess that wraps it up.”

“What are you going to do with them?”

“Drop them down a deep hole.”

“What hole?”

“I’ll show you.”  Seth loaded them into a front-end loader of a tractor, then he and Wyatt drove out in the field.  He parked next to a pile of dirt and got off.  He moved a piece of plywood that was covered with some dirt, revealing a three-foot diameter hole.  Wyatt peered down into the hole.  “How deep is that?”

“Around eighty feet.”

“How did you dig this?”

“With a well digging truck.”

“I assume you did this just in case you needed to get rid of a body or two?”

“That’s correct.  Even if the police search the area, they will never be able to find them at that depth.”  Seth pulled Darren and Clayton out of the bucket and into the hole.  They made a faint thud when they hit the bottom.  Wyatt could hear someone crying.  “Oh, my God!  One of them is still alive.  You said the winner got to live.”

“No, I said the winner wouldn’t be tortured anymore, and the winner is dead.”

“So, that’s Darren crying?”

“Yep.”

“Well, doesn’t it just suck to be him.”

Seth got on the tractor and filled in the hole, then they went back to the barn.  Seth cleaned up the cage and put up all the tools.  He glanced at his watch.  “It’s almost 9 PM.  Let’s stay here for the night then head to New Mexico early in the morning.”

Pyromaniac

Seth shook Wyatt.  “Time to get rollin’.”

He rubbed his eyes.  “What time is it?”

“A little after 12 AM.”

“Seriously?”

“I already have the truck loaded and ready to go.”

“Why are we leaving so early?”

“We need to be set up before the sun rises.”

“Set up for what?”

“Surveillance.  And gather up your belongings—we’re not coming back.”

Wyatt washed his face, then met Seth outside.  He noticed there was a Chevy 4x4 parked next to the barn.  It was desert tan, lifted and had off-road lights across the top.  “Are we taking this?”

“Yes.  You can put your stuff in the back.”  Seth locked up the barn, then they took off.

Wyatt yawned.  “Where’re we going in New Mexico?”

“Ruidoso.  It’s about two hundred and fifty miles from here.”

“I’m going back to sleep.”

Four hours later, Seth pulled over and parked.  “We’re here.”

Wyatt sat up and rubbed his eyes.  He looked around and noticed it was still dark.  “Where are we?”

“Ruidoso.”  Seth shined a light on the remnants of a building that had been burned.  “See that building?”

“Yeah.”

Seth pulled away.  “It was burned several years ago by an arsonist named Jack Thacker.”  Seth turned down a street.  A short way down, he shined a light on a concrete foundation.  “That’s another one he burned.  He started out burning dilapidated buildings, then abandoned buildings and churches, then occupied businesses, then moved to multifamily buildings and such.”

“Has anyone died in these fires?”

“Of course.  Last year he set an apartment on fire that killed seven people.  In total, fourteen have been killed and twenty-eight injured.”

“Sounds like he has caused a lot of chaos.”

“Sure has.  He started here in Ruidoso, then as time passed, he spread his activities across the state, eventually spanning out further.”

“What kind of sentence did he get?”

“He’s never been caught.  The police don’t even know who is doing it.”

“But you said his name is Jack Thacker.”

“That’s because I’ve been tracking him for the last few months.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “How is that possible that you were able to find that out, but the cops haven’t.”

“You’ve been listening to my stories, you tell me.”

Wyatt thought for a moment.  “Someone you went after told on him.”

“These scumbags might not tell the police shit, but I have a…”

Wyatt interrupted.  “A unique way of getting them to spill the beans.”

Seth smiled.  “You got it.”

“Is Jack the one you’re planning on talking to?”

“Bingo.”

“Where is he at?”

“He’s supposed to be living south of here in the desert.”

“You don’t sound too sure?”

“I’ve not checked for myself, but the information came from a good source.”  Seth handed Wyatt a picture.  “That’s Jack.”

He noticed he was red headed, had a round face and a mustache.  “He looks like a normal man.  He looks to be in his mid-thirties.”

“That’s his driver’s license picture and it’s about fifteen years old, so he might look a little different now.”

“So, what’s the game plan?”

“He’s living in a mobile home way off the beaten path next to a mountain range, so we can’t just drive up unannounced.”

“Okay, so are you going to try to sneak up to his house?”

“Can’t do that either—he probably has dogs and there could be other people there.  I’m going to have to take him out from a distance.”

Wyatt laughed.  “What are you going to use, a sniper rifle?”

“If I have to.”

“I thought you weren’t going to kill him?”

“I’m not.  If we can get close enough, I will shoot him with a tranquilizer dart, otherwise I might have to use my .223 or .308.”

“I didn’t think your tranquilizer pistol could shoot that far.”

“I have a custom-made dart rifle that’s good up to about a hundred yards, but I don’t know if we’re going to be able to get that close.”

“What about the .223?”

“I can shoot a two MOA at three hundred meters.”

“What about the .308?”

“About a one MOA at four hundred meters.”  Seth turned on a GPS unit that was mounted on the dash.

Wyatt noticed Seth had left the road and was driving across sandy terrain that was covered with short vegetation.  “I hope you know where you’re going.  I would hate to get lost out here.”

Seth pointed to the GPS.  “Of course, I know where we’re going.”

Wyatt noticed it didn’t talk or have arrows indicating which direction to go, but it did have the longitude and latitude and an image of the elevation.  “You sure that thing works?”

“Yes, it’s military grade.  See the flashing icon, that’s where we’re heading.”

About thirty minutes later, Seth stopped.  “We’re on foot from here.”  He put on a pair of night vision goggles, then grabbed a long duffel bag from the bed.  “Let’s go.”

“How far do we have to walk?”

“Just over the ridge.”

It was still dark.  “What ridge.  I can’t see it?”

“It’s not that far.”

“I can’t see.”

“Just follow me.”

“What if I fall in a hole or something?”

“You won’t.  Come on.”

Around four hundred yards Seth stopped.  “I see the trailer.”  Seth opened the bag and pulled out a rifle.  He handed Wyatt the night vision.  “You can use these.”

“Oh, thanks, now that we’re here.”

Seth folded out the tripod legs that were mounted on the bottom of the rifle, then got in the prone position.  He looked though a night vision scope, then softly spoke.  “The trailer is about two hundred and sixty-five meters away.  His truck is there.  I don’t see any other vehicles, so he’s probably there alone.”

Wyatt was looking around.  “These are awesome.”

“You might want to get down—he could be looking at you through a scope.”

Wyatt laid on his stomach.  “No shit?”

“I doubt it, but better safe than sorry.  And try to keep your voice down.”

Wyatt noticed the rifle.  “Where in the hell did you get something like that?”

“Academy Sports.”

“Really?”

“No.”

“That’s going to be loud; someone might hear it.”

“It has a silencer.”

“Is it full auto?”

Seth laughed.  “No, it’s a bolt action.”

“Is that the .308 or .223?”

“.223.”

“Is it better?”

“They each have their purpose.”

“Does it shoot further?”

“No.”

“Then why are you using it?”

“We’re close enough that this one will work.”  Seth would have gotten aggravated at anyone else for asking so many questions during a stake out, but with Wyatt, it was pleasing that he was showing interest. 

“I’m surprised you’re not using the more powerful one.”

“I don’t want to kill him.”

“Oh.  How long do you think we’re going to have to lay here?  The sun will be up soon and I’m not going to lay out here and cook.”

“I’ve already thought of that.”  Seth pulled a game call out of his bag and handed it to Wyatt.  “Set it to ‘Coyote’.”  Seth looked though the scope.  “Go ahead and start blasting it toward the trailer.”

The sound of a coyote howling echoed out through the terrain.  Wyatt peered at Seth through the goggles.  “You look like a fucking alien.”

“Pay attention.”

“This isn’t going to work.”

“Give it time.”

The call caused coyotes to answer.  Within a few minutes the area was echoing with howling and barking.  Seth softly spoke.  “Turn it off—someone is coming out.”  He adjusted the scope.  “He’s got a rifle.”  Wyatt jumped when the gun fired.  Seth quickly chambered another round as he laid motionless.

“Did you…”

“Shh.”

Wyatt was trying to look through the goggles.  “I can’t…”

“Be quiet.”

Wyatt jumped again when the rifle fired.  “Are you killing…”

“Hush.”  Seth fired another shot.

“Are you missing him?”

“No, I got him in the leg and both arms.”

Seth was still lying motionless.  “What’s going on?”

“Seeing what he’s going to do.”

“Well, what is he doing?”

“He’s trying to drag himself to the trailer.”  Seth sat up on his knees.  “Give me the goggles.”  He put them on, then packed up his rifle.  He handed Wyatt a flashlight and a two-way radio.  “Go back to the truck and wait.  When I call you, drive around the mountain and meet me at the trailer.”  Seth stood up and shouldered his bag, then took off into the dark.  Wyatt was nervous as he followed their footsteps in the sand.  As soon as he got to the truck his radio went off.  “It’s all clear.  Bring the truck to the trailer.  And don’t get lost.  Just follow the base of the mountain.  Over.”

Wyatt keyed up.  “On my way.”  He started the truck.  He keyed up again.  “I almost forgot the over, over.”

Seth was waiting for him when he pulled up.  “Kill the lights.”

He shut off the truck.  “Where’s he at?”

“In the trailer.”  Seth motioned with his hand.  “Come in with me.”

When Wyatt walked in, he noticed a man was tied in a chair next to the kitchen table.  Both of his arms and a leg had blood-stained bandages.  Seth pulled out a chair across from the man.  “Wyatt, you can sit here.”  Seth laid his hand on Wyatt’s shoulder as he regarded the man.  “This is Wyatt Carter.  He’s a reporter.  Wyatt, that’s Jack Thacker.”

Wyatt noticed Jack looked pissed.

Seth leaned against the kitchen cabinets.  “Jack, tell Wyatt what you have been up to the last few years.”

“I ain’t telling him shit!”  He glared at Seth.  “And you can go fuck yourself!”

Seth lit a cigarette.  “We’re not going to spend all night fucking around, so I’m going to play The Angel of Death card.”  He glanced at Wyatt.  “Tell this asshole who I am.”

Wyatt wasn’t sure what was going on, but he played along.  “You just said it.”

Jack laughed.  “Bullshit!”

Seth pulled his laptop out of his bag.  “I thought this would happen, so I brought you some videos.”  He set the laptop in front of Jack.  “Sit there for a while and take a gander at that.”

Wyatt couldn’t see the screen, but he could hear people screaming and pleading for mercy coming from the speaker.  Jack sported a chicken-shit grin at first, thinking it was fake, then he gazed at Seth with a disturbed expression, then he looked at Wyatt.

Wyatt shrugged his shoulders.  “I told you.”

Jack scrutinized the laptop again.  “You must have gotten this off the Internet or something.”

“Seth pointed at it.  “Keep watching.”

Jack was still unsure.  “Whatever.”  A short time later, his facial expression changed to a worried look when he recognized Seth, then he peered at Wyatt.  “I don’t understand.”

“Don’t look at me.”

He turned toward Seth.  “Please don’t kill me!  I will do whatever you want.”

Seth passed the video, then opened the refrigerator and grabbed a Mountain Dew.  He glanced at Wyatt.  “Want anything?”

“I’m good.”

“Any other time you’re hungry.”

“I’m okay.”

Seth sat on the kitchen countertop.  “You ready to tell Wyatt what you like to do in your spare time?”

“Are you going to kill me?”

“If you tell the truth I’m not going to touch you.”

He was still kind of upset.  “You’ve already shot me.”

“And if you don’t cooperate, I’m going to do things a lot worse.”

He gawked at Wyatt.  “Do you want to do a story on me or something?”

Wyatt shrugged his shoulders.  “I don’t know.”

“What do y’all think I have done?”

Seth stood next to Jack.  “Let’s break the ice for the sake of saving some time.  I know that you have been burning down buildings over the last three years.  I just want you to admit to what you have done so I can head on down the road.”

He looked at Seth for a moment.  “It’s that simple?  If I tell him about it, then you won’t to do anything to me?”

“That’s correct.”

Jack was worried.  “Then why are you here?”

Seth glanced at Wyatt.  “Am I being honest with him?”

“Yes.  I’ve been riding with him for a while, and even though he does some sadistic shit, he doesn’t lie.”

“Are you doing a story on him?”

“Yes.”

He began to feel at ease.  “Okay.  But when this is over are y’all going to call the cops?”

Seth patted him on the head.  “Nope, don’t worry about that.”  He sat back on the countertop.

Jack regarded Wyatt.  “Yeah, I’ve set a few buildings on fire.”

Wyatt just stared at him.  Seth looked at Wyatt.  “I want you to question him.”

“Uh, okay.”  He leaned forward and put his arms on the table.  “Why would you do that?”

“I guess for the rush.”

“Why would that give you a rush?”

“I don’t know how to explain it.  It just does.”

“You know people get hurt?”

“I don’t know about that.”

Wyatt knew he was lying.  He had learned a lot from Seth’s stories.  “I think you do.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“We might know more than you think, and if you don’t start telling the truth I will let Seth cut off your dick.”

He frowned.  “Now hold up!  There’s no need in making that kind of threat.”

“It’s not a threat.  Yesterday he forced two rapists to tear off each other’s dick.  And that was after they had already done some gruesome shit to each other.”

He took a deep breath.  “Yeah, I’m sure some people have gotten hurt.”

“What about killed?”

“A few.”

“Why churches?”

“No particular reason.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Because they were empty, I guess.”

“So, at one time you had somewhat of a conscious?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Why did you start burning down buildings that had people in them?”

“You know, it is what it is.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“I don’t know.  Maybe it was for a bigger rush.”

“Is it really a rush thing or something else going on in your head?”

“You know, I’m just sick of society.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.  What has society done to you to make you do such a thing?”

“It’s unfair to people like me.”

“And what kind of person are you?”

“An average Joe.  I see how others are born with a silver spoon in their mouth and get everything they want.”

Wyatt leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.  “And what do you do for a living?”

“Uh, stuff.”

“Like?”

“Sell a few things here and there.”

“What about an actual job?”

“Never been able to find one.”

“And how old are you?”

“Will be thirty-nine in a few months.”

Wyatt looked around the room for a moment.  “Whose place is this?”

“My mom left it to me.  She died a few years ago.”

“Do you get help from the government?”

“Some.”

“How much is some?”

“About six hundred a month.”

“Who do you think pays for that?”

“The government.”

“No, the taxpayers do.  They’re the same people that you have hurt because you think working class folk are privileged in some way.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.  Like I said, it is what it is.”

“You just don’t have a clue.”

“I did what I did, you know.  And I would do it again.”  He became aggravated.  “You’re not going to change the way I feel.”

“I’m not trying to change anything.  Let’s move on.  So how many buildings have you burned?”

“Around here, about four or five.”

Wyatt could tell he was telling the truth, but he had given a misguided answer.  “What do you mean around here?”

“Around this area?”

“You mean Ruidoso?”

He looked nervous.  “Yeah.”

“What about in New Mexico?”

“What about it?”

“Don’t answer with a question.  You know what I meant; how many buildings have you torched in this state?”

“A few.”

“How many is that?”

He didn’t want to answer.  “It’s a few.”

“Look here.  The death angel over there has a list of shit you did.  If your lies don’t match his list, then a sex change might be in your near future.”

Seth showed Jack the list, then started another video on the laptop.  Jack’s eyes opened wide as he watched a man getting his penis ripped off by a come-along.  He glanced at Seth.  “You’ve made your point.”

Seth paused the video, then sat back on the counter.

Jack shrugged his shoulder as he looked at Wyatt.  “If you already know, then why are you making me tell you?”

Wyatt gazed at Seth as he sat tongue-tied.  Seth answered for him.  “First off, you don’t have a fucking choice in the matter.  Personally, I want you to be difficult so I can get involved.”

Jack took a deep breath.  “Okay, I got it.”  He looked at Wyatt.  “Probably around thirty-five or so.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “You’ve been a busy bee.”  He thought for a moment.  “How many people died in those fires?”

“One or two, I think.”

Wyatt shook his head.  He remembered Seth had told him there were fourteen.  “You’re fucking lying.”

“No, I think it was one or two.”

Wyatt sat forward.  “You murdered seven people in one fire.”

“That wasn’t in New Mexico.”

“Where else have you committed arson?”

“A few other states like Colorado, Arizona and Kansas.”

Wyatt was being sarcastic as he popped off, “You have a thing against Texas?”

“No, I burned down a barn there.”

“Then why didn’t you say Texas when I asked where you had committed arson?”

“I thought you were asking where I burned a lot of stuff.”

“Where in the hell did you come up with that?”

“There’s been a few more places, I reckon.  While I was living with my girlfriend in Minnesota, I did set a few things on fire in Iowa, South Dakota and Nebraska.”

Wyatt was aggravated.  He was protective of his home state.  “That’s bullshit!  I’m from North Dakota.  People in those states are decent and haven’t done anything to you.  Why would you do something like that?”

“It wasn’t personal.  I just happened to be going through this podunk town and decided to put this old raggedy-ass house out of its misery.”

“Why would someone like you be in South Dakota?”

“What do you mean someone like me?”

“A fucking scumbag.”

“You can go fuck…”  Jack changed what he was going to say when Seth stood up.  “Uh…  I was camping with my girlfriend and her parents at this lake.”

“So, camping wasn’t exciting enough for you?”

“Wasn’t like that.  When everyone was sleep, me and my girl went for a ride.  When I saw this old house on the outskirts of town, I decided…  You know, it was a spur of the moment thing to impress my girl.”

“She knew?”

“Of course.”

“Why didn’t she turn you in?”

“She’s cool.”

Wyatt was frustrated.  “What a catch.  You two fuckers still together?”

“Naw, I dropped her like a bad habit.”

“I’m so glad there’s not fuckheads like y’all in my state.  What else did you torch while you were in South Dakota?”

“That was it.”

“Good.  Stay the fuck out of the Heartland.”

He laughed sarcastically.  “Wasn’t planning on going back—the people of that town were assholes.”

“And what town would that happen to be?”

“Bradford, I think.”

“Never heard of it.”

“It was some fucking hick town down the road from Juanita Lake.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “You have your Lakes mixed up.  Juanita Lake is in North Dakota.”

“North, south, who gives a shit?”

“What was the name of that town?”

“Brandford or something.”

“You mean Brantford?”

“That might be it.”

Wyatt sat forward.  “What did the house look like?”

“Who fucking knows, it was dark.”

“Fucking tell me!”

“It was white, I guess, with a big-ass porch.”

Wyatt’s heart started racing.  “When was that?”

“A few years ago, on Memorial Day weekend.”  That’s why we were at the…”

Wyatt lunged from his chair and grabbed Jack around the throat while shouting, “You killed my wife, you son of a bitch!”

Jack couldn’t fight back as he was being restrained.  Wyatt was squeezing him so tight that his face quickly turned blue.

Seth softly spoke out.  “You sure you want to kill him?”

He glared at Seth.  “You fucking knew, didn’t you?”

“Yes, that’s why I took you on this trip.”

Wyatt released Jack’s neck.  “Is this some type of sick game?”

“No.”

Wyatt had tears running down his face.  “Then why didn’t you tell me about this at the beginning?”

“You weren’t ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“If I would have told you at the beginning you would have called the police.  Do you want Jack sitting in prison, or do you want to make him pay for what he has done?”

Wyatt wiped some tears from his face with his hand.  “This is too much to grasp.”  He began pacing.  “Oh, my God!  I can’t believe this!”

Jack had regained his composure.  “I didn’t know…”

Wyatt grabbed him by his hair and jerked his head back.  “You say another fucking word, I will gut your ass right here!”  He shoved his head away.

Seth stood up.  “I’m sorry, Wyatt.  I know this is difficult.”

Wyatt’s heart was pounding as he pumped his fist.  “Was this some kind of test?”

“Not at all.”

“I can’t think straight right now.”

“I understand.  Take your time.”

He gritted his teeth as he glared at Jack, then he pushed his chair over and began punching him in the head as he shouted, “You fucking bastard!  You took her away from me!”  He stood up and stared down at him.  “I’m going to make you pay in ways that are unimaginable.”  He looked at Seth.  “I want to do this on my own.”

Seth walked to the front door.  “I’m going to leave the 4x4 here.  You can take it when you’re done.  And be smart; don’t leave anything incriminating behind.”

“I won’t.”

“And when Jim comes asking questions just tell him I dumped you off in the desert.”  He handed him a piece of paper.  “Those are numbers to several phones I keep.  Call me if you ever need anything.”

Wyatt followed Seth outside.  “Where’re you off to?”

“To that small air strip in Roswell to catch a flight to Redmond, Oregon.”

“Will I see you again?”

Seth opened the door to Jack’s truck.  “Of course.  And I’m sorry the trip turned out this way.  You turned out to be a good friend and I hate to see you upset.”

“I appreciate everything you’ve done.  And I feel the same about our friendship.  If you’re ever in my neck of the woods, stop by.”

“I’ve already planned on it.”  Seth got in and rolled down the window.  “And destroy that damn notebook of yours.”

Wyatt laughed even though he was upset.  “I’m sure Jim would like to get ahold of that.”

“I’m sure.”  Seth waved.  “Until next time, compadre.”

Wyatt went back into the trailer as the truck’s taillights disappeared into the dark.

Revelations

The next morning Seth was awakened by a loud voice.  He sat up on a couch, then turned on an old TV set.  When the screen came on, he looked at some cameras, noticing the house was surrounded by police officers.  Seth was in Virgil Taylor’s house that was located out in the country in Redmond, Oregon.  Numerous police vehicles were parked all the way around the house and officers were hiding behind them with rifles.  A man’s voice echoed out again, “We have you surrounded.  Come out with your hands up!”

Suddenly, the home phone rang.  He let it ring a few times, then answered it.  “Taylor’s residence.”

“I know you’re in there.”

Seth leaned back on the couch and put his arm behind his head.  “Hey, Jim, I see you did your homework.  I was wondering if you were going to show up.”

“Where is Mr. Carter?”

“He’s not with me.  He asked too many questions, so I ditched him.”

“Is he alive?”

“More than ever.”

“You need to come out peacefully.”

“Naw, I think I’m going to chill out right here in the AC.”

“The games are over.  I have you surrounded and there is nowhere to go.  I hope you know better than to try anything.”

“And you know better than to send a team in here.”

“You’re going to come out alive or in a body bag; don’t matter to me.”

“Sure, it does, if you want to save John.”

The phone was silent for a moment.  “He died in your twisted contraption.  There is nothing left to discuss.”

“You must have unanswered questions then?”

“We can discuss that and other things if you give yourself up.  Otherwise, you can be on your way to hell.”

“Now, is that the way to negotiate?  You’re supposed to tell me everything is going to be hunky dory.”

“I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

“And I don’t negotiate with Nazis.”

“What?  I’m not a fucking Nazi!”

“And I’m not a fucking terrorist!  Do you see a towel on my head, asshole?”

“You can get all riled up as much as you want—It’s not going to change your outcome.”

“Sounds like you’ve already made up your mind.”

“Not if you come out peacefully.”

“Sure, pal.”

“I will give you my word that no one will take a shot.  I would really like to have that conversation with you.  It won’t do either one of us any good if this ends badly.”

“If you want that discussion you will have to come in here.  And I give you my word nothing will happen to you.”

“You know that’s not going to happen.  And you know what kind of predicament you’re in, so you have no choice but to surrender, or else.”

“And you don’t know what kind of predicament you’re in.”

“Don’t be arrogant; I have fifty men surrounding you and a bird in the air.”

“Speaking of men, are Ron and Thomas still hanging out with you?”

“There around here somewhere.”

Seth was looking at the cameras.  “They look to me like they’re standing right beside you.”

Jim motioned for Ron and Thomas to get down.

“Now they’re going to think I don’t like them.”

Jim was examining the house closely, looking at every nook and cranny.  “If you fire a shot, we will blast that house into pieces.”

“Listen, I don’t want anyone to get hurt.  I just want to have a chat with you.”  Seth noticed Jim was looking through a scope trying to locate his whereabouts.  “You’re very cold.”  Jim moved the gun a little.  “Getting colder.”  He jerked it back the other direction.  “Nope, cold that way too.”

Jim could see that all the doors and windows were covered with some type of material.  “Looks like you’ve been busy barricading the place?”

“Yeah, it’s ballistic fiberglass.  Kind of pricey though, but it does stop no-knock warrants and such.”

“You might think you have one up on us, but don’t be fooled.”

“Look behind you.  See that camera mounted in the tree?  There’s definitely a fool in the group, and it’s not me.”

Jim was standing behind a vehicle.  He turned and glanced back.  “I don’t see anything.”  He got an officer’s attention, then pointed to it.  He didn’t want Seth to know he had seen it. 

“There was one thing that I really like about this house besides the cameras.  You wanna know what that is?”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“Well, you should.”

“How much longer are you going to jaw?”

“It should only take one or two more comments after you answer my question.”

“All right, I’ll play along if it wraps this up.  So, what else you like about this house?”

“It has an irrigation system.”

“So, what?  A lot of houses do.”

“Yeah, but this one is connected to a large fuel tank with a high-pressure pump, and an ignition system.”  He noticed Jim was looking at the ground.  “If you hang up, or try to warn any of your men, I have the ability to incinerate the whole kit ‘n’ caboodle you have going on out there.”  Seth arose from the couch and shouted.  “Do you hear me?”

“Yes, I heard you.”  Jim knew Seth had the technical abilities and the disposition to do such a thing.  He noticed the end of a steel spray nozzle by his foot.  It was even with the ground and didn’t appear to be the plastic ones typically used in lawn irrigation.  He kicked the dirt around it, exposing it more.

“That’s right, Jim, they’re high-pressure nozzles that will direct the fuel in a wide pattern.”

Jim wasn’t sure if Seth was bluffing, but he couldn’t take a chance putting his men in harm’s way.  “I’ll sit down with you if you let my men back away before I come in.”

Seth knew Jim was too honest of a person not to keep his word.  “I’ll agree to that.”

Jim keyed up his radio.  “Everyone back off to the road.”

Jim walked toward the house as the men got in their vehicles.  When he got to the porch, he raised his phone to his ear.  “I’m outside the front door.”

“Leave your sidearm on the rocking chair.”

“Done.”

“Come on in, the door is open.”  Seth hung up the phone.

Jim was cautious as he looked around the dark room.  All the windows were covered, and the only light was coming from the TV and a door that was partially open on the other side of the room.  “Okay, don’t shoot.”

Seth laughed.  “I’m in the kitchen.  Follow the light.”

“I’m heading that way.”

“Make sure you shut the door.”  Seth heard it shut.  “And secure it.”

Jim noticed the door didn’t have a lock.  He picked up a steel bar that was leaning against the wall and laid it in brackets that were on each side of the door jam.  His heart was beating fast as he walked to the lighted doorway.  When he opened the door all the way, he noticed Seth was sitting at the kitchen table making a sandwich.  There was another person sitting at the table with a tow sack over their head.  Seth was holding a knife dripping with mustard.  “You want one?”

Jim stood in the doorway.  He shook his head.

“I know.  Virgil’s tight ass didn’t have much to choose from.”

Jim scrutinized the man with the tow sack.  “What have you done to him?”

“He’s missing a few parts.”

Jim walked up to the table.  “Why did you kill John?”

“You get right to the point, don’t you?”

He pumped his fist.  “What did he do to deserve what you did to him?”

“Plenty.”  Seth took a bite from his sandwich.

Jim was getting angry.  “You can at least act like you give a shit.”

Seth tossed the sandwich on the table.  “I do in more ways than you will ever realize, I’m not a monster.”

“That’s bullshit!  I had to watch him burn to death in that fucking contraption you built.  And you are a fucking monster!”  Jim went on a tangent.  “You’ve murdered countless people and…”

Seth interrupted.  “Parasites.”

“What?”

“They weren’t people; they were parasites that plagued the innocent.  Get your shit straight.”

Jim shook his fist.  “John wasn’t a fucking parasite.”

“Chill out, Jim.  Things have a way of working out in the end.”

“There’s nothing to work out you piece of shit!”

“Don’t confuse my kindness with weakness.”

“Kindness?  You’re living in your own delusional reality.”

Seth pointed at him.  “Watch your mouth.”

Jim held his hands out, palms up.  “What, you going to kill me now?”

“That hurts my feelings—you know I don’t harm innocent people.”

“John and Mr. Carter were innocent.  And you were willing to burn my men standing out there.”

Seth laughed.  “The sprinkler threat was just a bluff to get you to come in here.”

“You lied to me?”

“No, I didn’t”

“You said you would burn my men.”

“No, I didn’t.  I said I had the ability to do it.  You need to learn to listen.”

“I should have known better.”

Jim’s radio went off.  “You okay, Jim?”

“Yes.  Hold your position.”

Seth leaned back.  “And speaking of Wyatt; that was a new low for you to use him as bait.”

“He didn’t deserve to die for it.”

“I didn’t harm him.”

“You’re lying about that too.”

“You know better than that.”

“I know he was with you.  What kind of sick game did you involve him in?”

“I made him ride with me for a while, then I dumped him off in the desert.”

“Tell me where so I can have him picked up.”

“No need.  He’ll find his way home eventually.  Then you can harass the shit out of him.”

“Mr. Carter has nothing to offer me anymore.  I wanted to find John, but you know how that turned out.”  Jim was glaring at Seth.  “John was a good man and you’re going to pay for what you did to him in one way or another.”

“John wasn’t as good as you think, pal.”

Jim pointed at Seth.  “Don’t you bad mouth him, you sorry bastard!  You didn’t know anything about him.”

“I know that he killed some folks years ago.”

“You’re lying!  I’m not going to stand here and listen to that garbage.”

“Don’t be jealous; it was before you met him.”

“Fuck you!”

Seth nodded toward the man.  “Even this fucker knows what he did.”

“You’re insane.”

“No, seriously.”  Seth leaned toward the man.  “Tell Jim what happened, years ago, before they met.”

A raspy and weak sounding voice came from the tow sack.  “John killed a young couple when he was driving intoxicated, robbing their young son of a normal childhood.”

Jim’s face was red with anger.  “He’s making you say that.”  Jim glared at Seth.  “What kind of shit are you trying to pull here?”  He held his arms out.  “Look around, asshole, you’re surrounded by police; it’s over.  Stop playing games.”

Seth slid the chair back and stood up, causing Jim to ready himself.  Seth walked behind the man and put his hands on his shoulders.  “Tell Jim who that little boy was.”

“It was you.”

Jim’s eyes opened wide.  “What’s he trying to say?  That John killed your parents?  You’re mistaken.”

“And you don’t know your ass from a hole in the ground.”

“I knew my partner well.”

“Not well enough—you couldn’t even tell the difference between him and Virgil.”

He looked confused.  “What do they have to do with each other?”

“Everything.”  Seth pulled the tow sack from the man’s head, revealing that it was John.

Jim’s eyes narrowed.  “You get away from him!”  He ran up to John and knelt down beside him, noticing he had lost a lot of weight and looked weak.  “Oh, my God!  I thought you were dead.”  He grabbed his arm.  “I’m going to get you help.”  He noticed John was missing a hand.  He glared at Seth.  “What have you done to him, you bastard?  I should kill you right now!”

John reached out and grabbed Jim’s arm.  “It’s okay, Jim.  I killed his parents.  He’s forgiven me.”

Jim looked confused.  “Why would you say that?  You’ve been held captive by this psycho.”  He stood up and glared at Seth.  “Did you brainwash him?”

Seth was leaning up against the countertop.  He lit a cigarette.  “No.  I simply forgave him.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means that he showed undeniable remorse, so I forgave him.  I told you I’m not a monster.”

Jim was furious.  “You’ve held him captive for a long time; how is that being forgiving?  And what about his fucking hand?”

“It happens.”

“That’s all you have to say, it happens?”

“I’m not here to argue with you.”

Jim was worried that Seth had other plans for him and John.  “Now what?”

“Don’t let the door hit y’all in the ass.”

“You’re just going to let us walk out of here?”

“I’m not carrying you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Jim keyed up his radio.  “I’m going to need the paramedics to be ready.  I’m bringing out John.”

Jim peered at Seth.  “This doesn’t change anything.  You can come out peacefully with us.”

“I have to finish my sandwich.”

Jim grabbed John’s arm and helped him up.  “Let’s get you out of here.”  He helped John out the front door to where some paramedics took over.  Ron came running up.  “I can’t believe that’s John.  What happened in there?”

“Let’s regroup.”

Suddenly, the inside of the house erupted into a huge fireball, blowing out the windows.  The explosion knocked Jim and Ron to the ground.  They covered their heads as pieces of debris fell into the yard.  Jim helped Ron up, then they took off running.

A few hours later, the fire department had the fire under control.  The house had been completely destroyed.  The next day CSI found a body in the smoldering wood.  Jim had an autopsy performed immediately to rule that the remains weren’t from someone else.  He knew identifying Seth would be impossible since he had no fingerprints, dental or medical records on file.

The following day Jim brought Wyatt in for questioning when he came back into town to pick up his daughter at his aunt’s house.  After a short interrogation, he was cleared of any wrongdoing.  The next day Wyatt was sad as he read in the paper that The Angel of Death had been killed by the police.  Seth had become a friend and he would be eternally grateful for what he had done for him.

A few weeks later, Wyatt’s doorbell rang.  He opened the door and noticed a man standing on the front porch.  “Can I help you?”

“I have a delivery for you.”

Wyatt noticed a truck pulling an enclosed cargo trailer was parked in the street.  “Sorry, you have the wrong house.”

“Is this 8351 Shady Hill drive?”

“Yes.”

“Then I don’t know what to tell you, bud.  It has this address listed on the form.”

“I haven’t ordered anything.”

“Is your name Wyatt Carter?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s your problem.”  He handed Wyatt a clipboard.  “Sign this.  I’m going to get it unloaded.”

“What is it?”

“A car.”

“I didn’t order a car.  Who’s it from?”

“It’s stated on the form.”

Wyatt noticed it was from a Daryl Redden.  “I don’t know this person.  Why is he sending me something?”

“Can’t answer that.”  The man handed him a manila envelope.  “I was told to hand that to you in person.”  The man strolled to the back of the trailer and lowered the rear door.

Wyatt opened the envelope and pulled out a title.  He noticed it was in his name.  “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well, I wish someone would mess up and send me something like this.”  The driver went into the back of the trailer.  A loud rumbling sound echoed out from the trailer.  Wyatt started to walk toward it to see what it was when a black ‘69 Camaro with white racing stripes came driving out the back; it was Seth’s Camaro.  He walked over to the driver as he got out of the car.  “Who gave you this envelope?”

“Same dude that paid me to haul the car.”

“What did he look like?”

He scratched his head.  “An odd fella, you could say.”

“Yeah, but what did he look like?”

“Kind of on the big side; the four-hundred-pound type.  Talked with a coon-ass accent, but he did say he was from Mississippi.”  The man got in the truck and left.

Wyatt ran his fingers down the side of the car as he admired it.  Its paint job had a mirror finish and the engine’s chrome glimmered in the sunlight.  He heard a screen door slam, then his daughter Laura came running up to him.  “Daddy, who was that man?”

He knelt beside her.  “A stranger.  And what do we do around strangers.”

She had a serious look.  “They could be bad, so don’t trust them.”

“That’s right.  Don’t trust them, and never go with them.”

She pointed to the car.  “Is that fast?”

“Not as fast as you, tadpole.”  They took off running toward the house.

She raised her arms in the air as she stood on the porch.  “I beat you again, daddy.”

“You sure did.”

Wyatt and Laura sat on the steps.  As she played with a doll, he thought about all the things that had happened.  He gazed at the car, wondering why this person named Daryl Redden had possession of Seth’s car and why he sent it to him.  He looked at the title again and noticed Mr. Redden was from Mississippi.  When he went to stick the title back in the envelope, he noticed a piece of paper.  He opened it and saw it was a note.  A tear ran down his cheek when he read the following: I’m taking that vacation with Missy that we talked about.  Your friend always, SC.

To be continued...

Book 3 – Splatterpunk

The Damned

Tim Murray glanced at a clock sitting on his nightstand.  When he noticed the display read 3 AM, he raised his head from his pillow to see if his wife was asleep.  When he detected the sound of snoring, a feeling of arousal came over him.  He leaned toward her and softly spoke into her ear.  “You awake?”  When she didn’t respond, he eased his blanket off, then slowly slipped out of bed, being as careful as possible not to awaken her.

While he stood in the dark next to his bed, something caught his eye; the moonlight shone through a window, illuminating his reflection in a mirror that hung on the wall.  He wasn’t happy with the person he’d become, and it seemed like he was staring at a stranger.  Now in his early thirties, his thinning red hair and chubby face exhibited signs of aging.  It seemed like it was only yesterday when he was in his twenties and full of life.  Now he was getting old, and that sucked.  He smiled as he admired his new mustache, then frowned when he observed his medium-sized beer belly.

His penis began to stiffen with anticipation, prompting him to lose interest in his reflection.  He glanced at his wife and quietly asked, “Are you awake?”  When she didn’t answer, he could feel his penis growing larger in his pajama bottoms from the lust that built up inside of him.  He asked again, “Are you awake?”  She seemed to be in a deep sleep, indicating she took a sleeping pill, and when she didn’t respond, he became fully aroused. 

He tiptoed to the bedroom door and eased it open, then closed it quietly behind him.  From there, he slipped through the darkness like a thief in the night.  At the other end of the house, he could feel the butterflies building up inside his stomach as he stood at another bedroom door.  He knew what he was planning was a crime against God and nature, but he had done it for so long that he was now numb to it—his desires had overtaken his humanity.  The door squeaked as it closed behind him.

Fifteen minutes later, he slipped back into bed.  His heart raced as he lay next to his wife, worrying that if she ever found out about his transgressions, his life would be over.  Fuck it, he thought.  It would be my word against theirs.  And it’s who I am, so why am I feeling guilty?  It’s not my fault I was born this way.  Relief overcame him as he comforted himself.  His eyes became heavy, and within no time he fell asleep.

Tim awoke abruptly, feeling extremely nauseated and lightheaded.  The sun seemed exceptionally intense as it beamed through the window, forcing him to squint.  He must have overslept, he thought.  Everything was blurry and he could only see shadows.  Then a strange feeling overcame him as he realized something wasn’t right.  His body felt cold, and his legs radiated with a tingling sensation as if they were numb.  When he sat up, he noticed he was nude, and his body seemed stiff.  As he rubbed his eyes, he thought to himself, what the hell?  I didn’t drink last night.  Suddenly, the numbness in his legs transformed to a burning sensation.  Confusion washed over him when he found himself on a stainless-steel table with a blood-stained sheet covering his lower body.  He jerked the sheet away, revealing a disturbing sight; rows of fishhooks lined the inside and outside of his legs.  Each hook was connected to a steel wire, and the wires on the inside of his legs entered holes that were running down the center of the table.  The wires on the outside of his legs ran off the sides of the table.  The wires were extremely tight, forcing his skin to be stretched outwards in a grisly manner.

Even though he still suffered from dizziness, his blurred vision began rapidly dissipating, allowing him to see further.  Horror overcame him when he realized he wasn’t in his bedroom, but in some strange room.  He glanced up and noticed the bright light wasn’t from the sun, but from high-bay fixtures mounted above him.  When he glanced to his right, he observed there were six people on top of stainless-steel tables, five men and a woman. 

The tables were positioned side by side in a row with about three feet of space between them.  Four men were awake and sitting up.  They had already removed their sheets, and their legs were bound in the same gruesome manner as his.  The fifth man was lying down, possibly still asleep, or maybe dead, he wasn’t sure.  The woman was on the last table at the far end, and she seemed as dazed as he was.

He reached out toward the men and yelled out in a raspy voice, “I need some help!”

An older, heavy-set man sitting on the table next to him spoke.  “Try to remain calm.  The effects will wear off shortly.”

Feeling like he took a ride on a merry-go-round, Tim could barely hold his head steady.  “Effects of what?  What are you talking about?”

“We were given some type of drug.”

“Given what?  Why?  I don’t understand.”

“Just take it easy.  It’ll be okay.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Henry.  I woke up in here just like you did.”

“I feel strange…  and I can’t think straight.”

“You’re still groggy, but it will wear off in a little bit.”

He leaned over the side of the table and vomited, wiped his mouth with the back of his arm, then gazed at Henry.  “Where am I?”

“Not sure.  Like I said, I just awoke shortly before you did.”

He observed Henry was nude, about sixty-years old, and around three-hundred pounds.  The top of his head was bald and surrounded by gray hair that cascaded past his shoulders.  He sported a long, gray beard, and his body was extremely hairy.  Tim thought he resembled a sasquatch.  “I don’t recognize this place.  Where are we?”

“I’ve already told you; I don’t know.”

“You must know something.”

“I’m sorry, son, I don’t.  Like I said, I awoke just before you did.”

Tim noticed the other three men who were awake were talking amongst themselves.  He pointed toward them.  “What about them?  Do they know what’s going on?”

“No.  None of us do.”

Needing answers, Tim cupped his hands around his mouth, simulating a megaphone, then began shouting.  “Anyone there!?!  I need help!”

One of the other men yelled out, “Hey!  Calm down!  It’s no use yelling for help.” 

Panic-stricken, he quickly responded.  “There’s gotta be someone here that knows what’s going on.”

Aggravation swept over Henry as he eyed Tim with a look of irritation.  “I told you to keep calm.  Now you’re upsetting the others.”

“I’m sorry, but why is everyone so calm?”

“We haven’t just been sitting with our thumbs up our asses.  We’ve all yelled for help.  No one is here except for us.”

By now, Tim’s brain fog was rapidly dissipating, allowing him to think more clearly.  As he examined himself closer, he noticed metal bands were secured around each of his wrists.  Chains ran between the metal bands toward his upper body.  He grabbed one of the chains and followed it up to where it connected to a leather collar around his neck.  In a panic, he began searching for a way to remove it.  A feeling of dread came over him when he found a padlock securing the collar.  He glanced at Henry and noticed he possessed one too.  The collar appeared beefy and covered most of his neck.  It reminded him of the bondage style collars he’d seen in pornos.  He then noticed a chain ran from the back of Henry’s collar to the end of the table behind him.  “Why are we chained?”

“I don’t know that either.”  Henry grabbed his collar.  “But the damn thing is too tight.” 

Tim noticed the room seemed exceptionally large, and the high-bay lights only illuminated the area around the tables, leaving the rest of the room and surrounding walls hidden in the darkness.  “We seem to be in a large building of some sort.”  He glanced at Henry.  “Do you at least have a speculation as to what is going on?”

A fearful expression formed on his face.  “All I know is, I want to get the fuck out of here before something bad happens.”

“Bad?”  He examined his legs.  “How much worse can it get?”

“Have you not looked around?”  Henry pointed to a machine sitting on a track system.  “I don’t want to stick around to see what that’s going to be used for.”

Tim noticed the machine incorporated a sawblade with a diameter of around three feet.  “We must be in an old sawmill or something.”

“I don’t think so.  I’ve worked in one before.  This equipment is different, and the way everything is laid out, I think it’s intended for us.”

“Why would someone want to do such a thing?  There’s got to be another explanation.”  Tim spotted an overhead duct system.  The open end of a two-inch pipe hung down in front of each person.  The seven pipes ran to a steel junction box, then a single pipe ran from the box to a large glass hopper on the other side of the tracks.  He pointed to the piping.  “Check out the pipes.  It looks like a dust collection system.”  He noticed numbered signs were hanging above each table.  He was number one, Henry was number two, and so on.  “This equipment isn’t meant for us.  It’s used for some type of production.  There were probably some kind of hoppers or containers under these pipes.  Someone just happened to put these tables here.  We just have to figure out why.”

Henry shook his head.  “I’m glad you’re optimistic, son, but I’m afraid you’re wrong.”

“Stop calling me son.  My name is Tim.”

“Listen.  I’m not the bad guy here.  No need to be snappy with me.”

“Sorry.  I’m just worried.  Something bad must have happened and I need to find out what.”  Tim thought for a moment, then his eyes opened wide.  “I know.  Maybe there was some kind of disaster, or a terrorist attack or something, and the government had to use any buildings that weren’t damaged for makeshift hospitals.”

“That wouldn’t explain our legs.”

“Maybe we all have the same type of injuries, and they grouped us together for treatment.”

“Those kinds of thoughts have run through my mind as well, but there’s no medical reason to do this to our legs.  It’s barbaric.  And the collars around our necks, being chained, that tells me we’re being held captive, possibly for some type of torture.”

Tim became emotional as he refused to believe someone wanted to harm him.  “That’s not true.  You’re mistaken.  We’re just here for treatment or something.”

“You’re in denial.”

“No, I’m not.  This is all explainable.  This is just a makeshift hospital or something.  Someone will eventually come in here and explain what’s going on.”

“If this is a makeshift hospital, then why are we all on top of stainless-steel tables that incorporate built-in drains?  I’ve only seen these kinds of tables used for embalming and autopsies.  That alone backs up my theory that we’re being held captive for something bad.”

“Maybe it’s all they had.”

“Do you think these tables already came equipped with the knives?”

“What are you talking about?”

Henry pointed to the side of Tim’s table.  “You have a knife hanging beside your table.  We all do.”

Tim quickly located a knife hanging from a cable.  He pulled it up, then gawked at it with a confused expression.  “What the hell is this?”

“It’s a skinning knife with a gut hook.”

“I know that.  It’s just weird that it’s hanging off the side of my table.”

“Exactly.  Now look what’s hanging off the other side.”

Tim pulled up a pair of pruning shears.  They were the single-hand operated type.  He closed and opened them a few times, then noticed his name was engraved on the handle.  “What the hell?”  He glanced at Henry with a baffled expression.  “My name is written on these.”

Being sarcastic, Henry muttered.  “Maybe it’s a different Tim.”

“It’s my full fuckin’ name.  Timothy Ray Murray.”

“Still think we’re in a makeshift hospital?”

“I don’t know what to think, but there has to be a rational explanation for all of this.”

Sitting on table four, a stocky black man with a bald head overheard Tim’s conversation with Henry.  He spoke up as he held his hands over his genitals.  “Listen, dude.  We’ve all tried to come up with a theory to what’s happening, but unfortunately, we’re in a fucked-up situation and we need to find a way to get the fuck out of here before whoever did this returns.”

Tim shook his head.  “I can’t accept that someone is planning on harming me.  There’s got to be a rational explanation for this.”

“I went through the same shit when I first woke up.  We all did.  And you need to listen to the fat man and stop thinking everything is peachy.”

Aggravation washed over Henry as he glared at the black man.  “Screw you, Charles.”

“What the fuck did you say to me?”

“Stop referring to me as the fat man.  I’ve already told you my name is Henry.”

“Fuck you if you can’t take a joke.”

Tim noticed Charles appeared to be in his mid-twenties, his body was muscular and covered in tattoos, and he sported a gold grill that glistened from the high-bay lights.  “I think you’re just trying to fuck with me.”

“You just can’t grasp the fact that some crazy motherfucker, and probably a crazy white motherfucker at that, has your ass strapped to that table so he can fuck you up some more.”

“So, what makes you think this isn’t a makeshift hospital?”

“First off, look at our fuckin’ legs.  And don’t tell me it’s medically needed.  No doctor would do some shit like this…  unless he’s a fuckin’ witchdoctor.  And no sane motherfucker would secure us with rusted chains and these creepy-ass collars.  The fat man is right; this shit is barbaric.  And that equipment over there is for us, so you better get your head out of your ass and start trying to figure out a way to get the fuck out of here.”

“You don’t know if that machine is for us.  You’re just jumping to conclusions.”

Charles pointed at the wall behind them.  “Then what are those bags of blood for?”

Tim observed that every person had a rack positioned behind them, which held multiple bags filled with a red substance.  Curiosity piqued, he glanced over his shoulder and discovered a similar rack situated behind him as well.  “Why is that a bad thing?  We probably lost a little blood during our procedure or something.”

“Are you bleeding now?”

Tim glanced at his legs.  “No.”

“Do you see a lot of blood around your table?”

“Not really.  Just some dry blood on my legs, and some on the sheet I was covered with.”

“Does it look like you bled a lot?”

He shrugged his shoulders.  “Not really.”

“Then why in the fuck do we each need ten large bags of blood?”

“Uh…  I don’t know.”

“I do.  Some crazy motherfucker is planning on cutting our asses up with that saw, and the blood is going to keep us alive longer.”

“Dude, you watch too many horror movies.”

“And you’re a fuckin’ a dumbass.”

“And you’re just an ignorant hood rat.”

“Hood rat?  Fuck you, punk!”

Henry’s voice boomed, cutting through the argument between Charles and Tim.  “Hold up!  Arguing and calling each other names isn’t going to help any of us.  None of us knows for sure what’s going on, but I also think this is something bad.  Real bad.  And we need to get out of here as soon as possible.”

Tim didn’t want to accept that as a possibility.  He frantically looked around for some kind of answer.  Relief overcame him when he noticed that the plastic hoses coming from the bags disappeared under the tables.  “I don’t think the bags are connected to us.  The hoses run under our tables.”

Charles leaned over his table to get a better look.  “Maybe your ass is right.  They do disappear under the tables.”

Tim glanced over his shoulder, when he didn’t see a hose, he scrutinized Henry and his table.  “I can’t tell where the hoses are going, but I don’t think they’re connected to us.  Maybe the bags are filled with something else, like hydraulic fluid or something.  You know, maybe for the tables.  They could be hydraulic.”

Sitting on table five, an older Spanish man with salt-and-pepper hair, a thick mustache, and a face riddled with pockmarks, spoke up.  “Those aren’t hydraulic lines.  And unfortunately, they are connected to us.”

Tim peered at him with a confused expression.  “How do you know?”

“Because I know the difference between hydraulic hoses and plastic tubing.  And besides, I know how the tubes are connected to us.”

“And?”

“They’re intertwined with our chains and run up to our collars.”  He felt the inside his collar.  It was loose enough where he could slip in two fingers.  “I can feel the hose.  I think it’s connected to a catheter in my neck.  I can also see part of the hose hanging out from under Jason’s collar.”

Jason was on table six.  He was twenty-three, sported long shaggy hair, and tattoos covered his entire body.  While he sat forward with his head down, he wept quietly to himself.  After hearing the comment about the hose, he glanced at the Spanish man with a troubled expression.  “What do you mean there’s a hose going to my collar?”  In a panic, he began feeling around his collar and quickly found the small tubing.  “Oh, shit!  Is there a needle in my neck!?!”  He tried to reach between his collar and neck, but it was too tight.  “I can’t stand needles!  Can someone please get it out!?!”

The Spanish man shook his head.  “Are you fuckin’ serious?  You’re worried about a needle when you’re covered in tats?”

“Fuck you.  This shit ain’t funny.”

“I wasn’t laughing.”

Tim eyed Joe with a look of consternation.  “Why are you just now telling us about the needles in our necks?  What else are you holding back?”

“I’m not holding anything back.  I just figured it out when y’all started talking about it.”

“You’ve been awful quiet over there, like you’re guilty of something.”

“I’ve been meditating.”  He pointed to his legs.  “And how in the fuck could I be guilty of something when I’m bound just like you?”

“I think you’re a sneaky fucker and you’re not telling us everything you know.”

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot.  And you need to watch your mouth, boy.”

The woman on the last table, table seven, began screaming for help.  She appeared to be in her mid-thirties, sported an average build, had shoulder-length blonde hair, blue eyes, puffy lips, and a dainty nose.

Worrying that someone might hear the commotion, Joe yelled at Jason.  “Calm her down before someone hears her.”

Jason turned to the woman.  “Ma’am, please stay calm.”

She raised her hand, palm out, as she covered her breast with her other arm.  “Leave me alone.”

“It’ll be okay, ma’am.”

“Stop calling me ma’am, asshole.  My name is Beth.”

The person on table three began to stir, and the last to awaken.  He appeared malnourished, his brown hair was unkempt, his face and body were riddled with sores and bruising, and needle tracks covered his arms.  When he saw his legs, he began freaking out.  “Oh, my God!  What the fuck happened to my legs!?!”

Joe and Charles tried to calm him down, but the man became hysterical and started screaming at the top of his lungs.

With the man wailing uncontrollably, panic overcame Tim.  In a desperate attempt to get free, he began frantically cutting at the wires attached to his legs with the skinning knife.

Observing Tim was only causing himself pain, Henry yelled out.  “It’s no use!  The wires are made of stainless steel.”

Tim paused as he glanced at Henry with a grimace of terror.  “What!?!”

“They’re stainless steel.  You’re not going to cut them with that knife, or the shears.”

He stared at his legs for a moment as he sat panic-stricken.  “Then I will cut out the hooks!”

“It’s no use.  Even if you could overcome the pain, your chains will prevent you from reaching all of them.  Your knees are about the farthest you’ll be able to reach.”

His eyes opened wide.  “Oh, my God!  That’s why we’re chained.  Someone doesn’t want us cutting ourselves loose.”  A sense of impending doom washed over him as he came to the unsettling conclusion, “We are being held captive.”

“Try to calm down.  You’re getting yourself all worked up.”

Charles began clapping as he sarcastically laughed.  “You finally caught on, dumbass.  Congratulations.”

Anger swept over Tim.  “Why are you such a fuckin’ prick?”

“Come on, man.  Don’t get your panties in a wad.  I was just messin’ with ya.”

“Fuck you, asshole!”

Before Tim and Charles got into another argument, Henry yelled out, “Listen up!  If we’re going to get out of this, we need to work together and stop all this bickering.”

Being a calm and rational person, Joe agreed.  “He’s right.  We need to ask each other questions to see if there’s a connection.  I’m Joe by the way.”  He nodded toward Jason.  “Jason and I were the first to awaken, then Charles came around next.  We had already discussed the possibility of what’s going on before the rest of y’all woke up.”

Tim peered at him.  “And?”

“It could be a ransom thing.”

“That’s stupid.  I don’t have any money.  And if that was the case, why would anyone do this to my legs?”

Joe shrugged his shoulders.  “I don’t know.  It was just a thought.”  He glanced at Henry.  “Do you have any ideas?”

“It can’t be for ransom.  I’m on a fixed income.  Outside of that, I don’t know.  I haven’t done anything to deserve this.”

Joe peered at the drug addict.  “What’s your name?”

“Ryan.  And I don’t know shit.”

Tim shook his head in frustration.  “This is bullshit!  Someone must know something.”

Beth appeared distraught as her eyes displayed a hollowness.  “I know why I’m in here.”

Tim glared at her.  “Don’t just fuckin’ sit there.  Speak up.”

She displayed a solemn expression as she gazed at everyone.  “You must have all done something bad to someone.  Every one of you.  This is karma.  It’s payback for our sins.”

Jason shook his head.  “That’s bullshit lady.  You don’t know me.”

Charles became defensive.  “I haven’t done a fuckin’ thing to anyone, especially to deserve this shit.”

Ryan’s body trembled as perspiration covered his face and body.  “I haven’t done anything either.”

Tim scrutinized Ryan for a moment.  “Then why are you acting so nervous?  You must have done something.  Maybe we’re all in here because of you.”

“I’m not acting nervous.”

“Dude!  You’re sweating, and you’re all twitchy and shit.”

“It’s withdrawals, asshole.  And don’t blame me for this.  Maybe you’ve done something.  You just look guilty.”

Even though Tim harbored a dark secret, he knew no one else was aware of his transgressions.  “You’re wrong.  I haven’t done shit to anyone.”

“I know that you look like a fuckin’ rapist.  You must have raped someone.”

“Fuck you, dude!  You don’t know me!”  A nauseating feeling came over Tim as he gazed at the others.  “I’m a good person.  I’ve never hurt anyone.”

Beth erupted into sarcastic laughter.  “You’re so full of shit, dude.  You know why you’re in here.  You’ve done something bad to someone.  Real bad.”  She glanced at the group with a solemn expression.  “We all have, and now we’re damned.”

Everyone became disorderly, blaming each other for their own predicament.

The Vigilante’s Bitch

A man came sauntering up from out of the dark as everyone argued.  “Hey, y’all fuckers need to calm down and shut the fuck up!”

It became so quiet you could hear a pin drop as they stared at him with uncertainty.  He appeared to be a normal looking man in his early forties, stood at a medium height, possessed a large beer gut, and a round face with chubby cheeks.  He donned a blue hospital gown, gray sweatpants, and white high-top shoes.  A red beer hat sat on top of his head, but instead of it holding cans of beer, it held I.V. bags filled with a greenish liquid.  Hoses ran from the bags to each side of his neck where they connected to catheters. 

Filled with rage, Tim lashed out.  “What the fuck, dude!?!  You had no right doing this to me!”

The man pointed at him.  “I said shut the fuck up!  I’m here to….”

“You need to let me fuckin’ go!”

Everyone became unruly, shouting and screaming at him.  The man seemed to be in pain as he hobbled over to Tim.  He held up a pair of pruning shears.  “Interrupt me again, and I will start snipping off your toes, you loudmouth prick.”

Tim noticed the shears appeared to be identical to the pair hanging on the side of his table.  At that moment, he knew the man was responsible for everything, but he remained quiet in fear of upsetting him further.

Ryan shook his fist.  “You had no right doing this to me!  You better let me go right now!  Do you hear me, you fuckin’ asshole!?!”

The man limped over to him.  “I said be quiet!”

Ryan glanced at the beer hat.  “Is this some kind of fuckin’ joke?”

“I’m not in the mood to listen to your shit.”  He quickly moved the shears to Ryan’s left foot and snipped off two toes.  He had done it in such a half-ass way, it appeared that he didn’t care how many he severed.  The amputations were even done on an angle.

Disbelief combined with horror swept over Ryan when he noticed his pinky and fourth toe were missing.  “What the fuck!?!”

“I said shut up!”  Being sloppy with the tool again, he snipped off two more toes and severed half of his big toe. 

Ryan wailed at the top of his lungs.  “Oh, my God!  Stop cutting off my fuckin’ toes!”

The man grabbed Ryan’s big toe and bent it in the opposite direction of the cut.  As soon as the bone made a loud snapping sound, he began twisting it.  When the remaining skin tore loose, he pulled back, stretching ligaments until they popped like rubber bands.

Ryan couldn’t believe his eyes as he stared at his ravaged foot.  “You sorry bastard!  Look what have done to me!  You’re gonna pay for this!”

The man threw the severed toe, striking Ryan in the face.  “I said shut the fuck up, moron!”

“You’re not gonna get away with this!”

He moved the shears to his other foot.  “Not another peep, or I’m gonna start cutting off toes on this foot.”

Ryan desperately tried to reach him, but his chains held him back.  “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you for this!”

The man cut off his big toe and index toe in one motion.  “Keep talking and I’ll keep snipping.”

His anger changed to panic.  “Okay, okay!  Please stop!  I won’t say another word!”

When two more toes fell into the pile of toes on the floor, the man moved the shears to his last toe.  “One little pinky toe left.  Open your mouth again and it’s gone.”

“Go easy, man.  I said I’ll be quiet.”

After his pinky toe fell to the floor, he moved the shears next to his crotch.  “Your cock is next.  I dare you to say something again, you hardheaded prick.”

Ryan remained silent as he sobbed.

The man tossed the shears onto the table by Ryan’s feet, then asked, “If it was, would it be funny?”

Ryan just sat staring at him while tears ran down his cheeks.

“You can speak, asshole.”

A confused expression hung from his face.  “I…  I don’t understand what you’re asking?”

“You asked if this was some kind of joke.  If it was, would it be funny?”

“I…  Uh…  Not sure what you mean.”

“Never mind.”

Joe raised his hand.

The man glared at him.  “What the fuck do you want?”

“Sir, we’ll cooperate with you.”  He nodded toward Ryan’s feet.  “There’s no need in doing that kind of stuff to us.”

“Listen, fuckers, I just want to get this shit over with so I can go home.  I was….”

Tim blurted out, “Get what over with?”

He shook his head.  “I was in the process of telling you, dipshit.  Do you need a pedicure too?”

“I’m sorry.  I’m just upset.  Please continue.”

“Upset about what?”

Tim motioned to his legs.

“Oh, that.  I’d be pissed too.”

“Why did you do this to me?”

“I didn’t.”

“Then who did?”

The man flipped over a five-gallon bucket, then eased down on top of it.  Joe observed the man appeared to be in a lot of pain.  Being the most level-headed out of the group, Joe knew he needed to establish a positive relationship with his captor.  “Sir, you look to be hurt.  Is there anything I can do?”

“Yeah.  Don’t be a suck-ass.  Your cop bullshit isn’t going to work in here.”

Jason glared at Joe.  “You’re a fuckin’ cop?  Why didn’t you say that earlier?”

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

“It makes a big….”

Charles interrupted.  “Y’all fuckin’ chill out!”  He glared at the man.  “Dude, why in the fuck am I in here?”

“First off, don’t call me dude.”

“Sorry, dog.”

“Dog?”  You better talk to me like you got some sense.”

“No disrespect intended, sir.”

“And don’t call me sir.  I’m not your fuckin’ daddy.”

“Then what do you want me to call you?”

The man gritted his teeth as he muttered, “Elmer Fudd.”

Tim leaned forward until his chain stopped him.  “What was that?  I wasn’t able to hear you.”

The man seemed angry as he raised his voice.  “Elmer Fudd!”

“Uh, okay.”

With the man wanting to be called Elmer Fudd, Joe recognized they were at the mercy of a psychopath.  If they were going to survive, he needed to find a way to gain his trust.  “Sorry if we upset you.  And yes, I am a cop, but you’re the one in charge.  We will do whatever you ask.”

“Listen, kiss ass.  This isn’t of my doing.  I’m just here to explain what’s going on.  And stop fuckin’ patronizing me.  I’m not an idiot!”

Beth laughed.  “Then stop acting like one, Elmerrrrr.”

His eyes opened wide as he glared at her.  “What did you say to me, you crazy bitch?”

“Screw you, asshole!  You’re the one wearing a silly beer hat and going by the name Elmer Fudd.”

He eased to his feet.  “Have you lost your fuckin’ mind!?!”

Joe glared at Beth with a look of consternation etched across his face.  “Shut the fuck up, bitch.  You’re going to get us all killed.”  He glanced back at Elmer.  “Don’t pay any attention to her.  She’s not being rational right now.”

Beth laughed sarcastically.  “Oh, I’m plenty rational.”  She glared at the men.  “Y’all need to grow some fuckin’ balls.  Look what this piece of shit has done to us.”

Everyone began freaking out in one way or another; Jason, Joe, and Charles were arguing with Beth, Ryan was crying hysterically, Henry looked as if he was going to have a heart attack, and Tim was cutting at his wires. 

Elmer walked over to a control cabinet and pressed a button.  Everyone became quiet when the large blade on the saw started turning.  At first, the electric motor made a deep humming sound as it slowly spun the blade, and as it picked up speed, the room began to fill with an ear-piercing whirling sound as the sawblade cut through the air.

A few seconds later, Elmer shut off the saw.  When the blade came to a stop, he glared at the group and laughed.  “That got y’all’s attention.”  He pointed at Beth.  “And if you say another word, you fuckin’ cunt, I will cut out your fuckin’ tongue.”  He then scowled at Tim.  “Look what you’ve done to your legs, dumbass.  The fat man already told you it’s stainless-steel wire.”

When Tim tried to cut the wires, he ended up tearing out several hooks from his legs, causing large gashes in his flesh.  He wore a troubled expression as he stared at the open wounds—there was very little blood, and it was thicker than normal, almost like molasses.  “Why aren’t my legs bleeding?”  He gazed at Elmer with a look of apprehension.  “What have you done to me?”

“You’ve been given a clotting agent.  All of you have.”

He wore a frightened expression as he realized his legs seemed lifeless, yet he could still feel them.  “That can’t be it.  Clotting agents don’t work like that.  They help clot when there’s bleeding.  I’m only oozing thick blood, like it’s old or something.  You must have done something to my legs.”

“It’s not just you.”  Elmer pointed at the stubs on Ryan’s feet.  “He didn’t bleed much either.  Didn’t you notice that when I cut off his toes?”

Ryan’s eyes opened wide.  “Oh, my God!  I noticed that too, but I thought it was due to the wires stretching my skin.  You know, restricting the blood flow or something.”

Joe scrutinized Ryan’s legs.  “That’s impossible.  You must have tourniquets around them.”

Frustration came over Elmer.  “He doesn’t have tourniquets.  I’ve already said it was because of the clotting agent.”

“Tim is right.  Clotting agents don’t work like that.”

“It’s not the same shit like at the hospital.  It’s a homemade blend.  And y’all have been pumped full of it.  And I mean full to the brim.”

A worried expression came over Tim.  “Is that safe?”

“I doubt it.  The shit was mixed in a bathtub.  And I’m actually surprised none of y’all haven’t already died from a blood clot or a heart attack.”

“Oh, my God!  Why would you inject us with that shit?”

“Stop blaming me.  I’ve already told you I didn’t do this shit.”

“Then who did?”

He addressed the group.  “Have y’all heard of the Angel of Death?”

Tim nodded.  “Of, course.  Who hasn’t?”

“He’s the one that did this.”

Joe knew Elmer was referring to Seth Coker, also known as The Angel of Death, and a notorious vigilante the cops and FBI had been after for decades.  Two years ago, the FBI tracked Seth down to a house in Oregon.  During a standoff, the house exploded and burned to the ground.  They recovered a body and ruled the remains were that of Seth Coker.  Joe knew Elmer was lying and possibly a copycat killer, or just simply a psychopath.  “That’s not true.  He was killed two years ago by the FBI.”

Elmer’s eyes narrowed.  “Say another word and I will cut out your fuckin’ eyes!”  When Joe didn’t respond, Elmer continued.  “Now back to what I was saying.  He’s the one that did this to you fuckers.  I’m just here to babysit.”

Charles raised his hand.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“Who in the fuck is the Angel of Death?”

“Seriously?  Only a fuckin’ retard doesn’t know who he is.”

“Whatever, dude.  It is what it is.  Just ‘cause I ain’t heard of this fool don’t mean I’m a fuckin’ retard.”

A look of confusion crossed Ryan’s face.  “I haven’t heard of him either.”

“I’m sure.  You spend all of your time shooting up and jacking off.”

“No, I don’t.”

“I know you like to blow your load into a sock while spanking it to cartoons.”

Ryan turned red from embarrassment.  “I…  Uh….”

“Cat got your tongue, you sock rapist?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, you don’t.”  Elmer looked at the group.  “For the dumbasses who’ve never heard of the Angel of Death, he’s a really cool dude who goes around and punishes scumbags and lowlifes.  From here on out, we’ll refer to this great and exemplary man simply as Seth, even though that doesn’t do him justice.”

Tim’s eyes narrowed as his eyebrows furrowed.  “Hold up!  I’m not a fuckin’ scumbag.  This Seth dude must be mistaken and have me confused with someone else.”

“He never makes mistakes—he’s perfect.”

With Elmer knowing he masturbated to cartoons, a look of apprehension came over Ryan.  “How do you know so much about me if you didn’t do this?”

“I was forced to watch all of you to get information about your habits and routines.”

“Forced?”

“Yeah.  Seth made me do it.”

“Are you some type of fuckin’ pervert?  And you had no right invading my privacy.”

“That should be the least of your worries, dipshit.”

Anger swept over Tim.  “You said you didn’t have anything to do with this, but now you just said you spied on us.”

“Seth is the one that set this place up and did that shit to your legs.  I only brought you here.”

“What?  Now you’re telling me that you abducted me also.  I’m starting to think you’re lying about everything.” 

“I’m telling the truth.  I only spied on you and brought you here.  Seth did everything else.  I’m not a bad person.”

Ryan’s mouth dropped open in disbelief.  “What do you mean you’re not a bad person?  You cut off my fuckin’ toes!”

Elmer shrugged his shoulders as he sported a don’t-give-a-shit expression.  “Shit happens.”

“Shit happens?”

“Hey, I’ve gone through some fucked up shit myself, so don’t get me started.”

Tim thought for a moment as he scrutinized Elmer.  “Wait a minute.  You made all this up.  There’s no one named Seth.  You must be the one the cops are looking for.”  His eyes opened wide.  “Oh, shit!  You’re the Angel of Death.” 

“No, I’m not.”

“Then you’re working with him.”

“Not by choice.  I just do what I’m told.”

“If you’re not the Angel of Death, you would have gone to the police.”

“I can’t.”

“Bullshit!  No one is forcing you to do this.”

Elmer raised his hospital gown and showed the group a fresh wound.  It ran across the width of his abdomen and was stitched closed with large, black thread.  “He did this to me.  He implanted an exploding canister filled with acid inside my abdomen that’s activated by remote control.  He said he will burn me from the inside out if I go to the police, or don’t do what he says.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yep, and now you know why I have to do this.”

“If you call the cops and tell them about the explosive, they will take you to the hospital and have it removed.  And I’m sure you will get some type of reward for helping us.”

“I can’t.  He booby-trapped it.  They can’t even x-ray it without causing it to go off.”

“Why is he making you do this?”

A saddened expression came over Elmer.  “A few years ago, I blamed him for something I did.”

“What did you do?”

“It’s none of your business.  But anyway, he forced me to do something bad, then afterwards he let me go.”

“What the fuck did he make you do?”

“That’s none of your business either.  Afterwards, he told me not to go to the police, but I did.  So now I’m being punished for ratting on him after he gave me a second chance.”

Tim’s eyes grew large.  “That’s good news.  If he gave you a second chance, that means he’s a rational person.  If I can talk to him and explain that I haven’t done anything, he might let me go too.”

“I don’t think so.  He has it in for your ass.”

“If he gave you a second chance, he can do the same for me.”

“He is forgiving, I suppose.  He could have done something worse to me.  But you’re fucked.”

“What?  Why can’t he give me a chance, too?  What makes you so special?”

“The shit he made me do was very disturbing and fucked me up in the head.  After that I became mentally unstable.  I wasn’t in my right mind when I went to the police, and he understood that.  That’s a lot different than what you’ve done.”

“I haven’t done shit, so I don’t know why you keep saying I have, but I do have a solution that will benefit all of us.”

“Whatever you’re thinking won’t work, so just save your breath.”

“You can tell the cops that we’re here so we’ll be rescued, then you can take off.  Seth can’t set off the device if he doesn’t know where you’re at.”

A saddened expression came over Elmer.  “It has an internal clock mechanism.  I have to check in with him so he can reset it, or it will explode.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“How often do you have to check in?”

“Depends on how he sets it up.  He can adjust the amount of time.  He does it with this wireless thingamajig.  Right now, it’s set for every forty-eight hours.”

“Wow!  What a fuckin’ prick.  You just need to kill the bastard.”

“I can’t do that either.  He made it clear that if something happened to him, I would die too since no one else would be able to stop the timer.”  Elmer pulled the front of his sweatpants down, revealing another freshly stitched wound across his lower abdomen.  “He also put this thing in me that shocks my innards.  It has numerous wires scattered throughout my stomach.  He even dropped two down inside my ball sack from the inside.”  He grimaced.  “It’s so fuckin’ gross, and I can feel them moving around and poking my testicles.”  He sat back down on his bucket and began sobbing.  “I have to do whatever he asks, or he will shock me.  If I go to the police or tell anyone about him, he will make me suffer.  My real name is Barry, but he makes me go by Elmer Fudd because of my fat cheeks.”  He covered his face with his hands as he wept.  “I’m his fuckin’ slave…  his fuckin’ bitch.”

“Then you’re in the same boat we’re all in.  Cut us loose and we’ll find a way to help you.”

“It’s too late for you.  And I can’t risk him punishing me anymore, so stop trying to talk me into letting you go.”

“Come on, dude.  Don’t be so hardheaded.”

Elmer’s sadness morphed into anger.  “The last time I went against him he cut off my fuckin’ dick.  What the hell do you think he will do if I let you go?”

Charles grabbed his genitals.  “Oh, shit!  Why the fuck would he cut off your dick?  Is he going to do that to me?”

“I’m sure dick play is in the cards.  He likes doing that kind of twisted shit.”

A Dickless MF

As the men lashed out over the dick play comment, Elmer stood up and shouted, “Shut the fuck up!  Getting riled up isn’t going to change anything and it’s only going to make things worse.”

Everyone became quiet except for Tim.  “You can’t say some shit like that and expect us to be calm.”

“Listen, dude.  Seth probably ain’t even gonna show up, so just forget about the dick comment.”

“What do you mean he might not show up?”  A slight amount of relief came over Tim.  “Does that mean nothing else is going to happen to me?”

“I’m not sure.  He keeps me in the dark.”

“You must know something.”

“I don’t.”

“At least tell me why I am here.”

“Because you’ve done something bad.  Each of you have.  Seth wanted me to tell everyone that the hour of retribution is upon you.  Just like Beth said earlier, you are all damned.”

A worried expression formed on Tim’s face.  “You can’t let anything happen to us.  You will get in trouble too.  There must be something you can do.”

“Even if I wanted to, it’s no use.  He’s been listening to what we’re saying.”

Charles examined the darkness, searching for Seth.  “How?  Is he hiding somewhere in the dark?”

Elmer pulled the neck of his gown downwards, revealing a device sewn to his upper chest.  “He sewed a transmitter to me.”

Joe finally became fed up with the lies and couldn’t hold his tongue any longer.  “No one is listening.  Seth Coker was killed in Oregon during a standoff with the FBI.  This is all your doing.”

Elmer glared at him.  “I told you not to say anything, you prick.”

“I thought since Tim has been talking, it was okay for me to speak.”

“You thought wrong.  And you’re also fuckin’ clueless.  I already told you Seth wasn’t killed.”

Knowing if he stroked Elmer’s ego, he might be able to get on his good side.  “Being a police officer, I’ve dealt with a lot of people and can see through the bullshit.  I can tell you’re extremely intelligent.  And I believe you are not doing this of your own accord and simply a victim like the rest of us.”

“I know what you’re doing and don’t like it, so stop trying to patronize me.”

“I wasn’t.”

“And I have no use for cops, especially crooked ones.”

Joe’s eyes narrowed as he glared back with a deadpan expression.  “I’m not crooked.”

“Crooked and a liar.”

“You’re mistaken.”

“So, it wasn’t you that’s been going around raping folks?”

Caught off guard, Joe stuttered, “I…  I haven’t raped anyone.”

“Oh, then it must be some other lowlife cop named Jose Alberto Del Castillo the third that’s been sticking his dick in underprivileged women that live on the streets of Houston…  my bad.” 

Anger washed over Tim.  “Am I being punished because of that piece of shit?”

“No.  You’re being punished because you’ve been sticking your dick in your eight-year-old daughter.”

Tim’s face turned red as his eyes opened wide.  He felt like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.  At first, he didn’t know how to respond.  He was now in the spotlight and everyone was staring at him.  “That’s not true.  You’re making that up.  I would never do that to my daughter.”

Ryan glared at Tim.  “I knew it.  You are a fuckin’ rapist.  A child rapist at that.”

Elmer shook his head as he chuckled.  “And that folks is an example of the pot calling the kettle black.”

Ryan scowled.  “What does that mean?”

“It means, when you’re not raping a sock, you’re raping your five-year old son.”

Feeling guilty, Ryan lowered his head.  “That’s not true.”

“Sure, it is, asshole.  That’s why you’re looking down.”  Elmer glanced at Henry.  “You’ve sure been quiet.  But I guess I would be too if I had been having sex with my disabled daughter for the last thirty-two years.”

Holding his head down in shame, Henry remained silent.

Charles eyed Elmer while exhibiting a confused expression.  “Hold up!  Sounds like these assholes are a bunch of rapists and child molesters.  I haven’t sexually assaulted anyone.”

“True.  You just murdered a few people.  And speaking of killing…”  Elmer glanced at Jason.  “This sorry bastard killed his own mother.”

Jason didn’t say a word as he stared at his lap. 

Elmer then pointed at Beth.  “And worst saved for last.  Do you want to tell everyone why you’re in here?”

She quickly responded while looking down.  “I drowned my baby in the bathtub.”

“That takes balls to admit to something like that.”  He looked at the others.  “And for the rest of you lying sacks of shit, each one of you will face your sins in one way or another.” 

Henry shook with fear as he gazed downwards.  “What are you going to do to us?”

“The fat man can speak.”  Elmer hobbled over to the saw.  “Before I get to that, I need to explain what all of this equipment is.”  He laid his hand on the saw.  “This is an industrial radial arm saw; modified of course for just such a special occasion.  It’s mounted on a track system so it can travel back and forth from table one to table seven, and it can boom out over the tables.  The blade is set an eighth of an inch higher than the tabletops, and the blade can reach all the way to your heads.  It’s controlled by a computer and….”

Uncertainty washed over Tim.  “Hold up!  What are you saying?”  He scrutinized the saw for a moment, then his expression changed to a grimace of terror.  “Oh, my God!  You’re planning on cutting us in half.”

“Is that a question, or a statement?”

Now realizing their fate, everyone reacted in a different way.  Some were yelling, others were weeping, and some remained quiet as they fell into a state of shock.  Becoming frustrated, Elmer shouted, “Hush!  I’m not done explaining how this all works!”

Jason, showing out the most, rocked back and forth while wailing, “No, no, no!  You can’t do this to me!  You can’t, you, can’t, you can’t!”

Aggravated, Elmer marched over to him.  “Stop acting like that.”

He ignored him as he continued freaking out.

Elmer slapped him in the back of the head.  “Stop acting like a retard.”

“Get the fuck away from me, you psychotic fuck!”

Elmer grabbed his penis and began tugging on it.  Jason screamed at the top of his lungs as he held onto Elmer’s wrists, pulling them back toward himself to relieve the tension.  Tim couldn’t believe his eyes as he watched the twisted display.  Elmer and Jason looked like two kids fighting over a Stretch Armstrong toy, and as they fought with each other, Jason’s penis stretched like a rubber band.

Experiencing an overwhelming amount of pain, Jason wailed at the top of his lungs, “Please stop!  You’re gonna tear it!”

Suddenly, Elmer fell on his backside as Jason exclaimed, “Oh, my God!  You ripped off my fuckin’ dick!”

Elmer stood up and tossed the organ onto Jason’s lap.  “At least you’re not going to bleed to death thanks to the clotting agent.  Now shut the fuck up, or I will rip off your balls next.”

Jason glared at him with hatred as he shouted, “Fuck you!  I’m going to kill you for this!”

“I told you to shut the fuck up.”  Elmer pulled an ice pick from his pocket and poked him in the throat.

As Jason covered the hole with his hand, he could feel air coming out of it as he exhaled.  When he tried to speak, a sharp pain shot through his neck and his voice sounded raspy.  “Oh, shit!  You fucked up my vocal cords!  You’re gonna pay for this, motherfucker!”

“Speaking of motherfucker, I heard you fucked yours after you killed her.  Is that true?”

He ignored Elmer, and as a feeling of dread came over him, he picked up his severed penis and examined it.  “I can’t believe you did this to me.  You’ve destroyed my life.”

Elmer laughed.  “A dickless motherfucker.  That’s what we have here, folks.”

Jason reached out and grabbed Elmer as he shouted, “You’re fuckin’ dead!”  Elmer took the ice pick and began thrusting it into Jason’s body.  At first, Jason tried to block the blows, but Elmer poked holes in his hands and arms until they fell limp from trauma.  He didn’t miss a beat as he continued jabbing holes into Jason’s body.  After two hundred plus punctures, Jason fell to his back and became lethargic.  Elmer jabbed the ice pick into his chest, leaving it in place.  “Now I bet you will keep your fuckin’ mouth shut.”

Jason could barely speak as his body lay lifeless.  “Please kill me.”

Elmer snickered.  “All in due time, you fuckin’ prick.”  He glanced at the rest of the group as they stared in horror.  “Anyone else want a pokin’?”

No one responded.

“That’s what I thought.”

Elmer sauntered over to the saw.  “Now back to what I was saying.  This thing is automated, and it’s programmed to cut each of you down the center of your legs, from your feet to your hips.  It might only cut a short distance, or go up to your knee.  It might even cut all the way to your hip.  I can’t really say for certainty how far it will cut, because Seth programmed it to be unpredictable.  The saw will start at table one.  After it cuts into one of Tim’s legs, it will move to Henry, then Ryan and so on.  Once it’s done with Beth, it will start back over with Tim.  The blade might go back into the same cut, cutting more of his leg, or it might start on his other leg.  It’s also programmed to cut into the crotch after the legs have been cut.”

Several of the men made an “ohhh” sound.

“Oh, yeah, baby.  And if you fuckers think you will bleed out before that happens, I have bad news for ya.”  He pointed to a torch head mounted next to the blade.  “This is a propane torch.  The blade will be red-hot when it’s cutting into you, and between the heat cauterizing the wound and the clotting agent coursing through your veins, you will keep ticking like a fuckin’ Timex.  Seth has even added a little adrenaline in your I.V. bags to keep you from passing out too soon.”  Elmer lowered his head so he could speak clearly into the microphone sewn to his chest.  “Seth is such a thoughtful and wonderful person.  Such a great inspiration and a ray of hope.  I aspire to be more like him one day.”

Anger washed over Tim as he watched Elmer goof off.  “Really, dude!?!  You’re gonna joke around at a time like this?”

“I wasn’t joking.  Seth is the most remarkable person to have ever graced this planet, second only to Jesus Christ himself.”

“You need to grow some fuckin’ balls and stop suckin’ that dude’s ass.”

“It’s better than being strapped to one of those tables like you.”

“Yeah, and this is better than being someone’s dancing monkey.”

“You won’t be saying that when this saw is cutting your ass into pieces.”

Tim’s eyes narrowed in anger.  “You are such a twisted fuck…  and I hope your ass burns in Hell for this.”

“Really?  You have the audacity to say that to me after the shit you’ve done.”

“I didn’t touch my daughter if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

“You keep telling yourself that, pervert.”

Charles wasn’t sure if he wanted to speak after seeing what happened to Jason, so he slightly raised his hand and muttered, “Mr. Fudd.”

“What the fuck do you want?”

“Is there anything I can do to keep this from happening?  I will do anything you or Seth ask.  I’ll fuck someone up for you.”  He nodded toward Ryan, Henry, and Tim.  “I’ll even fuck up these perverts for you.”

“He’s not going to let some scumbag work for him.”

Confusion came over Charles.  “Please don’t take this the wrong way, Mr. Fudd, but doesn’t he consider you one too?”

“What are you talking about?  Consider me what?”

“A scumbag.  And you get to work for him.”

“I’m not a fuckin’ scumbag!”

“Okay, man.  I wasn’t trying to upset you.”

Elmer addressed the group.  “But there is a chance for one of you assholes to make it out of here alive.”

Everyone looked up with a slight sense of relief on their faces.

“That’s right.  The last person alive gets to live.  They will also receive a really cool prize.  And if you play the game right, the blade will never touch you.”

“Game?”  Tim exhibited an aggravated expression, but also relieved there was a chance for him to get free.  “So, this is just some twisted game?”

“It’s probably not as twisted as you fuckin’ your daughter in the ass, but yeah, it’ll be gnarly.”

Tim’s eyes narrowed.  “I didn’t do that either, and you better stop accusing me of shit that’s not true.”

“Before this is over, you will be beggin’ to confess.”

“I’ll never confess to something I didn’t do.”

“Sure, you will.”

Charles raised his hand again.

Elmer glared at him.  “Now what?”

“How can I stop the blade from touching me?”

Elmer pointed to the pipe mounted about Charles.  “See the pipe above you?”

“Yeah.”

“You just have to put something in there that the sensor will detect.”

“Like what?”

Elmer went to a control panel and flipped a switch.  A moment later, the ends of the pipes above each person began making a suction sound.  He walked closer to the tables so everyone could hear him.  “All y’all have to do is stick something in the end of your pipe.”  He pointed to a digital read out mounted next to the junction box where the seven pipes joined.  “The computer keeps track of who has put something into their pipe, and each pipe has its own sensor.  You also have to make sure the item is big enough.  The proximity sensor will not see smaller items, and each time the saw starts back at the beginning, which is Tim, the items have to be larger.”  He pointed to a set of lights that were mounted above the tables.  They resembled a smaller version of a traffic signal with red, amber, and green lights.  “Each of you have a set of lights.  If the red light is illuminated, that means you’re going to get cut, the green light means the item was big enough and the saw is going to pass you by, the amber light means the item was too small.  When the saw gets to the end, which is Beth, it will start back over with Tim, and you will have to put something else in your pipe if you want the saw to skip over you again.”

Tim displayed a look of bewilderment.  “That’s kind of weird, but if it gets me out of here, I’ll play along.  So, what am I supposed to put in there?”

“Anything you want.  That’s the beauty of it.”

Charles began looking around.  “Like what?  I don’t see anything.”

A look of dread formed on Beth’s face.  “Body parts.  The sick bastards want us to cut ourselves apart.”

A horrified expression came over Tim.  “Oh, my God!  That’s why we have the knives and pruning shears connected to our tables.”

As terror engulfed the group, Elmer flipped a switch, turning on heart monitors mounted behind everyone.  “I have good and bad news.  The good news is, the monitoring system will know if you pass out, and if you do, the saw will skip over your legs until you have regained consciousness.  The bad news is, you’ll be punished for passing out.”

Tim glared at him with a look of abhorrence.  “Punished?  How?  It can’t get any worse.”

“Sure, it can.  If you pass out, the saw will keep passing over you until you regain consciousness.  When you do awaken, the saw is programmed to slice into your ball sack, and possibly into your dick, depending on how it’s hanging at the time.”  He glanced at Beth.  “Of course, you’re exempt; perks of being a woman, I reckon.”

Anger engulfed Tim.  “That’s fuckin’ sorry!”

“What is?  That she’s exempt?”

“I don’t give a fuck about her.  I was talking about the blade cutting into my dick and balls just because I passed out.”

Elmer chuckled as he eyed Tim’s small penis.  “I doubt you have anything to worry about, tiny.”

“It’s not funny, asshole.”

“Yeah, it is.  You’re a baby dick bitch.”

He turned red from embarrassment.  “I was talking about being punished just for losing consciousness.”

“Well, that’s part of the game.  It guarantees you’ll make every effort to stay conscious.”

“Wow!  You and that Seth dude are some sick fuckers.”

As Henry’s body trembled, he exhibited a looked of apprehension.  “I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack from the anxiety.  I don’t want to go through this anymore.  Please just end it.”

“You’re probably just feeling the clotting agent.  I’m sure it’s starting to gum up your innards.”

“Please just kill me and get it over with.”

“We don’t want to rob your daughter of retribution, do we?  You must have some remorse over what you did.”

Henry’s eyes filled with tears.  “I didn’t do anything to her.  I swear.  Please don’t do this.  I beg you.”

Tim glared at Elmer.  “Don’t you have any fuckin’ mercy?”

“Not for molesters and rapists.”

“You ain’t no fuckin’ better.”

“Yeah, maybe not, but at least I’m not lying on one of these tables.”  Elmer opened a box and pulled out a syringe.  He held it up so everyone could see it.  “Here’s some extra adrenaline.  You already have some in your I.V. bags, but these will give you a little extra kick to help keep you from passing out.  I’m going to give each of you three of these.”  He started laying three syringes on everyone’s table, starting with Beth.  When he got to Tim, he handed him five.  “There’s your mercy, asshole.  You get two extra.”

Tim grabbed Elmer by the shirt.  “You sorry fucker!  I’m going to….”

Elmer backhanded Tim, knocking him to his back, then he began choking him with both hands as he yelled, “I’ve had enough of your mouth, you fuckin’ prick!”

As Tim fought to catch a breath, he could feel his heart pounding and his body becoming numb.  What a terrible way to die, he thought, as his vision slowly faded to black.

The Angel of Death

The sound of a door opening and then slamming shut echoed throughout the building.  Footsteps could be heard, becoming louder with each passing second.  Finally, a man came sauntering out of the dark while smoking a cigarette.  He pointed at Elmer.  “Don’t kill the bastard—he’s the star of the show.”

Elmer released Tim’s throat.  “Sorry boss.  The fucker just rubs me the wrong way.”

“I’m sure—he’s a fuckin’ molester.”

Tim sat up while holding his throat as he gazed at the man with uncertainty.  He was standing at the edge of the darkness, but he could still see him clearly.  He observed the man appeared to be in his mid to late forties, tall with a stocky build, and he donned a black, long sleeve shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, brown square-toe western boots, and a black cowboy hat.

An agglomeration of thoughts flooded Tim’s mind: is this the Angel of Death that Elmer talked about?  He doesn’t look like a villain.  Maybe this is someone else.  Elmer did call him boss.  Does he work for this man?  Maybe Elmer is the crazy one, and now his boss busted him in the act.  A slight amount of relief came over him, thinking he might be rescued, then he remembered the man called him a molester.  A fuckin’ molester at that.  A nauseated feeling came over him, realizing they were in cahoots.

Tim watched Elmer closely as he pointed to the group.  He appeared to be explaining what happened to Ryan’s toes and Jason’s penis.  Tim wanted to speak, but felt intimidated by the man’s presence.  Could this man be reasoned with, he wondered?  He glanced to his right and noticed everyone else was staring at the man as well, except for Jason as he lay on his back moaning in agony.  The puncture holes must have done some serious damage, he presumed.

Tim started to speak until Elmer pointed at him.  A gut-wrenching feeling came over him when he observed the man was staring right into his eyes, possibly observing his soul and seeing his sins.  His mind became inundated with thoughts as he tried to process everything at once.  Could he really know what I’ve been doing?  There’s no way.  He’s just a man.  Then he remembered Seth referred to him as the star of the show.  What show?  Was he referring to the horrifying game Elmer described that involved the saw?  If so, that would mean he knew about his transgressions and playing the sadistic game would be his punishment. 

As the man continued to stare while standing motionless, a wave of anxiety washed over Tim.  It felt as if he knew his secrets.  For the first time in years he felt ashamed.  At that moment, he realized his destiny; he was going to join the ranks of the ones who had already crossed this man’s path.  He lowered his head as he thought about the horror and suffering that lay ahead.  Hopefully it wouldn’t last long, he thought.  Maybe he will be merciful and make it quick.  He glanced back up, noticing the man was still glaring right at him.  He wasn’t sure what to do.  He wanted to speak, but his throat tightened up.  He became emotional, then teary eyed.  Before he knew it, he was crying.

“I’ll be damned!” yelled Elmer, followed by someone laughing.

Tim observed the man was laughing and Elmer seemed upset.  He wasn’t sure what was going on.  A moment later, Elmer marched over to him.  Tim raised his arms in self-defense.  “Please don’t hurt me!”

Elmer gritted his teeth as he stood next to the table.  “You cost me a hundred bucks, asshole!”

Tim glanced over his arms.  “What?”

“Seth bet me he could make you cry just by staring at you.  You’ve been the biggest loudmouth in here.  That should have been money in the bank.  What the fuck got into you?”

“I…  I’m sorry.”

“I was going to bet on you to win the game, but not now.  In fact, I’m going to bet you go first.”  Elmer snickered.  “I hope the sawblade snags one of your arteries in your legs and rips the aorta off your heart.” 

“Oh, my God!  Can that really happen?”

“All kinds of shit can happen like that.  You’re fixing to suffer in ways you can’t even fathom.  The pain will be so intense you’ll be begging to die.”

A sense of dread came over Tim.  “Please don’t do this.  I will do anything you ask.”

Seth motioned to Elmer.  “When you’re done terrifying the fucker, you need to get this party started.  Unfortunately, I can’t stick around—I have a date.”

Elmer strolled over to Seth.  “With Missy?”

“Yep, she’s waiting in the truck.”

Elmer handed Seth a hundred dollars, then he glared at Tim and mumbled under his breath.  “Fuckin’ punk.”

Seth laughed as he put the bill in his wallet.  “Winner winner chicken dinner.”

“Yeah, yeah.  I’ll make it up with the next one.”

Seth nodded toward Tim.  “I’ll take him for five hundred.”

“I’ll take that bet.”

“And you better not cheat.  I know you have an issue with the bastard.”

“I wouldn’t do that, boss.” 

“You better not if you know what’s good for you.  And did you explain everything to everyone?”

“Yep, and they’re all excited about it.”

“You’ve been dragging ass and doin’ a lot of jawing.  I was expecting it to almost be over by the time I got here.”

“Sorry, boss.  They’ve been an unruly bunch, especially Tim.  He’s a fuckin’ troublemaker.”

Out of fear, everyone else remained quiet, but anger engulfed Tim.  Up to this point, Elmer whined and moaned how Seth was making him do all of this, but now he was behaving like he and Seth were best friends.  Tim couldn’t hold his tongue any longer as he blurted out, “You’re a fuckin’ backstabbing liar!”

Seth patted Elmer on the shoulder.  “Sounds like you’re being called out, pal.”

“Fuck that little bastard.  I’ll deal with him later.”

“Stop fuckin’ around and get this done.  There should have already been blood, guts, and ass everywhere.”

“I know, I know.  I’ll get it up and running as soon as you leave.”

“Let me know who makes it to the end.  I have something special saved up for them.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Seth handed Elmer a piece of paper.  “That’s your next assignment.  After you gather them up, take them to that address.”

“Will do, boss.”

Seth pointed at Tim, then ran his thumb across his throat.

A feeling of dismay came over Tim.  Initially, he planned on having a conversation with Seth in hopes he could talk his way out of his dreadful situation.  Now after witnessing Seth’s hand gesture, implying an impending doom, he lowered his head and sighed.

Seth eyed Elmer.  “I’m outta here.”

“Later, boss.  I’ll call you when I have all the scumbags in the warehouse.”

When Seth began walking away, Joe yelled out, “Sir!  Can I talk to you!?!”

Charles bellowed out, “Don’t leave, Mr. Seth!  I have a proposition for you!  Please come back!”

Ryan wailed, “I need to talk to you!  You have me confused with someone else!”

Aggravation swept over Elmer as he glared at the group.  “Y’all shut the fuck up!  He doesn’t care what you fuckers have to say.”

The sound of a door opening, then slamming closed, echoed out in the darkness.  An angered expression came over Charles.  “Don’t tell me he fuckin’ left.”

“Yep, the king has left the building.”

“He didn’t even give me a chance to explain anything.”

“He doesn’t give a fuck what you have to say.  He won’t even listen to me.”

Henry looked up.  “Why are you moving us to a warehouse?”

“No one said y’all are being moved.”

“You told Seth you were going to let him know when you had all the scumbags

moved to the warehouse.”

Elmer chuckled.  “I’m glad you’re starting to see yourself for what you are, but that’s a different group of scumbags.”

Henry lowered his head.  “I’m not a scumbag.  And I didn’t do what you think I did.”

“I know.  You’re innocent right along with the rest of these assholes.”

Anger engulfed Joe.  “I can’t believe he didn’t have the decency to face me like a man and get my side of the story.”

“He’s got more important shit to do.”

“You fuckin’ serious?  We’re going to be butchered like animals while he’s going out on a date.  You two are some demented fuckers.”

“He wouldn’t do this to an animal.  He loves animals.”

“What?”

“You heard me.  You’re less than an animal in his book.”

Enraged, Ryan barked out, “This is bullshit.  He could have at least been man enough to hear what I have to say.”

Disgruntled, Elmer groaned, “He’s too good to do his own dirty work; that’s what I’m for.  I’m just his little bitch boy.”

Joe glared at Elmer while displaying a look of aggravation.  “So, now what?  You actually going to do this?  You going to do his dirty work, as you call it?  Murder all of us in cold blood?  Do you think you can live with that?”

“I don’t have a choice.”

Tim’s frustration got the better of him.  “You’re a fuckin’ coward!  You fuckin’ swing on his dick when he’s around, then talk shit when he’s not.  You ain’t no better than he is.  Hell, you’re worse.”

“Fuck you!  I can’t wait until the saw is cutting your ass up.”

Tim quickly realized upsetting Elmer wasn’t going to help his situation.  “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have said that.  I know you’re under a lot of stress.  We’re all in this together.”

“Don’t patronize me, you fuckin’ prick.”

“I’m just trying to….”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Tim lowered his head.  “I said I was sorry.”

“Yes, you are.  And are you ready to begin?  Seth bet me five-hundred bucks that you will win, but I know your punk ass aint gonna make it past the second round.  Thatta be money in the bank, boiii.”

Tim remained silent.

“Answer me, dickhead.”

“Answer what?”

“Are you ready to play?”

After Elmer’s prediction that he wouldn’t make it past the second round, Tim believed he was planning on doing something sneaky to ensure he’d lose, meaning death was inevitable.  “Seth told you not to cheat.”

“I know what the fuck he told me, and I’m not.”

“But you said I’m not going to make it past the second round.”

“Yeah, because you’re a fuckin’ pussy.”

Elmer eyed Henry as he sat quietly while holding his head down.  “Hey, fat man?  You ready to play?”

He didn’t respond.

“I’m going to cut off your fuckin’ dick if you don’t answer me.”

“Just kill me and get it over with.”

“In due time, but I asked you a question, asshole.”

He began bawling.  “I just want to go home.”

“It’s either yes or no, and I’m not asking again.”

“No.  I don’t want to play your twisted game.”

Elmer glanced at Joe, Ryan, and Charles.  “How about you fuckers?  Y’all ready to play?”

They began begging and pleading.

“A yes or no would have sufficed.”

Elmer ambled over to Jason as he lay on his back while staring up at the lights.  “How’s it hanging, pal?”

“Leave me alone.”

“Come on, don’t pout.  You still have your balls.”

“Fuck you!  I’m not playing your fuckin’ game, so don’t ask.  And you might as well go ahead and kill me and get it over with.”

“I don’t care if you just lie there and get cut up.  I’m rooting for Charles anyway.”  Elmer glanced over at Beth.  “You ready to play?”

She glared back at him with a deadpan expression.  “Why don’t you shut the fuck up and go flip the switch, you sawed off piece of shit.  I’m tired of hearing your lips flap.”

“You need to chill out, darlin’.”

“Don’t call me darlin’.  And you can go fuck yourself, you creepy bastard.”

“Go fuck myself?  Listen here, you fuckin’ bitch!  I will…”  Elmer thought for a moment.  “You know what, I think I’m going to take you up on that.  I might even fuck you in the ass.  What do you think about that, bitch?”

“You’re not going to touch me, asshole!”

“There ain’t a damn thing you can do to stop me.  I’m going to….”  Elmer’s phone rang, interrupting him.  When he observed it was Seth, he quickly answered.  “Yes, sir…  Uh, I was just joking…  I would never rape anyone…  I understand…  Sure…  Okay…  Do I really have to do that?  Okay…  I will soon as we hang up...  Hello!  Are you still there?”  Elmer put his phone back in his pocket, then gazed at Beth with a look of consternation.  “I’m sorry for threatening you.  I couldn’t have raped you anyway because I’m not a man.  Even though my penis was sewn back on, it doesn’t work because I’m just a little assclown.”

A look of irritation came over her.  “I don’t give a fuck about you or your dick.”

Elmer exhibited a worried expression.  “Seth is angry at me for the rape threat, regardless if it was a joke or not.  He said there is no excuse for sexual aggression, even if it’s toward a child murdering cunt like yourself.”

“Just get the fuck away from me.”

“He wants you to punch me in the nuts.”

“I’m not touching you, you creep.”

“If you don’t, I have to do it myself.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“I’ll give you another adrenaline shot.”

“I told you…”  She thought for a moment.  “Let me go and I will.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Then get the fuck away from me.”

Elmer glanced at Jason.  “Will you punch me in the nuts?”

He didn’t respond as he gazed at the lights above.

Elmer looked at the group.  “Will someone please punch me in the nuts?”

Everyone remained silent, except for Joe.  “There’s something wrong with you, son.”

Elmer began pacing back and forth in front of the tables.  He finally came to a stop, then started punching himself in the nuts as hard as he could.  After hitting himself about ten times, he knelt on one knee to recuperate.

Tim glanced at Joe and shrugged his shoulders.  Joe made a circular motion with his finger next to his own head, indicating Elmer was crazy.

When Elmer noticed Joe’s hand gesture, anger swept over him.  “Seth overheard what I said to the that fuckin’ bitch.  He told me if someone didn’t punch me in the nuts ten times, I’d have to do it myself.”  A tear ran down his cheek.  “And now he’s mad at me.”

Tim sarcastically popped off.  “Why would he be mad at you?  I thought y’all were such great pals.”

“Don’t make fun of me.  I’m in a fucked-up situation myself.”

Charles shook his head.  “You don’t have to be his fuckin’ puppet.  Get some balls and stand up to him.  You can start by calling the cops.”

Beth laughed.  “He’s not gonna to do that.  Like he said, he’s an assclown with a broken dick, and that dude’s bitch.”

Infuriated, Elmer stood up and shouted.  “I’m fuckin’ sick of y’all!  It’s time to die, motherfuckers!”  Elmer took off toward the main control panel.

The Suffering

Everyone reacted in a different way as Elmer energized the main control panel: Joe tried to reason with him, Ryan pleaded for him not to do it, Tim apologized for his comments, Charles begged to be released, Henry fell into a daze, Jason wept as he pouted over his penis, and Beth called Elmer names while saying he didn’t have the balls to throw the switch.

When Elmer pressed a button, activating the vacuum system, everyone stared in horror at the pipes above them as they created a suction sound.  Boiling with anger, Elmer growled, “I hope you fuckers all burn in Hell!”  He pressed another button, activating the sawblade.  “And speaking of Hell!”  He turned on the propane system, then pressed a button and ignited the gas.  As the torch heads engulfed the blade with flames, he pointed at Tim.  “And fuck you, faggot!  This is for you!”  He pressed another button, activating the automated system.

Everyone stared in horror as the machine passed by their table.  The spinning blade produced a high-pitched, ear-piercing sound as it cut through the air, and the orange flames generated a rumbling sound as they engulfed the blade with fire.

Terror completely consumed Tim as he watched the saw as it slowly moved down the tracks toward him.  Panic stricken, he began violently jerking at the fishhooks in his legs as he begged Elmer to stop the machine.  Up to this point in his life, he never encountered such fear.  Suddenly, he began urinating on himself, then his bowels released. 

A petrifying sense of terror came over everyone as they watched Tim violently jerk at his restraints while screaming at the top of his lungs for Elmer to stop the saw.  As the blade approached Tim, Joe and Charles were shouting at him, telling him to cut off one of his fingers and stick it into his pipe, Henry refused to watch as he covered his face with his hands, Ryan incoherently mumbled to himself, Jason lay sobbing while staring at the lights above, and Beth laughed hysterically as if she had gone mad.  It was pure chaos.

When the machine was even with the end of his table, a loud, ear-splitting buzzer sounded for a few seconds, then the blade began moving outwards on a horizontal arm similar to a radial arm saw.  As the blade approached Tim’s left foot, he grabbed the pruning shears and quickly shoved his pinky finger between the blades.  By the time he found the courage and snipped it off, the sawblade was only inches away.  Then to his dismay, he dropped his finger as he tried to stick it into the pipe.  Before he could snip off another finger, the blade cut into his left foot.  He wailed a bloodcurdling scream as blood and pieces of flesh slung all over him.  The heated blade coming into contact with his body fluids created a plume of smoke, engulfing the air around him.  The rancid cloud of burnt flesh stung his eyes, and as he inhaled between screams, the smoke would enter his lungs, causing him to violently cough.  The blade moved slowly as it cut through his foot, and when it got to his ankle, he began to feel pieces of shredded bone fragments hitting the front of his nude body. 

Experiencing more agony than he ever imagined possible, a feeling of terror came over him when the blade passed his ankle and continued cutting up his leg, and as the blade spun blood all over his face and body, he could feel the vibration of his tibia and fibula being cut.  Everything seemed to be in slow motion as his mind fell into a clouded sensorium.  A moment later, he began to feel weak as if he was going to pass out.  The blade stopped progressing a few inches below his knee, then it quickly retracted.  Tim stared at his leg in absolute horror.  Not only had his leg been cut down the center, but the fishhooks were pulling the two halves apart.  He leaned over the side of his table and vomited.

Everyone was horrified as they gazed at Tim.  He was covered in blood and sprinkled in tiny pieces of white bone, and some of the larger bone fragments had penetrated his skin, creating thin trials of blood that ran down his body.  Tim knew he was on the verge of passing out, and he remembered what would happen if he did, so he grabbed one of the syringes and injected himself with epinephrine.  The sudden rush of adrenaline launched him into a tirade, and as he glared at Elmer, he shouted in a raspy voice.  “You motherfucker, you’re going to pay for this!”

Elmer was sitting on a five-gallon bucket next to the control panel smoking a cigarette.  He resembled a carnival worker manning the controls of a ride while sporting a don’t-give-a-shit expression.

“Hey!  I’m talking to you, fucker!  Look what you did to my leg!”  Tim held up his hand, showing his missing pinky.  “And you made me cut off my fuckin’ finger, you asshole!”

Elmer ignored him as he blew smoke rings.

The machine was now moving toward Henry’s table.  Henry seemed dazed, and as he sat in a state of shock, Joe and Charles were yelling for him to cut off one of his fingers, but he didn’t respond.  Joe peered at Ryan and shouted, “Ryan!  Try to snap him out of it!”

Ryan was about to have a nervous breakdown himself as he gazed at Joe.  “What?”

“Henry isn’t coherent.  Try to snap him out of it.  He needs to cut off one of his fingers and get it into the pipe.”

“Why do I have to do it?”

“Because you’re right next to him.”

Ryan leaned over toward Henry as far as he could and yelled, “Hey, man!  Cut off one of your fingers and stick it in the pipe!”

He didn’t respond.

“Henry!  Cut off your finger before it’s too late!”

A buzzer sounded, indicating the machine was lined up and the blade was ready to extend out.  Joe knew Henry didn’t have long, so he shouted out, “Henry!  You need to hurry!”

With a solemn expression, Henry turned and looked at the group as the blade approached his right foot.  “I did it…  I’ve been raping my handicapped daughter.  I deserve to die.”

To everyone’s surprise, he just laid there and let the saw cut into him.  They stared in absolute horror as the blade slowly cut all the way up to his knee.  Blood, bone fragments, pieces of tendons, cartilage, and flesh were being spewed out from the machine like a woodchipper.  Henry was lying on the table arching his back, his arms were stretched upwards, his hands were balled into tight fists, and his entire body violently shook.  Everyone thought he was having a seizure, but instead, he was being forced to endure the agonizing pain due to the adrenaline keeping him conscious.

As the blade progressed past his knee, the fishhooks were pulling the two halves apart.  The air was filled with a putrid odor of burnt flesh, and Henry’s entire body was completely covered in a proverbial bloodbath and fragmented body parts.  When the blade reached halfway up his thigh, he lunged forward, and for no logical reason, he tried to grab the blade with both hands.  As quickly as he reached out, the blade severed most of his fingers on one hand and cut his other hand in half.

When the blade reached his hip, it paused for a moment, then quickly retracted.  Henry’s eyes rolled back into their socks, then his body became limp and collapsed onto the table.  His arms flopped off the sides, then he let out an agonizing moan as the last bit of air left his lungs.  Seconds later, he died.

Everyone was taken aback.  They had witnessed something very violent and sadistic.  Up to this point, each person still had hope, thinking they would be saved from this nightmare.  After witnessing what happened to Tim and Henry, they now realized their horrifying fate that lay ahead.

With Ryan being next, a petrifying sensation of terror came over him as the saw began moving down the tracks toward him.  He didn’t give it a second thought as he cut off his left pinky finger with the pruning shears.  The fear combined with the adrenaline rush completely masked the pain.  He didn’t hesitate to stick the severed digit into the pipe.  The suction almost sucked it out of his hand, then a bell chimed, his red light turned off and the green one illuminated.  A few seconds later, he saw his finger fall into the glass hopper on the other side of the tracks.  The machine didn’t even pause as it passed by him.

Being next in line, Charles’ hands were shaking as he held the shears next to one of his fingers.  “I can’t do it!  Oh, my God!  Will someone please make it stop!”

Joe yelled at him.  “Do it, Charles!  Do it now!”

The machine stopped at the end of his table, the loud buzzer sounded, then the sawblade began extending out.  Charles quickly mustered the courage and snipped off his pinky finger at the middle joint.  He swiftly stuck it into the end of the pipe.  To his horror, the amber light illuminated as the blade continued progressing toward his left foot.  Panic-stricken, he wailed, “Oh, my God!  It didn’t work!”

Joe shouted over the sound of the machine.  “It’s too small!  You have to put something bigger in there!”

Charles quickly cut off the remaining stub and tossed it in the pipe, but nothing changed.  “It’s fuckin’ broke!”  He started violently jerking around, trying to tear his legs loose.

Joe shouted again, “Cut off another finger!  The whole thing!”

Charles’ eyes grew huge as he stared at Joe.  “What!?!”

“Cut off an entire finger!  And hurry!”

Charles snipped off his ring finger and tossed it into the pipe.  When he noticed his green light illuminated and the blade reversed its direction, he took a deep breath, then shouted, “Fuck yeah!”  Suddenly, flames came blowing out of the machine, engulfing him.  His screams echoed throughout the building as he was being burned alive.

Joe shouted at Elmer to help, but he was still sitting on the bucket like he didn’t give a shit, but this time he was playing on his phone.  Around twenty seconds later, the flames dissipated, and the machine started moving back down the tracks.  Joe didn’t think twice as he snipped off his left pinky finger and threw it into the pipe.  As soon as he saw his green light illuminate, he leaned over toward Charles to check on him.  His hair was still smoking, and second-degree burns covered his body.  “How are you doing, buddy?”

Charles’ body was shaking, and he could barely speak.  “I’m cold.”

“Just stay calm and try to rest.  It will be a while before the machine gets back to you.”

Joe leaned toward Jason.  “You need to cut off a finger before the machine gets to you.”

Jason was still lying on his back while staring up at the lights.  “Leave me alone.”

“Don’t just lie there.  The machine is almost to you.”

“I don’t care.”

“Don’t give up.  You can survive this.”

“Why would I want to?  I don’t have a penis.”  He grabbed the knife hanging from the side of his table, then stuck the blade to his neck.  “Sorry, Joe.  I would rather go out on my own terms.”

“Listen to me, son!  You don’t have to….”

Suddenly, the machine quickly advanced down the tracks, then extended the blade into Jason’s crotch.  A wave of horror came over Joe.  One moment he was trying to talk Jason out of cutting his neck, the next moment Jason was being mutilated by the machine.  Joe's eyes widened in terror as the blade sliced through Jason's abdomen, causing blood, feces, and fragments of intestines to scatter in all directions.  The heated blade also created a huge cloud of smoke as it ripped through his insides.  Jason screamed at the top of his lungs for the last few moments of his life.  When the blade reached his ribcage, it paused for a moment, then quickly retracted, dragging pieces of intestines with it.

Joe was speechless as he looked upon Jason’s mutilated body.  His abdominal cavity lay wide open and ravaged pieces of intestines were oozing out of him and falling to the floor, and a few of the longer sections were hanging out of him like spaghetti.  Joe thought about how the machine quickly advanced, not giving Jason a chance.  Infuriated, he shouted at Elmer.  “What the fuck happened!?!  Your fuckin’ machine malfunctioned!  I thought we had a fair chance to survive this!”

Elmer shrugged his shoulders as he sat dumbfounded. 

The machine was now heading back toward Tim.  He became frantic as he looked at Elmer.  “Why is it coming back toward me!?!”  He pointed at Beth.  “What about her?”

She held her hand up, showing a missing pinky, then she flipped him off with the same hand.  Around the midpoint of the tracks, the machine came to a halt, and the blade started gradually decelerating.  Elmer exhibited a frown as he approached Jason’s mutilated body.  “Look at this fuckin’ mess.  I ain’t cleaning this shit up.”  He chuckled.  “Pun intended.”  He then fanned the air.  “And he smells like burnt ass.”

Tears filled Joe’s eyes as he glared at Elmer.  “You’re a ruthless prick.  He didn’t deserve that.”

“That’s what he gets for trying to kill himself.  He knew the rules.”

“What are you talking about?  What rules?”

“Seth told me if someone tries to kill themselves to engage the execution mode.  He wanted to make sure they would suffer before they died, even if it was just for a short bit of time.”

A wave of anger came over Joe.  “You stupid fuck!  He wasn’t trying to kill himself.  It was just the way he was dealing with the stress.”

“Then I guess it was his lucky day.”

“Fuck you, pendejo.  You had no right to do that.”

“And you had no right doing what you did, so get off your high horse.”

“Who made you God?  You ain’t no better than any of us.”

“Does it really fuckin’ matter?  There’s only going to be one survivor.  The rest of you fucks will be dead soon anyway.”  Elmer glanced at Jason’s body.  “At least he didn’t suffer long.”

Joe nodded toward Charles.  “What about him?  He’s still suffering.”

“I’m sure.  His fuckin’ skin is peeling off and his dick is charred like a burnt hotdog wiener.”

Up to this point, Charles lay motionless until Elmer mentioned his dick being charred.  He could barely move his arms as he reached for his penis.  His hands were trembling as he felt around his crotch.  “Oh, my God!  Is it really burnt?  I can’t feel it.”

Joe looked at him.  “It’s okay, Charles.  Your penis is fine.  Just try to relax.”

Elmer laughed.  “Your dick is fuckin’ toast, pal.”

Charles began weeping.  “Oh, fuck!  This can’t be happening!  Please call an ambulance!”

Joe glared at Elmer.  “Leave him alone.  You’ve already done enough to him.”

“I didn’t do shit to him.”

“Yeah, you did.  You burned him.”

“He waited too long to feed the pipe.  Being burned is the punishment.  That part is automated.  In fact, everything is automated except for the execution mode, and that’s the only reason I’m fuckin’ stuck here with y’all assholes.  Seth didn’t want any of you fuckers getting off too easy and he couldn’t figure out how to make that part automated.”

“You could have told us that, you fuckin’ prick.”

“I thought I did.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Oh, well, I guess I forgot.”

“You forgot?  That was kind of important, don’t ya think?”

“I got a lot of shit on my mind.  Plus, I have my own problems to worry about.”

“You’re going to burn in Hell for this.”

“Whatever.”  He walked over to Tim and picked up his finger from the floor.  “Nice souvenir, fucktard.”

“Hold up, that’s mine!”

“Finders keepers, losers weepers.”

“You’re fuckin’ sorry.”

“Actually, you’re gonna be.”  Elmer pulled a pair of pliers from his back pocket.  “You owe me a hundred bucks.”

“No problem.  I’ll give you everything I own if you let me go.”

“You know I can’t do that.  But I can give you two options to pay me back.  Seth bet me five-hundred bucks that you will be the last one alive.  Just make sure that doesn’t happen, then I’ll actually make four hundred bucks on this gig.”

“Seriously?  You want me to die so you can make four-hundred bucks?  You’re fuckin’ nuts.”

“I didn’t think you would go for that.”  He tossed a pair of pliers on Tim’s lap.  “The other option is you can give me five of your front teeth.”

“What?”

“I didn’t stutter, asshole.  I want six of your teeth for payment.  I’m going to make a necklace out of them.”

“You said five.”

“See, you are listening, but every time I have to tell you, the number is going up.  I’d pull ‘em out myself, but I don’t want to tear my stitches fighting with you.”

“Seth will get mad at you if you do this.”

“Don’t patronize me.  And besides, he’s the one that told me he would give me my money back if I made him a tooth necklace out of your teeth.”

“Bullshit.”

Elmer showed Tim a text message from Seth that verified his story.  “See, I told you.  He likes necklaces made of teeth.  And now you owe me eight.  Get them fuckers out so I can start the saw back up.” 

“I was serious about giving you everything I own if you let me go.  My house, cars, money, everything.  And I won’t say anything about what happened here.”

“Stop trying to worm your way out of this, because it’s never gonna happen.”

Joe raised his hand.  “Mr. Elmer!”

He glanced over at him.  “What the fuck do you want?”

“I have about twenty-five thousand in the bank.  I also have a house, two cars, silver, and some guns.  It’s all yours if you let me go.”

Beth laughed.  “I’d take them up on that offer.  Maybe then you can go buy yourself some balls.”

Elmer glared at her.  “Fuck you, bitch.  I’m gonna enjoy watching you die in agony.”

“I’m in charge of my destiny, not you, you fuckin’ prick.”

Elmer glanced back at Tim.  “Get to pulling your teeth.”

“You’re fuckin’….”

Elmer grabbed Tim’s penis and commenced to tugging on it.  “Pull out your fuckin’ teeth before I rip off your cock.”

Tim began striking Elmer’s hands with the pliers.  “Let go of my fuckin’ dick!”

Elmer jerked his hands away, then began rubbing them.  “You little faggot!  You’re gonna pay for that.”

“Stay the fuck away from me, you demented fuck!”

Elmer grinned wickedly.  “That’s all right.  I’ll get them teeth one way or another.”  He headed toward the control panel.

Knowing the saw was coming for him next, Tim blurted out, “Okay, okay!  I’ll do it if you don’t start the saw again.”

Elmer smiled as he stood next to the control panel.  “Fuck you!  I’ll pull ‘em myself as you’re letting out your last breath of air.”  He glared at the group.  “And by the way, one finger isn’t going to greenlight ya this go around, so you better get ready to start cutting yourself into pieces.”

A wave of terror came over Tim when the sawblade began turning.  He was mentally exhausted from being on an emotional roller coaster ride.  Over a short period of time, he experienced a wave of emotions, flip-flopping between being confused, angry, horrified, frightened, timid, aggressive, and submissive.  He felt numb inside.  He needed to make a choice; lie down and die, or fight to survive.  Then a new feeling came over him, antipathy for Elmer.  Fueled with resentment, he decided he wasn’t going to give Elmer the satisfaction of seeing him beg anymore, regardless of if he lived or died.

He took the pruning shears and snipped off his ring ringer and middle finger.  He sneered at Elmer as he stuck them into the pipe.

Elmer laughed when Tim’s amber light came on.  “It’s gonna take more than that, you fuckin’ asshat.”

A feeling of disbelief gripped him, then he began to panic, not knowing how many fingers he needed to cut off.  In an act of desperation, he started to snip off his index finger and thumb, then thought about what he would do after that.  He only had so many fingers.  That realization scared the shit out of him, realizing he needed to use larger body parts.  Mentally he went into a downward spiral.  He began jerking at his collar and legs again as he had done the first time.  He quickly caught his composure, knowing he needed to act before the saw sounded its buzzer.  There was no way he could bear that much pain again, and he didn’t want to be burned like Charles.  Without thinking, he sliced off his right ear with the knife, then quickly stuck it in the pipe.  His heart seemed to stop when the amber light stayed on.

Joe had been watching to see if the system would accept separate pieces, combining them for the required amount, or if it would need one large item at once.  He yelled at Tim.  “You have to add something larger!  Small pieces spaced out don’t count!”

A wave of horror washed over Tim.  That meant he had wasted two fingers and an ear.  He shouted at Elmer.  “This isn’t fair!  What the fuck am I supposed to do now!?!”

Elmer was leaning against the control panel.  He grabbed his crotch and shook it, suggesting for him to cut off his genitals.

There was no way in hell he was going to cut off his dick and balls.  By now, the machine was approaching his table.  He had only seconds to make a decision.  Without giving it another thought, he jabbed the knife into his thigh and began violently cutting.  The pain was almost too much to bear as he cut out a hockey-puck sized circle.  When he tried to pull out the piece of flesh, it wouldn’t come out of his leg.  He quickly realized he should have angled the knife as he was cutting to sever the bottom of the plug.  In a state of panic, he started prying at the lump of flesh with his knife while working it around.  When he got most of it cut loose, he gripped it with both hands and ripped it out.  He held on to it for dear life, making sure not to drop, as he stuck the piece of meat into the pipe.  Relief overcame him when his green light came on.

Even though he was relieved, he knew he was going to have to do it all over again.  And to make it worse, there were less people, meaning the saw would be returning more quickly.  He wasn’t sure how much more he could take.  He became nauseated as he scrutinized his mutilated body.  It was bad enough his leg was cut in half up to his knee, but the halves were being pulled apart.  He could see the inside of his leg: white bones, ligaments, cartilage, veins, and muscles.  The cuts were smooth and kind of shiny.  His leg reminded him of a science prop designed to show the inner working of the body.  Then he examined his mutilated left hand; it angered him, thinking how he looked like freak sporting only a thumb and index finger.  Then he viewed the hole in his thigh.  He quickly glanced away—the tendons and veins hanging out of it made him nauseated.

Suddenly, he heard an ear-piercing scream.  When he looked, he noticed the saw was perched in the center of Ryan’s crotch.  Oh, my God! he thought, Ryan’s getting it bad.  Being preoccupied with himself, he didn’t see what caused it.  Then Ryan made the same mistake Henry did; he grabbed at the blade in a desperate attempt to stop the pain.  The blade mutilated the majority of his hands.  To his disbelief, Ryan did the unexpected; he shoved his head into the blade, instantly killing himself.  When the saw backed away, he remained in the sitting position with his head hanging down.  As the chain held him in the forward leaning position, brain matter oozed from his mutilated cranium.

A petrifying sensation of terror completely overtook Tim’s mind.  Henry, Jason, and Ryan were dead, and Charles was on the verge of death.  From the outset, he had foreseen that the game would be twisted, but he had never fathomed it would reach such levels of brutal intensity.  He thought about killing himself and getting it over with.  Waiting until the saw was on the furthest end would be the best, he thought.  That way it wouldn’t have time to get to him and cut him like it did Jason.  He scrutinized Elmer.  He wasn’t paying attention as he played on his phone.  What a fuckin’ prick, he thought. People are dying, and this asshole is goofing off.  Wait a minute, he thought, Elmer was supposed to be on suicide watch.  He took his knife and started to cut his wrist while keeping an eye on Elmer.

About that time, he heard Charles screaming.  He looked over and noticed the saw was cutting up one of his legs.  He was just lying there, and it appeared he didn’t even try to feed the pipe.  His body must be in shock from being burned, or he must have simply given up, he thought.  The blade didn’t stop until it reached his hip.  Tim knew there was no way Charles was going to survive much longer.  He now only had two competitors left, Joe and Beth.  Elmer referred to this as a game, but it seemed more like some twisted way just to mentally fuck with everyone.  Just like with the hooks pulling his leg apart.  The hooks weren’t done to prevent anyone from escaping.  They were done for psychological torture.  He stared at his leg.  Who wouldn’t be grossed out by that, he pondered.  The entire setup, from the saw’s programming to feeding the tube with increasing portions of body parts, only strengthened his theory it was all about mental anguish. 

Now that he realized this was about psychological torment, he began to contemplate if it was worth the extra mental and physical pain to win this so-called game.  They would probably kill him anyway if he somehow managed to outlast everyone else.  Either way, he decided to see what the others were going to do first, and he could probably endure another round if need be.

When he looked over at Joe and Beth, he couldn’t believe his eyes.  Joe had cut off his left hand.  What a dumbass, he thought, now he only has one hand.  He also knew having only one hand would make it difficult for him to cut off something else, giving him an advantage during the next round.  As the saw past by Joe, heading for Beth, Tim noticed she was frantically cutting at one of her legs.  Right before the saw got to her, she rolled off the table.

Tim’s eyes grew huge as saucers as he yelled at Joe.  “How in the fuck did she get loose!?!”

“She cut off her legs.”

“How did she get through the bone?”

“She jabbed them with the knife until they broke.”

“Where is she?”

“Sitting next to the table on the floor.  She can’t go anywhere because of her chain.  But it looks like she’s trying to pick the lock with the knife.”

Elmer overheard their conversation and stood up.  “Well, I be damned!  I didn’t see that coming.”  He glared at Tim.  “Looks like I might win the bet after all.”

Tim knew he had to do the same thing.  With the saw at the other end, he had plenty of time, so he grabbed his knife and started to cut into his upper leg.

Elmer observed what he was doing and yelled at him.  “Hold up!  Are you trying to kill yourself!?!”

Tim shook his head.  “No.  I’m gonna cut off my legs.”

“You can’t do that.  That would be considered a suicide attempt and I will have to engage the execution mode.” 

“Chill out, dude, I’m not trying to kill myself.”

Elmer shut off the saw, then strolled over to him.  “Don’t call me dude.  And it will kill you if you cut into an artery.”

“I’m not going to do that.”

“Apparently, you didn’t take anatomy in high school.  You can’t cut off your fuckin’ leg without cutting arteries, you dumbfuck.”

“You didn’t have a problem with Beth doing it.”

“I didn’t catch her in the act.”

“I think you’re trying to cheat.  Seth has already warned you about that.”

A look of guilt came over Elmer.  “I, uh…  You know what, just do what the fuck you want to do.”

Tim injected himself with another adrenaline shot so he wouldn’t pass out from the pain.  Right before he started to cut into his leg, Joe yelled out, “She’s dead!  Don’t do it, Tim!”

He glanced at Joe.  “What?”

“She bled out.”

Tim peered at Elmer.  “Did she not have the clotting agent?”

“Of course, she did.”

“Then why in the fuck did she bleed out?”

He shrugged his shoulders.  “I guess because she was a stupid cunt.”

“Can you be serious for once?”

Joe motioned to Tim.  “Hey!”

He glanced at him.  “What?”

“Maybe the clotting agent doesn’t work on the larger arteries.”

“My leg is cut all the way to my knee and I’m not bleeding that much.”  He thought for a moment.  “Fuck, I know why.  My leg was cauterized by the blade.”  A wave of relief came over him, knowing he would have bled out if he cut off his legs.

Elmer grinned wickedly as he shook his finger at Tim.  “See, you were trying to kill yourself.  Prepare to die, asshole!”

Tim’s eyes opened wide.  “Hold up!  I changed my mind!  I’m not doing it!”

“Rules are rules, fuckhead.  I get to execute your ass now, boy!”

A petrifying sense of terror came over Tim.  “Please don’t do it!  I’m begging you!”

Elmer was smiling like a possum eating shit, and when he turned to head toward the control panel, he tripped over the tracks and slammed his head onto the concrete, knocking himself unconscious.

Mind Incarceration

Elmer could feel his head pounding as he awoke.  The impact knocked off his beer hat and his I.V. bags fell out of their holder.  He examined each side of his neck as he lay on the floor to ensure the catheters hadn’t been jerked out.  When he caught his composure, he sat up, put his I.V. bags back in their holders, then put the hat back on.  When he stood to his feet, a sharp pain shot through his stomach.  He took a knee, worrying he tore his stitches.

Tim could tell Elmer was injured, and he knew showing concern would work to his benefit.  “Are you all right, man?  Is there anything I can do?”

Elmer glared at him as he held his stomach.  “Fuck you, you little bastard!  You’re really gonna get it now!”

“Hold up!  I didn’t cause you to fall.”

“Fuck if you didn’t.  You got me all sidetracked and shit.  And now I’m going to make sure the saw cuts you into pieces, starting with your fuckin’ dick.  You’re going to be in so much pain that….”  Elmer’s phone rang.  He noticed it was Seth again.  He quickly answered.  “Hold on a minute, boss, let me get to a place where I can talk.”  He eased off to the side so no one could hear him.  “Yes sir…  Sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on hold…  I know I’m your bitch...  It won’t happen again…  I was just messing with him…  I’m not trying to cheat you out of your money…  I’m not lying…  I’m sorry…  I know…  Oh!  Okay…  I will…  Sorry, boss…  Hello, are you still there?”  Elmer put his phone in his pocket.  “Fuck me runnin’!”  He glared at Tim.  “Now Seth is mad at me again.  He said I deserved to bust my head on the concrete.  He said if he was here, he would have done it himself.  You got me in trouble, you little prick.”

A wave of relief washed over Tim.  Seth’s call would not only prevent Elmer from cheating, but with Charles on his way out, and Joe being the only competition left, winning the game now seemed possible.

Elmer’s face contorted into a mask of hatred as he fixed his angered gaze on Tim.  “I know what you’re thinking, you fuckin’ punk.  But you’re still going to cut yourself apart, and I get to watch.”  He marched toward the control panel.

Tim knew he needed to get something into the pipe quickly, but what, he pondered?  As he examined his body, his eyes traveled to his mutilated leg.  With the lower portion of his leg destroyed, it made sense to take something from it, but he couldn’t reach too far past his knee.  Then his kneecap crossed his mind.

Elmer grinned mischievously as he started the saw.  “Fuck you, bitch!  You’re gonna pay now!”

Tim wailed in agony as he sliced open the skin across the top of his knee.  He retched as he pulled the flesh apart, exposing the white bone.  He tightly grasped his kneecap and pulled back on it, but it didn’t budge.  How is this fuckin’ thing attached, he questioned?  After cutting away more skin, he noticed there were tendons connected to it.  He wasn’t expecting that.  He started cutting into them, but the pain became so overwhelming he paused.  As he sat gazing at his leg, he now contemplated if he could even do it.  Then he heard Elmer heckling like a hyena in the background.  Fury swept through the core of his being as he wailed, “Fuck you, slimeball!”  Without further delay, he began cutting at the tendons with the knife.  Within seconds, he was holding his kneecap.  He shoved the bone into the pipe, and when his green light illuminated, he shouted, “How you like them apples, you demented fuck!?!”

As soon as the saw reversed and began heading for Charles, Tim decided to have the next item ready.  Even though his leg was split from his foot almost to his knee, the upper portion of his tibia, the epiphysis, was still in one piece since the sawblade didn’t reach that far.  He jammed his knife into the top of his tibia, then worked it around, snapping the epiphysis in half.  Now his tibia was in two complete halves from his ankle to his knee.  Next, he severed all the tendons and ligaments on one of the halves, then he began twisting the bone to tear the tendons at the other end of his leg.  When it pulled loose, his eyes grew huge as saucers.  Dangling from the end of his halved tibia were a cluster of smaller bones and their attaching ligaments.  He scrutinized his foot as it lay split in two and noticed the majority of the bones had pulled loose from his mutilated ankle.  At that moment, he knew he was going to outlast the other two.  Not only did he have several more rounds in his hand, but he still had the other half of his tibia remaining in his leg.  His leg being cut in half turned out to be a big advantage.  Not only did it provide him with plenty of items for the pipe, but it was also numb, or at least partially numb, reducing the pain when he cut out his bone.  He glared at Elmer, then raised the split bone into the air as the smaller bones dangled from the end of it.  He waved it like a flag as he grinned like a possum eating shit.  “How do you like me now, dickhead?  I’m gonna win this shit.”  He glanced at Joe.  “You’re fucked now, boy.  You might as well go ahead and give up.”

Joe didn’t respond as he stared in disbelief, knowing his fate was doomed.

Tim glared at Charles as he lay on his back while moaning in agony.  “Hey, Charles!  You talked all that shit, but now look at you.”  He changed his focus back to Elmer.  “I bet you’re pissed that you didn’t bet on me.”

Elmer shrugged his shoulders.  “Not really.  It’s only money.  And besides, after getting to spend this quality time with you and seeing who you truly are, I’m glad that you’re going to win.  You really do deserve to live for a very, very long time.  And you deserve the prize.  Seth was smart picking you.”

Tim felt like he was on top of the world.  He started laughing to himself, thinking how messed up it was that he was actually celebrating after all the shit he’d gone through.  My God!, he thought, I’m holding my fuckin’ leg bone.  But in his new world, a world where normal rules and reasoning didn’t apply, his rejoicing felt justified.

Charles whimpered out a faint groan as the saw cut all the way up to his hip.  He died before the blade retracted.

Joe wept as he held his head down, and it appeared he’d given up.  Elmer stopped the saw, then walked over to him.

Aggravation came over Tim as he tried to eavesdrop.  When he couldn’t detect what was being said, he grumbled, “Hey, what the fuck are y’all talking about?”

Elmer glared at him.  “Don’t fuckin’ worry about it.”

“You need to get that fuckin’ saw started and finish this shit.”  He pointed at Joe.  “That motherfucker needs to die.”

Elmer shook his head.  “Listen here, you arrogant prick, you need to show some fuckin’ respect.  Joe hasn’t done shit to you.  In fact, he’s been trying to help you.”

“Whatever, dude.”

“He could have let you cut off your legs and bleed out, you ungrateful bastard.”

“I don’t give a shit about him or you.  And I don’t know what you two are fuckin’ scheming, but Seth isn’t going to like it.”

“Seth already knows.  He told me what your prize is going to be, and I’m just telling Joe what it is.”

Tim grinned.  “You should be telling me, not that fuckhead.”

Joe exhibited a deadpan expression as he gazed at Tim.  “You don’t have to act like an asshole.  We were all in this together.”

“Whatever.  You’re just jealous because you lost.”

Joe gazed at Elmer with a saddened, but also devious expression.  “At least give me the satisfaction of telling that mouthy prick what his prize is before I go.”

Elmer nodded.  “I think that’s a great idea.”

Tim sported a cocky grin.  “Well, let’s hear it, Joe.”

“They’re going to incarcerate your mind.”

A confused expression came over him.  “What the fuck does that mean?”

“When this is over, they’re going to cut off all your limbs, including your dick and balls.  Then they’re going to cut out your tongue, remove your voice box, bust your ear drums, and rip out your eyes.  You’ll get to live the rest of your life in a nursing home in total silence and darkness, forced to think about how much of a sorry fuck you are.”

As Tim grimaced in terror, a feeling of dread replaced his arrogance as he gazed at Elmer.  “Is he telling the truth?”

“For the most part.”

“Hold up!  I won.  The deal was I get to live.  You can’t do that.”

Elmer laughed.  “You are going to live, dumbass.”

“But you didn’t say anything about doing that to the winner.”

“You knew there was a surprise that went along with winning.”

“You sick son of a bitch!  You had this planned from the beginning.  You played all of us.”

“Just remember this was your fault for molesting your daughter when you’re nothing more than a breathing bag of thoughts.  Keep that flowing through your head as the years go by.  And maybe you will get lucky and live to a ripe old age, you fuckin’ child molester.”

Tim started thinking about the reality of living in total silence and darkness without arms and legs, not being able to communicate, only being stuck with his thoughts.  Horrible thoughts at that.  He desperately wanted to live, but not like that.  He knew what he needed to do.  He had the courage now to take his own life.  He glared at Elmer as he pointed at Joe.  “I haven’t won yet.  He’s still alive.  I want to keep playing.”

Elmer put Joe in a headlock, then shoved a long screwdriver into his eye, sinking it all the way to the back of his skull.  Joe’s lifeless body fell back onto the table as the handle of the screwdriver stuck out of his eye socket.  Elmer turned his gaze to Tim and muttered, “Game over.”

Tim grabbed his knife, and before he could cut himself, Elmer scurried over to him and injected him with a tranquilizer.  The last thing Tim saw was Elmer’s grinning face as his vision faded into darkness.

Million-Dollar Baby

Three months ago in a small town in Kansas, a local woman named Lisa Wilson carried her three-year-old son to the middle of a bridge, then threw him to his death.  A few weeks later, someone paid her million-dollar bail.  When she was released, the judge required her to wear a tracking device.  The next day she disappeared.  The police found her tracking device along with her severed foot in a ditch on the outskirts of town.

Seth’s phone rang.  “Yeah?”

“It’s Barry… I mean Elmer.  I got them in the warehouse like you asked.”

“How many were you able to get?”

“Seven.”

“Good.  I’ll be there in a few days.  Put ‘em on ice until then.”

“Seriously?  That will probably kill them.”

“I didn’t mean ice ‘em literally, you fuckin’ idiot.  I just want you to hold them until I get there.”

Elmer could hear people laughing in the background.  “Where are you at?”

“Offshore fishing in the Gulf.”

“Who’s laughing?”

“I’m with some friends.”

“Friends?”

“Yeah, believe it or not, I do have friends, but don’t worry, you’re still my bitch.”

“Ha ha.  So, what am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

“What I told you to do.”

“If you say so, boss.”

“Stop calling me boss.”  Seth hung up.

Elmer put his phone in his pocket, then looked at a group of people that were tied up along a wall.  “You fuckers are just gonna have to wait a few more days until he gets here.”

A woman’s voice shouted out, “You’re going to fuckin’ hang for this, you little bastard.”  After that comment, angry voices cursed and threatened him.  There were three women and four men.  They were nude and chained to a wall inside an old, abandoned building.  They demanded answers from Elmer, but Seth told him not to say or do anything until he got there.

The building stood isolated in the heart of the desolate West Texas landscape.  All the windows were boarded up, so darkness consumed the inside, except for the immediate area where Elmer set up some twelve-volt lights that were being powered from several deep-cycle batteries.  The building was dusty, cold, and dampness filled the air. 

Aggravation consumed Elmer.  Fuckin’ Seth is goofin’ off while I’m here bustin’ my ass.  Over the last four weeks, Elmer staked out fifteen lowlifes, eventually abducting half of them.  He continued to bellyache in his head.  Seth didn’t do shit but give me a list of names.  I’m doin’ all the fuckin’ work, like I’m his fuckin’ slave.  Out of the fifteen scumbags, he was able to capture seven.  The others were either in prison or couldn’t be located.  That was a lot of fuckin’ work, and I took all the risks.  But now I have to sit here and wait for his ass like I’m incompetent.  What a fuckin’ asshole.  He sighed.  At least I don’t have to wear that fuckin’ beer hat anymore.

The next day, Elmer called Seth again.

Seth answered with a grumble.  “Now what?”

“You sure you don’t want me to do something?  I’m gettin’ kind of bored.”

“Hell no.  You’ll botch it up like you did your last assignment.”

“You still mad at me for killing Joe?”

“You turned that whole escapade into a fuckin’ circus.”

“That was all Tim’s fault.”

“Bullshit.  You were the one that was supposed to be in control, but apparently, I’m going to have to hold your hand.  Now chill the fuck out.  I’ll be there in two days.”  Seth started to hang up, then remembered who he was talking to.  “I hope you’ve been giving them water.”

“Of course, I have.  I’m not an idiot.”

“That’s good.  It would be pointless to do all this if they died from dehydration.”

“See, you don’t have to babysit me.”

“We’ll see about that.  Now hang tight.  I’ll be there soon.”

Elmer put his phone away, then quickly gave everyone some water.

Two days later, Seth arrived around 11 PM.  Everyone remained quiet as they stared at him with uncertainty, but Elmer was excited like a dog that had been left at home all day.  “I’m glad you’re here.  These fuckers have been talking a lot of shit, and it sucks I couldn’t even say anything to them.  Now they’re aggressive.  And I mean real fuckin’ aggressive.  You’ll have your hands full with a few of them.  You should have at least let me talk shit.”

Seth shook his head.  “Why are you so wound up?”

“Sorry.  I’ve been freakin’ bored.  This place is way out in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere.”

“That’s why I picked it.”  Seth noticed Elmer donned baggy white pants, a black tee shirt, a grey jacket with a hoodie, and a red flat-bill hat.  “What the fuck are you wearing?”

“You don’t like it?”

“First off, you look fuckin’ retarded.  Like a wannabe gangster.  A retarded gangster at that.  And who in the hell wears white pants to a bloodbath?”

“I’m not worried about it.  I’ll be watching from a distance.”

“Watching my ass.  You’re going to be elbows deep in the shit… literally.”

Elmer’s eyes opened wide.  “I thought I didn’t have to do that kind of stuff anymore.”

“Where in the hell did you get that idea from?”

“I thought you didn’t….”

A woman’s voice shouted out, “Hey, motherfuckers, don’t act like I’m not here!”

Elmer nodded toward her.  “She’s been a real bitch.”

Seth walked closer to the group and ogled them.  “Y’all ready to get this orgy started?”

The same woman popped off.  “You ain’t touching me, you fuckin’ pervert.”

Seth noticed she looked like white trash.  The type that collected government handouts.  She appeared to be in her late twenties, short, skinny with a flabby belly, red hair, and poor-quality tattoos were scattered throughout her body.  Piercings covered her face and body: they lined her eyebrows and ears, two in her lips, one in her nose, one in each nipple, and three in her bellybutton.  Cold sores riddled her lips, and large boils protruded from the skin around her waist and down the inside of her legs.

Seth lit a cigarette, then blew smoke in her face.  “I wouldn’t fuck you with Elmer’s dick, you nasty bitch.”

“Screw you, asshole!”

After that comment, everyone became unruly, cursing and shouting threats.

Seth grabbed the woman’s face, shoved it back against the wall, then pulled out her left eyeball with his fingers.  He held it up, dangling it by the optic nerve.  “Anyone who makes a fuckin’ peep will also receive an enucleation.”

The building became so quiet, the only sound remaining were crickets and the woman’s weeping.

Elmer shook his head.  “Wow!  These fuckers haven’t been this quiet since they woke up three days ago.”

“We’re not fuckin’ around with this group.  Let’s get the who did what out of the way so we can get this party started.”  Even though Seth had done the original research on the people, he wasn’t sure who was who.  He glanced at Elmer as he nodded toward the redheaded woman.  “Start with this one-eyed bitch.”

Elmer flipped open a notebook.  “This is Kim.  She’s the one who stuck her newborn baby in a dumpster, then got off by claiming she had postpartum depression.  She was locked up in a mental institution.  I enticed the doctor to leave the backdoor unlocked just as you said.”

“I’m glad you were able to get this one.  She was in the top five on my list.”

Seth moved to the next person, a man in his late fifties.  He was tall, slender, bald on top, and his remaining hair was dyed jet black.  His skin was extremely tan and wrinkled, almost leather like, and it was obvious he spent a lot of time outside in a bikini—his shaved crotch was white as alabaster while the rest of his body looked like burnt bacon.  In each ear he sported an earring, and a captive ball ring pierced his left nipple.  Seth shook his head as he scrutinized the man.  “Where in the fuck did you find this guy?  He looks like a fuckin’ pervert.”

“As a matter of fact, he is.  This is Bruce.  He was number eleven on your list.  He was convicted three times for molestation and has spent half of his life in prison.”

“I remember him now.  He just looks different with his tan.”

“And I’m sure being nude don’t help either.”  Elmer glared at Bruce.  “You wanna tell Seth where I found you?”

He mumbled softly as he held his head down.  “I served my time.”

Elmer laughed.  “I’ve been hearing that a lot over the last several days.”

Seth got everyone’s attention.  “Hey, y’all listen up!  I don’t have time for this shit.  Anyone who doesn’t cooperate will have their throat cut.  And that’s after Elmer does some real fucked shit up to you.”

Bruce kept his head down as he muttered, “I was driving my car.”

Elmer’s eyes narrowed.  “No, you weren’t.”

“Well, I was parked at the moment.”

“And where were you parked?”

“On the side of the road.”

“No shit, asshole.  Stop beating around the bush.”

A man at the far end yelled out, “Y’all have no right to do this!”

Seth peered at Elmer.  “Go pull that fucker’s dick off.”

“With what?”

“Your hands.”

“You serious?”

“You didn’t have a problem doing it to Jason.”

“How long you going to be mad at me for that?”

Seth glared at him.  “I’m not telling you again.”

Elmer could tell by Seth’s eyes he wasn’t joking—he’d seen that look plenty of times.  The man shouted at Elmer to stay away from him as he approached.  Elmer grabbed the man’s penis with both hands, then began yanking on it.  The man screamed at the top of his lungs as Elmer stretched his dick several times its length, resembling a game of tug-of-war.  Elmer finally put his foot on the wall for extra leverage, then with all his strength, tore it off at the base.

As blood squired across the floor, Seth tossed Elmer a small pouch.  “That’s a clotting agent.  Put some of that on his pussy.”

“Fuck him.  Just let him bleed out.”

“We didn’t spend all this time rounding them up just so we can let them get off easy.”

“You mean, I spent all my time rounding them up.”

“Don’t start whining.”

Elmer mumbled to himself as he applied the clotting agent to the man’s wound.  “Whatever, dude.  I know the truth.”

When he came back, Seth pointed at his pants.  “You got some peter juice on your chinos.”

Elmer glanced down, noticing several large red stains.  “Son of a bitch!  These cost me a hundred bucks.”

“Cost who a hundred bucks?  I know your ass broke and didn’t pay for them with your own money.  And speaking of money, where’s the rest of it?”

“In the trunk of my car.”

“The next time I send you on an assignment, don’t be using the scumbag funds on clown outfits.”

“It’s not a fuckin’ clown outfit.  And besides, I had to blend in.”

Seth started to respond, but noticed the type of people that were hanging on the wall.  “I see your point.”

Elmer eyed Bruce.  “Hey, tan man, you ready to tell Seth where you were parked?”

After witnessing what happened to the other man, he muttered, “Yeah, I uh…  I was parked in front of a park, and uh…  Yeah, I was parked there.”

“A park?”

“Uh, it might have been a playground.”

“Might have been?”

“Now that I’m thinking about it, it was a playground.”

“Why were you parked there?”

“Just hanging out.”

Elmer glanced at Seth.  “And guess what the fucker was wearing while he was just, hanging out?”

“Probably a dress.”

“I wish.  He only had on a pair of speedos.”

Seth laughed.  “Go figure.”

“At least you didn’t have to drag the nasty bastard out of his car.”

“I’ve done my fair share of shit like that, but that’s what I have you for now.  And as far as this fucker just hanging out, I know exactly what he was doing.  Enough with him, let’s move on.”  Seth strolled over to the next person, a burly man around two-hundred and fifty pounds.  He appeared to be in his mid-forties, sported long, black hair that draped past his shoulders, a thick handlebar mustache, and white-power tattoos covered his body.  “And what the fuck do we have here?”

“This is Scott.  He….”

Infuriated, Scott blurted out, “I’ll fuckin’ kill you if you touch me, you motherfucker!”

Seth flicked his cigarette butt, striking Scott in the face.  “Your left eye, or your dick?”

“You ain’t touching me, prick!”

Seth pushed Elmer forward and growled.  “He said prick, so pull off his fuckin’ dick.”

As soon as Elmer grabbed his penis, Scott shrieked, “No no no!  Please don’t pull it off!  I beggin’ you, man!”

Seth grabbed Elmer’s shoulder.  “Hold up!  He chose his left eye instead!  Rip the fucker out!”

A confused expression came over Elmer as he released his penis.  “I didn’t hear him say that.”

“He said no to his dick, so that must mean he wants his eye ripped out.  Now get that fucker torn out before I lose my patience.”

Elmer shoved Scott’s head against the wall, then thrust his thumb into his left eye.  Scott wailed in agony as intraocular fluid ran down his face.

Aggravation swept over Seth as Elmer worked his fingers around the eyeball.  “You’re fuckin’ it up!”

Elmer glanced over his shoulder.  “What?  I can’t hear you over his screaming.”

“You’re fuckin’ up his eyeball!”

Elmer tore the eyeball lose from its attaching muscles, twisted it until the optic nerve snapped in two, then examined it.  “It looks fine to me.”

“It’s fuckin’ deflated.”

“You want me to rip out his other one?”

Scott’s face morphed into a grimace of terror as he moaned in agony.  “Please don’t do it!  I’ll do whatever you say, man!  I swear!”

Seth laughed.  “Naw, he’ll need it later when he’s muff-divin’.”

Elmer frowned.  “Do I even want to know what that means?”

“Probably not.”

Elmer thumped Scott in the face.  “You ready to tell on yourself, you one-eyed prick?”

Seth lit another cigarette, then took a long drag.  “No need wasting time with this fuckhead.  I remember him from my research.  He’s a habitual rapist.  Let’s move on to the next scumbag.”

They ambled over to a woman, and as she gazed at the floor, her long, black hair hid her face.  She possessed a short stature with a flabby belly and wide hips.

Elmer tapped her on the back of the head.  “Look up, bitch!”

When she raised her head, Seth immediately recognized her gaunt face, sunken eyes, thin lips, and stubby nose.  “Ah, my million-dollar baby.”

“Yep.  This is Lisa Wilson.  But I can’t believe you wasted that kind of money on this bitch.”

“I didn’t.  It was a donation.”

“From who?”

“A crooked judge.  I gave him the choice of paying her bail or having his testicles pulled out through his ass.”  Seth strolled over to the next person, a short and fat Hispanic male with a bald head, long goatee, and covered in Latin King gang tattoos.  “I recognize this punk also.  He’s a rapist like his buddy Scott over there.”

“Yep.  This is Glen Aviles.  Three-time rapist.”

“That’s just how many times the fucker was caught.”  Seth glared at the man.  “Hey, fuckhead.”  Seth pointed toward Scott.  “You know Scott over there?”

“Naw, dog.”

“Y’all didn’t play hide the snake with each other while in the pen?”

Glen just glared at Seth.

“I take it Mr. White Power wasn’t your type?”

“I told you I don’t know the motherfucker.”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t be easy prey like the women you’ve raped.”  Seth glanced at Elmer.  “We need to let him and Scott have a death match when we’re done with them.”

“Like a brown on white thing?”

“No.  More like a rapist on rapist thing.  But the fact they are both haters would definitely spice it up.”  Seth ambled over to the next person.  He noticed she appeared to be in her mid-fifties and exceptionally rough looking.  Her dirty-blond hair was long and unkempt, and wrinkles covered her face, forming a road map that showcased her callous lifestyle.  “Looks like she’s been ridden hard and hung out to dry.”  He glanced at Elmer.  “I’m glad to see you found Maryanne Franko.”

Elmer didn’t know anything about her besides her name and where she was living.  “You were right about her staying at a halfway house in Austin.  So, what did she do?”

“She and her husband ran a foster home back in the late eighties and early nineties.  They molested numerous kids over a ten-year period.  He’s serving a life sentence, but she just got out two months ago.”  Seth handed Elmer an old news article about the Franko’s.

“Wow, this is old.”

“I’ve been waiting for her to get out of prison for a long time.”  Seth strolled over to the man with the missing penis.  “Who’s dickless?”

“This is Chester.  He’s a child rapist.”

“I remember ‘ol Chester the molester.  It was big news a few years ago how this piece of shit got off on a technicality.”

As Chester held his head down sobbing, he muttered.  “You motherfuckers have ruined my life.  Y’all are going to pay for this.”

Seth laughed.  “There’s always one in the group that bitches and moans about their dick, or lack of.”

Aggravation engulfed Elmer as he thought about Seth cutting off his penis.  “That’s not funny.  I know how he feels.”

“Don’t blame me for that shit.”

His eyes narrowed.  “What?  I didn’t cut my own dick off.”

“No, but it was your fault for not doing what you were told.”

“Yeah, but….”

Seth interrupted him.  “Don’t start.  I’m tired of hearing about it.”

“Then you shouldn’t have done it.”

“At least your shit was sewn back on.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not still pissed about it.”  Elmer lifted his shirt, showing a scar that concealed both the explosive and shocking apparatus inside his abdomen.  “And I’m still pissed about this too.”

“We’re not doing this again.”  Seth walked away and stood in front of the group so everyone could see him.  “You men are here because you are either a rapist or child molester, and you will be paying the piper for your wicked deeds.  As far as the women, y’all are here because each of you have done an atrocious act against a child.  I have prepared a special game for all of you that I feel is appropriate in serving justice to those you have harmed.”

As Elmer stood off to the side pouting, he sarcastically popped off.  “He’s been watching the Saw movies, so now he thinks he’s John Kramer.”

“Hey, smartass!  I’ve been doing this way before that shit came out.”

Chester glared at Seth.  “Game?  Who in the fuck do you think you are?”

Elmer sauntered up with a devious expression.  “This is Seth Coker, the great and powerful.  The one and only.  The man above all other men.  The boogieman of boogiemen; AKA, the Angel of fuckin’ Death.”

Seth shook his head.  “I’ve told you to stop saying that kind of shit.”

Elmer laid his hand on Chester’s shoulder.  “But, if you kiss his ass, he might grant you the privilege to have your dick sewn back on.”

Frustration swept over Seth.  “What the fuck has gotten into you today?”

“Sorry, boss.  I guess I’m just one of those bitches that moans too much about what happened to their dick.”

“Don’t forget, I can cut it off again.  In fact, I might give it to Chester since you two seem to be such great pals.”

Elmer shook his head as he marched off.

Overhearing the conversation, Glen exhibited a worried expression.  “Are you really that Death Angel dude?”

“The one and only, as Elmer put it.”

“What are you planning on doing to me?”

“Making you suffer in the most gruesome and sadistic way that a sick and twisted fucker like myself can conjure up.”

Up to this point, everyone had been somewhat docile, most likely due to not knowing Seth identity.  Now realizing their fate, each person reacted in a different way: some were cursing and making threats, some were begging, others were crying.  Seth motioned to Elmer as he stood off to the side sulking.  “Get your ass over here.”

He plodded up.  “What?”

Seth handed him a pair of pliers.  “I want you to pull out everyone’s canine teeth.”

“Why?”

“For starters, because I said to.”  He handed him a paper bag.

Elmer opened it and noticed it contained numerous shiny steel rods.  He pulled one out and examined it, observing it was about a quarter inch in diameter and around an inch-and-a-half long.  Both ends came to a point, with one end also having barbs, and the rod slightly curved.  “What the hell are these for?” 

“Custom made fangs.”  He handed him a small jeweler’s hammer.  “After you pull their teeth, you’re going to hammer those into their open sockets.  The barbs will lock them into the bone.  Also, make sure you install them so they curve outwards.  Otherwise, they won’t be able to close their mouths.  When you get done, each one will have four new fangs; two on top and two on bottom.”

Elmer stood dumbfounded.  “Are you being serious?”

“Yes.  Get to it.”  Seth began to walk away.

“Where are you going?”

“Don’t worry about it.  Stop jawing and get the shit done.”

Werewolves from Hell

A few minutes later, Seth came back pushing a cart full of tools and parts as moans of agony filled the inside of the building.  It seemed he’d walked through a portal and into the depths of hell.  Seth noticed Elmer was showing no mercy as he pulled teeth and drove in the rods.  Glen screamed at the top of his lungs as Elmer worked on him.  Kim, Bruce, Lisa, and Scott wept as blood and saliva dripped from their chins as their new fangs protruded from their mouths. 

While Elmer did his thing, Seth began mounting D-rings to the concrete floor with a cordless hammer drill and anchors.

Ten minutes later, Elmer strolled over to Seth.  “I got all their teeth done.”

“Good.”  Seth glanced over toward the group as the hung on the wall, then chuckled when he observed their long fangs protruding from their mouths.  “They look like a bunch of werewolves.”

“More like werewolves from Hell.”

“Yeah, they do.”  Seth pointed to a duffle bag.  “There are some heavy-duty zip ties in there.  Go tie all the men’s hands behind their backs.  And make sure you use several zip ties.  I don’t want the fuckers getting loose.”

Elmer noticed Seth was securing chains and shackles to the D-rings that were mounted on the floor.  “What are you doing?”

“What the fuck does it look like I’m doin’?”

“Are you planning on moving everyone over here?”

“Yeah, once you get them ready.  Stop jawing and go tie ‘em up.”

A few minutes later, shouting and cursing erupted.  Seth observed Elmer was struggling with Chester as he tried to secure his arms.  Chester was chaotically hitting, slapping, and grabbing at him like a crazed maniac.  Elmer became frustrated and started punching him in the face.  After a few blows, Elmer shrieked out, then came scurrying over to Seth while holding his hand.  “Oh, my God!  I accidently punched one of his fangs and gashed open my knuckle.”

Seth shook his head.  “That was fuckin’ stupid.  Why in the hell would you punch him in the face with the grill he’s sporting?”

Elmer exhibited a worried expression.  “What should I do?”

“It’s just a cut.  Chill out.”

“He might have AIDS or something.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he did, considering he’s a pervert.  Hell, he might even have gonasyphilherpeaids.”

His eyes grew huge.  “Oh, shit!  What the fuck is that!?!”

“A combination of gonorrhea, syphilis, herpes, and aids.”

“You made that gonasyphi shit up.”

“Doesn’t mean the nasty fucker doesn’t have it.”

“It’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t laughing.”

“Do you have some alcohol or antibiotic ointment?”

“You’ll be fine.  Stop wasting time and get back over there and finish the job.”

“If I get some fuckin’ disease, it will be your fault.”

“How do you figure that?”

“You told me to tie their hands behind their backs.  I couldn’t do that without unchaining their arms.  You knew I was going to have to fight with these assholes in the process.  I think you did that on purpose.”

“No one told you to fight with the bastard.  That’s your fault.”

“What the fuck would you have done?”

“Schools out.  Go figure it out.”

Anger engulfed Elmer as he cracked Chester in the head with a hammer, knocking him unconscious.  After he tied him up, he did the same thing to the others.  When he was done, he tossed the hammer on the floor by Seth’s feet.  “How do ya like them apples?”

“About as much as you’re going to like what’s in there.”  Seth pointed to a box.

Elmer opened it and noticed it was full of long metal rods that were connected to electrical cords.  He pulled one out, observing the rod was about eight-inches long and about the same diameter as a pencil.  One end was pointed with barbs, and a cable was attached to the other end.  “What the hell is this?”

“A heating element.”

“And what are these for?”

“Weenie roasting.”

“Huh?”

“You’re going to shove one of those in everyone’s dick for motivational purposes.”

“You’re nuts.  I’m not fondling their junk.”

“Not only are you going to do it, but you’re going to wait until they’re awake.”

“I’m not doing it.”

“Fuck if you’re not.”  Seth noticed Glen was awake and glaring back at him with hate-filled eyes.  He pointed at him.  “And you can start with that fucker.  Now get your ass over there before I stick one in you.”

Frustration consumed Elmer as he knelt in front of Glen.  “Can I have some gloves?”

Seth strolled up and stood behind him.  “No.  And by the way.  I want you to stick the tip of the rod into his piss hole, poke through his urethra, then force it down the center of his dick.”

Elmer’s eyes popped open wide.  “What!?!”

“You’re not going to shove it down his piss tube, but down the center of his dick just the way you would do a hotdog on a stick.”

“That’s fuckin’ sick.”

Glen was now fully conscious as he stared down at Elmer.  His fangs were making him slur his words as he shouted, “Oh, hell no!  You’re not gonna do that shit to me!  Do you hear me, you little faggot!  I’ll fuckin’ kill you if you touch me.”

Elmer thought he looked like an angry vampire as he hung on the wall.  “I’m not a faggot.  And you’re awful cocky for someone in your predicament.”

Seth added, “Especially for someone with such a short dick.”  He laughed as he regarded Elmer.  “You know you’re going to have to stretch the shit out of his cock to get the entire rod in.”

Elmer shook his head.  “Seriously?”

“Get to it, pal.  We don’t have all night.”

Glen began moving his hips around as he shouted, “Keep your fuckin’ hands off my dick, you fuckin’ queer!”

Elmer grabbed his dick and jerked down on it.  “Shut the fuck up, asshole.  And stop saying I’m gay.”

“Then let go of my dick!”

Elmer began stretching his penis out of spite.  “I told you I’m not fuckin’ gay!”

Seth shouted over Glen’s screams.  “Don’t rip it off!”

Elmer let go and glanced up at Seth.  “Make up your damn mind.  Do you want it stretched or not?”

“I don’t want you tearing it off.  He’ll need it later.”

Horror overcame Glen when he examined his penis.  It was twice its normal length, the outer skin was ripped in several places, and some of the larger veins were torn in two, creating engorged pools of blood under his skin.  “Oh, my God!  Look what you’ve done to my dick!”  He glared at Elmer.  “You sorry motherfucker!  I’m going to kill you for this!”  He glared at Seth.  “You’re also fuckin’ dead!  You motherfuckers aren’t going to get away with this.”

Seth lit a cigarette and took a long drag.  “Shut the fuck up.  You’re not in any position to make threats, numbnuts.”  He peered at Elmer.  “Shove that rod into his fuckin’ rape stick and move on down the line.  The other assholes are already awake.”

Elmer grabbed Glen’s penis and pulled on it.  He stuck the sharp tip of the rod into the hole, then shoved it in, tearing through the urethra.  Glen screamed at the top of his lungs as Elmer twisted and pushed on the rod, forcing it deeper and deeper through the corpus cavernosum tissue.  When Elmer had five inches of the rod in, he glanced up at Seth.  “I think that’s as far as it will go.”

“I want it all the way.”

“His dick isn’t that long.  Do you want me to stretch it more?”

“No.  Just shove it on through so the end will be in his pelvic region.”  Seth thought for a moment.  “Actually, angle it upwards as you push.  Maybe we can stick the end of it through his prostate.”

Elmer shook his head.  “Where do you come up with this shit?”

“It’s a gift.”

Glen foamed at the mouth and moaned in agony as Elmer shoved in the last three inches.  When Elmer was done, Seth pointed to the electrical cord.  “Take the end of the cord and plug it into the switchboard by the car battery.”

As Elmer stretched out the cord, tears ran down Glen’s cheeks as he gazed at Seth.  He could barely speak, and his voice sounded raspy from screaming.  “Why have you done this to me?”

“Don’t play dumb.  We’ve already went over who did what.”

“But I didn’t kill anyone.  I don’t deserve this.”

“You’re right.  You deserve a lot more.  But don’t worry, that’s coming up later.”

“You have no right to do this to me.  This is cruel and unusual punishment.  I have rights.”

“Save me the liberal bullshit.  You didn’t have any concern for your victim’s rights when you were raping them.”  Seth glanced back at Elmer.  “You got the cord connected yet?”

“Yep.”

“Flip the switch.  I wanna see if it works.”

“Okay.  It’s on.”

A grimace of terror formed on Glen’s face.  “Oh, shit!  My dick is starting to get hot!  What the fuck are you doing!?!”

“Something you’re going to consider even more cruel and unusual.”

“Oh, my God!  I can feel my insides burning.”

“Hopefully, that’s your prostate cooking.”

“Please turn it off!  I’m begging you!”  The pain became so intense, he began vomiting and screaming at the same time.  Seth motioned to Elmer to turn it off, then glanced back at Glen.  “That was just a sample of what’s going to happen if you don’t cooperate.”

Tears flowed from Glen’s eyes as he moaned in agony.  “Please don’t do that again!  I will do whatever you ask, I swear!”

Seth looked at the other men.  “Just so y’all know, the heating element was just starting to heat up.  It will cook your dick from the inside out if left on longer.”  Seth glanced at Elmer.  “Go ahead and get the rest of the heating elements installed so we can get this shit started.”

Elmer strolled up to Chester.  “What about this fucker?  He doesn’t have a dick.”

“Just shove it into his snatch.”

Chester snarled.  “Screw you, motherfucker!”

“I changed my mind.  I want you to stick the rod through his nut sack.”

Chester became so enraged his body turned red.  “I hope you get lung cancer and die a painful death, your evil bastard!”

“And make sure you pierce both of his testicles.  I want to see if they will explode when the heating element boils his nut juice.”

Elmer shook his head as he eyeballed Chester.  “Shut up, you stupid fucker!  It’s only going to get worse if you keep opening your mouth.”

“Fuck him!  And fuck you!”

Confusion came over Elmer as he gazed at Seth.  “What the fuck is wrong with him?  Why is he acting this way?”

“Because he’s in don’t-give-a-shit mode.”

“What is that?”

“It happens sometimes when a person loses all hope, knowing they have no control over their destiny.  Acting out is all they have left.  And being a pervert without a dick is like a pianist without fingers, so I’m sure he feels useless now.”

“Oh.”

Chester’s eyes narrowed as he glared at Seth.  “Fuck you and your smart-ass comments!”

Seth pulled out a knife and sliced Chester in the pubic region a few inches below his belly button, then he reached into the gash and began pulling out veins, causing Chester to wail in agony.  “You’re fuckin’ killing me!  Please stop!  I’m begging you!”

Seth continued pulling out veins and other slimy cords until two dark red, oblong balls came popping out.  Chester exhibited a horrified expression as he looked down.  “Oh, my God!  What are those?”

“Your nuts.”

A wave of disbelief came over Elmer.  “No way.” 

Seth reached back into the gash, then pulled Chester’s empty sack into his pelvic area, turning it inside out.

Elmer grimaced in disgust.  “Why in the hell did you do that?”

“So, he will have two pussies.”

“That’s freakin’ disgusting.”

Chester exploded into a fit of rage.  “You’re a sorry motherfucker!  You’re gonna die for this!”

Seth took a heating element and shoved it through his testicles, then held it out to show Elmer.  “Check it out.  Looks like a shish kabob.”

Even though Chester was in a lot of pain, he didn’t back down.  “You’re gonna pay for this!  Even if you kill me, someone will find out what you did, and you’re gonna get the chair for this, you demented fuck!”

Seth smirked as if he didn’t give a shit.  “Texas hasn’t used the electric chair since 1964.”

“You know what I mean, you fuckin’ prick!”

Seth pulled back on the rod, stretching Chester’s spermatic cords and veins, then drove the end of it into his sternum.  Chester looked as if he was going to vomit as the tension on his spermatic cords created a great deal of pain.  He could barely speak as tears ran down his face.  “I can’t take the pain!  Please make it stop!  I beg you.!  It hurts really bad!  Please make it stop!”

Elmer retched as he peered at Chester.  The sight of veins and cords being pulled from a hole in his pubic area, then stretched to his testicles that were pinned to his chest was too much.  Seth noticed Elmer looked as white as a ghost.  “What’s wrong with you?”

“That’s fucked up what you did to him.  It’s making me sick.”

“Then stop looking at it.”  Seth eyed Chester.  “I’m curious about something; can you feel the rod going through your nuts?”

Chester groaned in agony.  “Yes.  Please put them back in me.  I’m sorry.  I truly am.  I will do whatever you ask.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes.  It’s killing me.  Please put them back in me.  I’m begging you.”

“How bad does it hurt?”

“Please show mercy.  I’ll do whatever you want.  I swear.”

“Does it feel like you’ve been kicked in the nuts?”

He began sobbing like a baby.

“Answer me, or I’m going to rip some more shit out of you.”

“It’s fuckin’ painful.  Like my insides are being pulled apart.”

“Cool.  But can you feel your nuts also?”

“It’s all burning, like it’s on fire.”

Seth glanced at Elmer.  “Grab another rod and shove it up through his perineum.  And make sure you push it in deep enough so his bladder will be punctured.  If we can get his piss to boil, his bladder might explode along with his nuts.”

When Elmer came walking up with a heating element, Chester began to panic.  “Please don’t do that to me!  I’ll cooperate!  Please show mercy!”

Seth laughed.  “Now he’s in survival mode.”

As Elmer shoved in the rod, Seth strolled over to Glen.  He knelt in front of him, then started slicing around the top of his nut sack with a knife.  Chester and Glen’s screams were echoing in unison as if they were singing a duet—a duet from hell.  A few minutes later, Elmer came over to Seth, then stood dumbfounded as he watched Seth pull Glen’s severed ball sack over his bald head.  “What the hell?”

Seth stood back, then laughed as he looked at the pubic hairs that were sparsely scattered all over his head.  “Kind of looks like a wig, but for assholes.”

Elmer heaved when he glimpsed Glen’s testicles as they dangled by their spermatic cords between his legs.  “Why did you do that to him?”

“The fucker just rubs me the wrong way.”

Tears drizzled down Glen’s face as he wept.  “I didn’t do anything to you.  Why have you done this to me?”

“Payback for being a rapist.”

“I was falsely accused of that.”

“I’m sure you were.”

“Don’t you have any mercy?”

“I have shown you mercy.”

“How do you figure that?”

“You could be like ol’ Chester the dickless molester.”

He scrutinized the rod hanging out of his penis.  “This isn’t merciful.”

“Hey, I’m just taking a move out of your playbook, pal.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, since you didn’t have a problem violating others against their will, you shouldn’t have a problem with what I’m doing.”  Seth glanced at Elmer.  “When you get done inserting heating elements in Scott and Bruce, drag everyone over to the chains.”  Seth handed Elmer a piece of paper with a hand-drawn sketch.

Elmer scrutinized it for a moment, then frowned.  “Why are you showing me this perverted shit?”

“It’s how you’re going to secure everyone to the floor.”

“Are you fuckin’ serious?  This is sick.”

“Yes, I’m serious.  And when you get done, come get me.  I’ll be in the truck taking a nap.”

“Taking a nap?  That’s fucked up.  I’m sleepy too.”

“I’ve been awake for two days, so stop being a whiny ass.”

Aggravation consumed Elmer as Seth walked off.  He was left to do the dirty work by himself again. 

Smokin’ Hot Lube

A couple of hours later, Elmer knocked on the window of the truck.  Seth sat up and glanced at his watch, then opened the door.  “What took so long?”

“It was a pain in the ass doing that by myself.”

“Don’t start whining.”  He noticed Elmer’s face and arms were scratched up.  “Looks like you got your ass kicked.”

“You think?  Those bitches are crazy.”

“I don’t understand why you make shit so difficult.”  Seth nodded.  “Let’s go inside.  I wanna see how much fun everyone is having.”

“I’m warning you now; the women are pissed and freaking out.”

“What about the men?”

“Still in shock.  Except for Bruce.  I think he’s actually turned on.”

“I’m sure.”  When Seth walked into the building, he erupted into laughter when he noticed everyone’s facial expressions as they were being chained on the floor in a disturbing and twisted fashion.  The women were on their backs and their legs were being forced in a bent knee, spread eagle position.  Bruce, Scott, and Glen were secured in an all-fours position between the women’s legs where they faced their crotches.  The men’s hands were sewn to the sides of the women’s hips with thick, black thread that outlined their entire hands and fingers.  Glen’s testicles were still dangling between his legs by their spermatic cords, and his hairy ball sack covered the top of his head.  All three men had heating elements hanging out of their penises and the cables were connected to a common switchboard connected to a car battery.

Chester was standing behind the other men while wearing a tool pouch filled with sex toys.  A long chain ran from a thick collar around his neck to an anchor in the floor, which allowed him to move around freely.  His left hand was sewn to his butt cheek, but his other one was left free.  The heating elements were still sticking out of his body; the one pinning his testicles to his chest, and the one shoved into his perineum.  The wiring from his heating elements ran to a separate switch and battery located outside the perimeter of his chained area.

The women were shouting curse words and threats as the men whined and cried about their penises.

Seth got everyone’s attention.  “Listen up!  Since you fuckers are the lowest form of human scum, I have come up with something very special for y’all.”

Up to this point, Maryanne hadn’t said a word since Seth arrived, but rage now consumed her.  “You have no right to do this to me, you perverted bastard!”  She jerked her hips around as much as her restraints allowed as she peered down at Glen.  “Get this fucker away from me!”

Her jerking around caused the stitches in Glen’s hands to radiate with pain.  He headbutted her between the legs as he bellowed, “Stop moving! You’re tearing my stitches!”

She snapped back.  “Don’t you fuckin’ touch me, you sick fuck!”

“I don’t have a choice!  My hands are sewn to you, you stupid bitch!”

“I’m talking about your head, asshole!  Keep it away from my crotch.”  She glared at Seth.  “You’re a demented bastard!  I’m going to make sure you fry for this!”

Seth strolled over to her while smoking a cigarette.  “I doubt that, you fuckin’ child molester.”  He then noticed Scott was vomiting as his chains secured him between Lisa’s legs.  “What’s wrong, pal?  Do you not like pussy?”

Exhibiting a look of repulsion, he glared at Seth as he dry heaved.  “She fuckin’ shit all over the floor.  Please cut me loose.  I will do whatever you ask.”

“I can’t believe a tough guy like you would have such a weak stomach.”

“This is fuckin’ gross!”

“If you think that’s gross, you’re really going to hate what’s coming up.  And besides, I figured a dirtbag like you would be getting off on this.”

“You’re a sick fuck.”

“That really means a lot coming from a rapist.”

“Fuck you, asshole!”

Seth peered at Chester.  “Grab the big, black dildo and fuck Scott in the ass.”

Chester’s eyes grew huge.  “I…  Uh…  That’s fuckin’ nasty.  I ain’t doing that.”

Seth glanced at Elmer.  “Make the fucker do it.”

“He’s right.  That’s fuckin’ gross.”

“Either he does it, or you will.  Your choice.”

Elmer marched over to Chester’s switchboard.  “Get after it, prick, or I’m going to cook your innards.”

“You’re going to have to kill me before I do that to a man.”

Elmer chuckled.  “Like you didn’t ass rape dudes in prison.”  He turned the rheostat to fifty percent.  “But suit yourself, asswad.”  He flipped a button labeled nut stick.”

Chester fell to his knees as he screamed at the top of his lungs, and when grabbed the heating element sticking out of his chest, a sizzling sound emanated from his hand.  He quickly released it, and when he examined his hand, he observed steam rising from a sticky, white substance.  “What the fuck!?!”  Horror came over him when he realized the substance was sperm that boiled out of his testicles.  As the heating element continued to heat up, burning his chest, he fell to his side and began wailing, “Oh, my God!  Please stop!  I’ll do whatever you want!”

Elmer shut off the unit.  “I only had the temperature set at fifty percent, so you better do what you’re told.”

Chester began weeping.  “You burned my testicles.”

Elmer laughed.  “It’s not like you’re going to need them anymore.  And besides, your ass isn’t going to make it out of here alive anyways.  None of you fuckers are.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“Then you might as well just go ahead and kill me.”

Seth knew the importance of hope.  He could force them to participate, but making them fight for their lives would be more exciting.  “Listen up everyone.  Elmer is full of shit.  There is a chance for one of you to get out of here alive.”

All the men displayed wide eyes as they gazed at Seth.

“But you’re gonna to have to dig deep inside yourself to find the courage and strength to do so.  You’ll need to go into survival mode and unleash your inner savage if you want to prove you’re stronger than your opponent.  Only one of you will get to live.  The others will suffer the greatest pain imaginable before being subjected to a horrifying death.”

Kim and Lisa both spoke at the same time.  “What about me?”

“No, y’all are…”  Seth thought for a moment.  “You know what; if any of you are still alive when this is done, then sure, I’ll give you a chance as well.”  Seth glanced at Chester.  “By the way, I didn’t forget about Scott’s ass plowing.”  He made a fist, then stroked it with his finger.  “Get after it or I will have Elmer cook your guts.”

With one hand sewn to his butt cheek, the large dildo kept bending as he tried to shove it into Scott’s anus.  “Can you cut my other hand loose?  I need to use both of my hands to get it in.”

“Keep working at it.  It’ll pop in there.”

“This is fuckin’ sick.”

“What’s sick is watching a dickless man with fangs tryin’ to ass fuck another one-eyed fanged man with a big black dildo.  And besides, I’m sure you’re secretly getting off on this.”

“I’m not gay!”

“Maybe not, but you sure do like to fuck little kids.”

“You don’t know shit!”

“I know more than you think, pervert.”

As Chester poked at Scott’s anus, Scott threw his ass around while shouting, “Get the fuck away from me, you fuckin’ faggot!”

Chester finally became frustrated and lowered the dildo.  “It won’t go in.”

“Then put some lube on it, dumbass.”

Chester spit a big loogie on the dildo.

Seth laughed.  “That’s not what I had in mind.  You have a bottle of lube in your tool pouch, but that works too, I suppose.”

With little effort, the lubricated dildo slipped into Scott’s anus.  A wave of revulsion came over Chester as he began thrusting the sex toy back and forth.  “How long do I have to do this?”

“Until further notice.”

“This is fuckin’ disgusting.”

Seth laughed when he noticed Scott’s facial expression.  “It looks like you’re enjoying that.”

“You’re going to pay for this.  Even if you kill me, my brothers will hunt you down.”

“Brothers?”  Seth thought for a moment, knowing Scott didn’t have any siblings.  “Oh, you’re talking about you’re motorcycle gang.”

“That’s right, motherfucker.  Those dudes will find your ass and make you wish you were never born.”

Seth pulled out his cell phone and began recording him.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Getting a close up of you being butt fucked so I can send it to your club.”

“You’re so dead and don’t even know it.”

“I’m also going to stick this video on the internet and label it, The Human Cock Glove.”

“Screw you, dude.”

Seth glanced at Chester.  “Scott said he wants to be screwed, so use the drill on his ass.”

Chester removed the dildo and stuck it back in his tool pouch, then pulled out a cordless drill with a large knobby shaft.  “You sure?  This will tear him apart.”

“No.  I was just wanting to hear myself talk.”

“You don’t have to be a smartass.  I was just making sure.”

Seth pointed at Scott’s rear end.  “Get to it, pervert.”

With his left hand sewn to his own butt cheek, Chester sat the drill on the floor, then pulled a bottle of lube from the pouch with his free hand.

“Use the red bottle.”

Chester pulled it out and noticed the label incorporated flames with the name, Smokin’ Hot Ass Lube.  “What the hell is this?”

“Just what it says.  Squirt that shit on there and get after it.”

Scott tensed up when Chester shoved the knobby shaft into his ass.  When he started the drill, the knobs created so much vibration that the flabby skin on his buttocks jiggled like Jell-O.  A few minutes later, Scott began screaming as smoke poured out between his anus and the shaft.  A searing pain coursed through him, as if a fire consumed his very core.  Struggling with all his might, he fought to break free, but his knees were bound by unyielding chains, and his hands were cruelly stitched to Lisa's hips.

Chester held his head back to keep the fumes from burning his eyes.  “What the fuck is going on?  Why is it smoking?”

“The ass lube contains lye, calcium chloride, and a few other compounds, and it’s creating a chemical reaction to the moisture inside his body.”

Scott grimaced in agony as he wailed, “Please make him stop!  It’s burning me really bad!”

A moment later, it became difficult for Chester to hold onto the drill with one hand.  “Something is wrong.  The shaft is starting to bind up.”

“The chemical is drying out his ass.  Make sure you don’t….”

Suddenly, Chester lost his grip when the shaft seized to Scott’s colon.  With the trigger locked in the on position, the drill continued to spin around and around as Scott wailed at the top of his lungs. 

Seth pointed at the drill.  “Dammit!  I was going to say don’t let go of it.”

Chester shrugged his shoulders.  “Now what?”

“Grab the damn thing.”

The handle of the drill wacked his hand as he reached for it.  “It’s knocking the fuck out of me, and the smoke is burning my eyes.”

“I don’t give a shit.  Grab the motherfucker.”

“I only have one hand, smart guy.”

“Don’t sass me.  Just do it.”

In one swift motion, Chester lunged forward and secured the drill between his elbow and the side of his body.  After the initial jerk, the drill became stationary as Scott’s anus began rotating.  “Oh, shit!  His ass is spinning.”  About that time, a two-foot section of intestines came falling out of Scott’s rear.  Chester tossed the drill on the floor, then spun around and vomited.

Scott displayed a grimace of terror as he looked back at the bloody, shit-covered piece of organ as it flopped around on the end of the drill.  “Oh, my God!  What have you done!?!”

Seth sauntered to his backside.  “It appears your ass has been ripped out, pal.”

“Oh, fuck!  This is bad!  Please call an ambulance!”

“For what?”

“So, the doctors can put it back in me.”

“That’s going to be the least of your problems.”  Seth peered at Elmer as he pointed to the piece of intestine.  “Get rid of it.”

Elmer picked up the drill and turned it off, then slung it like a lacrosse stick, dislodging the intestine from the shaft.  The piece of organ flew through the air and landed across the building.  Scott exhibited a horrified expression as he glared at Elmer.  “Why did you do that!?!  Please go get it!”

“I ain’t gettin’ shit.”

Scott gazed at Seth with a look of trepidation.  “Please go get it so I can have it put back in me.  I won’t be able to live a normal life without it.”

“Look around you idiot.  Does it look like I’m worried if you can shit right after we’re done here?”  Seth lit a cigarette.  “But, if you’re the last man standing, I’m sure the doctors will give you a colostomy bag.”

“I can’t wait that long.  I need medical treatment now.  I’m probably hemorrhaging internally.”

“I doubt that, but I’m sure your abdomen is being filled with shit.  I would be more worried about infection.”

A worried expression came over him.  “You can’t do this to me.  Please get me some help.”

“Stop whining and take your medicine.”

“I don’t deserve to be treated like this.  This is inhumane.”

“Oh, really?  A rapist worried about how he’s being treated.  If you say another word, I’ll have Elmer cut off your balls.”

He started to speak, then looked down.

Muff Divin’

Everyone remained quiet after seeing what happened to Scott, except for Bruce, the man with the dark tan.  Bruce came across as one of the weaker men in the group and seemed to be in pain as he sat chained between Kim’s legs.  Seth strolled over to him as he whimpered.  “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I need your help.”

“Do you need a proctocolectomy too?”

“No, sir.  I have a bad back.  I’m starting to hurt really bad.”

“And what do you want me to do about it?”

“Can you reposition me?”

“Uh, no.”

“How much longer are you going to keep me like this?”

“Until the game is over.”

“What game?  What am I supposed to do?  I’ll do whatever you want if it gets me out of this position.” 

Being the most aggressive person in the group, Glen scowled as he glared at Bruce.  “Shut the fuck up.  I’ll ask the questions around here.”  He eyed Seth.  “These fuckers don’t stand a chance against me.  Tell me what to do so I can get this shit over with.”

“It’ll be your favorite things.”

“And what the fuck would that be?”

“Being cruel, domineering, demeaning, and violent.  You know, being a rapist.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You get to force yourself one more time on an unwilling participant.  You get to eat Maryanne’s pussy… literally.”

Up to this point, the women remained somewhat quiet.  Now they were becoming enraged.  Maryanne growled in anger.  “Is this some kind of sick fantasy of yours?”

“Hmm.  Let’s see.  Getting to watch rapists, molesters, and child killers mutilate each other.  Yep, I think we can call that a fantasy of mine.”

Kim raised her head and glared at Seth with her one eye.  “You’re just a fuckin’ pervert.  Doing this is just a way for you to get off.  I bet you enjoy watching women get violated.”  She scrutinized the men as they sat on their knee between the women’s legs.  “You’re no different than these bastards.”

“I don’t think you get what’s going to happen.”

“I heard what you said.  You’re going to let these perverts eat our pussies, as you put it.  That just proves you’re a sick fuck.”

“Literally.”

“What?”

“You left out literally when referring to eating pussy.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Bruce is going to literally eat your snatch.  Why do you think he’s sporting such a cool set of fangs?”

She looked confused.  “What are you saying?”

“He’s going to eat your female organs from your clit to your ovaries and all the shit in between.”  He glanced at the men.  “And that includes the vagina, cervix, uterus, and fallopian tubes for the assholes that missed anatomy.  And I mean swallow every piece, including any puke that you vomit up.”

The men began freaking out and stating they weren’t going to do it.  Seth pointed at Chester.  “Dickless’ job is to force you to do it.  If he doesn’t, Elmer will boil his piss until his bladder explodes.”  Seth peered at Chester.  “Do you think you can handle that?”

He quickly nodded.  “Yes, sir.  I will do whatever you ask if you don’t hurt me anymore.”

“See, he knows how to play the game.”  Seth peered at the other men.  “The first man to rip out and eat every piece of the female reproductive system, and I mean every fuckin’ piece, gets to move on to the next round with Chester the molester and any women that survive.  The other two men will have their penises cooked from the inside out, their balls filled with air until they explode, and their intestines ripped out.  After that, Elmer gets to do some freestyling with them since he needs to hone his skills.”

Everyone began shouting and screaming, except for Chester.  Even though his body had already been mutilated, he was glad he didn’t have to partake in Seth’s demented pussy-eating contest.  Keeping an eye on his penis lying on the floor, he figured it could be sewn back on if he survived the sadistic game.  He realized his position gave him the best chance of winning, knowing if he played along, there would only be one opponent left.  He wasn’t worried if any of the women survived.  He could easily overpower them, he concluded.  He was also planning on cheating.  He knew he could easily eliminate Bruce since he was the weakest of the men, but if it appeared Scott or Glen was going to win, he planned on energizing their heating element.  Cooking their dick wasn’t going to give him an advantage, but he knew the heating elements protruded into their lower abdomen.  He could do some serious internal damage, which would give him the advantage he needed.

As everyone freaked out, Seth shouted at the men.  “Y’all can do this the easy way or the hard way.  If I was you, I would man up and do what I needed to do to survive.  Find your fuckin’ inner savage.  I know each one of you has it in you.  You fuckers are pure evil.  The most ruthless forms of human beings.  The predators of society.  Act like the animal that you are and make these bitches pay for what they did, then collect your reward.”

Glen started pumping himself up.  “I can do it!  I’ll tear this bitch apart!  I’m getting the fuck out of here!”

Elmer strolled up to Seth.  “Nice motivational speech.”

“It was all bullshit, but it will make this into an interesting show.”  Seth motioned to the men, getting their attention.  “I will give you fuckers a break.  The first two men that finish eating everything will get to move on to the next round.”

Realizing he’d have two opponents left, Bruce displayed a worried expression.  “What happens then?”

Glen looked over his shoulder and glared at him.  “Shut the fuck up, punk!  I ask the questions around here.”  He peered at Seth.  “So, what is going to happen when I make it to the next round?”

“Your bravery will be tested.  But I know you have the heart.”  Being condescending, Seth added, “Hell, you’re the most hardcore gangster that I’ve ran across.  You’ll get to go back to your homies and get to brag how you beat the Angel of Death.”

Glen held his head high.  “That’s right, motherfuckers!  I be representin’.”

Elmer chuckled quietly to Seth.  “What a fuckin’ idiot.  The dude’s testicles are hanging between his legs, and he’s wearing his ball sack like a skull cap, yet he’s celebrating how badass he is.”

“I know.  But if it motivates him, so be it.”  Seth glanced at Scott.  “And I know you have it in you too.  Your motorcycle buddies will be polishing your rims after this.”

He wasn’t as enthusiastic as Glen, especially since his anus and part of his colon was ripped out.  “I just want to get out of here so I can go to the hospital.”

“Then find your inner beast and make it happen.”  Seth looked at Bruce.  “You’re what we call the underdog.  But if you’re sick enough to fuck little kids, then you’re sick enough to do this.  I think you’re going to give Glen and Scott a run for their money.”

Now in survival mode, Bruce’s personality transformed from timid to aggressive.  “I don’t give a shit about you or this bitch.  Let’s get this shit over with.”

Seth smiled, knowing the men were now in the right state of mind and prepared to do the unthinkable.  “Sounds like we’re about ready.”  He glanced at Elmer.  “Go ahead and inject the women with the blood clotting agent and adrenaline.”

Elmer strolled up to Lisa with a 60cc syringe with a large needle.  After he pinned her head to the floor with his knee, he stuck the needle into the side of her neck, located her jugular vein, then injected the solution.

When Elmer released her head and stood up, a wave of terror came over her.  “What did you inject me with!?!  It’s burning really bad!  Oh my god!  I can feel it going into my chest!”

Elmer ignored her as he knelt next to Maryanne.  After he injected her, she began freaking out like Lisa.  “Oh fuck!  My veins feel like they’re on fire, and it feels like I’m having a heart attack!  Please make it stop!”

Kim didn’t fight or say a word as Elmer injected her.  When he was finished, she glared at Seth.  “Is this turning you on?  Is your dick hard?  I’m sure you and these other bastards are getting off on this.”

Seth peered at her as he mounted a camera on a tripod.  “First off, this isn’t about sex or sexual gratification.  That would involve being sexually stimulated.  And I can tell you right now I have no interest in a bunch of child murdering bitches.”  He glanced at Maryanne.  “Or a fuckin’ child molester.  And the men sure the hell aren’t getting off on this either—their penises have a fuckin’ rod shoved in them.  The last thing on their mind is sex.  This is about vindication and making you pay for your heinous crimes against innocent children.”

“Bullshit!  You’re setting up a camera, so that tells me you’re doing this because you’re a pervert!”

He adjusted the camera, focusing it on the group.  “I’m gonna record this to make an example out of you.  Once it goes viral, it will be out there for the whole world to see.  And maybe, just maybe, it’ll stop some crazy bitch from harming her kid if she’s thinks I might come for her ass too.”

Maryanne blurted out, “You’re a sick and twisted bastard!  You’re going to hell for this!”

“Maybe, but not before you.”  He glanced at Elmer.  “It’s time for the men to go muff-divin’.”

Elmer peered at Chester.  “You know what to do, asshole, so get to it.”

Apprehension consumed Chester now that Seth changed the rules, allowing two of the men to make it to the next round.  He also knew he needed to find a way to eliminate Scott and Glen to increase his odds of winning the sadistic game.  He marched up behind the men and shouted, “You fuckers get to eating, or I will burn off your fuckin’ dicks!”

Seth turned on a boom box and began playing the song Candy Licker by Marvin Sease.

Glen was the first one to dive in, sinking his fangs into Maryanne’s pussy.  He pulled back, stretching her lips until they tore from her body.  She wailed at the top of her lungs as he ripped her apart piece by piece.  As he ravaged her, blood plastered his face as pieces of flesh hung from his long fangs.  Chewing the pieces proved to be difficult and made him gag, so he wound up swallowing them whole.

Scott dove in next.  He plunged his fangs deep into the top of Lisa’s snatch, violently shook his head like a wild animal to tear the skin, then pulled back, ripping off her clitoris and a large piece of her fatty tissue called the mons pubis.  He tried to swallow the bloody lump of flesh, but he bit off too large of a section and it became logged in the back of his throat.  After retching like a cat trying to throw up a hairball, he finally dislodged the chunk of tissue.  Realizing he couldn’t swallow it whole, he began chewing on the rubbery flesh.  He despised seafood, and it reminded him of overcooked calamari soaked in raw blood.  Within a few seconds, he vomited on Lisa’s crotch.

Each time Bruce bit into Kim, his gag reflex provoked a bout of dry heaving.  He continued this process of biting into her followed by gagging.  His fangs eventually punctured so many holes into her crotch, her flesh resembled tenderized meat.

The women were shitting, pissing, and farting as the men ravaged them.  It was an absolute gore fest as screams of agony and the song Candy Licker echoed throughout the building.  Seth plopped down on a stack of wooden pallets, then lit a cigarette as he watched the show.  By now, Glen managed to rip most of the outer flesh from Maryanne’s crotch, leaving her with a large open cavity.  He was turning his head and taking deep breaths as her body produced a horrific odor.  Not only had she defecated and urinated in front of him, but the gases escaping out of her abdomen made him nauseous.  He finally peered at Seth with a troubled expression.  “I don’t know if I can keep doing this, man.”

Seth shrugged his shoulders.  “Whatever, dude.  I’m sure Bruce will be glad to hear you’re quitting since he’s so far behind.”

Glen shook his head.  “This is fuckin’ disgusting.”  He took a deep breath, then buried his face back into her crotch.

Thinking it would give him an advantage, Scott changed his strategy.  Instead of swallowing each piece as he ripped them from Lisa, he was now concentrating on pulling out her internals, leaving them in a pile on the floor to be eaten later.  He’d shredded so much of her flesh, her vagina now hung out of her like a snake.  Originally, Glen appeared to be the one to beat, but as Scott ravaged Lisa like a starving animal tearing into its prey, it now looked as if he could take the win.

Up to this point, Bruce only accomplished ripping off Kim’s labia, the fleshy folds that surrounds the opening of the vagina, but he hadn’t been able to swallow them due to throwing up several times.  As Chester stood behind the men, he worried Glen and Scott were going to make it to the next round since Bruce trailed so far behind.  Originally, he hoped Bruce would be one of the two men so he could take out the other one by cheating, leaving him with the weakest opponent.

Glen pulled out a large piece of Maryanne’s vagina, then began gnawing on it.  When he swallowed the last piece, he raised his head and shouted.  “I fuckin’ did it!”

Seth strolled over to him.  “What are you so excited about?”

Blood, feces, pubic hair, and pieces of tiny flesh completely covered Glen’s face.  “I’m done!  Now get me away from this nasty bitch!”

Seth scrutinized Maryanne’s crotch.  “You’re not even close.  You still have the cervix, uterus, fallopian tubes, and ovaries to go.”

He just gazed at Seth.

“You fuckin’ dumbass.  You didn’t even listen to what I was saying.  There’s more to the woman’s anatomy than just a wet hole for your dick to slide into.”

A confused expression came over him.  “How in the fuck am I supposed to get to that shit?  They’re too deep.”

“If a baby can come out of there, your fuckin’ head can fit.”

His eyes grew huge.  “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, so get in there and rip out the rest of her reproductive organs.”

“But they’re surrounded by bones.”

Seth shrugged his shoulders.  “And?”

“How in the fuck am I support to get past them?”

“You can force her pelvis apart, or you can break it.  You can also go through the pubic region below her belly button, or through her ass.”

The three men displayed horrified expressions as they gazed at Seth.  They really hadn’t thought about how sick it was actually going to be until now.  Glen looked down as he mumbled, “I’m done.  I can’t do it anymore.”

Bruce jumped on Glen’s band wagon.  “I’m also done.”

Scott examined the damage he inflicted upon Lisa, then peered back at Seth.  “She’s gone through enough.  So, you can go fuck yourself.  I’m not doing this anymore.  And if you try to make me, I’ll fuckin’ kill your demented ass.”

“First off, you don’t get to decide when that child murdering bitch has had enough.  Secondly, you’re chained to the floor and your hands are sewn to her hips, so you’re in no position to make threats, you fuckin’ moron.”  Seth knew Scott was in a don’t-give-a-shit mode, meaning he had given up hope, and it appeared everyone’s fight for survival was over.  Now in a state of shock from the brutal assault, the women lay weeping while groaning in agony.

Seth glanced at Elmer.  “Give everyone another round of adrenaline, including the women, then give the men an attitude adjustment.”

After Elmer injected everyone in the neck, he eyed Chester.  “You know what to do.”

Chester knelt next to the switchboard, turned three rheostats to twenty percent, then flipped three switches.  A moment later, the heating elements began burning the men’s penises.  Seth yelled out over their screams.  “The pain will stop when you dive back in.”

Bruce wailed in torment, “Okay okay!  I’ll do it!  Please turn it off!”

Elmer pointed at Kim’s crotch.  “Don’t say it, do it.”

When Bruce sank his fangs into Kim, Elmer motioned to Chester.  “Turn his off.”

Chester turned down the voltage to Bruce’s heating element.  “Done.”

Scott chose to be defiant as he fought the pain.  “Fuck you, assholes!  You can’t make me do it!”

Elmer motioned to Chester.  “Turn his shit all the way up.  We’re going to make an example out of him.”

Chester turned a knob.  Within seconds, Scott began screaming at the top of his lungs as smoke poured out from between his legs.  A sizzling sound could also be heard as his flesh cooked.  Suddenly, a large cloud of smoke came blowing out of the open cavity where his anus had been ripped out, indicating his bladder exploded, filling his abdomen with boiling urine.  A few seconds later he passed out.

When Glen saw what had happened to Scott, he shoved his face into Maryanne’s open cavity, leaving only the back of his hairy, ball sack covered head exposed.  As he fought to get his head in deeper, he couldn’t push past her pubic bones.  Out of desperation, and hoping he could shatter her bones, he resorted to headbutting her.  As he slammed his forehead into Maryanne’s crotch, her body violently flopped around on the floor with each impact as she wailed at the top of her lungs.

A few minutes later, Scott began to stir.  Elmer strolled over to him and kicked him in his ass.  “Get to it, you fuckin’ prick!”

He could barely speak due to the pain radiating from his lower abdomen.  “Just kill me.”  Blood and fecal matter oozed from the gaping hole where his anus was torn out by the drill, and with a ruptured bladder, urine dripped from between the heating element and his penis.

Seth pointed to the box of heating elements.  “Grab two more of those and shove one into each of his kidneys.  I wanna see if we can make them explode too.”

Elmer jammed a rod into each side of Scott’s back, ensuring he penetrated his kidneys, then tossed the end of the wires to Chester.  “Connect those, then crank up the voltage.”

A wave of horror came over Scott.  “Okay okay!  I’ll do it!  Please don’t burn me anymore!”  In an act of desperation, he began ripping the skin from Lisa’s pubic area just below her belly button.  She wailed a bloodcurdling screamed as he tore a face-sized hole into her.  After he ripped out her bladder, he started pulling out her ovaries, then fallopian tubes, followed by her uterus and cervix, piling them next to her severed vagina.  With her female organs now removed, he began gnawing on them.

Glen managed to break Maryanne’s pelvic arch and was working his head deep inside her.  He latched his teeth onto her uterus, then with all his strength, began pulling back.  Suddenly, his head popped out of her open cavity followed by a chain of slimy organs of different colors.

The race was on.  Glen and Scott were devouring the organs as if it was a pie eating contest.  Their entire heads and the inside of the women’s legs and their lower bodies were covered in blood, body fluids, feces, and torn pieces of flesh.

By now, Bruce managed to rip out most of Kim’s vagina, but he was still trailing far behind the other two men.  He resembled a bird pecking at seeds as he tore off a small piece of flesh, chew the shit out of it, then held his head up as he swallowed it.  Still alert and enduring the horrific pain, Kim injuring her voice box from screaming, and as she lay in torment, faint moans of agony escaped her lips.  Lisa and Maryanne were on the verge of death as they lay moaning.

Seth noticed Elmer displayed a strange expression.  “What’s wrong with you?”

“This is sick, even by your standards.”

Seth beamed.  “Thanks.”

“I’m being serious.  This crossed the line.”

“Crossed the line?  Which part?”

Elmer scrutinized the gruesome sight.  “All of it.”

“You’ve forgotten why we’re doing this.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Well, you’re acting like you have, getting all emotional and shit.  These fuckers are the lowest of the low; child-killers, molesters, and rapists.  What the fuck would you have done to them?”

“Not this.”

“It’s not like there’s a vigilante guidebook to go by.  And besides, I hate being repetitive and it’s difficult sometimes coming up with new shit.  Especially something that makes a point.”

“You definitely accomplished that.  And I’m never going to get these images out of my head.”

“Speaking of images, thanks for reminding me.”  Seth handed Elmer a camera.  “Get some good pictures.  I want to upload them to the internet with the video.”

“Why in the fuck would you want to do that?”

“I just told you; to make a point.  If other scumbags don’t know what can happen to them, then this was done in vain.”  Seth pulled Elmer to the side so no one else could hear him.  “After you take the pictures, go ahead and fry Bruce’s cock, bust his nuts, and rip out his intestines since he lost.  Then I want you to do something really fucked up to him.  Something that would make me proud.”

Elmer displayed an irritated expression.  “I really don’t want to do that.”

“You don’t have a choice.”  Seth noticed Glen and Scott were getting close to finishing up.  “When the other two perverts are done, tie them and Chester back to the wall.”  He looked at Lisa and Maryanne, noticing they were unconscious.  “You can drag their asses outside.  There’s an old well back there.  Throw them into it.” 

With Bruce only tearing out part of Kim’s vagina, she hadn’t bled much and was still kicking and screaming.  “I guess just leave Kim there for now.  I’ll figure out what to do with her when I get back.”

An aggravated expression came over Elmer.  “Don’t tell me you’re leaving me here to do this shit by myself again.”

“I am, so don’t disappoint me again.”  Seth glanced at his watch.  “It’s almost sunrise, so I need to get rollin’.”

“Where the fuck are you going?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“When are you coming back?”

“I’ll be back when I get back.  Just do what I ask, then hang tight.  And if the police show up, I wasn’t here.”

Elmer’s eyes grew wide.  “What?”

“Just fuckin’ with you.  But I would like to be a fly on the wall if they did just to see how you would explain this shit.”

“You wouldn’t set me up like that, would you?”

“Hell no.  Then I would have to clean this mess up myself.”

“That’s fucked up.”  Irritated, Elmer shook his head as Seth walked off into the darkness.

Dirty Dancing

Seth arrived back at the warehouse around 10 PM.  When he strolled into the building, Bruce came charging out of the dark wielding a club while shouting he was going to kill him.  Seth pulled out an XD-S .45 and started to pull the trigger, but Bruce slid to a stop at the last moment, raised his hands and yelled, “Don’t shoot!  It’s me!”

Seth’s eyes narrowed when he noticed Bruce looked shorter.  Then he noticed his bloodstained white pants and a grey jacket.  “You dumbfuck!  I almost shot you in the face.”

Wearing the skin from Bruce’s head like a Halloween mask, he pealed it off, displaying a troubled expression.  “Oh, shit!  I wasn’t expecting you to be carrying.”

“Really?”  Seth holstered his gun.  “You should know better than that, dumbass.”

He took a deep breath as he leaned forward while resting his hands on his knees.  “My heart feels like it’s going to bust out of my chest.  And I think I shit my pants.”

“You deserved it if you did.”  Seth noticed blood, feces, urine, and other grotesque body fluids covered Elmer from head to toe.  “How in the fuck did you get so much shit on yourself?”

“Who gives a rat’s ass?”

“I do.  I don’t want to get a reputation that my sidekick is a filthy bastard.”

“So now I’m your sidekick?  I thought I was your bitch?”

“Sidekick…  Bitch…  Same difference.”

Elmer slid his hand down the back of his pants, then pulled it out and sniffed his fingers.  “False alarm.”

Seth shook his head, knowing Elmer was in one of his moods.  “Why couldn’t I have picked someone with a little more couth?”

“You have no room to talk considering the gross shit you made these fuckers do yesterday.”

“This morning.”

“What?”

“It was this morning.”

“Whatever.  You know what I mean.  And who gives a shit what I look like.  You’re the one who made me pull off dicks and rip out assholes.”

“I know what you’re doing, so stop trying to push my buttons.”

“I’m not.”

“Bullshit.  There is nothing you can do or say that’s going to get you out of doing this.  You can even start eating your shit and rubbing it all over yourself and it still wouldn’t happen.”

“That’s fucked up.  I didn’t ask for this.  You have no right making me to do it.”

“I told you if you ratted on me that I would come back for you.  So, stop whining and take your medicine.”

“I’m not whining.  And I wasn’t in the right state of mind when I went to the police.  You shouldn’t hold that against me.”

“We’re not having this conversation again.”

“At least tell me how much longer I have to do this shit.”

“Until I find another bitch.  Now change your attitude.”

Elmer crossed his arms.  “Whatever, dude.”

“Don’t start pouting.”

“I’m not.”

Seth looked at Glen, Scott, and Chester as they were chained to a wall.  “Are they in any condition to move on?”

“Not sure.  They’re in bad shape.  And Glen and Scott have been throwing up most of the night.”

Seth noticed the front of their bodies were covered in vomit.  “I see that.  They must have eaten something rotten, like old fish or something.”

Elmer shook his head at Seth’s dark sense of humor.  “You think?”

The men were a gruesome sight to look at.  Their heads and faces were coated in blood, feces, and slime from internal organs, and their bodies were covered in vomit.  Glen moaned in agony as he hung on the wall.  The rod in his penis triggered an inflammatory response, causing it to swell twice its normal diameter as it dripped with a yellowish substance.  His forehead was bruised, swollen, and covered in gashes, and his eyes were almost swollen shut, a result of using his head as a battering ram on Maryanne. 

Scott was in worse shape than Glen.  His pelvic area was black and blue, and the numerous cracks covering his charred penis seeped with serosanguinous fluid.  A mixture of dark blood and feces oozed down the inside of his legs from the gaping hole in his rear-end where Chester ripped out his anus with the drill.  The heating elements protruding from his back not only created inflammation around the puncture holes, but hydronephrosis, a condition of excess urine accumulation and swelling in his kidneys.  His ruptured bladder, a result of his urine being boiled, created severe swelling in his lower abdomen.

Elmer noticed Scott’s engorged belly.  “What’s wrong with his stomach?  He looks pregnant.”

“His digestive system has been dumping shit into his abdomen, and his bladder is leaking urine.”  Seth kicked him in the gut, causing a surge of fluids to spew from the gaping wound in his rear end.

Scott wailed at the top of his lungs for a moment, then began retching.  After he spit up some stomach acid mixed with blood, he erupted into tears.  “Please just kill me and get it over with.  I can’t take the pain anymore.”

Elmer held his hand over his mouth as a foul odor engulfed the air.  “He smells like he’s rotten.”

“I’m sure.  He’s probably becoming septic.”

Seth strolled over to Chester as he hung on the wall next to Scott.  “How’s it hangin’, pal?”

Chester glared at him, knowing Seth was making fun of him for not having a penis.  “Ha ha.  Real funny, asshole.”

Seth glanced at Elmer.  “It’s good to know he still has some pep left in him.”  He looked across the room and scrutinized Kim as she lay on the floor.  “Is she alive?”

“Yep.  She’s probably just worn out from yelling and cursing all night.”

“Oh, cool.  That means she still has some spunk left in her too.”  He pointed at Bruce’s skin as Elmer held the mask by the hair.  “And where’s the rest of him?”

He nodded.  “Over there tied to a post.”

“Did you do what I asked?”

“Yep.  Dick cooked, balls busted, and intestines ripped out.”

“Outside of cutting the skin from head, how did the rest of your freestyling go?”

A worried expression came over Elmer.  “I…  Uh…  I’m not done yet.”

“What does that mean?”

“I need to finish.”

Seth became aggravated.  “What the fuck have you been doing while I was gone?”

“I’m sorry.  I was really tired and fell asleep.  I’ll go finish him up.”

“There’s no need now that he’s dead.”

“He’s not.”

Seth’s eyes grew wide as he thought about Bruce still being alive without any skin on his head.  “No shit.  I have to see this.”

Seth followed Elmer across the building to where Bruce lay on the floor in the fetal position.  All the skin on his head had been removed, exposing his skull and the muscles on his face.  Intestines were coming out from between his butt cheeks, and they were laid out on the floor in a spiral pattern around his body.  After being severely burned, his penis resembled a charred hotdog wiener.  Amazingly, he was still alive as he lay on the floor gazing back at Seth.

Elmer cringed.  “It freaks me out how his eyes move around without any eyelids.”

Seth examined Bruce’s intestines as they were artistically laid out around his body.  “For someone who’s been whining how they’re being forced to do something against their will, it sure looks like you’re getting into this.”

“I ain’t gettin’ into nothing.  I just got bored waiting on you.”

Curiosity came over Seth as he scrutinized Bruce.  “You said you weren’t finished with him, so what else were you planning on doing?”

“Not sure.  I got sidetracked and hadn’t thought about it.”

“Sidetracked with what?”

“Just stuff.”

“I thought you said you fell asleep?”

“That’s what I meant.”

“Sounds like you’re not telling me everything.”

“I have.  I fell asleep.”

“That’s fine.  You don’t have to tell me.  I’ll look at the recording later.”

Elmer’s eyes grew wide.  “What recording?  What are you talking about?”

Seth pointed at a glass dome mounted on the wall.  “About a month ago, I put up a camera to make sure no one was watching this place.”

A look of concern came over Elmer.  “Uh, I didn’t know that.”

“What the fuck did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“We’ll see about that when I check out the recording.”

“That’s an invasion of my privacy.”

“You didn’t fuck any of the girls, did you?”

“Of course, not.”

“You know I’ll cut off your dick if you did.”

“I didn’t.  And it’s kind of fucked up how you’re being hypocrite.”

“Hypocrite?”

“Yeah, considering the shit you do.”

“Punishing a rapist and being one are two different things, asshole.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you think it’s your duty to humanity to punish criminals, but in reality, I think you do it for the fun of it.”

Seth pulled out his cell phone and opened an app.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to watch the recording to see what the fuck you did.”

“Please don’t watch it.”

“Why?  If you were only sleeping like you said, you have nothing to worry about.”

“I…  Uh…  I might have done some other stuff too.”

“Stop talking.  I’ll see it for myself.”  Seth began watching the playback in fast forward.  At first, Elmer performed the tasks given to him; he chained the men to the wall, moved Lisa and Maryanne out back, and carried out Bruce’s punishment for losing.  A moment later, Seth’s eyes narrowed.  “What the fuck?”  He rewound the recording, then held his phone so Elmer could see it too.  Seth shook his head as he watched Elmer dance around in his underwear and socks while wearing Bruce’s face.  “What the fuck is this?”

“You can turn it off now.”

“I don’t think so.”  Seth continued watching as Elmer taunted Glen, Scott, and Chester by thrusting his hips toward them while performing dance moves to the song What a Feeling by Irene Cara.  “Are you fuckin’ grinding up on them?”

Elmer turned red as a beet.  “It’s not what it looks like.”

“Really?  Then tell me what the fuck you’re doing?”

“I, uh…  Just messin’ with them.”

“Is there something you want to tell me before I see the rest of it?”

“Uh….”

“I was worried that you fucked one of the girls, but now I’m concerned you did something worse.”

“I didn’t.”

“If you fucked one of the men, you better tell me before I see it.”

“I’m not fuckin’ gay.”

Seth glared at him for a moment.  “Uh, okay.”  He glanced back at his phone.  “Then what the hell would you call this shit?”  Elmer was now lying on the floor on his back in front of the men while thrusting his hips in the air as if he was having sex.

“Please turn it off.”

Seth began fast-forwarding the recording.  Elmer danced around for a little while longer, then sat on the floor while leaning against a wall.  Shortly after that he fell asleep.  “I can see why your ass took a nap.”  Seth gaped at him.  “After all that dirty dancing, anyone would be tired.”

Embarrassed, Elmer gazed at the floor.  “I wasn’t dirty dancing.  I was just blowing off some steam.”

Seth watched the rest of the recording in fast-forward, then put his phone away.  “Even though you’re gay, I’m still relieved.  For a moment there, I thought you were going on the wall with the other perverts.”

“I’m not gay.  I was just goofing off.”

“It’s not a big deal.  I do some stupid shit myself sometimes.”  Seth pointed at Bruce.  “Drag his ass over to the wall where the other perverts are.”

Bruce could barely speak as he gazed up at Seth.  “Please just kill me.”

“That’s the plan, so be patient.”

When Elmer tried to grab Bruce by the ankles, he began kicking as he yelled out, “Stay the fuck away from me!”

Elmer stepped back.  “Fuck!  He kicks like a damn mule.  I can’t believe he still has this much fight left in him.”

“Make his ass walk then.”

Elmer looked confused.  “But his intestines have been pulled out.”

“So.  He can pick ‘em up or drag ‘em.  I don’t give a shit.”

Elmer glared at Bruce and yelled, “Get your ass up!”

Bruce didn’t respond a lay on the floor.

“He’s not gonna to do it.”

Seth pointed to a duffle bag.  “There’s a cattle prod in there.  Use it on him.”

Elmer retrieved it, then pointed the electrodes at Bruce’s skinless face.  “Get up, asshole, or I’ll shock the shit out of you.”

He slapped the end of the prod away.  “Get the fuck away from me!”

When Elmer pulled the trigger, blue arcs covered his head as the sound of electricity filled the air.  Bruce started rolling around on the floor, smashing his intestines, as he desperately tried to escape the electrodes.  Elmer continued shocking him as he yelled, “Get up, you fuckin’ prick!”

Bruce finally stumbled to his feet and wailed, “Okay!  Okay!  I’m up!”

Elmer laughed as he scrutinized the cattle prod.  “Damn!  I need to get me one of these.”  He glanced at Seth.  “I can’t believe they use these on animals.”

“They don’t.  That one has been modified and puts out a lot more voltage.”

Elmer gave Bruce a quick zap.  “Don’t just stand there.”  He pointed at his intestines laying on the floor.  “Pick that shit up and get movin’.”

Bruce was in a odd state of mind, somewhere between don’t-give-a-shit mode and go-fuck-yourself mode, and as he frantically picked up his intestines, he yelled, “You’re gonna pay for this!  Just wait and see.  I hope you fuckin’ die and go to Hell, you piece of shit!”

Elmer zapped him again.  “Hurry up, smartass.  I don’t have all night.”

The intestines were slipping out of Bruce’s arms, causing him to freak out even more, then he began slinging them around like a kid throwing a temper tantrum as he shouted, “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!”  During his outburst, the end of his colon spilled feces all over the floor and himself.

Elmer stepped back.  “You’re getting shit everywhere, you nasty bastard.”

Bruce glared at him.  “I hope someone kills you very slowly.” 

Elmer shocked him in the mouth.  “Watch it, dickhead.  I’m gettin’ tired of your shit.”  He chuckled.  “Literally.”

He finally became so frustrated that he sat down.  “Fuck you.  I’m done.  You might as well go ahead and kill me right here, right now.”

Seth peered at Elmer.  “Just pull the bastard by his intestines.”

At his limit physically and emotionally, Bruce scrambled to his feet.  “Don’t you fuckin’ touch them!”  He picked up a handful of his entrails, then began stomping across the floor while dragging the rest.

Seth started laughing.  “I thought I’ve seen it all.”  He pulled out his phone and commenced to recording Bruce.  It was a fucked-up sight watching a man with no skin on his face and head, no dick, covered in shit, and carrying his intestines.

Bruce frowned when he observed Seth was recording him.  “You’re gonna pay for this, too.  Just wait and see.”

On accident, Elmer stepped on parts of the intestines.  Bruce glared at him as he grumbled, “Don’t step on ‘em, motherfucker!  You might damage ‘em!”

Elmer chuckled.  “You’re worried about that, but you have no dick, and your face is lying over there on the floor.”

Bruce stopped and glared at him with a deadpan expression.  “I’m gettin’ tired of your mouth.”

“Get your ass moving.”

“Fuck you!”  He slung the end of his colon at Elmer, striking him across his head.

Elmer became furious as he wiped feces from his face.  “You’re gonna pay for that!”

Bruce slung it again.

Elmer stepped back.  “Stop doing that, you fuckin’ prick!  You’re getting’ shit on me.”

When he slung it a third time, Elmer grabbed hold of it, then they began fighting over the entrails.  It looked like they were playing tug-o-war as they cursed each other.

Seth became aggravated.  “Y’all stop acting like retards.”

When Elmer let go, Bruce swung the intestine toward Seth.  Seth quickly stepped back, causing the intestine to barely miss him, then he hit Bruce in the head with the butt of his pistol, knocking him unconscious.  Irritated, he glared at Elmer.  “Now your ass can drag him the rest of the way.”

“Why are you pissed at me?”

“Because you turn everything into a fuckin’ circus.”

Elmer fumed as he dragged Bruce’s filthy body across the building.

Death Match

Seth injected Bruce with adrenaline as he lay on the floor looking like roadkill, then he handed Elmer some shackles.  “Put those on everyone, including Kim.”  He pointed to a duffle bag.  “There are some eight-foot chains in that bag.  I want you to chain Glen and Scott together first.”  Seth strolled over to Kim as she moaned in anguish.  Still being bound in the spread-eagle position, her blood-soaked and ravaged crotch throbbed in agony, a result of Bruce’s brutal attack.  Seth pointed at her as he regarded Elmer.  “I want you to chain her to Bruce.”

“Why are we doing this?  They’ve already went through enough.  Just kill the fuckers so we can get the fuck out of here.”

Seth addressed the group.  “Do y’all still want to fight, or would y’all rather have me go ahead and cut your throat now?”

As Glen looked at Bruce, he couldn’t fathom that a person could go through so much mutilation and still be alive.  “I…  I don’t know.”  He glanced at Seth.  “I just want to go home.”

“You will, if you win.”

Suffering from an extreme amount of pain, Glen grumbled, “I guess I’ll do it then.”

Mentally and physically drained, Scott teetered on the verge of death.  “Just kill me and get it over with.”

Seth pulled out a knife.  “Okay.”

When he saw the blade, he quickly changed his mind.  “Hold up, man!  I’ll fight!”

Seth smiled.  “Excellent choice.”  He peered at Elmer.  “He’s ready to throw down too.”

Elmer shook his head.  “No, he’s not.  You just bullied him into doing it.”

“Stop being a party pooper.”

“I just want this shit to be over so I can get out of here.”

“Why are you in such a hurry to get back to your cell?”  When Elmer wasn’t staking out lowlifes or running errands, Seth kept him locked up in a small cage. 

“It’s not a fuckin’ cell.  I can’t even stand up in there.  It’s more like an animal cage.”

“No, it’s not.”

“The floor is covered with hay, and I have to drink from one of those hanging water bottles used for fuckin’ guinea pigs.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Come on, man, do I really have to go back in there?”

“Of course.  And don’t call me man.”

“Why?”

“My name is Seth.”

“Not that.  Why do I have to stay in that fuckin’ cage?”

“Because you’re my monkey.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Better than being chained to the wall with these assholes.”

“No duh.  But I still don’t deserve how you treat me.”

“We’re not going to talk about this right now, so chill out.”  Seth glanced at Chester.  “You wanna fight or die?”

Chester knew that the others were in bad shape, increasing his odds.  He wasn’t a violent person, but if it gave him a chance to live, he was willing to do it.  “Yeah, I’ll do it.”

Seth glanced at Bruce as he lay on the floor covered in his entrails.  “What about you, ass bag?”

“Fuck you!”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”  Seth looked at Kim.  “What about you?  Would you like to get Bruce back for what he did to you?”

She raised her head and glared at him.  Dried blood covered the left side of her face where her eye had been ripped out.  “You can go to Hell, you fuckin’ psycho.”

“Yep, she’s in.”

Elmer shook his head.  “Whatever.”

“You know you like it.” 

“This is your twisted game, not mine.”

“Stop whining and go chain Glen and Scott together.”  Seth handed Elmer two box-blade knives.  “And give those to them after you release them from the wall.” 

Elmer noticed just the tips of the blades protruded from the handles.  He tried to slide them out further, but they wouldn’t budge.  “They’re not working.”

“I fixed them that way.”

“Why?”

“So, they won’t kill each other too quickly.”

“That’s so thoughtful of you.”  Elmer connected one end of an eight-foot chain to Scott’s shackle, and the other end to Glen’s shackle.  After he released them from the wall, he tossed the box knives at their feet.  “Hurry up and kill each other so I can get back to my fuckin’ cage.”

They both went for their knives, but as soon as Scott grabbed his knife, his weakened body gave out and he collapsed to the floor.  As he lay on his back, he pointed the knife at Glen as he positioned his legs toward him.  When Glen approached Scott, Scott began kicking him in the knees.  “Get the fuck away from me, you fuckin’ grease ball!”

“Fuck you, white boy!”  Glen ran to the side, but Scott spun in his direction while still kicking in self-defense.  A mixture of dark blood and feces oozed from between Scott’s butt cheeks as he jerked around, creating a slippery substance on the floor.  Glen became frustrated.  “Stop kicking me, you fuckin’ pussy, and fight like a man!”

To Glen’s surprise, Scott quickly sat up and grabbed the cable hanging from his penis, then fell back to the floor.  Before Glen could react, Scott shoved both of his feet against Glen’s groin and began tugging on the cable as hard as he could while pushing off with his legs.  Glen wailed in agony as his swollen penis stretched twice its normal length.  During the struggle, Glen slipped in the ass juice and fell onto his backside.  Scott quickly scrambled to his feet and began pulling Glen by his dick.  He dragged him about twenty feet before the cable ripped his penis from his body.

Glen’s face contorted into a mask of horror.  “Oh, my God!  You ripped off my fuckin’ dick!  You’re a dead man!”

They looked at the severed penis for a moment, then charged each other.

Seth laughed.  “The show is on now.”

The two men began slicing and dicing each other like savages, fighting with every ounce of energy they could muster up for a chance at survival.  They were cutting long gashes into each other’s flesh with the short blades.  After a few minutes, their bodies possessed so many lacerations, it appeared the two men slid down a long slide covered in razor blades.  Glen finally ended the fight by slicing open Scott’s only remaining eye.

Scott fell to the ground, and as he lay screaming, Glen began stomping on his head until brain matter oozed from his ears and eye sockets.  Glen picked up the other box knife, then pointed at Chester.  “You’re next motherfucker!”  He glared at Seth.  “Get that fucker off the wall so I can kill his ass too.”

Seth glanced at Elmer.  “Go chain the two dickless bastards together.”

Glen looked like a madman as he paced back and forth with a box knife in each hand while hundreds of bleeding gashes covered his body.  “Fuck the chain!  Get that piece of shit down!”

Elmer looked at Seth for approval.

Seth shrugged his shoulders.  “Fuck it.  If either one tries something, I’ll shoot ‘em in the fuckin’ head.”

Chester the molester might be a molester, but he wasn’t stupid.  He realized Glen made a grave mistake by remaining chained to Scott’s body, giving him a huge advantage.  As soon as Elmer released him from the wall, he sprinted to the outside of Glen’s reach.

Glen charged toward him, but his chain jerked him back.  “Fuck you, you little weasel.”

Chester glanced around for something he could use as a weapon.  Then he spotted Glen’s heating element as it lay next to Scott’s body.  The cable that connected to it ran across the floor next to his own feet.  He grabbed it, then quickly pulled the rod to him. 

Glen’s eyes opened wide as he stared at his penis that dangled from the end of the rod.  “Hold up!  That’s mine!”

Chester pulled the penis from the rod, then dangled it in from of him.  “You want it?  Then come and get it, asshole.”

Caught off guard, Glen didn’t know how to respond.  In the back of his mind, he assumed it would be reattached if he survived.  Now with it in the hands of his opponent, he couldn’t risk upsetting Chester.  “Please be careful with that.  If you give it to me, I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Chester tossed it onto the floor, then pressed his foot against it.  “Give me your fuckin’ knives, or I’m going to smash it into pieces.”

“No no no!  Please don’t do it!”

Chester started applying pressure to his foot.  “I’m not telling you again.”

“Okay okay!  Go easy, man!”  Glen tossed the box knifes at Chester’s feet.

Chester flung the penis into the air, and as Glen raised his hands to catch it, Chester drove the heating element into his neck.  Glen stumbled around for a moment, then crashed to the floor.

Seth shook his head.  “Really?  That’s it?”  He peered at Elmer.  “This sucks.”

“Sorry you got screwed out of your show.”

“It is what it is, smartass.”

“Now what?”

“Go chain Chester back to the wall.  When you get done with that, I want Kim and Bruce to go at it next.”

After Elmer secured Chester, he chained Kim and Bruce to each other.  Being bound for such a long duration, Kim was slow to rise, and she could barely move due to the agony radiating from her crotch.

Bruce wasn’t in much better shape.  He didn’t want to die, but he also didn’t want to fight.  He gazed at Seth.  “Please don’t make me do this.  I can’t kill someone.”

Seth’s eyes narrowed as he glared at him.  “Really?  But you don’t have a problem sticking your dick in kids.  And what makes you think you’re going to win?”

Elmer tossed Bruce a box knife.  “Stop whining, you fuckin’ molester, and get this shit over with so I can go home.”

Seth added.  “Cell.”

Elmer glared at him.  “Whatever.  I just want to be done.”  He tossed a knife to Kim.  “Good luck, bitch.”

To everyone’s surprise, Kim had been faking how much pain she was in.  She charged Bruce as he stood dumbfounded and kicked him in the chest with both feet.  He fell to his back and slid across the floor from the impact.  She also fell to the floor, but she quickly scrambled to her feet and grabbed his intestines, then began pulling on them.  Bruce wailed in agony as held onto his entrails while lying on his back, and he could feel a sharp pain inside his abdomen like his guts were being ripped out.  “Stop pulling on my intestines, you fuckin’ bitch!”

As they played tug-of-war, she easily overpowered him and began dragging him across the floor.  Suddenly, the slimy intestine slipped from Bruce’s hands as it tore loose from his insides.  As he screamed, Kim rushed over to him and grasped his penis.  She planned on ripping it from his body, but his charred flesh crumbled in her hands like dried clay.  Bruce couldn’t believe his eyes as he stared at the remnants of his manhood.  “Oh my God!  You destroyed my dick, you fuckin’ cunt!”

“Cunt!”!  Enraged, she began stomping on his head.  “No one talks to me like that, you fuckin’ bastard!”  When he became dazed, she knelt by his waist, then shoved her hand into his open wound between his ass cheeks. 

Elmer shook his head as he watched the barbaric display.  “I think someone is getting some payback.”

Seth smiled.  “Hell yeah.  Maybe I need to swap you for her.”

“I’m fine with that.”

“Good.  Then you get to fight Chester next.”

A look of confusion came over him.  “Why?”

“If she is going to replace you as my helper, then you’re going to take her place.”

“Fuck that.  I’ll stay where I’m at.”  He thought for a moment.  “Hold up.  Why would she be your helper, but I’m your bitch?”

“Because she didn’t fuck me over.”

“Whatever, dude.”

About that time, Kim pulled out Bruce’s bladder followed by his prostate and seminal vesicle.  As the organs lay in a pile between his legs, she grasped his ductus deferens, and when she pulled back on the tubing, his nut sack turned inside out, then his testicles came popping out of the gaping wound.

Seth laughed.  “She literally ripped his balls out of his ass.”

Elmer frowned.  “What a brutal bitch.”

“I might make an executive decision after seeing this shit and make her my new partner.”

“So, now she’s a partner?”

“I’m just fuckin’ with you.  I wouldn’t let that child murdering bitch hang around me.”

Kim tossed his balls to the side and picked up a box knife.  She sat on his chest, pinned his arms under her knees, then began cutting the muscles on his face.  His eyes jerked around in their sockets as he wailed at the top of his lungs. 

Seth shouted, “Fuckin’ A, Bubba!  Check out that shit!  You can see his freakin’ skull!”

Experiencing more agony that he could ever imagine possible, Bruce’s adrenaline rush allowed him to overpower Kim just enough to roll over onto his stomach.  To his horror, she stayed on him like a rabid monkey as she began slicing long gashes into his back. 

As he screamed at the top of his lungs, most of the muscles were gone from his face, revealing his skull.  His gums, teeth, and the inside of his mouth were exposed, and his eyeballs were bulging so mush it looked as if they were going to fall out.

Nauseated, Elmer peeked between his fingers as he covered his face.  “Oh my God!  The dude looks like a monster from one of those Dawn of the Dead type of movies.”

“I know.  It’s fuckin’ awesome.”

Elmer started dry heaving, then vomited.  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  “How in the fuck can he still be alive?”

“It’s amazing what a human can go through.  I’ve seen some crazy shit in my time.”

Kim stood up after she ravaged his back, then began stomping on his head.  To everyone’s surprise, his eyes fell out due to the lack of supportive muscle and began bouncing around by their optic nerves.

Seth laughed.  “Check that out.  He looks like he’s wearing a pair of those glasses with the eyeballs hanging from the springs.”

Kim moved down to Bruce’s feet and began ripping large pieces of skin from his legs.  His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, but only faint sounds escaped his lips due to damaging his voice box from screaming.  Confusion came over Elmer.  “Why in the fuck is he not dying?”

“Because you pumped his ass full of clotting agent and adrenaline.”

“Oh, yeah.  I forgot.”  He began to feel guilty.  “This isn’t right.”

“Don’t forget, he’s a….”

“I know, I know.  He’s a fuckin’ child molester.  But this is bad.  Real bad.  We’re gonna for this shit in one way or another.”

“We’re doing the world a favor.”

“You ever heard the expression; karma is a bitch?”

“Of, course.  And that’s what’s happening to that fucker for sticking his dick in little kids.”

“What about us?”

“If karma has a problem with what I’m doing, then fuck karma.”

Elmer yelled at Bruce as he moaned in torment.  “Just die already!”

Seth handed him a large hunting knife.  “End it if you want.”

He displayed a solemn expression.  “I don’t know if I can.”

“Then stop acting like a bitch.”

As Kim ravaged Bruce’s flesh, he gazed at Elmer with pain etched across his face and whimpered out, “Please kill me.  I’m begging you.”

Elmer strolled over to Kim and tossed her the knife.  “That’s enough, bitch.  Put him out of his misery.”

As soon as she grasped the weapon, she drove the blade into the back of Bruce’s head, killing him, then charged Seth with it.  Before she could take her second step, Seth drew his .45 and fired two quick rounds, dropping her like a sack of potatoes.

Elmer exhibited a deer-in-the-headlights look when he heard a bullet wiz past his head.  “Damn, dude!  You almost shot me!”

Aggravated, Seth glared at him.  “What the hell is wrong with you?  Why in the fuck did you give her that?”

“I…  I wasn’t thinking.”  He glanced at Kim as she laid on the floor, observing a large, gaping hole in the back of her head.  Then he noticed blood covered his face and neck.  “Oh, my God!  You did shoot me!”

“You’re fine.  It’s her blood.”

Elmer noticed small pieces of grayish tissue clung to his skin.  “What the hell is this shit?”

“Brains.”

Anger swept over him.  “I was standing behind her.  You could have shot me.”

Seth added two bullets to the magazine, then holstered his gun.  “Yeah, but I didn’t.”  He ambled over to Chester as he hung on the wall.  “Looks like you won, pervert.”

His eyes filled with tears as an overwhelming amount of relief came over him.  “Oh, thank God!  And please call an ambulance.  I need to get to the hospital.”

Seth glanced back at Elmer.  “Get your ass over here.”

Elmer came darting up.  “What?”

“Don’t watt me, you’re not a fuckin’ lightbulb.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.”  Seth nodded toward Chester.  “When you get done cutting his throat, throw everyone into the well out back.”  He scrutinized at all the body parts, flesh, blood, urine, and feces that covered the floor.  “And clean up this mess.”

Elmer’s eyes narrowed in frustration.  “Don’t tell me you’re leaving me here to do the dirty work by myself again.”

“Don’t start.”

“This is bullshit!”

“I said….”

Chester interrupted.  “Hold up!  You can’t cut my throat.  You said the winner gets to live.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t say for how long.”

“I knew you were a fuckin’ liar!”

“You have that backwards, pal.  If your throat doesn’t get cut, then I would be.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“When I first got here, I told everyone that if they didn’t cooperate, they would be fucked up, then have their throat cut.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“Sure, you do.  That’s why you got your dick ripped off.”  Seth handed Elmer a piece of paper with an address written on it.  “That’s your next assignment.”  He glanced at his watch.  “It’s almost 5 AM.  Meet me there at 11 PM this evening.”

Elmer examined the paper for a moment, then frowned.  “This is a twelve-hour drive.”

“So.”

“I haven’t had time to sleep.”

“You can meet me there, or go stay in your cell.  And besides, if you bust ass cleaning up, you should be able to get in a few hours of sleep.”

Elmer wadded up the piece of paper and stuck it into his pocket.  “Whatever, dude.”  He jerked the rod out of Chester’s sternum, then shoved it into his eye socket, burying it deep inside his brain.  As Chester died, his body flopped around on the wall as he produced a weird howling sound.

Keeping his word, Seth pulled out a knife and sliced Chester’s throat, then handed it to Elmer.  “Clean off the blood.”

“I don’t have a rag.”

“Use your white pants.”

As he wiped the blade on his pants, he grumbled, “You can be such an asshole sometimes.” 

“And make sure you change your attitude before you arrive this evening.”

“Sure thing, boss.”  Irritation swept over Elmer as Seth disappeared into the darkness.

Screwed, Blued, and Tattooed

Herb, a stocky man with a bald head and black goatee, startled awake with blurred vision, a racing heart, and throbbing head.  The skin around his head, neck, and below his elbows appeared leathery and tan from the sun, but the rest of his body was white as alabaster as he sat on the floor stark naked.  “What the fuck is going on!?!” 

A man next to him spoke with a lisp.  “Everything is okay.  You’ve been drugged.”

“Been what?”  He tried to stand up, but a piercing pain shot through his body.  “Something isn’t right.”

“Try to stay calm.  The effects will wear off quickly.”

Noticing the man wasn’t wearing clothes, Herb frowned.  “What the fuck!?!”  He then observed his own nudeness.  “Why am I fuckin’ naked?”

“We’re all nude.  We woke up this way.”

Still dazed and not able to think clearly, he raised his fists.  “Get the hell away from me, pervert!”

“Hold up, man!  I didn’t do that to you.”

“I don’t give a shit!  Back away from me before I knock the fuck out of you!”

The man scooted backward.  “Chill out, dude!  I was just tryin’ to help.”

As Herb’s vision began to improve, he examined the room, noting it was small, around twenty feet by twenty feet.  The walls were made of halite blocks with a wood ceiling, and the concrete floor was covered in a grid pattern of rebar spaced about six inches apart.  The only means of egress was a steel door with a large number 1 painted on it.  A small window, located about five feet from the floor, sat in a wall, and above it hung an electronic display.  Herb then scrutinized a Hispanic man sitting on the floor with his back resting against the wall.  He appeared to be in his mid-thirties and of average size.  He then peered at an obese man with long shaggy hair lying flat on his back.  He couldn’t see his face from where he sat, but he appeared to be old.  Herb noticed the man sitting next to him looked like a crackhead.  Sores and dark spots riddled his thin body, his brown hair appeared greasy and unkempt, and a scraggly beard covered his face.  He wore piercings in both nipples, an earring in each ear, and some type of studs protruded from his scalp.  There was a tattoo on his forehead that read Pervert, and another one on the left side of his chest that read, Hello, my name is Kurt, and I like to spread HIV, and it was outlined with a border, resembling a name tag.  Still dazed, Herb scrambled to a knee while keeping an eye on the man with the pervert tattoo.  “What the fuck man!?!  Are you some kind of fuckin’ weirdo?  What the hell did you do to me, pervert?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You took off my fuckin’ clothes.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Then why are you you’re creepin’ on me?”

“I’m not creeping on you.  I was just tying to help you when you awoke.”

“Then what the hell is going on?”

“I’m not going to tell you anything until you apologize for being rude.”

“Fuck you then.”  Herb peered at the Hispanic man sitting next to the wall.  “Do you know what’s going on?”

He shrugged his shoulders.  “Naw, man.”

Herb tried to stand, but his limbs felt numb.  “Something is wrong with me.  I can’t feel my arms and legs.”

“We’ve been drugged, and it’s one of the side effects.  My arms and legs were numb too when I first awoke, but it finally wore off.”

“Drugged?  Who if the fuck drugged us?”

“I’m not sure.”

Herb eyed the door.  “Has anyone tried to open the door?”

“Kurt did, but it’s locked.  But there is a keyhole, so we might be able to pick it with something.”

“Just kick the fucker open.”

“It’s made of steel, and it opens toward us, so kicking it won’t work.”

“Have you tried to get out the window?”

“Not yet.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“None of us can reach it since we can’t stand up.”

Herb noticed a tattoo on the man’s chest that read, Hello, my name is Luis, and I like to ruin lives.  Then his eyes traveled to a tattoo on his forehead that read, Rapist.  “Why is that shit tattooed on you?”

Embarrassed, he lowered his head.  “I…  I don’t know.”

“Are you some type of pervert too?”

He glanced up with an aggravated expression.  “Don’t get all judgmental.  You’ve been tattooed as well.”

As Herb rubbed his forehead, he noticed his skin was sore.  “What the fuck?”  He glanced down at his chest and discovered a tattoo that read, Hello, my name is Herb, and I like to destroy futures.  He glared at Kurt.  “Did you do this to me?”

“I haven’t done shit to you, so stop asking.  But whoever did thinks you’re a child molester.”

“What the fuck did you call me, you fuckin’ faggot!?!”

“Don’t get pissed at me.  That’s what it says on your head.  And I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

Boiling with anger, Herb started to stand, but a debilitating pain shot through his groin.  When he looked down, he noticed his penis stuck out from his body, but he wasn’t hard.  He then scrutinized his ball sack, finding it black and blue and extremely swollen.  “Oh, my God!  What’s wrong with my dick and balls!?!”

Luis answered.  “You probably have screws in you.”

“Screws?  What the hell are you talking about?”

He nodded at his own limbs.  “Haven’t you seen the screws in my arms and legs?”

When Herb first awoke, he experienced blurred vision, but now he could see swollen areas of Luis’s skin where screws were embedded in his shoulders, elbows, knees, and ankles.  “Oh, shit!  Who in the fuck did that to you?”

“I’m not sure.  Kurt and I both awoke with screws, so I’m sure they’re in you too.”

“No way, man.”  When Herb raised his penis and peered into his urethra, he spotted a round metallic object with an X in the middle.   A sense of dread came over him when he realized it was the head of a Phillips screw.  “Oh, my God!  I have to get this out!”  He tried to grab the screw head, but it was nestled down inside his pee hole.  “This can’t be happening!”

Kurt scooted closer, then gazed at Herb’s penis.  “I wouldn’t mess with it.  You’re just going to do more damage.”

“Stop staring at my dick, queer bait!”

“Listen, asshole, I’m just trying to help.  I have them too.”  He held out his hands, palms down, showing screws were embedded into each of his knuckles, then he flipped his hands over to reveal the tips of the screws were protruding from his skin.  “They’re also in the bottoms of my feet.”  He spun around on his knees, showing screws were driven into his heels and between his toes.  “They’re also in my skull.”  He lowered his head, showing additional screws.  A worried expression came over Kurt.  “This is bad.  Real bad.  They might have gone into my brain.”

“Who gives a shit?  At least they’re not in your fuckin’ dick.”  Feeling a burning sensation radiating from his ball sack, Herb gently examined himself with his fingers.  When he didn’t find any screws protruding from his sack, relief washed over him.  “I don’t feel any screws in my sack, but for some reason my nuts are sore.”  He began massaging each of his testicles, sensing their swollen state.  “Oh, fuck!  But there might be screws in my balls!”

Kurt scooted around to Herb’s backside and gazed between his legs.  “I can see some stitches on the back of your sack, so you’re probably right.”

Herb glanced over his shoulder and frowned.  “What the hell, dude!?!  Stop staring at my ass.”

Kurt’s eyes narrowed in anger.  “Dude, I wasn’t staring at your ass.  Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I want to fuck every man I see.  And FYI, you’re not my type.”

“Good.  Now get the fuck away from me.”

“Your dick and balls can fall off for all I care!”

Luis intervened.  “You two need to stop bickering and work together.”

Herb continued the examination of his privates.  “I don’t give a fuck about you or that pervert.  I just want to get the fuck out of here and get to the hospital.”

Luis pointed to the window.  “Then go see what’s on the other side of that.  Maybe it’s a way out.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, you fuckin’ beaner.”

“You need to watch the name calling.”

“What the fuck are you going to do about it?”

Kurt shook his head.  “Don’t sweat it, Luis.  He’s just a hater.”

Herb glared at him.  “Fuck you!  You don’t know shit about me!”

“What’s your problem?  Why are you so angry toward us?  We’re all in this together.”

“I’m not a part of this sick shit.  You two perverts must have pissed off the wrong person, and I somehow got dragged into it.”

Luis, cocking his head, narrowed his eyes as he considered a response.  “Pervert?  You’re the one with child molester tattooed on your damn forehead.”

Anger engulfed Herb.  “I’ve already told you I’m not a fuckin’ child molester!  Whoever did this to me must have mistaken me for someone else.  I’m not a part of this shit.”

“You can keep telling yourself that, but the fact remains, you’re locked in here with us, so, if we’re going to survive, we have to work together no matter how much we dislike each other.”

“And what the hell do you expect me to do?”

“The window is too high for Kurt or me to see through since we can’t stand, and Donny is still unconscious.  You’re the only one who can do it.”

“Who in the fuck is Donny?”

Luis pointed at the fat man on the floor.  “Duh!  His name is tattooed on his chest.”

“Listen here, smartass, I’ll knock out your fuckin’ teeth.”

“Stop acting like a prick and help us find a way out of here before it’s too late.”

“Too late for what?”

“Before Donny passed out, he told us that we’re going to be burned to death unless we find a way to open the door.”

“How in the fuck would he know that?”

“Because the person who did this explained everything to him.”

“What else did he tell you?”

“That we’re going to suffer for what we’ve done.  That’s why we have our crimes tattooed on us, and it’s a reminder of why we’re being punished.”

“I’ve already told you that I’m not a fuckin’ molester.”

“And I’ve never raped anyone, but it doesn’t matter.  The person who did this thinks we’ve done those things.”

Ashamed, Kurt peered at the floor.  “And I haven’t given anyone HIV.  I don’t even have it.”

Herb sneered at him.  “Sure, motherfucker.  That’s why your skinny ass is covered with those AIDs spots.”

“They’re not AIDs spots.”

“Whatever, dude.  Just stay the fuck away from me.”  He glanced back at Luis.  “What else did he say?”

“That was about it.  He’s got a bunch of screws drilled into his teeth.  He passed out before we could get more information from him.”

“Is he still alive?”

“Yeah.  He’s just unconscious.”

Herb knelt by Donny and scrutinized the name tag tattooed on his chest that read, Hello, my name is Donny, and I like to violate the innocent.  Then he observed the one on his forehead that read, Sexual Predator.  He cringed when he noticed the screws in Donny’s mouth.  Three-inch sheetrock screws had been driven into his lower back teeth, through his jawbone, and out the bottom of his mouth.  Screws were also embedded in his top rear teeth.  Herb shook Donny’s body, but he didn’t respond.  “Yeah, he’s out cold.”

“Will you go check out the window now?”

Herb walked over to it, finding it to be around the size of a large serving platter, then a confused expression came over him as he peered through it.  “This is weird as fuck.”

Luis leaned forward.  “What do you see?”

“There’s a long cavity made of halite blocks.  It’s about ten feet long and about two feet wide.  And there’s some type of odd contraption.”

“What do you mean?  What kind of contraption?”

“There’s a red button mounted on the back wall of the cavity, and there’s a clear pipe running over to the front of it.”  Herb noticed the pipe extended from the center of the switch to the wall below the window.  The pipe was small, about a quarter-inch diameter, and supported by hangers to prevent it from bowing.  He pointed at the end of the pipe as it slightly protruded out of the wall below the window.  “Here’s the end of it.”  He bent down and peeked into the pipe.  “I can see the button.”

“The button might be the door release.  If you push on the pipe, will it press it?”

“It looks like it would.”  He pushed on the pipe, but it didn’t move.  “It won’t budge.”

“Then what the hell is it for?”

“Not sure.”  He noticed some writing on the wall.  “There’s a message written above the button.  It says, for the pain to stop, please press button.”

“It sounds like we’re supposed to press it.  Push on the pipe harder to see if you can get it to move.”

Herb slammed the palm of his hand onto the end of the pipe, then his eyes opened wide.  “Oh, shit!  It worked!”

“Did it press the button?”

“No, it only went in about an eighth of an inch and stopped.”  He hit it several more times.  “But it won’t move any farther.”

“How close is it to the button?”

“Right in front of it.”

Kurt observed the display above the window was now illuminated.  “Oh, shit!  The display is on.  You must have activated it.”

Herb glanced back at him.  “What are you talking about?”

Kurt pointed.  “The display.  It’s counting down.”

Herb glanced up.  “Oh, fuck!  You’re right!”

Luis couldn’t see the display from where he sat.  “How much time do we have!?!”

“A little less than fifteen minutes.”

“This is bad!  Real bad!”

Herb rushed to the door and began pounding on it.  “Hey!  Let me out of here!  I know someone is out there!”

Luis noticed Donny was moving around.  “Donny is awake.”

Herb quickly approached Donny and knelt beside him.  “How do we get out of here?”

Donny could barely speak due to the screws in his mouth.  “You started the timer, you fuckin’ idiot.”

“How in the fuck was I supposed to know that would happen?”

Kurt crawled over to Donny.  “We have about thirteen minutes left.  What’s going to happen when the time runs out?”

“The floor is going to heat up.”

“What do you mean?”

“The rebar is like an electric heating element on a stove.  You need to press the button before the timer goes off.”

“How are we supposed to press it?”

He pointed to his own mouth.  “The screws.  We have to….”  He fell unconscious.

Herb shook him.  “Wake up!”  When he didn’t respond, he opened one of Donny’s eyelids, finding his eyeball blood red, then he cringed when he discovered screws were embedded in his temples.  “Oh, fuck!  The dude has screws in the side of his head, and the tips are inside his fuckin’ eyeballs.”

When Kurt caught a glimpse of Donny’s bloodshot eyeball, he turned his head and gagged.  “Oh, my God!  That’s freakin’ sick!”

“It sure in the fuck is.”  Herb scrutinized the rebar grid.  “We have to stop the timer before the floor gets hot, but I don’t know how we’re going to press the button.”

A nauseated feeling came over Luis.  “I know how to do it.”

“And?”

“We have to put screws into the pipe.”

Herb frowned.  “That’s stupid.  The pipe is too long.”

“Think about it.  If we put all our screws into the pipe, one screw will push another, and once we fill the pipe, we can push the button.”

“That might work.”

Luis quickly counted the screws that he could see.  “Between us, we have about thirty short screws and about thirty long ones.  That’s around ten feet, give or take an inch or two.”

Herb’s eyes open wide.  “That’s about how long the pipe is.”  Anger washed over him as he thought about the sadistic game he found himself in.  “Whoever did this is a sorry motherfucker!”

“We can’t worry about that right now.”

Kurt pointed at the display.  “Hey, guys!  We only have three minutes left.  We need to start removing our screws.”  When he tried to back out a screw in one of his knuckles, a sharp pain shot through his hand.  “Damn!  This fuckin’ hurts!”  As he tried to turn the screw, his fingers kept slipping on the small screw head.  “I can’t grasp it.  How are we supposed to get these out?”

Luis was trying to remove a screw from his knee.  “I’m having the same problem.  We need a screwdriver or some pliers.”  He glanced at Herb.  “What about you?”

Herb wore a troubled expression, knowing he’d have to tear apart his penis and ball sack to remove them.  “Naw, man.  I can’t get mine out either.” 

A wave of horror came over Kurt as he shouted, “Oh, fuck!  We only have five seconds left!”

Before anyone could react, an alarm sounded, then a loud buzzing noise echoed out as the rebar on the floor began arcing.  Herb jumped on top of Donny to avoid being burned as the metal turned bright red.  While Herb sat atop Donny on all fours, smoke began billowing out from under Donny as his backside cooked.  Luis was trying to get to his feet, but the screws in his knees forced his legs straight, making it impossible for him to stand up.  The rebar charred lines into his skin as he flopped around like a fish out of water.  Kurt scrambled to his feet and began standing on his tippy toes, but the pain from the screws in his feet became so unbearable, he lost his balance and fell face-first onto the scorching metal.  He screamed at the top of his lungs as he rolled around on the floor, defecating and urinating on himself, as the molten rebar charred lines into his flesh.

To Herb’s surprise, Donny awoke, and as held him down, he kicked and screamed as he was forced to endure the pain of being burned alive.  The smell of charred flesh filled the room as screams of agony echoed out.

Suddenly, the alarm shut off and the buzzing sound ended, then sprinkler heads in the ceiling opened with a deluge, spraying water throughout the room.  Huge clouds of vapor engulfed the air as the water cooled the molten metal.  Herb stood to his feet, then stared in horror at the aftermath.  Using Donny as a shield prevented him from being burned, but Kurt and Luis hadn’t been so lucky as they lay on the floor groaning in agony as their bodies resembled flame broiled meat.

Shit Covered Screwdriver

To Kurt and Luis, it felt like they were burned for hours, but it only lasted a mere fifteen seconds.  Even in that short duration, they sustained severe injuries to their bodies from head to toe.  Donny endured the most damage since Herb held him against the molten rebar, and as he lay on the floor, he groaned in agony.  “Please help me!”

Kurt crawled over to him.  “What can I do?”

“Help me sit up.”

When Kurt tried to lift him up, he discovered the severity of Donny’s burns and grimaced.  “Uh…  this isn’t good.” 

“What’s wrong?”

“Your skin is stuck to the rebar.”

“Can you pull me loose?”

“I’m not sure.”  He motioned to Herb.  “Help me roll him over.”

As they attempted to move him, the skin on his back began tearing apart like cooked meat.  Donny became alarmed when he observed the concern displayed on Kurt’s face.  “How bad is it?”

“Like I said, most of the skin on your back is stuck to the rebar, and when we try you move you, it’s pulling apart.”

“Is it just my outer skin?”

“Naw, man.  The deeper layers are falling apart too.”

A frightened expression came over him as his eyes filled with tears.  “Oh, my God!  This is bad!  What am I gonna do?”

“I’m not sure, but I don’t think we should move you.”

“Please find a way out of here so I can get some help.”

Kurt glared at Herb as he stood off to the side smirking.  “Look what you did to him, asshole.”

“What the fuck did you call me, you little bitch!?!”

“If anyone is a bitch, it’s you for using Donny to save your own ass.”

“You better watch your mouth, boy.”

“You’re just mad because you know I’m right.”

“I didn’t do shit.  He was out and wouldn’t have been able to move anyway.”

“Bullshit.  I saw you holding him down.  Only a coward would have done this to another person.”

“Call me a coward again and see what happens.”

“I’m not scared of you, and I’m not going to let you bully me anymore.”

“Really?”  Herb grabbed Kurt by the shoulders.  “And what the fuck are you going to do about it?” 

To Herb’s surprise, Kurt grabbed his penis and twisted it.  “Get the fuck away from you, you fuckin’ prick!”

Herb stumbled backwards, then gazed in horror at his dick, observing the skin was torn in several places from the screws in Kurt’s hand.  “Oh my God!  You ripped my dick!”  He marched toward him.  “You’re fuckin’ dead!”

Kurt pointed a long shaft at him.  “If you come any closer, I’ll stab your fat ass!”

His eyes narrowed as he retreated.  “Fuck you!  You’ll get yours, you little cocksucker!  Just wait and see!”  Being called fat also made him self-conscious.  “And I’m not fat.”

“It doesn’t feel good to be called names, does it, you lard-ass?”

“Keep running your mouth and see where it gets you, punk.”

As Luis sat on the floor with his back against the wall, he grimaced in agony from his burns.  “Hey, guys!  The timer is counting down again.  We need to figure out a way to escape before the floor heats up again.”

Kurt glanced at the display, observing it was at twenty-six minutes.  “Oh, shit!  I can’t go through that shit again.”

Luis pointed at the object in Kurt’s hand.  “What is that?”

He held up a shit-covered tool.  “It’s a screwdriver.  It was laying on the floor.”

“Is it a Philips head?”

He wiped some feces from the end, revealing the type.  “Yep.”

Luis’s eyes grew wide.  “Thank God!  We can use it to remove the screws.  And we have plenty of time.”

Bewildered, Herb’s eyebrows furrowed.  “Hold up!  I didn’t see that on the floor.”  He thought for a moment, then grew angry.  “You little bastard, you had that this whole time!”

Kurt shook his head.  “No, I didn’t.”

“Fuck if you didn’t!”

“I’m naked.  Where in the hell would I have hidden it?”  Then it dawned on him.  “It must have come out of me when I shit myself.  I didn’t know it was in me.”

“How in the hell could you not detect something was in your ass?”  Before Kurt could respond, Herb shook his head as he grumbled.  “You damn fag.  I’m sure you didn’t after being stretched out by all those dicks.”

Kurt ignored Herb’s rude comment as he thought about the screwdriver being placed inside himself.  “I’ve just thought of something.  Since the screwdriver was in my rectum, maybe one of us has the key to the door inside them.”

Luis’s eyes popped wide open.  “You’re right!  I’m going to check.”

Herb darted to the corner of the room farthest from the other two men and squatted, and as he took a dump, he perceived Kurt was watching him.  “Stop eye fuckin’ me, pervert!”

“I’m not looking at you, asshole.”

After Luis defecated, he began rummaging through his waste.  “I’m not finding anything.”  He glanced at Herb.  “What about you?”

Herb gagged as he sifted through his feces.  “No.”  He wiped his hand off on the wall.  “This was a waste of time.  And now I have shit all over me.”  He peered at Kurt.  “Thanks, Einstein.”

“Hey, it was worth a try.”

Luis nodded toward Donny.  “He might have it.”

Herb shook his head.  “No fuckin’ way.  I’m not digging through his shit.”

Kurt knelt beside Donny.  “Hey, man.  You might have a key inside you.”

He could barely speak.  “I’ve been listening.  I’ve tried to go, but I can’t.”

“You need to try harder.”

“I’m numb below the chest.  I think some of the nerves in my back have been damaged.”

“Dammit!”  He peered at Luis.  “What the hell are we going to do?”

“You’re gonna have to go in there yourself.”

Kurt frowned.  “Uh…  I don’t know about that.”

Herb laughed.  “That should be right up your alley, you fuckin’ turd burglar.”

Kurt glared at him.  “Fuck you, blubber gut.”

“What the fuck did you call me!?!”

“Are you fat and deaf?”

Luis intervened before another argument could erupt.  “If there’s a chance it will save us, then it’s a small price to pay.”

Kurt agreed.  “You’re right.”  He glowered at Herb.  “And don’t you say a fuckin’ word.  I’m doing this for you too.”

Herb made a sweeping motion with his hand toward Donny’s rear.  “Then have at it, queer bait.”

Kurt ignored Herb’s insult as he shoved his hand into Donny’s rectum.  A moment later, he pulled out a wad of feces.  Once he examined it, he tossed it on the floor, then went back in, groping deeper this time.  After he pulled out another wad, he sifted through it, then tossed it aside next to the other pile.  The third time he buried his arm all the way to his elbow.  “There’s nothing in here.”

Herb chuckled.  “Maybe you should shove your head in there too.”

When Kurt pulled out his hand, he slung feces toward Herb.  “Fuck you!”

Herb’s eyes popped open wide with disbelief.  “You motherfucker!”  He wiped shit off his face with the back of his hand.  “You’re fuckin’ dead!”

Kurt pointed the screwdriver at him.  “I’m not bluffing, dude.  If you come near me, I’ll stick your ass.”

Donny raised his hand, motioning for them to be quiet.  “We have to stop the timer.  I won’t survive another round.  We need to remove the screws.”

Luis agreed.  “He’s right.  Come get these screws out of me.”

Kurt knelt beside him.  “You sure?  It’s gonna hurt like hell.”

“We don’t have a choice.”

“Where do you want me to start?”

“I guess at my ankles.”

Kurt struggled to maintain his grip on the screwdriver due to excruciating pain caused by the screws embedded in his knuckles.  “It’s really tight.  I think it’s buried in the bone.”

Luis tried to fight the pain, but it eventually became too much.  “Okay okay!  That’s enough!”

“I only turned it a few times.”  He counted the screws scattered throughout Luis’s joints.  “You have about twenty of them in you.  You’re just gonna have to suck it up.”

“I can’t do it.  It hurts too bad.”

Kurt tried to remove one from his own hand.  “Oh, fuck!  It hurts worse than I thought.”  He glanced at Herb.  “You wanna try?”

Herb scurried over to Kurt.  “Sure.  Give me the screwdriver and I’ll get ‘em out for you.”

“I meant, do you want to try to remove yours?”

“Uh…”  He glanced down at his penis.  “I don’t think I can do it.”

“What about your ball sack?  I can easily tear the stitches and remove the screws.”

“No one is touching my dick or balls.”  He studied Donny for a moment, then motioned with his fingers.  “Give me the screwdriver so I can remove Donny’s.”

Kurt hesitated, worrying that Herb would use it on him.  “I don’t think so.”

“Just give it to me.  I’m not going to do anything to you.”

“I don’t trust you.  I’ll do it myself.”

Donny began to panic as Kurt knelt beside his head.  “No, no, no!  Please don’t do it!”

Kurt looked back at Luis.  “What the fuck are we gonna do?”  He glanced at the display.  “We only have twenty minutes left, and none of us wants to remove our screws.”

Luis thought for a moment.  “We need to knock each other out.  That way we won’t feel the pain.”

“That might work, but…”  He nodded toward Herb.  “…what about him?  I don’t trust him.  He’s only out for himself and will probably fuck us over.”

Anger washed over Herb.  “I can hear what you’re saying, asshole.”

“Good for you.”  When he turned back toward Luis, Herb charged him, slamming him to the floor.  After a short struggle, Herb managed to grab the screwdriver, then he sat on Kurt’s chest and began choking him.

Luis crawled over to them.  “Herb!  You need to stop before you kill him!”

“Fuck this little bastard.  He tore my dick!”

The screws in Kurt’s knuckles ripped gashes into Herb’s flesh as he tried to pry his hands loose.  He could barely muster out a plea for help as Herb continued squeezing his throat.  “Please stop!”

Once dazed, Herb began jamming the screwdriver into Kurt’s shoulders and elbows, immobilizing his arm movement, then he repeated the process at his hip joints and knees.

Horrified by Herb’s barbaric attack on Kurt, Luis shouted, “Dude!  What the fuck are you doing!?!”

Herb pointed the screwdriver at him.  “Shut the fuck up!”  He knelt by Kurt’s feet and began removing the screws.  “And when I get done with him, you’re next.” 

Suffering from excruciating pain, Kurt wailed at the top of his lungs as Herb showed no mercy.  He tried to fight back, but the trauma to his joints greatly reduced his mobility.  When Herb was done with Kurt’s feet, he shifted his attention to his hands, then to his head.  When he removed the last screw, he rushed to the window and began shoving them into the clear pipe.  He was overcome with anticipation as each screw pushed the others farther down the pipe toward the button.  Upon shoving in the last one, his optimism transformed into frustration.  Kurt’s body yielded twenty-five, one-inch-long screws, but their combined length hadn’t made it a quarter of the distance to the button.  He glanced at the display observing sixteen minutes remained, but he wasn’t concerned since he could use Donny or Kurt as a shield.

Herb knelt next to Luis.  There was no need to immobilize him since his joints were already incapacitated by the screws.  “If you try to fight back, I’ll stab you in the fuckin’ throat.”

Luis knew he was at Herb’s mercy.  “Just get the shit over with, you fuckin’ prick.”

As he surveyed the screws, he noticed a small, bloody hole in Luis’s right knee.  “What happened to this screw?”

He shrugged his shoulders.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit!  You must have removed it.  Give it to me.”

“I got that puncture hole when I was rolling around on the floor.”

Herb removed a screw from Luis’s knee, then screwed it into the hole, an indication the bone had threads cut into it.  “You lying motherfucker!  If you don’t give it to me, I’m going to rip you apart until I find it.”

Luis expressed his lack of concern as he sported a don’t-give-a-shit expression.  “You’re gonna leave me here to die anyway.  And it’s better than burning to death.”

Herb jerked him away from the wall and searched the floor behind him.  “Where in the fuck is it?”  He rolled him around as he examined his body.  When he didn’t find it, anger swept over him.  “You better not have stuck it in your ass!”

“Fuck you!  You’re going to Hell with the rest of us, asshole.”

Herb glanced at the display, observing twelve minutes remained.  “I’ll find it later, you little bastard.”  With speed and precision, Herb initiated the removal of the three-inch screws embedded in Luis’ hips, elbows, knees, and ankles.  As the screws were removed, Luis emitted piercing shrieks of agony as he endured the brutal assault.  Though he attempted to fight back, Herb effortlessly subdued and overpowered him.  By the time Herb removed the last screw, Luis was on the verge of losing consciousness.

With a handful of screws, Herb dashed to the window and began shoving them into the pipe.  His eyes narrowed as he inserted the last one, noting he needed more screws.  He glanced at the display, observing seven minutes remained.  Without hesitating, he rushed over to Donny and knelt.  “I need your fuckin’ screws!”

“No way, man!”

Herb sat on his chest and pinned Donny’s arms under his knees.  “Open your fuckin’ mouth!”

“No, no, no!  Please don’t do it!”

“You’re the one who said we have to stop the timer, so don’t chicken out now.”

“Get the fuck away from me!”

When Herb tried to stick the screwdriver into his mouth, Donny began jerking his head around.  “I said no!”

Herb grabbed his face, preventing further movement.  “Open up, you fuckin’ prick!”

Donny refused to cooperate as he held his mouth tightly closed. 

Frustrated, Herb shoved the screwdriver between his lips.  “Open up, jackass, or I’ll break out your fuckin’ teeth!”

Donny continued being difficult.

“Then we’ll do it the hard way.”  Herb jabbed the screwdriver through the left side of Donny’s jaw, into the mandibular notch, then pried downward, tearing the temporomandibular ligament.  Donny howled in agony as his mouth hung sideways.  Herb jabbed the screwdriver into the other side of his face and tore the ligament, prompting his mouth to swing wide open.  During the next several minutes, Donny cried out in agony as Herb extracted the screws from his teeth.  When he removed the last one from his mouth, he began removing the screw in his left temple.  Donny’s eye immediately deflated as blood mixed with intraocular fluid spurted from the hole.  The same gruesome result occurred on the other side when Herb withdrew the screw in his right temple.

Observing two minutes remained on the display, Herb rushed over to the window and quickly shoved in the screws.  His heart seemed to stop when he discovered they fell about fifteen inches short of engaging the button.  He rammed the screwdriver into the pipe and managed to shorten the distance by eight inches.  A sense of disappointment overwhelmed him, initially believing the screws he gathered from the others might have sufficed, sparing him from taking out his own.  Even if he found the three-inch screw Luis hid, he would still be five inches short.  The one in his penis was also three inches long, indicating there must be two, one-inch screws in his testicles. 

Suddenly, the alarm shrieked out.  Herb gaped at the display, staring at the zero for a brief moment, then he leapt on top of Donny right as the floor began heating up.  Luis managed to stand up and was tippy toeing between the rebar as he leaned his back against the wall.  Kurt was desperately trying to get to his feet, but the trauma Herb inflicted upon his joints left him immobilized.  Eventually, the floor became so hot that Kurt’s and Donny’s bodies erupted into flames.

In an act of retribution, Donny clutched Herb’s penis with both hands and began twisting it.  About the time Herb grabbed Donny’s arms to relieve the tension, Kurt tackled him, knocking him to the floor.  As Kurt held Herb’s face against the red-hot rebar, he wailed, “Die, motherfucker, die!”

Herb screamed at the top of his lungs as a thick cloud of smoke billowed out around him.  Using all of his strength combined with a rush of adrenaline, he managed to throw Kurt off, at which point he climbed back on top of Donny.  Luis ended up succumbing to the pain of his feet being burned, and as he rolled across the rebar, his flesh disintegrated.

Finger Dick

A few seconds later, the alarm shut off and water came spraying from the ceiling.  As the floor cooled, Herb sat up and examined his burns.  Despite the severity of his injuries, he knew it could have been worse if he hadn’t used Donny as a shield.  As he examined the aftermath, he noticed Donny and Kurt were dead as their charred bodies lay smoking, and Luis appeared to be on the verge of death.

Herb glanced up at the display, observing the countdown timer started over with thirty minutes remaining.  That gave him plenty of time to find the screw Luis hid and to remove his own.  When he stood, horror came over him when he noticed blood drenched his crotch and his penis was missing.  Though he searched frantically across the floor, his efforts were in vain.  Then he recalled Donny had grasped ahold of it.  When he dashed over to him, he discovered the charred remains in his hand.  Herb collapsed on his knees as he struggled to come to terms with the loss of his penis.  He fell into a deep state of depression and began sobbing, and the thought of living without a penis filled him with despair and suicidal thoughts.  As anger coursed through him, he longed to exact revenge upon the individual who entangled him in the convoluted and twisted game.  The thought of vengeance was the motivation he needed to keep going.  When he pulled the screw from his detached penis, the charred flesh crumbled in his hands, prompting him to become nauseated.  When he regained his composure, he rushed to the pipe and shoved in the screw followed by the shaft of the screwdriver.  He was now about five inches away from pushing the button.

The display showed twenty-two minutes, so he hurried over to Luis where he found him slipping in and out of consciousness.  “Where’s the screw?”

Luis’s body was completely seared from head to toe, his skin blackened and blistered, leaving him almost incoherent as he suffered in immense agony.  “Please don’t hurt me.”

Herb knelt beside him.  “Then tell me where it’s at.”

“I swallowed it.”

“You stupid fuck.”  He brandished the screwdriver.  “You better throw it up before I cut it out of you.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t, or you won’t?”  Herb rose to his feet and began kicking him.

As Luis tried to grab Herb’s leg, the charred skin tore loose from his palms and fingers, revealing the muscles underneath.  A feeling of dread washed over him, and he couldn’t fathom how he could sustain so much trauma and still be alive.  Between the excruciating pain and knowing he’d never able to live a normal life with his deformities, he longed for death.  “Please kill me.”

Herb responded by stabbing him repeatedly in his upper abdomen with the screwdriver.  When he tore a large hole torn into his flesh, he forced his hand inside Luis’s abdominal cavity, then pulled out his stomach.  As the organ protruded from the gaping hole, Herb ripped it open and began rummaging through its contents.  Excitement overcame him as he held up the screw.  “Looky what I found, asshole.”

Luis was on the verge of passing out.  “There’s a special place in Hell for people like you.”

“Maybe, but for now I get to live, and you don’t.”

“Yeah, as a dickless monster, you fuckin’ child molester.”

Herb’s eyes narrowed in anger.  “I’m not a child molester!”  In a fit of rage, he began stabbing Luis in the side of the neck with the screwdriver.

Luis groaned one last comment as he slipped into unconsciousness.  “I hope you die of AIDs.”

An unnerving revelation swept over Herb as he stood.  He peered at his blood-covered arms where the screws in Kurt’s hands ripped gashes into his flesh, then his expression morphed into a guise of horror when he remembered Kurt had HIV.  He fell into a gloomy melancholic state, knowing Luis was right about him being a monster.  His third-degree burns were not only going to leave him permanently disfigured, but how could he go on living without a penis, he pondered?  And now he probably had HIV to go along with it.  He glanced at the display, observing fourteen minutes remained.  He became furious as he thought about how someone ruined his life.  If he could find a way to survive this hellish nightmare, he would make it his life’s mission, no matter how short it was, to exact revenge on whoever did this to him.

A feeling of despair came over him when he shoved the last screw into the pipe.  Even with the length of the screwdriver, he still needed two more inches.  Refusing to tear open his ball sack to retrieve the last two screws, he began surveying the room, searching for items to shove into the pipe.  He gulped when he noticed Kurt’s arms sticking up like dead tree branches.  At that moment, he knew he could use the bones from his fingers.  With the display at nine minutes, he rushed over to Kurt and began snapping off his charred fingers.  The burnt flesh slipped from the bones like meat from a cooked chicken leg.

A wave of relief engulfed him as the bones slid effortlessly into the pipe.  Using the screwdriver, his heart seamed to stop as he watched the first screw originally placed into pipe touch the button.  He took a deep breath, then pushed and engaged the button.  A moment later, a clicking sound echoed from across the room.  That’s all that happened.  Nothing dramatic.  No flashing lights.  No buzzers or sirens.  Just a simple click.  He dashed to the door, finding it unlocked.  With caution, he eased it door and peeked out, finding a dimly lit hallway leading to the left and a door immediately to the right.  The door was locked with a deadbolt, and a large number 2 was spray-painted on it.  There was also a sign hanging above the door that read, This is the easy path if you have the key.  Thousands of one-inch-tall spikes covered the entire floor of the hallway, spaced so close together he wouldn’t be able to step between them.  If he could open the door to the right, door number 2, he’d be able to leap over them.  But he didn’t have the key.

The display was now at two minutes, and he wasn’t sure what to do next, but he did have a backup plan.  He quickly piled Kurt and Luis on top of Donny, then sat on them.  When the display hit zero, horror came over him when gasoline came gushing from the ceiling.  In a panic, he rushed for the door, and just as he reached it, the room erupted into a huge ball of fire.  The heat became so intense he was forced to run down the hallway, stepping on the spikes as he fled.  As he trudged through the corridor, the spikes mutilated his feet, poking holes into his flesh, tendons, and bones.  Eventually, the spikes inflicted so much damage that he fell to his knees and hands.

To his horror, the gas flowed into the hallway and the flames began scorching his already burned body.  Not having a choice, he began crawling like a wild animal as the spikes ravaged the flesh on his knees, lower legs, hands, and lower arms.  Finally, he turned a corner and saw another door about twenty feet away.  His limbs quickly became mutilated from the numerous puncture holes as he desperately crept toward the exit.  A few yards from the door, his limbs became inoperable, so in an act of desperation, he began rolling across the spikes, gouging and tearing the flesh throughout his body in the process.

When he arrived at the door, relief came over him when he found it unlocked.  Without hesitating, he rolled off the last set of spikes onto a smooth surface, then kicked the door closed to block the intense heat from the flames that followed closely behind.  Laying in agony, he gazed across the expansive area in front of him, which bore a resemblance to a warehouse.  On the distant end of the structure, a ray of bright sunlight poured through an opening.  Crawling toward the light on the concrete floor, he left a trail of blood in his wake.  Although the building was massive, he eventually arrived at a loading dock that led to a partially ajar overhead door.  The flames had now engulfed the building and were rapidly closing in on him, so he threw himself off the dock and onto the parking area below.  He knew he had to distance himself from the inferno, so he continued crawling until his body collapsed.

Herb startled awake.  “Where am I!?!”

A woman came over to him.  “It’s okay, Mr. Pratt.  You’re in the hospital.  You’re safe now.”

With blurred vision, his heart seemed to stop when he observed his arms and legs had been amputated, leaving only him with short stubs, and bandaged covered the majority of his body.  “Oh, my God!  What have y’all done to me!?!”

“Let me get the doctor for you.”  The woman quickly exited the room.  A moment later, three men came in, one donning scrubs, the other two wearing suits.  The man in the scrubs approached his bed.  “I’m Dr. Ramm.”  He motioned to the other two men.  “These are FBI agents.  Agent Arnold and Agent Burns.”

Herb glowered at the doctor.  “Why in the fuck did you cut off my arms and legs!?!”

“You suffered irreparable tissue damage in conjunction a severe infection.”

“Irreparable?  That’s bullshit!  You’re a fuckin’ doctor!”

“Unfortunately, whatever punctured your body was covered with a tar mixture infused with an embalming-type fluid.  It destroyed a lot of your tissue and muscle mass, making it impossible to repair.  The infection only complicated things, requiring us to amputate as soon as possible if we were going to save your life.  You still have some minor infections in other areas, but it looks like we’re getting them under control.  And we’ve removed the foreign objects in your testicles.”

“Foreign objects?  Let me guess.  They were screws.”

“No.  Two keys.  One in each testicle.”

His heart felt like it missed a beat as his eyes opened wide.  “What!?!”

Dr. Ramm held up a jar that contained two keys.  “One of them was inscribed with a number 1, the other with a number 2.” 

At that moment, Herb realized they were the keys that would have unlocked both doors.  “You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me?” 

“Everything will be okay.  You’re in good hands now.”

“Do you have any idea what I’ve gone through?  I’ve been tortured, burned, and my penis was ripped off.  And now you’ve cut off my fuckin’ arms and legs.  And I probably have AIDs.”

A look of confusion came over Dr. Ramm.  “Why do you think you have AIDs?”

“There were three other men trapped with me in the room, one of them had it.  I got some of his blood on me.”

“Relax.  You can’t get HIV that way.”

“It’s more than that.  He was sticking me with a screwdriver covered in his blood and shit.  He also held me down and wiped his blood into my wounds.  He did it on purpose.  He was crazy.  Same as the other two.”

Agent Arnold approached.  “We have some questions for you.  What happened to the other three men?”

“They burned to death.”

“I know that.  But how did you get out and they didn’t?”

Herb knew that he couldn’t tell the truth.  “I tried everything I could to save them, but they became too weak to move.  And there was no way I could carry them in my condition.”

The agent wrote in his notebook.

“Did you catch the bastard that did this to me?”

“No, but we’re working on it.”

His anger spiked once again.  “Look what that fucker did to me!  And all you can say is you’re working on it!?!”  He tried to roll out of bed.  “I’m going to find the motherfucker myself and make him pay!”

The doctor held him down as a nurse injected a sedative into his I.V. line.  “Just remain calm, Mr. Pratt.”

A moment later, Herb fell into a peaceful sleep.

Over the course of several months, the doctors were able to rid Herb’s body of infection and performed numerous skin grafts.  Despite the multiple surgeries, his appearance remained severely disfigured, leaving him uncertain about how he could lead a normal life.  To make already fucked-up situation worse, the doctors removed his left pinky finger and attached it for a penis.  It even incorporated a tube on the inside so he could urinate like normal.  Due to his lack of medical insurance, Herb received prosthetic limbs made of cheap-looking plastic, and he wouldn’t undergo any additional skin grafts once he was discharged from the hospital, and his latest set of blood tests came back HIV positive.

Two weeks later, he was released from the hospital.  When he arrived home, he just sat in his wheelchair and stared into a mirror for hours on end.  Scar tissue covered his face, and patches of hair on his head were missing.  He looked like a monster.  A monster with stubs for arms and legs, and a finger for a dick.  Having HIV only exacerbated the situation, leaving him demoralized and bitter.  The fact that the keys were hidden in his genitalia would continue to plague him until the end of his days.  If only he had extracted them back in the room, he wouldn’t have undergone such a grotesque transformation.  Now he was forced to endure a lifetime of regret and self-loathing.

Later that day, he heard a knock on the front door followed by someone shouting, “Mailman!”

“I’m coming.”

Knock!  Knock!  Knock!  “Mailman!”

Frustrated, he rolled his wheelchair across the house.  “Alright, alright!  I’m coming!  Hold your horses!”

Knock!  Knock!  Knock!  “Mailman!”

“Dammit!  I said I’m coming!”

Knock!  Knock!  Knock!  “Mailman!”

Herb wasn’t wearing his cheap prosthetics and found it difficult to turn the doorknob with his stubs.  “Chill the fuck out!  I’m trying to open the damn door!” 

Knock!  Knock!  Knock!  “Mailman!”

When he slung it open, he glared at the man.  “What the fuck is your problem, asshole!?!”

The man donned a mailman uniform and a bag hung from his shoulder.  “I heard a retard lives here, but I didn’t realize you were actually a mutant.”

Herb erupted into a fit of rage as he swung one of his stubs at the rude mailman.  “What the fuck did you say to me!?!”

The man stepped back.  “Easy there, partner.  Don’t get your cooties on me.  That shit looks contagious.”

Herb became so irate, spit spewed from his mouth as slobber dangled from his bottom lip.  “I’m going to call the cops on you if you don’t get off my fuckin’ property.”

The man held up a large envelope.  “But I have an important letter for you.”

“I don’t give a fuck!  Get your ass off my property!”

“This has something to do with what happened to you back in that room.”

His anger transformed into a look of confusion.  “How do you know about that?”

“I read your letter.”

Herb raised his eyebrows, widening his eyes.  “You can’t read people’s mail.  What kind of fuckin’ mailman are you?”

“The kind that gets tired of dealing with tards.”

“Just put the damn envelope on my lap and get the fuck out of here.”

He held out a clipboard.  “You need to sign this first.”

“I…  I can’t.  I don’t have any hands.”

The man held out a pen.  “Stick this in your mouth and sign it that way.”

“Are you fuckin’ serious?  Just give me the damn letter.”

“I can’t.  I have a code of ethics I have to abide by.”

“And I take it calling someone a fuckin’ retard and a mutant isn’t part of your ethical code?”

“Do you want the envelope or not?  I have other shit I need to be doin’.”

Herb gritted his teeth.  “Okay, okay!  Put the damn pen in my mouth.”

The man stuck the pen in Herb’s mouth, then held the clipboard in front of him.  Every time Herb tried to write his signature, the man would move the clipboard, making it even more difficult.  Herb spit out the pen after finally drawing a wavy line.  “There!  That’s close enough, you fuckin’ prick!”

The man tossed the envelope onto his lap.  “And by the way, how in the fuck do you wipe your ass?”

Herb glared at him.  “What is your name?”

“Why does it matter?”

“I’m going to file a complaint.”

“Oh, cool.  They call me Elmer Fudd down at the post office.  Make sure you tell them not to send me to any more houses with fuckin’ retards.  This job is stressful enough.”

“Get the fuck out of here before I fuck you up!”

The man chuckled as he sauntered off.  “Yeah, you might spit AIDs on me.  Or fuck me with your finger dick.”

Herb rolled to the edge of his porch.  “How in the fuck do you know about that!?!”

The man ignored him as he walked away.

“Hey!  I’m talking to you!  Get your ass back over here!  You have no right talking to me this way!”

The man held his hand up, giving him the finger as he disappeared down the sidewalk.

“You’re gonna lose your job, asshole!  Just wait and see!”  He rolled his wheelchair back into his house, quickly forgetting about the rude postman as he concentrated on the envelope.  How in the fuck am I going to get this open? he pondered.  Rosie, his caregiver, was coming in about a half an hour, but he didn’t want to wait that long.  Over the next few minutes, he held it between his stubs as he chewed on it, but it was one of those heavy-duty envelopes that were almost indestructible.  He wound up dropping it on the floor.  “Fuck me!”  He slid out of his chair and onto the floor, then began licking the flap in hopes his saliva would loosen the glue.  After several minutes of stroking the envelope with his tongue, he finally gave up.

When Rosie arrived, she helped him back into his wheelchair.  “Esta bien, señor?”

Herb displayed a look of aggravation.  “Yes, I’m okay.”  He pointed to the envelope.  “I need that opened.”

“Cómo te caíste?”

“English, Rosie.  You know I don’t speak Spanish that well.”

“Okaaay.  Why you be on the floor?”

“Don’t worry about that.  Please open the envelope for me.”

She picked it up, then grabbed a knife from the kitchen.  When she pulled out the contents, her face contorted into a mask of repulsion.  “Esto es desagradable.  Eres un hijo de puta enfermo.”

“I told you to speak English.”

“You some kind of sicko.”

Herb rolled his chair close to her.  “It has something to do with what happened to me.  Please tell me what it says.”

“It doesn’t say nothing really.”

“Then what is it?”

“Photos with some nasty words.”

“Show me.”

“Pervertido.”  She tossed them onto his lap and stormed out the front door.

When he picked up one of the photos with his stubs, his eyes narrowed in anger.  It was a picture of him lying naked on his back.  Kurt was holding his legs spread-eagle while fuckin’ him in the ass.  Kurt was smiling at the camera while he gave a thumbs-up.  There was a hand-written message in black marker across the top that read, Gettin’ some lovin’.  He couldn’t recall the event taking place, indicating he’d been drugged, intensifying his anger.

He picked up another picture that showed Kurt wiping his penis across his top lip.  The caption read, Herb getting’ a Dirty Sanchez.  The next picture showed himself sucking on Kurt’s penis with a caption that read, Herb gives good head.  Revolted by the images, he tossed the pictures on the floor, leaving the others unseen.  When he caught his composure, he took off out of the house and down the street, searching for the postman, worrying he might tell his neighbors what he’d seen in the envelope.  To his surprise, the mailman was sitting in his truck several blocks away.  He rolled up to the driver’s window and banged on the door.  “Hey, dude!  I need to talk to you!”

Elmer rolled down his window.  “What?”

“Those pictures of me are photoshopped.”

“If you say so.  But I’m glad you caught up with me.  I have another package for you.”

“I don’t care about that.  You can’t tell anyone what you saw.  I’m not a fag.  Those pictures were fake.”

“Yeah, I heard you like the younger type.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Nothing.  Let me get that package for you.”  He slipped out of the postal truck and wheeled Herb to the back.

Herb was still thinking about the ‘younger type’ comment.  “What did you mean back there?”

“You’ll figure it out here in a moment.”  He locked the wheels on the wheelchair.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t want you to accidentally roll away.  We’re on an incline.”

“I can take care of myself.”

Elmer opened the back door, then pulled out a five-gallon fuel can.  “Sorry, this isn’t boxed.”

A confused expression came over Herb.  “I didn’t order that.  And you know you can’t be shipping fuel.  That’s a DOT violation.”

Elmer laughed.  “A fuckin’ child molester telling me what’s illegal, go figure.”

Herb’s eyes narrowed.  “What the fuck did you call me!?!”

“A fuckin’ child molester.”

“I’m not a fuckin’ child molester!”  Herb thought for a moment.  “This shit isn’t adding up!  Who are you?”

A young man emerged from the rear end of the truck, appearing to be a normal looking individual in his mid-twenties.  He was of a lean build, garbed in blue denim pants, a short-sleeved shirt, and work boots.  His dark brown hair was well-maintained and styled neatly.  Elmer introduced him.  “This is Kyle.  He took off work today to meet you.”

Kyle seemed upset as he stepped out of the truck and onto the street.  “Remember me, asshole?”

Herb shook his head.  “No.  Should I?”

“I lived next door to you thirteen years ago.”

“Sorry, but I still don’t recognize you.”

“I’m sure.  I was only twelve back then when you were raping me.”

Herb’s face flushed red from embarrassment.  “What the fuck is going on here?”

Kyle picked up the fuel can and doused Herb with its contents, soaking his entire body and wheelchair.  “It’s called payback for molesting me, you fuckin’ pervert!”

“Oh, my God!  What the fuck is that shit!?!  It’s burning my skin!”

“It’s a mixture of gas, petroleum lacquer, and Styrofoam, specially blended for assholes like yourself.”

“Please don’t do this!  I’ve already been through enough!”

“Can you take back what you did to me?”

“I didn’t do that to you.  You must have me mistaken for someone else.  Please don’t do this.”

“Lying is only going to make it worse.”

Herb became emotional as tears ran down his cheeks.  “I’m not lying.  I’ve already been punished for something I didn’t do.  Look what they did to me.  That should be enough.”

Kyle strapped the gas can to the back of the wheelchair with a zip-tie, then faced Herb.  “It was a little satisfying watching you and those other three perverts tearing yourselves apart, but I wouldn’t say that was enough.”

Herb’s eyebrows furrowed.  “What?  How do you know about that?”  He thought for a moment.  “Wait a second!  You fuckers are the ones who did this to me!”

“Just like Luis said, there’s a special place in Hell for people like you.”  Kyle pulled out a knife and jabbed a hole in the bottom of the can as Elmer released the brakes on the wheelchair.  “You better get rollin’ while you still have a chance, pervert.”

Herb spun around and took off in a hurry while shouting curse words and threats as he frantically pushed the wheels with his stubs.  The incline was also working to his advantage, allowing him to go faster and faster as he sped away.  Elmer held out a Zippo.  “Do you want to do the honors?”

“Absolutely.”  Kyle took the lighter and lit the liquid on the asphalt.  The flame torched the fuel trailing down the road.  Within a few seconds, a huge ball of fire erupted in the distance followed by screaming.

Motley Crew

A few weeks later, Elmer arrived at an abandoned building to meet Seth.  He went down to the basement and met him in a room with a large window.  On the other side of the window was another room containing five nude men of different ethnicities: Mexican, Caucasian, African, Asian and Arab.  Their weary bodies rested on the floor, backs pressed against the wall, and the scattered piles of feces strewn about indicated they had occupied the space for an extended period of time.

Elmer plopped down next to Seth at a long countertop that sat under the window.  “What’s going on, boss?”

“What have I told you about calling me boss?”

“Sorry, sir.  It won’t happen again.”

“I’m not your daddy, so don’t call me sir.”

“Okay.  I was just trying to be respectful.”

“More like condescending.”

“That’s not true.”

Seth changed the subject to avoid arguing.  “How did it go with your group?”

“Great.  Herb’s the only one who survived, but I let Kyle kill his ass when he got out of the hospital.”

Seth laughed.  “The motherfucker thought he was home free, then got fucked up again.  Nice.”

Elmer scrutinized the men on the other side of the window.  “What’s the deal with these fuckers?”

A cigarette dangled from Seth’s mouth as he leaned back in his chair with his feet propped up on the counter.  “Gettin’ ready to make these fuckheads have some fun.”

Elmer looked around the room.  “What is this place?”

“An old recording studio.”

Being sarcastic, he chuckled.  “Are you gonna make them sing songs?”

“That can be arranged if you’re wanting to see naked dudes get their groove on.”

“Naw, man.  I was just fuckin’ with ya.”

“I picked this place because it’s solid as fuck.  The window is shatterproof, and their room is made of halite blocks with a steel door.”  He pointed to a microphone and a speaker.  “That’s an intercom system between these two rooms that will allow us to talk to them.”

“It looks like they’ve been here a while.”

“Yep.  We’ve all been chillin’ until you arrived.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want you to miss out on the up and coming festivities.”

“Who are these men?”

“Extremists and terrorists.”

Elmer noticed they were all sitting away from each other.  “They looked pissed.”

“I’m sure.  They despise each other.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re of different ethnicities and have different religious beliefs.”

“Where did you find them?”

Seth smiled.  “They were delivered to me.”

Elmer looked confused.  “What do you mean?”

“They were captured and delivered by an independent contractor that works for the US government, but I have no idea who’s involved or the extent of this operation.  All I know is, these fuckers came from different parts of the world, and they’ve apparently caused a lot of trouble, because someone wants to make an example out of them.”

An aggravated expression came over Elmer.  “That doesn’t make sense.  Why would the government allow you to do this?  You’re a fugitive, and the FBI has been after your ass for years.”

“Because they know I will fuck these assholes up way beyond anything they can get by with.”

“What does that mean?”

“Our constitution guarantees due process and the right to be free of cruel and unusual punishment.  Then there are international laws that restrict torture, such as the humanitarian law and the declaration of Human Rights.  This way, the government, or whoever is involved, will blame the shit on me, an out-of-control psychopath.”

“It still doesn’t make any sense.  And no one is going to know what you did.”

“On the contrary.  This is going to be my finest work yet.  It’s going to be broadcast around the world through the internet.”  He glanced at Elmer.  “The whole purpose of this is to make an example of these scumbags.  The government wants other extremists and terrorists to think The Angel of Death will come after them too.  It’s basically a scare tactic, or some other form of bullshit.  I really don’t know, or care.  I’m just glad I get to fuck up these sorry bastards.”

“Sounds like you’re getting off on this.”

“Why wouldn’t I?  I didn’t have to waste time researching and tracking them down.  And not only do I get to have fun fucking them up, but my work is going to be seen by millions.”

A frown came over Elmer.  “Fun?  You need help.”

“You have to see the bigger picture.  Yes, fucking up scumbags can be fun.  I admit that.  But if this prevents at least one terrorist or extremist from blowing up some innocent people, then it’s even better.”

Elmer noticed there were seven baskets against a wall.  Each one was labeled with a human body part: Left Arms, Right Arms, Left Legs, Right Legs, Penises, Ball Sacks, and Faces.  “What the hell are you planning on doing to them?”

“Something creative.”

“I’m sure.  I read what’s on the baskets.  And exactly how bad are these people?”

“First off, they’re not people, they’re lowlifes.  And they are the worst of the worst.” 

“Okay.  So, what did they do?”

Seth sat forward and spoke into the microphone that was sitting on the countertop.  “Thiago, step forward.”

No one moved.

“If you don’t get your ass up, I’m going to light you up again.”

The Hispanic man stood up and stomped over to the window.  Elmer couldn’t help but notice his intimidating demeanor and someone he wouldn’t want to run across in an alleyway.  He appeared to be around forty-years old and possessed a short and stocky stature.  His black hair was slicked back, and tattoos covered his entire body.  He wore a thick, black mustache and a large scar ran across his face from his left eye down to his chin.  His left eye was gray in color, and it peered in a different direction from his good eye.  Numerous scars, from small to large, riddled his body, and they appeared to be from stab wounds, bullets holes, and gashes.  His skin was dark and leather like, and it looked as if he hadn’t bathed in a long time.

“Who in the hell is this guy?”

“Thiago Sanchez.  He’s a drug lord who’s been kidnapping American tourists for ransom.”

Elmer felt uncomfortable as Thiago glared at him with a death stare.  “Why is he staring at me?”

“Because he wants to rape you in the bunghole with his chimichanga.”

Elmer peeked at Thiago’s member, noting its long length and curved shape. “What the hell is wrong with his dick?  It’s bent like a banana.”

“Why are you ogling his cock?”

“I wasn’t ogling it.”

“Yes, you were.  Is there something I need to know?”

“I’m not fuckin’ gay.  And you’re the one with a room full of naked dudes.”

Seth laughed.  “Touché.”

Thiago ran his thumb across his throat as he glared at Elmer.

“Did you see that?”

“Maybe he wants to kill you instead of fuck you.”

Thiago then grabbed his penis and shook it.

Seth chuckled.  “Maybe he wants to kill you, then fuck you.”

Elmer stood up.  “To hell with this shit!”

“Sit down and stop acting like a bitch.  He’s just being a punk.  Don’t let him get to you.”

“That’s easy for you to say.  He’s not fuckin’ with you!”

“That’s because he knows I’ll light his ass up.  I’ve been having fun with these assholes while I’ve waited for you to show up.”

“Like how?”

Seth spoke into the mic.  “Face away from me, pervert.”

Thiago displayed a hateful expression as he turned around.

Seth pointed.  “See the stitching on his back?”

“Yeah.”  Elmer observed a fresh wound that ran down his back from his shoulders to his rear end.  Thick, black thread held it closed, and some type of clear epoxy covered the stitching.  “What did you do to him?”

“I installed electrodes along his spine and throughout his body.  I also implanted a lithium battery pack, a control module, and a wireless receiver in his abdomen.  I did that to all of them.”

Elmer plopped back in his chair.  “Is it painful?”

Seth pointed to something that resembled a remote control laying on the countertop.  “See for yourself.”

Elmer picked it up, observing it incorporated five sets of buttons and knobs, each accompanied by a picture of the respective man.  “What do these switches do?”

“They energize their electrodes.”

“What are the knobs for?”

“To adjust the output voltage.”  Seth nodded toward Thiago.  “Make that fucker do the Mexican Hat Dance.”  When Elmer turned his knob all the way to the right, Seth laughed.  “That’s gonna make him break dance.  And I mean that literally.  The current at that level will cause his muscles to contract so much it will break his bones.”

“Oh, shit!  I didn’t know you could do that with electricity.”

“This set-up is the most powerful one I’ve built, thanks to the electrical components I was able to pick up from the contractors.”

“What do you mean?  Why would they give you stuff?”

“I gave them a list of everything I needed.”

“So, not only did the government hand deliver you these men, but they also hooked you up with whatever goodies you wanted?”

“In a roundabout way.”

“Sounds like you’re moving up in the world.”

“It’s all bullshit.  They’re just using me for a scapegoat.  A smoke and mirrors show.  They’ll get what they want, then throw me under the bus.”

“Are you worried about them taking you out when this is done?”

“Of course.  I haven’t gotten away with this shit because I’m an idiot.  For now, let’s just kick back and have some fun with these assholes.”  He pointed to the control box.  “Teach that fucker a lesson.”

Elmer turned the knob down to thirty percent, and when he pressed the button, Thiago’s body began shaking as he let out a weird howling sound.  “Oh my God!  He looks like a fuckin’ zombie.”

Seth spoke into the mic.  “Do the hat dance, motherfucker.”

Thiago could barely speak as he grunted, “Fuck you, pendejo!”

Seth glanced at Elmer.  “Turn it up a little.”

“Will do.”  He turned it to forty percent.  When he pressed the button again, Thiago fell to the floor and began violently twitching as his limbs chaotically flopped around.  The electrodes inside his body could be seen arcing under the skin at his face, throughout his abdomen, along his back, and down each of his limbs.  A moment later, his bowels released and spewed shit all over himself and the floor.

Seth raised his hand.  “That’s enough.”

As soon as Elmer released the button, allowing Thiago to speak, he wailed, “Okay!  Okay!  I’ll do whatever you want!  Please don’t shock me again!”

Seth spoke into the mic.  “Then get to doin’ the hat dance.”

Thiago jumped to his feet and began half-ass dancing like a retarded kid throwing a temper tantrum.

“Do it right, asshole.”  Seth thought for a moment.  “And I want you to draw a fuckin’ sombrero on the floor with your shit.”

Thiago glared at him as he paused in his tracks.  “You’re pinche loco, cabeza de polla.”

“Do it, or I will make you rip off your cock.”  Seth glanced at Elmer.  “I’ve made these fuckers do some fucked up shit before you got here, so he knows I’m not bluffing.”

Knowing he didn’t have a choice, Thiago grabbed a pile of his feces and quickly drew a large circle on the floor with a smaller circle in the center, then he began dancing around it as he yelled, “Is dis what you want, you pinche maricon?  You like seeing naked men prancing around?”

Seth began laughing, annoying Thiago further.  He stopped dancing, then slung feces at the window.  “I’m going to kill your entire family for this, cabrón!”

Seth pointed at the feces as it ran down the glass.  “Clean that shit off with your fuckin’ tongue.  Pun intended, dickhead.”

“Me cago en tu puta madre.”

Elmer frowned.  “What the fuck did he say?”

“He said, I shit on your bitch of a mother.”  Seth grabbed the control box from Elmer and held it up.  “I’m not telling you again, you mouthy prick.”

Boiling with anger, Thiago ran up to the glass and began beating on it as he yelled, “Me cago en la madre que te patio!” 

Seth shook his head.  “I’m fixing to make an example out of this fucker.”  He turned the knob to seventy percent, then pressed a button, instantly causing Thiago to crash to the floor as if some invisible being had kicked his legs out from under him.  As he produced a loud screeching sound, his body, arms, and legs twisted around like a contortionist.  Finally, his left arm bent backwards followed by a bone ripping through his skin.  Seth shut off the unit, then stood up and tapped on the glass.  “Get to lickin’ before I break you in half.”

Thiago slowly rose from the floor.  He didn’t say a word as he began licking the shit from the glass.  When he was done, Seth pointed to the back of the room.  “Go sit your ass in the back of the bus.”

Elmer displayed a troubled expression as he rubbed his own arm.  “That shit makes my arm ache.  I can’t believe you made him do that with just the press of a button.”

“I told you it generated some power.”  Seth spoke into the mic.  “Buddy.  Front and center.”

The white man slowly rose and sauntered across the floor as if he didn’t give a shit.  He exhibited an orneriness same as Thiago and covered in just as many scars.  He stood over six-feet tall with a flabby physique.  His face, neck, and forearms boasted a tan complexion, while the remainder of his body remained as pale as alabaster, an indication he spent a lot of time outdoors. The sides of his head featured AK-47 rifle tattoos while a teardrop was showcased below his right eye.  His body was covered with poor quality tattoos, and his white skin only accentuated their crudeness.

When he reached the window, he stopped, held his arms straight out, then spun around while sporting a shit-eating grin.  “You like what you see?”

Seth held his index finger about an inch from his thumb, indicating he had a short penis, then laughed.

The man slammed his fist on the window as he glared at Seth.  “Come in here and say that to my face, if you got the balls!”

Elmer peered at Seth.  “You should have tinted the glass so they couldn’t see us.”

Seth was leaning back in his chair, legs propped up on the countertop, drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette.  “This pisses them off having to watch me chill while they’re bare assed and locked up against their will.”

Elmer thought the man looked like stereotypical white trash.  “Who is this scumbag?”

“Before I introduce you to him, I need to give him an attitude adjustment.”  Seth picked up the control box.  “Tell him to lick up the fuckin’ sombrero.”

“What do you mean?  What sombrero?”

“I want him to lick up Thiago’s shit from the floor.”

“That’s fuckin’ nasty.”  Elmer spoke into the mic.  “Hey, you need to….”

Seth interrupted.  “You have to push the button first for the mic to work.  It’s the red one on the base.  You can also lock it in place so you don’t have to keep pressing it.”

“Oh.”  Elmer pressed the button.  “Hey, you need to lick up all the shit on the floor.”

Buddy laughed.  “You’re fuckin’….”

Seth lit him up before he could finish his sentence.  At first, he was hesitant as he fought the pain.  Seth sat forward, grabbed the mic and shouted, “Eat that fuckin’ sombrero, or I’m going to turn you into a pretzel like your buddy Thiago.”  Seth turned up the voltage.

Buddy screamed at the top of his lungs as his body twisted around.  He finally shouted, “Okay!  Okay!  I’ll do it!”

Over the next ten minutes, Seth made him lick all the shit off the floor.  He also vomited several times in the process, but Seth told him to leave it for the next asshole.  When he was done, he stood in front of the window with shit smeared around his lips as he glared at Seth with hate-filled eyes.

Seth leaned back in his chair.  “This is Buddy Lee Thompson.  He’s the founder and leader of an anarchist group called The Freedom Federation here in the US.  They also had a thing for burning churches and government buildings.  Unfortunately, one of the buildings they torched had a daycare facility, which killed four children.”

Seth pointed to the back of the room as he glared at Buddy.  “Go sit your ass back down, you faggot.” 

“I’m not a fuckin’ faggot.”

“Then why do you have dildos tattooed on each side of your head?”

“They’re AK-47s, asshole.”

“They look like dicks to me.  And what about the cum drop tattooed on your face?”

“It’s a fuckin’ tear drop.”

“If you say so.  Now go sit your ass back down, knob jockey.”

“You and your little bitch boy will pay for this.”

“I’m not telling you again.”

Buddy flipped Elmer the bird as he sauntered away.

Elmer’s eyes narrowed.  “Why in the fuck did he flip me off?  I didn’t do shit to him.  And I hope you’re not planning on provoking all these fuckers.”

“Why?  Are you scared of ‘em?”

“There’s just no need in making them mad.”

“They can’t get out of the room, so stop worrying.”

“Dude.  I think it’s a bad idea to get ‘em all riled up.”

Seth pointed at the black man, then motioned for him to come to the window.  Elmer observed the man stood over six feet tall with well-defined muscles, long dreadlocks cascaded past his shoulders, and a thin mustache sat perched above his lip.

“This crazy looking fucker is Jamal Keyon Madaki.  He’s from Zimbabwe and the leader of the Black Crusaders, which is nothing more than a radical militant group that forces the natives to illegally mine diamonds.  His group has murdered thousands of people just for crossing his path.  He’s also wiped-out entire villages and has killed numerous volunteers from other countries that were there doing humanitarian work.  Seth spoke into the mic.  “Do you wanna act stupid like the other two fuckheads?  I have some puke that needs to be cleaned up.”

Elmer felt uneasy as the man stood motionless while staring back at him.  “What the fuck is he doing?”

“Thinking of ways to kill us.”

“Send him away.  He’s making me nervous.”

Seth motioned for him to move on, then spoke into the mic.  “Hui.  Get your ass over here.”

The Asian man ignored Seth as he gazed down at the floor.

Seth spoke with a condescending and Chinese accent.  “Hey, Chin-Kee, you come now!”

Hui jumped to his feet, made a karate move with his hands, then charged across the room.  He jumped into the air, then with a flying kick, slammed his foot into the glass.  Seth quickly energized his electrodes before he could kick the window again.

Frightened, Elmer leapt from his chair.  When he caught his composure, he glanced back toward the window, but he didn’t see Hui.  “Where in the fuck did he go!?!”

Seth stood up and peered into the room.  “He’s lying on the floor below the window.”

“What’s he doing?”

“I have his electrodes locked on the lowest setting to keep him immobilized for now.”  Seth glanced back at Elmer.  “Dude!  You jumped out of your chair like your balls were on fire.”

“That scared the shit out of me.”

“He’s not a threat anymore, so get back over here.”

Elmer eased down in his chair.  “What the fuck set him off?”

Seth plopped in his chair and tossed his legs back on the console.  “I guess he didn’t like being called Chin-Kee.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Chin-Kee is an Asian cartoon character from the 1800s with large buck teeth, glasses, a long ponytail, and a black mandarin hat.  The same type of character appeared in several cartoons from back in the day when cartoonist stereotyped other ethnicities.  Today it’s considered racist as shit.”

Elmer frowned.  “I told you it was a bad idea to provoke these fuckers.”

“I could have called him Tokio Jokio.”

“Who in the fuck is that?”

“Another cartoon character from the 1940s.  It’s probably considered the most racist depiction of Asians from that time period.”  Seth shut off Hui’s electrodes, then spoke into the mic.  “Get your ass up, Tokio Jokio.”

Elmer’s eyes opened wide.  “Dude!  Why did you call him that?  You just said that shit was racist as fuck.  You’re gonna piss him off again.”

“Fuck him.”

“Why are you being so prejudice?”

“Prejudice?   What the fuck you talkin’ ‘bout, Willis?”

“Because you’re making fun of Asians.  And who in the hell is Willis?”

“I don’t have anything against Asian folks, you jackass.  I’m just making fun of this asshole to piss him off.  And if you don’t know who Willis is, then it sounds like you’re the one who’s prejudice.”

“How in the fuck am I supposed to know who that dude is?”

“Didn’t you watch Different Strokes growing up?”

“What the hell is that?”

“A TV show from the eighties.”

“Was that the one with all the black people?”

“Yeah.”

“My dad wouldn’t let me watch it.”

“Point made.  Now shut the fuck up.”  Seth spoke into the mic.  “I said get your ass up, Jokio.”

When Hui stood to his feet, he glared at Seth, made a fist, punched it with his other hand, then pointed at him.

Elmer looked confused.  “What did that mean?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, but I’m sure it wasn’t nice.”

Elmer’s eyes locked onto Hui’s towering frame and his bulging muscles.  Yet, what really stood out were the remnants of an injury on Hui’s left eye, now white and ghostly, and a jagged scar that ran across his left cheek.  “This dude is creepy as fuck.”

“His name is Hui Jang and he’s from China.  He’s the leader of the Red Dragons, an organized crime group.  He got sent here for bombing a subway station in the US, two buildings in Europe, and murdering a shitload of his own people.  He’s also responsible for the disappearance of five American tourists and two reporters.”

As Hui stood inches away from the window, Seth motioned for him to step back.  “Get the fuck away from the window and go sit back down with your butt buddies.”

Hui spit in his hand, slammed his other fist into it, then slung saliva onto the window.

Seth pointed to the back of the room.  “I’m not telling you again, Chin-Kee.”

Hui pumped his fist for a moment, then grinned as he walked away.

Seth spoke into the mic.  “Abbas, front and center.”

A skinny Arab walked up to the window while coving his genitals with his hands.  He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, sported a long beard, and wore a keffiyeh.  Seth leaned back in his chair, then glanced at Elmer.  “Do you remember the parade in New York that was bombed, killing fifteen people and injuring twenty-seven?”

He nodded.  “Of course, I do.  That happened last year.”

“Well, this is the fucker that did it.”

Elmer’s eyes opened wide.  “Seriously?”

“Yep, this sand monkey is Abbas Abdul Rahman.  He’s a fuckin’ terrorist from Pakistan.”

“I remember him.  I saw on the news a few months ago that he had escaped from prison.  People are pissed because he was never brought to justice.”

“He’s going to wish he was still in prison when I get done with him.”

“So, I take it he didn’t escape?”

“Nope.  It was staged.”

“How long has all of this been in the works?”

“About six months.”

Elmer scrutinized Abbas’ keffiyeh.  “I’m surprised you’re letting him wear that rag on his head?”

“It’s funny seeing him sporting it around while being nude.”

Abbas beat on the glass.  “Your day of judgment is coming soon.” 

Seth laughed.  “Oh, shit!  I left the mic on.”  He glared at Abbas.  “Hey, camel fucker, I’m talkin’ to my apprentice.  Don’t fuckin’ interrupt me again.”

Abbas went from being calm to yelling curse words and threats in Urdu.

“I don’t speak raghead.”

Furious over the sand monkey, camel fucker, and raghead slurs, he turned his back on Seth.

“I’m definitely going to have some fun with you, jihad.”

Abbas quickly spun around and charged the glass, but Seth lit him up.  “Now you get to suck up Thiago’s puke.”  After Seth forced him to devour the vomit, he instructed him to take his place amongst the others.

Elmer noticed the men were displaying hateful expressions.  It seemed like they were each plotting ways to kill him and Seth.  “That’s a bunch of ornery-looking motherfuckers you got there.”

“Yeah, we definitely have a motley crew on our hands.”

Elmer looked confused.  “Like the band?”

“No, not like the band, you dumbass.  Motley crew means a roughly organized assembly of characters of various backgrounds, appearances, and characters.”

Die MF Die

Seth glanced at his watch.  “It’s time to get the party started.”  He slid the control box over to Elmer.  “You can work that.”

“So, I don’t have to physically do anything to them?”

“Are you wanting to?”

“Hell no!  I was worried that you were going to make me go in there.”

“Those fuckers would gang rape your ass.”

“Really?”

“Probably.  So, we’re going to hang out in here and let the electrodes do the work for us.”

Elmer took a deep breath.  “Thank, God.”

Seth leaned back in his chair with the microphone, propped his feet up, then lit a cigarette.  He took a long drag, then keyed up the mic.  “Hey, fuckwads, there are some supplies lying on the floor in the corner, such as one-by-four boards, screws, screwdrivers, box knives, several gallons of superglue, paintbrushes, and sewing kits.  First, I want each of you to remove the skin on your dicks.  Cut around the base, peel it off in one piece, then toss them into the basket labeled penises.  After that, use the paint brushes and coat your raw dicks with the glue to reduce the bleeding.”

No one moved as they displayed a look of apprehension.

Elmer frowned as he peered at Seth.  “Really, you’re going to start with their dicks?  They’re going to go freakin’ nuts.”

“Good.  And by doing that first, it will break their spirits from the get-go, making the rest of the shit they have to do be less dramatic.”

“If you say so.”

Seth spoke into the mic.  “Get to it, or suffer the consequences.”

Still, no one moved.

Seth looked at Elmer.  “Put everyone’s knob at seventy percent, then light their asses up until I say stop.”

“You sure?  That’s the setting that broke Thiago’s arm.”

“Yes, I’m sure.  I don’t have time to pussy foot around with these assholes.”

“Okey-dokey.  He adjusted the knobs.  “Here we go.”

“Hold up.”  Seth leaned forward and adjusted several knobs on the console, then started the song, Die Motherfucker Die by the band Dope.

Elmer’s eyes opened wide as the music vibrated the window, then he observed several of the men were covering their ears.  “Damn, dude.  That’s loud as fuck.”

“Hell, yeah, boy.  It’s three-thousand watts of pure chaos.”  Seth nodded toward the remote.  “Light their asses up.”

When Elmer turned on their electrodes, then men began flopping around on the floor as their bodies violently shook and twisted around.  Seth turned off the lights so the internal arcing inside them could be seen more clearly.  Their bodies looked alien-like and their illuminated arms and legs resembled electric eels as they flopped around in the darkness. 

During the succeeding minutes, the small halite-block room was inundated with boisterous music accompanied by a frenzied display of a pulsating light show.  Eventually, the lighted movement came to a halt, giving way to ear-piercing screams that drowned out the music.

When the song was over, Seth turned on the lights.  “That’s enough.”

Elmer shut off the unit, then sat gazing in disbelief at the aftermath.  All five men were fucked up in different ways and laying on the floor.  Bones protruded from Abbas’ legs, and his head cocked to the side, indicating he sustained a neck injury.  Blood covered Hui’s face, his nose appeared to be broken, several of his front teeth were missing, and a bone stuck out of his right arm.  Jamal’s left arm was hyperextended at the elbow, and a bone protruded from his right leg.  Buddy was in worse shape than the others as he lay in a twisted and unnatural posture on the floor, indicating he sustained injuries to his spine.  He also incurred a broken left arm with protruding bones, a smashed nose, and missing front teeth.  Both of Thiago’s legs were hyperextended at his knees, allowing his feet to touch his chest, and his already broken left arm suffered additional trauma as it dangled like a bag of shattered bones from his body.

Seth spoke into the mic.  “Get them dick skins off, or I’ll jam for the rest of the night.”

Tears filled Buddy’s eyes as he held his stomach.  “I’m hurting really bad.  Like I’m on fire on the inside.  Please help me.”

Seth thought for a moment, then scrutinized where Elmer had Buddy’s control knob.  “Hey, pal, you got his set his way too high.”

Elmer noticed it was at ninety percent.  “Oh, shit!  I thought it was at seventy percent.  Is that bad?”

Seth laughed.  “Not for us.  But at that output for that long of a duration, he’s fucked.”  Seth spoke into the mic.  “Hey, your lithium battery pack is overheated.”

A frightened expression came over Buddy.  “What does that mean?”

“What the fuck do you think it means, dipshit?”

“Am I going to die?”

“It will if I energize your electrodes again before it cools down.”

“Then don’t do it.”

“Then you know what you have to do.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Sure, you do.”

He looked away.  “Just forget I said anything.”

“Do it, motherfucker, or I’ll make that battery pack blow a hole in your guts.”

“Why are you only fuckin’ with me?”

“Because you moved yourself into the spotlight when you opened your mouth.  Now get to cuttin’ off that dick skin before I blow you in two.”

“I…  I don’t know if I can.”

“I’m not telling you again.”

He raised his right hand.  “Hold on.  Let me think.”

“You don’t have time for thinking.”  Seth purposely left the mic turned on as he peered at Elmer.  “Watch this shit.  I’m going to blow out his guts.”

“Are you really going to do it?”

“Of course.  He’s so worried about his dick that he’d rather have his intestines blown all over the room instead of cooperating.  And the funny thing is, the battery pack is sitting in his lower abdomen, so it’ll probably blow off his dick anyway.”

Buddy began crawling toward the supplies.  “Okay!  Okay!  I’ll do it.  Just don’t turn it back on.” 

Seth shut off the mic and laughed.  “I knew that would motivate his ass.”

Buddy dug through the materials and pulled out a box knife, then just stared at the blade as he contemplated his next move.

Seth lit him up for a few seconds.  “Do it, fucktard!”

“I’m doing it!  I’m doing it!” Buddy groaned, his hands trembling as he sliced around the base of his penis.  The surge of adrenaline gave him the strength to endure the pain, and after completing the incision, he just sat motionless.

“Don’t just look at it, peel the skin off.  And don’t fuck it up.  I have plans for it later.”

He gazed at Seth in disbelief.  “I…  I don’t think I can.”

“More motivation coming up.”  He glanced at Elmer while leaving the mic on again.  “Cook his ass on the highest setting until his battery explodes.”

Buddy wailed in agony as he began pulling the skin from his penis, turning it inside out in the process.  When it got to his head, it tore loose, leaving his shaft raw and bloody.  He tossed it on the floor, then shouted, “I did it, you sick sone-of-a-bitch!”

“You’re not finished.  The skin is still inside out.”

He glared at Seth with hate-filled eyes as he flipped it around.  “You’re gonna pay for this!”

“When you get done running your mouth, toss it in the basket, then coat your shaft with superglue.”

He threw it into a basket, then headed toward the box of supplies.

“Wrong basket, dumbass.  You put it in the one for faces.  Can’t you read?”

He groaned and bitched as he pulled it out and tossed it into the one that read, Penises.

“Now you can go cover your dick with some glue.  And make sure you use a paintbrush.”

Rage consumed Buddy as he dipped the brush into the can of glue.  “You better be glad you’re on the other side of that glass.”

“Shut the fuck up and glaze that dick.”

As soon as he coated the top of his raw shaft with the glue, he dropped the brush and began blowing on his dick.  “Oh, my God!  It’s fuckin’ burning!”

“Stop whining and coat the whole thing.”

“This hurts like hell, you fuckin’ prick!”

“I’m not telling you again.”

In a fit of rage, he snagged the brush and began chaotically slapping the glue on his penis.  “Is this what you want, you sick fuck!?!”

Jamal, Abbas, and Hui had returned to the wall where they originally sat, while Thiago remained lying on the floor with bent legs, unable to move.  The men were horrified as they watched Buddy perform the barbaric act of mutilation upon himself.

When Buddy was done, he tossed the bush into the can, then began crawling toward the others.

Seth spoke into the mic.  “Where in the fuck are you going?  You’re not done yet.”

He paused.  “I did what you asked.”

“What about your ball sack?  You might as well cut the fucker off while you’re at it.”

A look of consternation came over him.  “You’re fuckin’ crazy!  I’m not cutting off my nuts!”

“I didn’t say anything about your nuts.  I only want the outer sack.”  Seth pointed to the baskets.  “When you’re done, toss it into the one that’s labeled ball sacks.”

“You’re just fuckin’ with me, right?”

“Sure.  I just labeled a basket with ball sacks for the fun of it.”  Seth pointed toward the baskets.  “Get your ass back over there before I light you up again.”

Boiling with anger, Buddy stood to his feet, overcoming the pain of his spinal injury and broken arm.  He smiled with a cocky grin, displaying his bloody gums and broken teeth.  “Fuck you!  I’m not doing this shit anymore!  You can go fuck yourself!”

Seth peered at Elmer.  “We can’t let this fucker’s attitude rub off on the others.  We’ll have a rebellion on our hands.  Light his ass up on max and blow out his fuckin’ guts.”

Elmer twisted the knob clockwise as far as it would go, then pressed a button.  Buddy fell to the floor, and as his body violently flopped around, Seth laughed.  “It looks like he’s doing the centipede dance move.”

Elmer shook his head.  “It fuckin’ does, but on his back.”

Every time Buddy’s head came down, it would slam onto the concrete floor as his limbs flopped around like a rag doll.  A moment later, his abdomen turned bright red as his skin began smoking, then an explosion blew intestines and feces all over the room.

The other men just sat in disbelief while covered in body fluids.  Surprisingly, Buddy was still conscious as he lay on his back while smoke rose from his body.  His hands were shaking as he felt of a large hole in his abdomen.  “Oh, my God!  What have you done to me!?!” 

Seth spoke into the mic.  “Y’all need to stop his bleeding.”

No one moved.

“You bastards better get over there and help him before I blow out your fuckin’ guts.”

Jamal put his hands out, palms up.  “I ain’t no fuckin’ doctor.”

Thiago gave Seth the middle finger as he lay with his feet next to his chest.  “Fuck you, pendejo!  Look what you did to me.  I’m the one who needs help.”

Hui made his fist to hand gesture.

Seth held up the remote control so they could see it.  “If that fucker bleeds to death, I’m going to do the same shit to each one of you.”

An aggravated expression came over Jamal.  “I already told you I ain’t no doctor.  What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“Go grab a gallon of superglue and some paintbrushes.”  Seth pointed at Hui.  “There are some vascular clamps in the box of supplies.  You can clamp off any blood vessels that have ruptured.”  He peered at Abbas.  “And you can help Chin-Kee.”

Jamal tried to stand, then plopped back on the floor.  “My leg is fucked up.  You need to get someone else to do it.”

“I told you to do it, you lazy fuck.”

“I’m not fuckin’ lazy.  My leg is broken.”

“Then hop on your other leg, dumbass.”

Jamal eased to his good leg, then began hopping.  “You’re going to pay for this, white devil.”

“Shop whining and do what you’re told, jackass.”

Having two broken legs, Abbas dragged himself over to Buddy using his arms, then just sat staring at the floor.

“Don’t just sit there with your head up your ass.  Try to stop his bleeding.”

He scrutinized the gaping hole in Buddy’s abdomen.  “I don’t see any fuckin’ blood.”

Hui knelt next to Buddy, then began using the vascular claps to close off several blood vessels.

Seth’s eyes narrowed.  “Abbas!  I thought you said he wasn’t bleeding.”

He shrugged his shoulders as if he didn’t give a shit.

“That’s alright, you fuckin’ camel jockey, you’ll pay for that later.”  Seth glanced at Jamal as he hopped on one leg while holding the gallon container.  “When you get done playing hopscotch, give Chin-Kee and the raghead a paintbrush.  Then I want all three of you to paint the inside of Buddy’s open wound with the glue.”

“I’m not playing hopscotch, you fuckin’ mzungu!  My leg and arm are broken, and it hurts to move.”

“I don’t give a shit.  Hop your ass along faster.”

When Jamal made it to the others, he handed Hui and Abbas a paintbrush, then the three men began slathering superglue inside Buddy’s ravaged abdominal cavity.

As Buddy wailed in agony from the glue burning his insides, Seth opened a briefcase and pulled out a mask and five syringes.  “I’ll be back shortly.”

Elmer stood up.  “Where’re you goin’?”

“To give these to them.”

“Hold up!  I know you’re not going in there.”

“Chill out.  I’ll be right back.”

Circus of Freaks

Elmer noticed the door in the other room opened, then Seth walked in wearing a skull mask, tossed everyone a syringe, then left.  When he came back, Elmer displayed an aggravated expression.  “That was fuckin’ stupid.  They could have jumped you, then they could have come in here and got me.”

Seth tossed the mask on the countertop, then motioned toward the men with his hand.  “Seriously?  They’re all fucked up.  What the hell are they going to do to anyone?”

Elmer crossed his arms as he pouted.  “It was still stupid.”

“Don’t start acting out.”

“I’m not.”  He grabbed the mask and held it up.  “And why were you wearing this?  They’ve already seen what you look like through the damn window.”

“First off, it wasn’t for them.  I have cameras in the room and didn’t want my face to be recorded.”

Elmer scrutinized the room with the men.  “I don’t see any.”

“You’re not going to see them where you’re sitting.  They’re on the wall above the window.”

“Why not edit the recording later like you usually do?”

“I can’t.  I’m live streaming this shit to the internet so everyone can see how much fun these assholes are having.”

“That’s kind of ballsy.”

“I’ve already told you it was going to be broadcast around the world so I could make an example out of them.”  Seth spoke into the mic.  “Inject the syringes into yourselves.”

At this point, everyone had reached a state of apathy and injected themselves without a quarrel.  Elmer looked at Seth with a confusion expression.  “I’m surprised they did that voluntarily.”

“They’ve reached their limit mentally and physically and just want to it to be over with.”

“What did they inject themselves with?”

“A special concoction I came up with.  It’s a mixture of pipradrol, epinephrine, scopolamine, and a clotting agent.  These motherfuckers are fixin’ to come alive and have the time of their lives.”

Elmer noticed the men were becoming restless and fidgety.  “Looks like it’s already working.  But what’s it actually going to do to them?”

“I’ve only used this concoction a few times and it works great for this type of situation, but it did take a lot of experimentation until I got the mixture right.  Epinephrine is nothing more than adrenaline.  It’s the same shit we’ve used before and it’s going to pep them up.  Pipradrol stimulates the central nervous system.  The scopolamine, also known as The Devil’s Breath, renders them incapable of exercising free will while remaining coherent.  And the clotting agent is self-explanatory.”

“Devil’s Breath?  I’ve never heard of it.  Is that something you came up with?”

“No.  It’s made from the Borrachero tree in Columbia, and it’s commonly used by criminals there.”

“What do they use it for?”

“To commit robberies, kidnappings, sexual assaults, shit like that.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It creates a temporary zombification, leaving their victims helpless and subject to mind control.”

“Mind controlled zombies?  Sounds like you made that shit up.”

“I didn’t word it that way, but I guess they could be considered as mind-controlled zombies.”

“Bullshit.”

“Let me give you a demonstration how it works.”  Seth spoke into the mic.  “Hey, fuckwads, front and center.”

No one complied as they crawled around like rabid animals.  Seth glanced at Elmer.  “Set the rheostats to fifty percent, then light their asses for a few seconds to get their attention.”

“Okay.”  He adjusted the knobs on the remote, then gave them a quick jolt.

Seth yelled into the mic.  “Front and center, assholes!”

They crawled to the window, then sat gazing with hollow eyes at Seth.

He pointed at Thiago.  “I want y’all to hold him down and remove the skin from his dick the same way Buddy did his.”

Jamal, Hui, and Abbas attacked Thiago like wild beasts, showing no mercy as they held him down and cut around the base of his penis with a box knife.  The combination of drugs flowing through their veins allowed them to overcome their own pain as they stood on broken legs, swung broken arms, bent injured backs, and turned tweaked necks.

Thiago wailed at the top of his lungs and pleaded in Spanish as they ripped the skin from his penis.  Jamal rose to his feet and held the skin in the air while the other two men danced around him like savages.

Elmer shook his head as he gazed upon the barbaric act.  “Oh, my God!  They’re acting like they’re on drugs.”

Seth laughed.  “They are.”  He spoke into the mic.  “Now I want y’all to cut off his ball sack.  And make sure you leave his nuts intact.”

Hui and Jamal pulled Thiago’s legs apart as Abbas cut around the top of his sack.  Once severed, he pulled the sack off, leaving his testicles hanging by their spermatic cords.

“Now I want y’all to cut around the top of Thiago’s legs, then rip the skin off like you’re taking off your girlfriend’s thigh-high stockings.  When y’all are done with that, do the same thing to his arms.”

Elmer stood up.  “Oh, my God!  This is sick.”  He watched in horror as the men ripped the skin from Thiago’s limbs, and he could hear his screaming, begging, and pleading loud and clear through the glass.  “Why is he in pain, but the others aren’t?”

“It’s the combination of the drugs I gave them.  It helps the aggressors overcome pain, but the one being attacked feels everything.”  Seth keyed up.  “Now I want y’all to cut around his eyes and mouth.  After that, run the blade along his hairline, in front of his ears, along his jawlines and under his chin.  I want his face removed, but I also want the skin around his eyes and mouth to remain intact.”

Elmer dry heaved as he watched the men rip off Thiago’s face.  “This is so fucked up.”

“You haven’t seen shit yet.  We’re just getting started.”  Seth spoke into the mic.  “Hui, I want you to put the skins in the correct baskets.  I want you other two to coat Thiago’s limbs, dick, testicles, and face with the glue.”

Hui did what he was told, and as Abbas and Jamal began smearing glue all over Thiago’s raw flesh, he wailed an ear-piercing scream as he crawled across the floor.  When he got close to the window, he reached out toward Seth and shouted.  “Please make them parada!  My cuemo is quema!  Burning mi piel!  Please han misericordia!  I beg te!”

Elmer peered at Seth.  “What the fuck is he saying?”

“He’s in so much pain that he’s mixing up his English and Spanish, but he’s basically telling me to make them stop because his body feels like it’s on fire.”

When the men had Thiago coated with the glue, he just laid on the floor sobbing.  Seth spoke into the mic.  “Thiago.  Stand up.”

He could barely speak as he groaned out, “Please just matar me.”

“I’m not going to kill you, but I will let you get back at the others for what they did to you.  You are now the predator and can’t feel pain.  Take your vengeance.”

“I will asesinato esos cabrones!”  Thiago became aggressive, and as he tried to stand, the drugs coursing through his body helped him overcome the pain, but the damaged ligaments in his knees caused his legs to move around as if they were made of taffy and he kept falling back to the floor.

Elmer couldn’t imagine how a person could still be alive in his condition, much less take commands.  “What the fuck?  Why is he trying to get up?”

“Because I told him to.  That’s the scopolamine at work.”

“That has to be painful as fuck.”

“He can’t feel pain anymore because I told him he couldn’t.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

Between the pipradrol, epinephrine, and scopolamine, he’s now feeling invincible and blocking out the pain.  The combination of these drugs practically rapes their mind, and whatever I tell them, they believe.”  Seth spoke into the mic.  “I want Hui, Abbas, and Thiago to do the same thing to Jamal.  Jamal.  You’re too weak to fight back, and you’re going to feel the pain of your flesh being torn off.”

Jamal froze as the others charged him.  He was the biggest and strongest in the group, but he easily went down as they dragged him to the floor like a pack of wild animals.  He screamed at the top of his lungs as Abbas sat on his chest and cut off his face while Hui removed the skin on his penis and ball sack, and Thiago looked like a skinned monkey on crack as he ripped the flesh from Jamal’s limbs.

In less than three minutes they were done.  Jamal didn’t move as he lay on his back crying, but that changed when they began coating his raw muscles with glue.  The pain became so intense that he flipped over, then started crawling in a circle on his hands and knees while wailing in agony.  Thiago was sitting on his back, riding him like a horse, as the other two were latched onto his legs.

Elmer shook his head as he observed the disturbing sight.  “What a fuckin’ circus you’ve created.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”  Seth spoke into the mic.  “Once y’all get done with Jamal and sort the skins, Abbas said he wants to be next.”

As soon as they were done, they turned on Abbas like raging maniacs.  They had him skinned and coated in five minutes.  As soon as they were done, Seth had them do Hui, then finish up with Buddy, who amazingly, was still alive and survived the brutal attack.

Monstrosity

Elmer couldn’t believe his eyes as he watched the men walk around in circles with skinned limbs, raw penises, and hanging testicles.  The exposed muscles on their faces combined with the patches of skin around their eyes and mouths made it even more of a disturbing sight.  The men were pumping their fists and growing like wild animals as they stomped around aimlessly.  “This is fuckin’ grotesque.”

“It’s definitely fuckin’ somethin’.”

“So, now what?”

“It’s time for them to get ready for the show.”

“What show?”

“You’ll see.”  Seth spoke into the mic.  “Hui, go grab a black left leg and dark brown right leg from the leg basket.  Abbas, grab a yellow right arm and dark brown left arm from the arm basket.  Thiago, go grab a black dick skin and a golden-brown ball sack from the baskets.  Jamal, retrieve your face from the face basket.  Once y’all get your skins, grab a needle and some thread from the box of supplies, then I want y’all to sew them onto Buddy.”

Elmer frowned.  “Are you fuckin’ serious?  You’re gonna make them sew different color skins on that dude.”

“It’ll be fuckin’ cool.”

“Cool isn’t the word I was thinking of.”

“I’m surprised you’re having an issue with this considering the other shit we’ve done.”

“I’m not.  It’s just that you never cease to amaze me with the shit you come up with.”

Seth noticed Thiago was poking Buddy in the eye with a needle as the others taunted him by waving the skins in front of his face.  Aggravated, Seth yelled into the mic.  “Stop fuckin’ around and get to it!”

“Your fuckin’ drug concoction has made them even meaner.  I hope they don’t figure out a way to escape, because they’ll do that shit to us.”

“I ain’t sweatin’ it.”

“You should.  You turned those fuckers into homicidal freaks, and your little experiment might backfire on you.”

“Stop worrying.”

By now, Jamal was sitting on Buddy’s chest and sewing his own facial skin to buddy’s face as Abbas sewed on the arm skins, Hui sewed on the leg skins, and Thiago sewed on the penis skin and ball sack.

When they were done, Buddy looked like a patchwork doll that had been sewn together with thick, black thread.  Seth spoke into the mic.  “Buddy.  Stand up.”

He didn’t move as he lay sobbing.

“Stand up and show off your new…”  Seth gawked at Elmer.  “What the hell should we call that?”

Elmer shrugged his shoulders.  “Fuckin’ disturbing.”

Seth shook his head.  “You’re no help.”  He spoke into the mic.  “Come on, Buddy, stand up.  I want to see what you look like while strutting around in all the colors you hate.”

Buddy rolled his head over and made eye contact with Seth, then raised his yellow-skinned hand and threw him the middle finger.

“Now that wasn’t very nice.”

Elmer blurted out in excitement.  “Heinz 57!  That’s what he is.  He’s a Heinz 57 since he’s made of different ethnic groups.”

Seth laughed.  “What do you think of that, Buddy?  You’re a Heinz 57.  A fuckin’ mutt.  I bet you love that.”  Seth pointed at Jamal.  “There’s a mirror over there with the rest of the shit.  Go get it and show Buddy what he looks like.”

When Jamal held a large mirror above Buddy, he erupted into a tirade.  “Oh, my God!  What have you done to me?”  He glared at Seth.  “You’re going to pay for this.”

“Take another look into the mirror, you idiot.  You’re all fucked up and can’t do shit.”

“My brothers will find you.”

“I heard your brothers were thrown out of a helicopter at five-thousand feet.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m being serious.  The guys that rounded up your ass also abducted your brothers.  They showed me a video of them being tossed out of the helicopter.”

Fueled by rage, Buddy tried to get up, but he couldn’t feel his legs, an indication the explosion damaged his spine.  “Oh shit!  I’m fuckin’ paralyzed.  Look what you’ve done to me.”

Seth peered at Elmer with an aggravated expression.  “Damnit!  I needed him to be able to walk.”

“Why?”

“For the grand finale.”

“What finale?”

Seth thought for a moment, then spoke into the mic.  “Hui, Abbas, and Thiago.  Do Jamal next.  I want him to have a white dick, dark brown balls, and a white face.  I don’t care what color legs and arms he has as long as they’re not black.”

They overtook Jamal like a hoard of freaks hopped up on crank.  Abbas and Hui were holding him down as Thiago stitched on the skins.  When they were done, Seth spoke into the mic.  “Lay Jamal on his stomach, then lay Buddy on top of him so they’re back-to-back.  Then I want y’all to sew them together by stitching them all the way around their torsos.  After that, put their arms back-to-back and stitch them together, including their hands and fingers.  Then I want y’all to place the bottom of Buddy’s feet on the back of Jamal’s calves and sew them in place.”

They flipped Jamal onto his stomach, then laid Buddy on top of him.  Jamal and Buddy were screaming in unison as they were being sewn together.  Twenty minutes later they were done.

Seth spoke into the mic.  “Help Jamal stand up.”

They did as instructed and lifted him to his feet.

“Jamal.  Come closer so I can see you.”

He walked stiff legged over to the window, then just stared at Seth as blood trickled down his body from the thousands of stitches.  With Buddy sewn to him, he couldn’t bend his arms and knees, or lean forward.

“Spin around so we can see your new backpack.”

Jamal loathed as he glared at Seth.  “I will get my revenge, in this life or the next.”

“Yeah, whatever, but for now you’re my bitch, so spin your ass around.”

He became enraged.  “You’re going to pay for this.”  He started pumping his muscles, and as he tried to close his hands, Buddy wailed for him to stop as his fingers were being bent backwards.  At first, it looked like they were playing a twisted game of finger wrestling as they fought each other.  Being stronger, Jamal was able to overtake him.  Buddy screamed as his fingers bent backwards, breaking his bones like twigs.  Jamal clenched his fist as he glared at Seth.  “I cannot be defeated!”

Seth laughed.  “Look in the mirror, you fool.  What the hell would you call that?”

He started headbutting the window.  “I’m going to kill you!”  Then he glared at Elmer.  “And I’m going to cut off your fuckin’ head!”

Seth pointed at him.  “Get the fuck away from the window, Jamal.”

“Fuck you!”  He headbutted the glass again.

Elmer peered at Seth with a frightened expression.  “Why is he acting this way?  You told me earlier not to worry because you could control them.”

“It’s the combination of the drugs.  It can make the person feel indestructible, and sometimes act unpredictable.”

“So, now you’re telling me you can’t control him?”

“If he keeps refusing verbal commands, I’ll shock his ass.”

“But if he can’t feel pain, that’s not going to work.”

“Even if he can’t feel it, the current will give him an attitude adjustment.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.  It will immobilize him when every muscle in his body constricts.”

Jamal slammed his head into the window several more times, then glared at Elmer.  “I’m going to fuck you before I cut off your head.”

Elmer’s eyes opened wide.  “Do something before he breaks the glass.”

Jamal grinned wickedly.  “I’m going to dance on your fuckin’ graves!”

Seth spoke into the mic.  “You’re gonna dance alright.”  He flipped through some CDs, then put one in a media player.  “The pain will stop when you show me your moves.”  He cranked the volume, then began playing the song Footloose.

Jamal gritted his teeth as he pumped up his muscles, then with all his strength, he began bending his arms forward, forcing Buddy’s elbows to hyperextend.  He pressed the palms of Buddy’s hands against the glass, then flipped off Seth with both hands.  “You can go fuck yourself!  You cannot control me anymore!”

Seth peered at Elmer.  “Turn his knob to ninety percent, then keep lighting his ass up until he dances.”

After a few zaps, Jamal began doing some type of tribal dance.  Seth laughed.  “I told you the current would change his attitude.” 

Elmer shook his head as he watched the gruesome sight of two men sewn back-to-back with different colored limbs, genitals, and faces dancing around.  As Jamal danced, Buddy mimicked his every move since his body was attached to his torso, arms, and legs.  “Even though this disturbing, it’s kind of funny.”

Seth turned down the music and spoke into the mic.  “I want everyone to join in.”  He turned the music back up, then looked at Elmer.  “Give them a quick jolt for motivation.”

Elmer put all the knobs at ninety percent, then lit everyone up.  Within a few seconds, Hui began marching in circles, Thiago started hat dancing, and Abbas resorted to jumping up and down while waving his arms around.

Seth was leaning back in his chair, legs propped up on the console, and a cigarette hung from his mouth as he moved his head to the beat.

Elmer chuckled.  “This just keeps getting more fucked up by the minute.  What a fuckin’ monstrosity you’ve created.”

When the song ended, Seth spoke into the mic.  “That’s enough.  We need to wrap this up.  Abbas, Hui, and Jamal.  Go grab some skins and sew them on Thiago.”

Thiago took off running, but the others quickly caught him.  Jamal sat on his chest as Abbas and Hui sewed on the skins.  When they were done, Seth had Hui done next, then Abbas.

As the men lay on the floor exhausted, Seth got Hui’s attention.  “I need you round up the one-by-four boards, screws, and the cordless drill.  Then I need you to screw a board to anyone that has a broken leg.  Abbas will need one on each of his legs.  Thiago will also need two since the ligaments in his knees are damaged.  Jamal will only need one on his right leg.  The boards are already pre-cut to length.  Just make sure you hit the bones when you’re screwing them in place.”

Elmer looked confused.  “Why are you doing that?  They’re getting around just fine.”

“Right now they are, but when the drugs wear off, the pain will be too great for them to walk.”

“Hold up.  If you don’t keep giving them the drugs, you won’t be able to control them.”

“It’ll be fine.  I have other ways to control them.”

As Hui screwed on the last board, Seth glanced at his watch.  “It’s almost 11 PM.  I guess that wraps it up.  Let’s call it a night.”

A look of relief came over Elmer.  “So, that means we’re done?”

“Yep.  All that’s left is to load them into the box truck that’s backed up to a loading dock.”  Seth turned off the cameras, then went into the other room and shot everyone with a tranquillizer dart.  After they loaded them into the truck, Seth handed Elmer a piece of paper.  “I need you to be at this address tomorrow evening at 7:45 PM sharp.”

“What is this place?”

“It’s a club called the Fashion Spot.”

“Why am I going there?”

“I have a special assignment for you, so make sure you’re there.  And when shit hits the fan, you better not rat on me again.  So far, I’ve been lenient with you.”

A troubled expression came over him.  “What do you mean by, when shit hits the fan?  What are you up to?”

“I have everything planned out, so don’t worry.  And by the way, this will be your last assignment.”

Elmer’s eyes opened wide.  “Seriously?  I get to go home after this?”

“It’s a little more complicated than you think, but if you keep your mouth shut, yes, you’ll get to go home.  And I don’t want to sound like a broken record, but you better not rat on me in the future if you know what’s good for you.”

“I’ve learned my lesson.  I will never do that again.”

“And by the way, you’ll be on the list for the club, so you won’t have to wait in line.  Just go talk to the doorman.”  Seth got into the truck and rolled down the window.  “And make sure you dress nice.  They won’t let you in if you look like a fuckhead.”

Transformation

Elmer arrived at the club the following evening and immediately felt like an outsider.  The establishment had an air of aristocracy and the individuals in the queue outside seemed pretentious and obsessed with trends.  Despite his unease, Elmer was aware of the importance of carrying out Seth’s request, particularly as it was his final task.  He kept his head down as he approached the doorman who bore a resemblance to Dog the Bounty Hunter.  “I should be on the list.”

“Name?”

“Barry Muller.”

The man flipped through the papers on his clipboard, then shook his head.  “You’re not on the list.  Take a hike.”

“I meant, Mr. Fudd.”

“I said take a hike.”

Elmer became upset, knowing Seth would be irate if he didn’t do as he instructed.  “Listen, Dog!  I said my name is Mr. Fudd.  Check the fuckin’ list again.”

The man glared at him for a moment, then began flipping through the pages.  When he found the name, his facial expression transformed into a look of concern.  “Sorry Mr. Fudd.  You can go in.”  He opened the door.  “Enjoy your evening.”

Inside the upscale establishment, Elmer’s sense of unease grew stronger.  One side of the building was occupied by a stage, while tables and chairs filled the other side.  The crowd seemed evenly split between those seated at the tables and those standing around, engaged in casual conversations.

A few minutes later, a voice resonated through the intercom, announcing the imminent start of the show and requesting everyone to find a seat.  Elmer weaved his way through the crowd, eventually settling at a table toward the back far from prying eyes.  As he glanced around, he noticed two men wielding sizable cameras, evidently poised to capture the unfolding spectacle.  The uncertainty of his assignment left him feeling anxious and on edge.

With his role shrouded in mystery, Elmer’s nerves were dancing an electrifying tango of anticipation and anxiety as he flagged down a preppy man strolling by.  “Excuse me, sir.”

“Yes?”

“What kind of show is this?”

“Transformation.”

“What is that?”

“It’s a fashion show by this up-and-coming designer, Peter Gosenya.”

“Who?”

He handed him a program.

Elmer scratched his head as he scrutinized the name Peter Gosenya.  He thought to himself, Gosenya.  Gos en ya.  Goes in ya.  He laughed.  “Peter goes in ya.  That’s funny as shit.”

The man’s eyes narrowed.  “That’s juvenile.  And Mr. Gosenya deserves more respect than that.”

“Sorry, dude, but it’s still funny.”

“You probably need to patronize some other club.  Perhaps the Ridin’ Dirty bar a few blocks down would suit you better.”

Elmer looked around for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders.  “Naw, I like this place.  Get lost, bud.”

“You’re a troglodyte.”

As the man stormed away, the main lights went off, then a spotlight lit up the stage.  The song Sweet Child O’ Mine by the band Guns N’ Roses started playing at the same time fog came bellowing out from the stage.  Different colored lights were dancing around in the fog, creating a spectacular sight.

Elmer was on the edge of his seat, waiting impatiently for the act.  Between the music, fog, and light show, his heart pounded with excitement.  Ol’ Gosenya might want to stick his peter in ya, but he definitely knows how to start a show, Elmer thought as he watched the spectacle. 

Suddenly, like a mystical apparition materializing from the depths of fog, a diminutive figure stole the spotlight.  Dressed in a sleek black tuxedo, adorned with a dapper top hat, and supported by an elegant cane, a midget strutted to the side of the stage.  Grasping the mic with flamboyance, he was about to unleash his words upon the unsuspecting crowd.  “This is Transformation by Peter Gosenya!  Please enjoy the show ladies and gentlemen!”

As Elmer focused his gaze, another figure emerged from the fog.  They moved across the stage in a peculiar manner, walking without bending their knees.  Elmer’s heart skipped a beat, for lo and behold, it was none other than Abbas himself, making a grand entrance.  The sight left him momentarily frozen.  Abbas, wearing nothing but his keffiyeh and the boards screwed to his legs, captured Elmer’s attention, evoking a mix of surprise and curiosity.

The midget pointed his cane at him and declared with an edgy flair.  “Ladies and gentlemen, presenting Abbas Abdul Rahman from Pakistan!  Brace yourselves, for his hobbies include the fine art of beheading people and orchestrating explosive surprises at parades!”

Abbas walked stiff legged to the edge of the stage before gracefully spinning around, reminiscent of a supermodel on a high-fashion runway.

“Witness his daring and controversial transformation!  Behold this audacious terrorist, proudly wearing a traditional keffiyeh!  But wait, there’s more!  His limbs, face, and even his most intimate parts have undergone a mind-boggling metamorphosis, showcasing an array of ethnic skin tones from various corners of the globe!  It’s a visual feast that challenges societal norms!”

As Abbas made his way off the stage, halfway through his journey, Hui emerged and swiftly surpassed him.  Hui reached the precipice of the stage, ready to captivate the awaiting audience.

“Ladies and gentlemen, presenting the enigmatic Hui Jang, all the way from China, who once held a prominent position leading the infamous Red Dragons!  Brace yourselves for an intriguing personality!  Hui’s hobbies include bombing shit and murdering people!”

Hui spun around a few times showing off his different colored limbs, genitals, and face.

“Just like with Abbas, he’s been transformed into a multi-ethnic piece of shit…  I mean, multi-ethnic piece of art!”

Confusion swept across the faces of the onlookers, their expressions reflecting a collective state of bewilderment.  The spectacle left some individuals horrified; others offended by the nudity on display.  Some chose to rise from their seats and depart, while a few found humor in the situation, resulting in laughter echoing through the space.

Following Hui’s sequence, Thiago appeared on stage, mirroring the stiff-legged gait with boards attached to his legs.  He rocked a stylish diaper and a hat featuring a delightful propeller perched on its pinnacle.  With an audacious display of theatrics, he approached the edge of the stage, channeling his inner primate, his hands flailed in the air like a cheeky monkey, while his grunting vocalizations echoed through the venue, capturing the attention and bewildering the audience.

“Allow me to introduce Thiago Sanchez, hailing from Mexico!  Brace yourselves for a character shrouded in mystery!  His hobbies include distribution of drugs, kidnapping American tourists, and killing border patrol agents!”

Thiago, with an exhibitionist flair, twirled around in a mesmerizing display, inviting every single soul in the audience to feast their eyes upon his magnificent form.

“Ladies and gentlemen, feast your eyes upon his glorious patchwork body, a masterpiece to be admired!  And oh, that marvelous hat perched atop his head, the pièce de resistance!”  Brandishing his cane like a conductor’s baton, he ominously pointed toward Thiago’s waist.  “Behold, this mischievous devil sporting a diaper!  Why, you ask? Well, it’s because this nasty fucker has an abdominal infection infested with maggots!”

Thiago, in a mischievous act, boldly bent over, deliberately showcasing his posterior to the mesmerized crowd before emitting a thunderous blast of flatulence.  The reaction was one of utter disbelief, as gasps filled the air.

The midget motioned for Thiago to exit the stage.

Unfazed, Thiago responded with a defiant middle finger, a symbolic gesture of rebellion, before strutting away.

The announcer couldn’t help but add a cheeky remark.  “And there you have it, folks!  A shining example of the delightful side effects that accompany excessive indulgence in mind-altering substances!”

When Jamal emerged with Buddy literally stitched onto his back, the audience couldn’t help but lose their composure.  Panic ensued, with people frantically reacting to this mind-boggling sight.  Some were utterly terrified, while others found themselves on the edge of their seats, captivated by the sheer audacity of it all.

“Allow me to introduce this fascinating duo known as Yin and Yang!  Their unique facial features symbolize the duality of contrasting colors, with Jamel showcasing a predominantly white face accentuated by black skin around his eyes and mouth, while Buddy presents a predominantly black face adorned with white skin around his eyes and mouth!”  With a dramatic flourish of his cane, the midget directed the attention toward Jamal and proclaimed, “Behold the formidable Jamal Keyon Madaki, representing the vibrant nation of Zimbabwe!  Known for his influential role as a leader of the Black Crusaders, this enigmatic individual’s interests include engaging in acts of violence such as killing anything alive, being a slave driver, and stealing shit!”  With a mischievous flick of his cane, the midget playfully pointed toward Buddy and proclaimed, “Ladies and gentlemen, behold the one and only Buddy Lee Thompson from the great state of Arkansas!  Known for his spirited adventures, Buddy’s hobbies include murdering people, burning churches, blowing up buildings, and killing children!”

Jamal gracefully initiated a mesmerizing pirouette, displaying the astonishing fusion of his and Buddy’s bodies.

“These two souls have been seamlessly stitched together, merging their unique identities into a harmonious whole.  Behold the transformation that extends beyond skin deep, as their limbs and even their most intimate parts intertwine, producing an unparalleled blend of colors!”  He gleefully added, “Rest assured, my friends, with cunning eyes facing both directions, no sly thief would dare attempt to pilfer from this extraordinary duo.  They are an invincible force, defying conventions and embracing the unexpected!”

As Jamal exited the stage, Buddy’s desperate cries for help pierced the air, causing concern among the audience.  Sensing the need to divert attention, the midget stepped forward, capturing everyone’s focus.  “Ah, but fear not, my dear audience!  We have a sensational treat in store for you.  Sit back, relax, and brace yourselves for an extraordinary performance that will captivate your senses and leave you in awe!”

As the midget sashayed away with a cheeky grin, the men made a flamboyant return to the stage, donning cowboy hats, western boots, and chaps.  Their unique fashion choice raised some eyebrows, as their chaps revealed their exposed backsides while their penises playfully dangled through the front. 

With synchronized precision, they lined up, prepared to display their impressive dance skills.  The lively melody of Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy) by Big and Rich enveloped the venue, creating an energetic atmosphere that set the stage for their captivating line dance performance.  As the crowd embraced the infectious rhythm, Buddy’s distressed cries echoed through the air, juxtaposing the exuberant ambiance.  Nevertheless, Jamal remained resolute, confidently executing each dance move, undeterred by the commotion.

The audience sat in a state of petrified silence, struggling to comprehend the spectacle unfolding before them.  Speechless, they grappled with conflicting thoughts and emotions.  Half of them believed that the men had endured unimaginable barbarity, their minds unable to fathom the extent of the perceived torture.  The other half, skeptical and unnerved, dismissed the scene as an elaborate fabrication orchestrated by Mr. Gosenya, questioning the authenticity of the unsettling performance and speculating about his motives for pushing the boundaries in such a provocative manner.

As the final notes of the song faded away, the men swiftly retreated from the stage, leaving behind a bewildered audience.  Opinions among the spectators varied greatly, with some dismissing Mr. Gosenya as unhinged, questioning the sanity behind such an audacious performance.  On the other hand, a contingent of admirers applauded his boldness and his willingness to push the boundaries of artistic expression.  The room buzzed with contrasting perspectives, reflecting the diverse reactions elicited by the enigmatic Mr. Gosenya and his thought-provoking creation.

The midget, brimming with contagious excitement, made his triumphant return to the stage, breaking into a round of applause.  “Well, well, well, folks!  Wasn’t that an absolute blast?  Did it leave you speechless?  I bet it did!”  Despite his enthusiastic reception, only a smattering of applause rippled through the crowd, failing to match his fervor.  With an air of theatricality, the midget dramatically removed his hat, executing a grand bow, and proceeded to exit the stage.  However, at the precise midpoint, he abruptly halted, spun on his heel, and flashed a mischievous grin.  “Oh, how could I be so remiss?  There’s more in store!  Brace yourselves for an unforgettable encore, my dear audience!”

A few moments later, Abbas, Hui, Thiago, and Jamal with Buddy still sewn to his back, reappeared on the stage, armed with an assortment of swords, machetes, and hammers.  The atmosphere grew tense as the audience members fixated their gaze upon the unexpected scene, uncertain whether it was part of the performance.  A deafening silence engulfed the venue, so profound that even the faintest sound could be heard.  The men stood at the edge of the stage, bowing briefly to acknowledge the crowd.  However, without any forewarning, they suddenly launched into a frenzied display of violence, brutally attacking each other with savage fervor.  Shock and terror gripped the spectators as pandemonium erupted within the venue.  Frantic screams filled the air as people scrambled to find the nearest exit, resulting in a chaotic stampede where individuals were pushed down and trampled amidst the disarray.

Elmer’s heart pounded with panic as he desperately tried to escape the pandemonium, joining the frantic crowd surging toward the exit.  Just as he neared the door, a group of men in suits swiftly descended upon him, tackling him to the ground with surprising force.  Startled and disoriented, Elmer found his arms forcefully restrained and cuffed behind his back.  Confusion and defiance surged through Elmer as he fought back, determined to break free from the clutches of his attackers.  But his defiance was met with a sudden, bone-jarring impact to the back of his skull, sending him spiraling into unconsciousness. 

Sock Monkey

Later that evening, Elmer awoke in the hospital.  His room was filled with doctors, nurses, and two FBI agents.  His eyes were still blurry as he gazed at them.  “What’s going on?”

One of the doctors approached.  “I’m Doctor Stokes.  You’re in good hands, so try to relax.”

Suddenly, Elmer remembered the explosive pack that Seth implanted into his abdomen.  He quickly felt of his belly, finding a large bandage.  “Oh, my God!  You can’t mess with this!  It will explode!”

“You’re fine.”

“You don’t understand.  The person that put it in me made sure it was tamperproof.”

The doctor looked confused.  “There was nothing explosive inside you.  We removed….”

Consumed with terror, Elmer interrupted.  “You’re mistaken!”

The doctor motioned to a nurse.  “Bring the item over here.”  She handed him a sealed bag, then he held it up.  “We removed this from you, and I can assure you it’s harmless, outside of the minor infection it caused.”

Elmer examined the item, observing it appeared to be made of cloth.  “What is that?”

“It’s a sock monkey.”

Elmer leaned in closer, scrutinizing the contents of the bag with a mix of anger and relief.  As his gaze focused, he realized it wasn’t the explosive pack he feared, but rather a harmless sock decorated like a playful monkey.  A surge of conflicting emotions washed over him, leaving him both furious and thankful.  “Was that the only thing inside me?”

“Yes.”

“What about the shocking device?”

The doctor shook his head.  “There was nothing else inside you.”

Approaching the bed, a red-headed agent in his mid-thirties introduced himself as Agent Thacker.  His tall stature and serious demeanor emphasized his role as a federal investigator.  “I have a few questions that I need to ask you.”

“Okay.”

“What was your involvement with…”  He paused for a moment.  “I don’t even know what the hell to call it.”

Another agent, older and more outspoken, stepped in.  “I’m Agent Herbert.  We want to know how you were able to pull off such an elaborate stunt.  And why did you drug and torture those men?”

“Hold up!  I didn’t do shit.  Someone else did that to them.”

“Do you really wanna play dumb?  We have plenty of evidence to prove you were involved.”

“I told you I had nothing to do with that.”

Agent Thacker spoke up.  “We’ve searched your house and you had some incriminating items that states otherwise.”

“Like what?  What did you find?”  He thought for a moment.  “And why in the fuck were you in my house?  You didn’t have the right to go in there.”

“For starters, we have a search warrant.  And we found the victims’ clothes and some of their personal items.”

“Clothes and personal items?  You’re bluffing.  You didn’t find shit at my house.”

Agent Thacker showed him a picture.  “Here are all the clothes we found hidden in your attic.”

“That doesn’t prove shit.  And I’ve never been in the attic, so those must have been left there by one of the previous owners.”

He showed him several more pictures.  “I don’t think so, because we found their wallets and IDs mixed in with the clothing.”

Confusion swept over Elmer.  “You must be mistaken.”

“Additionally, we discovered traces of blood within your residence, and we have initiated DNA testing to determine if it corresponds to any of the victims.”

A feeling of anxiety came over him, knowing Seth planted the incriminating items at his house.  “I’m being set up.  I swear I didn’t do anything.”

“Set up by who?”

“The same guy who put the bomb inside my abdomen.”

“The doctor already said he didn’t find any explosive devices.  But they did find large traces of LSD, PCP, and cocaine in your system.  That would explain why the stuffed animal was inside you.  You did it to yourself when you were high and don’t remember.  Just like what you did to those men.”

“This is bullshit.  I’m innocent and didn’t do anything wrong.  And I don’t use drugs.  He must have put them in something I drank.  And he’s the one that put that damn sock monkey in me and stashed the clothes in my house.”

“What about the blood?”

“He must have done that too.”

Agent Thacker decided to play along.  “So, who is this mystery man?”

Elmer knew the consequences for ratting on Seth would be far worse than anything the authorities could dish out.  “I don’t know who he is, but he’s obviously crazy.”

“Why would some man, who you say you don’t know, put an explosive device inside you?”

“So, he could force me to do shit.”

“Like what?”

Realizing he was disclosing too much information, Elmer changed the subject.  “I’m starting to feel dizzy.  I need to get some sleep.”

“Please answer the question.”

“Uh…  Like run errands and stuff for him.”

“What kind of errands?”

“You know.  Grocery shopping and stuff.”

“Really?  Some stranger put a bomb inside you so he could force you to buy his groceries?”

Elmer realized he was digging himself in deeper.  “I…  I’m not saying anything else until I talk to a lawyer.”

Frustration swept over Agent Thacker.  “You know what you did.  Lawyer or not, you’re going down for this, you sick fuck.”

Agent Herbert grabbed Agent Thacker by the shoulder.  “It’s okay.  I’ve heard enough.  We’re done here.”

A sense of panic swept over Elmer.  “Please believe me.  I’m telling the truth.”  He remembered the transmitter, cunningly sewn onto his chest like a treacherous spy.  A quick scan of the vicinity revealed a bandage.  “Hold up.  What about the transmitter that was sewn to me?  Did y’all remove it?”

The doctor nodded.  “We removed something that could be construed as a transmitter, but it’s….”

Elmer felt relieved as he blurted out, “Then that should prove I’m telling the truth.”

“If you would let me finish, I was trying to say it could be construed as one, but it’s fake.”  The doctor held up another bag.  “It’s a toy transmitter.  Something kids would play with.”

Elmer became upset.  “That’s not the same one.  The one I had was real.  I know because I communicated through it with that crazy man.”

Agent Thacker displayed a look of aggravation.  “You’re the one who’s crazy, Mr. Muller.  And you sewed that to yourself when you were high.”  He leaned over the bed, getting close to Elmer.  “Just admit to what you’ve done.”

“I’m not going to admit to something I didn’t do.”

“The truth will come out.”

“Am I under arrest or something?”

“Not yet.  We’re just waiting on forensics to verify a few things.”

“Then I’m done talking to you.”

“That’s fine.  I’m sure the jury is going to find it interesting how you were hearing voices through your toy transmitter.”  He held up a portable recording device.  “Slam-dunk, boy.  If you don’t get the needle for this, you’ll at least be spending the rest of your life in the nut house.”  The agent strolled to the door, then glanced back.  “Just to let you know, we have a couple of men guarding this room in case that crazy man comes back.”

Elmer’s eye narrowed at the agent’s sarcasm.  “This is bullshit.  I’m a victim too.”

“I’ll be seeing you real soon, Mr. Muller.”

When the agents left, Elmer’s mind filled with a mix of concern and apprehension, fully comprehending the seriousness of his predicament.  However, amidst his worry, a surge of anger toward Seth consumed him.  He knew Seth had deliberately drugged him, then skillfully removed the explosive pack and deceitfully substituted it with the sock monkey.  The audacious act of swapping out his transmitter with a toy was a calculated move to paint Elmer as mentally unstable.  Adding to the web of deception, Seth planted incriminating clothes and blood at his house, skillfully fabricating an appearance of guilt.  The use of drugs was a malevolent tool to create a motive, implicating Elmer in the heinous act.  The weight of the trouble he now faced loomed over him, entwined with an overwhelming resentment toward Seth’s manipulative actions.

Following his recovery, Elmer was swiftly transported to a county jail, the stark reality of his impending doom sinking in.  The hammer of justice swung heavily, as he faced a barrage of federal charges, including kidnapping, torture, and a chilling tally of five counts of capital murder.

Elmer’s nerves were frayed to the breaking point as he met with his court-appointed attorney.  Seated at a table, he nervously observed the entrance of his legal representative.  The attorney, an older gentleman in his seventies, was slightly overweight, donned an outdated suit, and thick glasses.  As the man settled into his seat, he remained silent, pushing a photograph across the table toward Elmer, setting the stage for an important discussion.

With a mix of curiosity and trepidation, Elmer picked up the photo, revealing an image of a man in his mid-fifties with a stocky build, a large belly, and a disheveled and unkempt appearance, giving off a scruffy vibe.  Elmer took a moment to study the photo, trying to decipher its significance and its connection to his current situation.  “Why are you showing me this?”

“Do you recognize him?”

“I’ve seen him around.  But what does he have to do with anything?”

“That’s your next assignment.  His name is Richard Tubbs.  He’s a child molester.”

“What are you talking about?  I don’t give a shit about him.  You’re supposed to be helping me get out of here.”

“I am.  After you take care of Richard, proof of your innocence will be sent to the judge.”  He motioned with his finger for Elmer to turn over the picture.  “Look at the back.  I want you do that to him, and try to do it in that order if you can.”

Elmer scrutinized the list, then began reading it out loud.  “Take Richard to a secluded spot.  Subdue him, then strip him of his clothes.  Rip out his tongue and pull out his teeth.  Break all of fingers and toes.  Shatter his elbows, knees, and ankles.  Sodomize him with a broom handle or some other device until his ass falls out.  Rip off his dick and balls and make him swallow them.  Skin him alive, then cover him with salt.  Jab out his eyes.  Leave him lying in a pool of his own blood and shit so he can suffer until he dies.”  Elmer glanced up at the old man like he was crazy.  “Is this a joke?”

“If it was, would it be funny?”

“There’s no need being a smartass.  I’m already in a lot of trouble, and this will only make things worse.  And why are you asking me to do this?  Are you part of the mafia or something?”

“Don’t worry.  Just do what’s asked and you’ll be fine.  Seth said this is your last assignment.”

His eyes opened wide.  “Seth?”  Anger swept over him.  “I should have known this was of his doing.”

“He can’t get to Richard, so he made it so you can.”

The thought of Seth having him arrested just so he could eliminate someone in jail infuriated him.  “That sorry bastard had me go through all this just so he can get off on killing another pervert?  The street is full of them.  Why in the fuck is this guy so important?”

“Because this lowlife owned a daycare where he molested the kids.”

“Don’t tell me that he tortured those men just so he could set me up.”

“No.  That had nothing to do with this.  When Seth found out that Richard had been moved here few days ago, he decided to have you arrested.  He took a chance that you would be sent here too while waiting for your trial.  And it just happened to work out.”

“Did he put on that stupid show just so I would get busted?”

The man stood up.  “No, the show was part of the original plan.  It was broadcast around the world to set an example to the other scumbags.  Millions of people saw it live, and now that it’s viral, it will be viewed by even more people.  It will be out there floating around the internet forever, right along with the recording of the fuckers being skinned and sewn together back in the old recording studio.  It might not detour all of the terrorists, but maybe it will make a few of them think twice before they do something stupid.”  He walked to the door and tapped on it.  When it opened, the man smiled as he peered at Elmer.  “Remember, I told you it was going to be my finest work.  Getting Richard is just icing on the cake.”

Elmer’s eyes bulged out when he realized the man was Seth in disguise.  “It’s you!”

“Once you take care of your business, I’ll get you out.”  Seth strolled out of the room.

Elmer stood up and growled, “Come back here, you motherfucker!  Hey!  You can’t do this to me!”

A guard came into the room.  “Calm your ass down, boy!”

Elmer pointed toward the door.  “That’s the man that set me up!  Go grab his ass before he gets away!”

“That’s enough of your bullshit.  I’m tired of hearing about it.  In fact, we all are.”

Elmer snagged the picture from the table and handed it to the guard.  “He wants me to kill this guy.  There’s a list of things he wants me to do to him on the back.  That should be proof.”

The guard shook his head as he looked at it, then he flipped it over and started reading the back.  “You are one sick individual.”  He handed the picture back to Elmer.  “You need help.”

Confusion swept over him.  “What the fuck?  Why aren’t you taking me seriously?  I have the proof right here.”  He held up the picture.

“You’re fuckin’ nuts, pal.”  He nodded toward the door.  “Let’s go.”

Elmer remained silent, lost in his thoughts, as the guard escorted him back to his cell.  The weight of disbelief and frustration hung heavy upon him.  Why wouldn’t anyone believe his story? he pondered.  As he sat on the edge of his cot, the door closing behind him, he took a deep sigh, then cast his gaze upon the picture still clutched in his hand.  To his dismay, he realized that it wasn’t a photograph of Richard, but of himself posed nude as if he was modeling. 

When Elmer turned the photo over, his eyes fell upon the disturbing words scrawled across the back, I need someone to cum inside me.  Enraged, he tore the picture into shreds and flung the remnants to the floor.  The intensity of his fury was palpable, his clenched fists yearning to collide with the unforgiving wall.  For the following hour, he paced the confines of his cell, a torrent of thoughts swirling in his mind, consumed by the treacherous web Seth had woven around him.

As fatigue settled upon him, Elmer reclined on his bed.  When he adjusted his pillow, he found a sock monkey tucked under it with a note that read, A friend to keep you company.  P.S.  And don’t drop the soap.  Overwhelmed by a deep resentment toward Seth and his unrelenting games, he shredded the sock monkey into fragments, unleashing his frustration with every rip.  Then, consumed by a wave of anger, he began stomping on the torn pieces, his voice resonating with vehement curses that reverberated within the confines of his cell.

A guard marched up to his cell.  “Keep it down, asshole!”  He observed paper, fabric, and cotton littered the floor.  “And you better clean up that mess.”

Elmer glared at him.  “Or what?”

“Or I’ll let Richard rip you a new asshole instead of it being the other way around.”

Elmer’s eyes opened wide.  “What?”

“Just do what you’re told, and you’ll get out of here soon.”

“What the fuck?  Are you in cahoots with Seth?”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.  And be ready.  It goes down tomorrow.”  The guard sauntered away.

Elmer perched on the edge of his bed, the weight of the situation pressing upon him.  The realization that even the guard seemed to be involved in this twisted game amplified his sense of despair.  How many others were involved? he wondered.  He was utterly perplexed by the enigma that surrounded Seth, a sadistic killer who seemed to effortlessly evade justice, leaving him grappling with a mix of disbelief and frustration.  Elmer contemplated his predicament, knowing his only chance for freedom was to fulfill Seth’s demands.

That night, Elmer found sleep elusive as his mind was consumed by worry.  Thoughts of Richard and the impending showdown plagued his every waking moment.  Would the guards lock him and Richard inside a small room, them force them to fight to the death?  The prospect of engaging in hand-to-hand combat, an unfamiliar territory for Elmer, filled him with fear and apprehension.  The possibility of Richard causing him harm or even taking his life sent chills down his spine.  And in the darkest corners of his mind, the haunting thought of being raped by Richard cast a shadow of dread upon him.  He knew that kind of stuff happened in prison all the time, especially by criminals like Richard.  He was already a child molester, so raping a man probably wasn’t a big deal for him.

A Sick Bastard

The next morning a guard came to Elmer’s cell.  “Let’s go.”

“Where to?”

“I said let’s go!”

As he followed the guard down the hallway, through a kitchen, then into a long corridor, fear gripped him like a vice.  Eventually, they arrived at a mechanical room where two additional guards stood with fervent expressions, their impatience evident as they eagerly anticipated a deadly duel.  Then his heart seemed to stop when he spotted Richard standing off to the side with his shirt off, pumping himself up and shadow boxing like he was getting ready to fight.  The sight of Richard’s muscular arms, broad neck, and formidable chest sent shivers down Elmer’s spine, and his instinct urged him to flee, but the reality of his confined surroundings left him with no escape route.

Richard grinned wickedly as he glared at Elmer.  “So, you’re the punk that’s been talkin’ shit.”

Elmer’s eyes grew huge as medallions as the gravity of the situation weighed heavily on his shoulders, leaving him in a state of paralyzing dread.  “I haven’t said anything.”

A sinister grin spread across Richard’s face as he pumped his fists.  “You’re fuckin’ dead, boy.”

A guard tossed Elmer a baseball bat.  “A gift from Seth.”

Terrified, Elmer tightened his grip on the bat.  “I’ll hit your ass if you come near me!”

A look of apprehension came over Richard as he ogled the guard.  “What the fuck, man?  Why did you give him that?”

“So, he can bash in your fuckin’ head.”

Originally, Richard thought the guards were on his side.  “You motherfuckers have set me up.”

“It’s what you get for fucking kids, pervert.”

His eyes narrowed in anger.  “So, that’s what this is about?  Fuck you!”  He glared at Elmer.  “And fuck you too!”  He pulled a crude knife from his waistband.  It appeared to be made from a toothbrush and a razor blade.  “I got something too, you fuckin’ bitch.”

Elmer’s survival instinct roared to life, releasing a savage frenzy hidden within him.  Ignited by an intoxicating cocktail of fear and desperation, he lunged at Richard, unleashing a relentless barrage of blows upon him with the bat.  A final strike to the head left Richard dazed on the floor, and as Elmer stood over him, a mix of relief and satisfaction coursed through his veins.  “Wake up, you motherfucker.  I have a surprise for your ass.”

One of the guards tossed Elmer a syringe.  “I was told to give that to you once you had him beat into submission.”

As Elmer injected the substance into Richard’s neck, he knew it was one of Seth’s concoctions that would keep him alive and awake as long as possible.  In a matter of seconds, Richard’s eyes sprung open, and Elmer couldn’t help but break into a smile as he loomed over him.  “Welcome back, sunshine.” 

Richard started to rise as he wailed, “You’re fuckin’ dead!”

Elmer clutched the bat and commenced a brutal assault on Richard’s body, shattering his shoulders, arms, knees, and ankles.  When he was done, he positioned himself atop his chest and tried to grab his tongue, but Richard fiercely resisted by biting his fingers.  Elmer, using the end of the bat, proceeded to relentlessly strike him in the mouth.  Following the shattering of his front teeth and jawbone, he began pulling on his tongue, but its slippery nature impeded a firm hold.

With a firm grip on Richard’s makeshift knife, Elmer began ruthlessly thrusting it into the underside of his tongue.  After detaching a significant portion, he forcefully ripped it in two.  Without a moment’s pause, he proceeded to forcefully insert the knife into Richard’s gums, leveraging it to pry out his teeth one by one.  Richard’s agonized screams echoed through the air as he endured the excruciating pain, incapacitated by his fractured limbs, rendering him unable to mount any resistance.

Elmer showed no mercy as he proceeded to inflict further torment by intentionally fracturing Richard’s fingers and toes.  With a merciless demeanor, he forcefully bent them in unnatural directions, some backwards and others sideways.  By the time he was done, Richard’s digits were contorted in various directions with bones protruding through his flesh. 

With Richard teetering on the brink of unconsciousness, Elmer swiftly began ripping off his clothes.  “Don’t you die on me, you fuckin’ bastard.  We’re just getting started.”

The excruciating pain rendered Richard almost incapable of speaking as he lay helplessly on the floor.  “Peas on’t urt me anymore.”

Once disrobed, Elmer swiftly turned him over onto his stomach, then fixed his gaze upon the guards.  “I need a broom handle.”

They chuckled amongst themselves, with one of them responding, “We don’t have any.  I guess you’ll have to improvise.”

There was no way in hell he was going to stick his dick inside a man.  Without hesitating, or thinking, he shoved his fingers into Richard’s ass, followed by his hand, then he began twisting his arm from side to side, driving it in deeper and deeper.  Once buried up to his elbow, he began stroking his ass.

As they observed the disturbing scene, the guards were visibly repulsed, gagging at the sight before them while claiming Elmer to be a sick and twisted fuck.  Elmer glared at them as he aggressively stroked Richard’s ass.  “Seth wanted this motherfucker sodomized, so sodomized he’s gettin’.”  As the guards chuckled and made snide comments, Elmer remained indifferent to their remarks, paying no heed to what they were saying.  He had seen and engaged in far more gruesome acts, and all he desired was to bring it to a swift conclusion.  Before being dragged into Seth’s demented realm of chaos, Elmer would have never entertained the thought of fucking another man in the ass with his arm.  Yet, after the many dreadful acts he participated in and witnessed, this undertaking felt frivolous by comparison.

Richard’s moans echoed through the room, resembling a bovine in the throes of labor.  Elmer, determined to complete Seth’s sadistic request, brought this unsettling act to an unusual climax by seizing hold of an intestine and pulling it forth.  He continued his macabre endeavor, progressively inverting Richard’s colon and leaving a heap of entrails on the floor.  Without hesitating, he flipped Richard over to his back, sliced off his genitals with the knife, then shoved his severed penis into his mouth.  “Swallow it, you fuckin’ prick.”

Richard found himself in a state of utter shock, his eyes filled with a glossy emptiness, rendering him dazed. 

Elmer inserted the tip of a knife beneath Richard’s left eyeball.  “I said swallow it, or I’ll cut out your fuckin’ eye.”

“Peas just ill me.”

“Swallow your fuckin’ junk so I can move on.”

“Uck ew!”

Elmer pried his eye out, then ripped it from its socket.  He stuck the knife under his other eye.  “Do it, or I’ll cut this one out too!”

Knowing he’d only suffer additional pain, Richard tried to swallow his penis, but it became lodged in his throat.  Elmer grasped a handful of his hair and jerked his body to the sitting position so he wouldn’t choke to death.  “You ain’t gettin’ off that easy.”

When he gulped it down, Elmer plucked his testicles from the ball sack, then shoved one of them into his mouth.  “Eat that fuckin’ nut, bitch.”

Richard, surprisingly enough, found the task of swallowing his testicle rather effortless, as it possessed a smooth and oblong shape.

Elmer forced Richard to ingest a second testicle followed by the skin of his ball sack.  Then he callously shoved him back to the floor and commenced a macabre act of skinning him with the knife.  The onlooking guards, who thought they had seen it all, were left utterly appalled by the barbarity that unfolded before their eyes.

Elmer, in a horrifying sequence of events, left Richard’s face for the chilling finale.  With a brutal rip, he removed his face, then placed it over his own, creating a grotesque mask of sorts.  Elmer fixed his gaze upon the guards, casting an eerie and unsettling sight to behold.  “Where’s the salt?”

Two of the guards became nauseated and turned their backs toward the barbaric sight, but the third one stood steadfast as he shrugged his shoulders.  “What the fuck, man?  Haven’t you done enough?”

“Do you have any or not?”

“No.”

“Shit.  I’ll have to improvise then.”

“Haven’t you already done enough to him, you sick bastard?”

“Seth wants me to salt his ass.”  Elmer whipped out his dick and began pissing on Richard.  “What Seth wants, Seth gets.”

Richard moaned in agony as the urine burned his raw muscles.  When Elmer was done, he ripped out his other eye, then stood gaping at the guards.  “Okay, I’m done.  Now what?”

They were horrified as they scrutinized the aftermath.  Elmer was covered from head to toe in blood, feces, and other indescribable body fluids as he wore the flayed facial skin.  Remarkably, Richard was still alive.  His skinned body was surrounded by his intestines, piles of hair covered flesh, blood, and feces.

The guards allowed Elmer to clean himself up and destroy his clothes, then took him back to his cell.  As Seth instructed, Richard was left lying on the floor to suffer in agony until he died three days later.  Seth, true to his word, fulfilled his promise by providing the judge with compelling evidence showcasing Elmer’s innocence in relation to the incident at the club and the harm inflicted upon the men.

A few weeks later, Elmer called Seth’s cell phone.

Seth answered.  “Brown’s auto shop.”

“Uh…  I think I have the wrong number.”

“Who are you lookin’ for, pal?”

“Seth.”

“What are you trying to pull?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know this is Elmer.  Why are you calling me?” 

Elmer was taken aback that Seth not only answered, but also still had the same phone number.  “Just seeing what you’re up to.”

“Do you have the cops listening in or something?”

“I wouldn’t rat on you…  I mean, I wouldn’t do it again.  I was just wondering what you’ve been up to.”

“You know, same ‘ol same shit.  So, what’s the deal?  You have your freedom now.  Why you calling me?”

“I’m bored.  I wanna come hang out.”

Seth didn’t respond.

“You still there?”

“Yeah.”

“So, what do you think about me coming back?”

“Coming back because you miss hanging out with the most awesome dude on the planet, or is it because you miss fuckin’ up scumbags?”

“Both.”

Seth approached the situation with a healthy dose of skepticism, cautiously evaluating the circumstances and withholding judgment until he had gathered more information.  “All you did was bitch and moan the entire time.  What’s the deal?”

“I’ve learned a lot from you and want to continue to be a part of it.  I think what you do is important.  Society needs someone that’s willing to make these lowlifes pay for what they do.”

“Sounds like you’re blowing smoke up my ass.”

“I’m not fuckin’ with you.  I’m being serious.”

“You know what will happen if you try to fuck me over.”

“I wouldn’t do that.  And yes, I know what the consequences will be.”

“If I agree to this, you’re going to wear an explosive collar around your neck for peace of mind.”

“I don’t have a problem with that.  I’ll prove to you that you can trust me.”

“Alright.  I’ll give you a chance.  And actually, your call couldn’t have come at a better time.  I was just given an assignment that I could use your help with.  I thought my project with the terrorist was going to be my finest work, but this one is going to be even more magnificent.”

“What is it?”

“I can’t go into detail over the phone, but this high-profile person wants to get some payback against a whole shit load of scumbags.  In fact, his exact words were, I don’t want revenge, I want a fuckin’ reckoning.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“Sure, in the fuck is.  I’ll contact you in a few days with the details.”

Excitement came over Elmer.  “Fuckin’ A!  I can’t wait!”

“Bi… cycle.”  Seth hung up.

Solitary of Horror

Tim Murray awoke feeling dazed.  When he opened his eyelids, he only saw darkness while being surrounded by total silence.  A darkness and silence he never knew existed.  He tried to move his arms and legs, but he couldn’t feel his limbs.  What the hell is wrong with me? he wondered.  Am I paralyzed or something?  Did I have a stroke?  Suddenly, he remembered everything: Seth, Elmer, Henry, Ryan, Charles, Joe, Jason, and Beth, the saw, the tables, the duct system, and the pain.  The entire horrifying experience flashed before him.  Terror rocked him to his core when he remembered what Seth and Elmer had planned for him.  He screamed, or at least he thought he did.  He couldn’t tell.  Someone, or something, was touching his chest.  It felt like a hand patting him.  Or maybe it was more than one hand, he couldn’t tell.  Is Seth touching me?  Or is it Elmer?  Am I in the hospital?  It could be a doctor or nurse touching me.  He tried to speak, but his throat felt strange.  Oh, my God! he thought, they cut out my vocal cords.  He started to panic.  If I am in the hospital, or a nursing home, how am I going to communicate with this person?

He became angry.  They had no right to do this to me, he grumbled in his mind.  He needed to find a way to tell on Seth and Elmer. Those fuckers destroyed my life, and they need to go to prison.  Then he remembered why they had done it.  He tried to block that out.  He desperately fought to keep those thoughts out of his head, but they kept coming back.  All kinds of flashbacks of what he’d done were running through his mind.  He didn’t want to see them, but they kept coming, one after another.  He tried to convince himself that he hadn’t done anything wrong.  It’s not my fault—I was born this way.  For some reason that excuse wasn’t working anymore.  Would it help if I admitted to what I did?  He didn’t want to think it, but the thought of him being a child molester ran through his mind.  I did it, he screamed in his head.  I molested my daughter.  He felt ashamed.  Almost deserving of his punishment.

Between the silence, darkness, and the horrible thoughts, his mind was incarcerated in mental anguish.  A psychological Hell.  He needed to stop thinking before it drove him insane.  Then the thought of killing himself crossed his mind.  But how? he pondered.  I have no hands.  Then he thought about banging his head against something hard.  He tried to move, but it felt like he was being bound.  I am tied up?  Am I in a bed with railings?  He tried to hold his breath, but that didn’t work.  He tried again and again with the same results.  It was hopeless.  He wasn’t going to be able to end it.  He didn’t even have a tongue that he could bite into so he could bleed to death.  How much time had already passed by, he wondered?  Has it been days, or just minutes?  How am I going to live like this with all these horrible thoughts… and the guilt?  Horror overcame him when he realized he could live for another fifty to sixty years.

To be continued...

Book four – Human Cruelty

The Sport Hunter

Jim Wright felt exhilarated as he hung the head of a Siberian Tiger on the wall.  It was his latest kill.  He had to travel to Russia and pay big money to hunt the endangered animal.  There were only around four-hundred Siberian Tigers left in the world, and he was the only one out of his hunting buddies that had one.  He now had earned some bragging rights.

He stepped off a ladder and stood admiring all the mounts in his trophy room.  The room was large and every wall was covered with animal heads, skins and pheasants, and the floor was lined with larger animals that had been stuffed.  Jim had almost every type of animal.  It had taken many years of traveling the world to accomplish this.  He even had endangered and protected species, just like the Siberian Tiger, that he had to pay big money to hunt illegally.

Jim picked up a rifle and pointed it towards a mirror, aiming it at his reflection.  He had a serious expression as he stared at himself.  He liked the way he looked.  People said he resembled the actor Jason Statham.  He cocked the rifle, then pulled the trigger.  “Gotcha,” he said as he smiled.  He set the weapon down, then picked up a letter from his desk that he had received in the mail.  It was a once in a lifetime opportunity; to hunt a man.  The selected person to be hunted was the lowest form of society.  He was a criminal and had lived a selfish life.  The event would take place in a controlled environment to ensure secrecy.

The letter stated he was being considered as a possible participant in the secret event.  The qualifications were simple: have hunted and acquired the main big-game animals: a lion, elephant, buffalo, leopard, giraffe, tiger, and rhinoceros.  Pay a fee of two-hundred-thousand dollars, sign a waiver of liability and consent to a secrecy contract.  If anyone broke this contract, the penalty would be death.  He had acquired all the animals required and money wasn’t an issue since he was the CEO of a large finance company.

Jim had always thought about killing a person, knowing it would be the ultimate kill, better than the protected animals he had hunted.  The letter seemed to be legit, but he was still concerned it could be a setup or a scam.  He was required to meet with the event organizer in a few days before he was chosen, or before he could accept the offer.  He figured he didn’t have anything to lose, so he decided to at least attend the meeting.  It was going to be held in Dallas, Texas.  He was living in Maine, but that was just a short jet ride away for him.

The Dog Fighters

Joe Sanchez stopped on a bridge at eleven PM.  The area was dark and secluded.  He and his friend, Gary Foster, dragged a pit bull from the trunk of their car and onto the asphalt.  The dog was covered in blood and very weak.  Joe raised a hammer and shouted.  “You sorry motherfucker!”  He slammed it down on the dog’s head.

Gary was standing off to the side smoking a cigarette.  “Hit that piece of shit again!  Fucker cost me five-hundred bucks.”

The dog yelped with the next few blows until he was knocked unconscious.  Joe motioned to Gary.  “Grab his legs.”

The two men threw the dog off the bridge and into the water below.  When they got back in the car, Joe looked in the rear-view mirror.  “Dammit!  Fuckin’ mutt got blood on me!”  Joe was Hispanic and in his late twenties.  He was skinny, had a burr haircut and tattoos covered his neck and arms.   He had a thin mustache and his face was covered in short whiskers.  He was wearing khaki pants, a white tee-shirt, and a black hoodie.  He looked like a gangbanger.  Gary looked just the opposite.  He was Caucasian, short and fat, with long shaggy hair and a baby face with pimples.  He was wearing red and black basketball shorts and a blue pullover shirt.  His clothes were stained and torn and it looked as if he hadn’t bathed in weeks.  He was thirty-four, but looked like he was eighteen.

Joe wiped the blood off his face with a rag as he drove.  “Fuckin’ Lola is gonna get it too if she doesn’t represent.”

“She’s ready.”

“Fuckin’ better be.  This shit tonight ain’t gonna happen again.”  Joe was pissed.  Their reputation had been diminished when their pit bull lost a fight.  He and Gary had been fighting dogs since high school and had a reputation to uphold.

“I know.  But I think we fought Titus too soon.  He still wasn’t over all his injuries from the last fight.”

“Well, the motherfucker ain’t gonna have to worry ‘bout that no more, is he?”

Gary laughed.  “Not unless he grew some gills.”

Joe looked at Gary.  “So, what do you think about that invitation?”

“We should at least go see if it’s legit.”

Joe and Gary had received a letter in the mail stating they were being considered for a high-stake dog fight called Blood Sport.  There was no entry fee and the winning dog would make the headlines in every newspaper across the country.  If they won, that would elevate them to rock star status in the dog fighting world.  The only thing they were required to bring was all their dogs so each one could participate in the fight.

Joe agreed.  “I think so.  The meeting is in a few days in Dallas, so we need to leave in the morning.”

Psychotic Killer

The next morning, Joe and Gary loaded up their dogs, Lola, Scar Face and Kobie, and took off in their car from Albuquerque, New Mexico.  Eleven hours later they entered Dallas.  Gary was looking at Google Maps on his cell phone.  “Take exit 429B coming up.”

Joe took the exit.  “Now what?”

“Stay on the access road.  When we get to Commerce Street, take a right.  The building is a short way down on the right.  It’s four stories tall.”

A few miles down, Joe pulled into a parking lot.  He noticed the building was very old, run down and all the windows were boarded up.  “You sure this is it?”

“I guess.”  Gary looked at the directions that came with the letter.  “It says to park in the garage area, then take the elevator to the fourth floor.”  He pointed.  “Look, there’s an open garage door.”

When Joe drove through the door he noticed there were other vehicles.  He parked next to them.  “This must be the place.”

They got out, put their dogs on leashes, then headed for the elevator.  There was another man waiting.  Joe laughed.  “Check out this redneck.”

Gary noticed the man was in his mid-thirties.  He had shaggy hair and a large beer belly.  He was wearing a red flannel shirt and worn-out blue jeans with the bottoms tucked into old boots.  “Looks more like a hillbilly.”

When they walked up, Joe nodded at him.  “What’s up, dude?  You here for the fight?”

He shook his head.  “Naw.  Don’t know anything ‘bout that.  I’m just here for a job.”  He reached out to shake Joe’s hand.  “I’m Paul.”

Joe shrugged his shoulders.  “So.”

Paul lowered his hand, then looked at the dogs.  “Are y’all fighting them or something?”

Gary nodded.  “Yeah.”

“I’ve had a few pit bulls in my time.”  He pointed to the smallest of the dogs.  “That one is kind of a runt.”

Joe was a little irritated.  “What the fuck do you know?”

Gary patted Lola’s head.  “She might be smaller, but she’s one tough bitch.”

“I’m sure she is.”

When the door opened, the men stepped inside.  Joe was staring at the man.  “So, what kind of job are you here for?  They need a janitor or something?”

The man laughed.  “Dude, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.  Your dog looks plenty tough.”

Gary pressed the fourth-floor button.  “Don’t let the fool get to you.”

Joe laughed.  “Yeah.  The punk don’t know shit.”

When the door opened, Joe and Gary looked up and down the hallway.  The inside of the building was dimly lit and just as old and outdated as the outside.  Gary pointed towards a sign next to a door that read Conference Room.  “I think that’s where we’re supposed to go.”

The room was filled with people.  Joe noticed no one else had dogs.  “What do you think.  Should we go in?”

Gary shrugged his shoulders.  “Shit!  I don’t know.”

A tall man came walking down the hallway.  He was wearing camo pants, a tan pull-over shirt that was tucked in and brown combat boots.  His hair was short and he had a long, grey and black goatee.  Both his arms were covered in tattoos and he looked as if he worked out.  He opened a door and motioned to Joe and Gary.  “Your dogs can stay in here.  I’ve already set ‘em up with food and water.”

Joe nodded.  “Hey man, I’m Joe, and this is Gary.  Where’re the other dogs?  I want to see what we’re up against.”

“No time for that, pal.  Put your dogs up so we can get started.”

As the men took them into the room, the tall man noticed Paul was standing dumbfounded in the hallway.  He pointed at him, then motioned towards the conference room.  “In there, dipshit!”

“Hey, dude, you don’t have to be so rude.”

“Shut the fuck up and get in there.”

Paul shook his head as he sat in the back of the room.  He noticed the room was a real shithole and had a musty smell.  The walls were dirty and the old wallpaper was peeling off.  The floor had numerous broken and missing floor tiles and the ceiling was covered in stained water spots.  The room had rows of antique chairs with people sitting in them.  There was an old desk in the front of the room and a large window in the back.  The window was about ten-feet wide by four-feet tall.  The room on the other side was dark and he couldn’t tell what was in there.

When Joe and Gary came in, the tall man shut the door, then stood in front of everyone.  “My name is Seth Coker, and my associate in the back is Kenneth Evans.” 

Everyone looked at Kenneth as he stood in the back of the room with his arms crossed.  He was a big man with a bald head and thick mustache.  He was wearing black jeans, a cream-colored polo shirt and a tan leather jacket.  He resembled the actor Ving Rhames.  Seth snapped his fingers to get everyone’s attention.  “Listen up.  We need to get started.”

Jim was sitting in the front row.  He noticed the other people in the room looked like lowlifes.  “I think I’m in the wrong place.”

“What’s your name?”

“Jim Wright.”

“Nope.  You’re in the right spot.”

“I’m supposed to be meeting someone for a hunting trip.  An expensive hunting trip.”

“And?”

“I doubt these people have two-hundred K for this event.”

“Everyone is in here for a different opportunity, so just sit there and shut the fuck up.”

Jim wasn’t sure how to respond.  He was used to getting respect since he was a wealthy and powerful man.  “I don’t have to put up with this nonsense.”  He walked to the door and tried to open it, but it was locked.  He looked back at Seth.  “Why is this door locked?”

“Because I locked it.”

“You need to let me out.”

“And you need to sit your ass down.”

Jim turned and faced him.  “Do you know who in the fuck you’re talking to?”

“Yeah.  A chicken shit trophy hunter.”

“Chicken shit??”

“You heard me.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I know you think you’re badass because you can shoot an animal at a feed trough.”

Jim pointed at him.  “You don’t know shit!”

“I know if you don’t sit down I’m going to have Kenneth break your fucking legs.”

Jim noticed Kenneth was holding a baseball bat.  “Uh….”

“Uh’s right.  And Kenneth hates white, rich fuckers, so I wouldn’t give him a reason to bust your ass up.”

Jim sat down.  “You fuckers aren’t going to get away with whatever scam you’re running.”

“We’re not running a scam.  Everything in your letter is legit.”

“I don’t believe there’s a hunting trip.  I think you’re trying to scam me out of some money.”  He laughed sarcastically.  “But that’s all right—you’ll get yours when I get out of here.”

“Save your threats for later when you’re being treated like one of the animals you hunt.”

“Who in the fuck do you think you are?”

“I’m glad you asked.  I’m the man that’s going to make all your dreams come true.”

A woman raised her hand.  She looked rough, like she had been ridden hard and hung out to dry.  She had long, dirty blonde hair and was average in size.  She was wearing white shorts and a pink shirt.  She looked like Pamela Anderson after a hard night of partying.

Seth pointed at her.  “Yeah?”

“I don’t mean to interrupt y’all’s pissin’ contest, but I think I’m in the wrong place.  I’m supposed to be here for a modeling audition.”

“What’s your name?”

“Amanda Wilcox.”

“No, you’re in the right place, but where in the hell did you get the idea you were here for a modeling audition?”

She held up a piece of paper.  “It says it in my letter.”

“No.  It says you’ve been selected to be transformed into something spectacular like a shiny bright star.”

She looked confused.  “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Sure in the hell doesn’t mean that I can turn your snaggled-tooth ass into a model.  Unless it’s for a dog food commercial.”

She stood up.  “Screw you, asshole!  Who in the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”

Kenneth grabbed her shoulder and pushed her down into her seat.  “A fucking skank from the trailer park.  Now shut the fuck up and listen to what my man has to say.”

A dark haired, gothic looking woman became upset.  “Leave her alone!”

Kenneth pointed at her.  “Mind your own shit, bitch!”

Seth walked over to a laptop that was on a desk.  “We’re going to let y’all watch a video before we get started, so keep your fucking mouths shut.”

A large burly man in the back of the room stood up.  “Hey, motherfucker!  You can go fuck yourself!  I ain’t watchin’ shit!”

Several men stood up and started yelling at Seth.  Jim smiled as he sat in his seat with his legs crossed.  “Looks like you’re fixin’ to have some trouble, bud.”

Seth pulled out a .44 magnum derringer, then shot the burly man in the crotch.  The impact from the large round knocked him on his ass.

Jim looked shocked.  “You crazy bastard!  What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Seth pointed the gun at him.  “Shut the fuck up before I give you a vasectomy too.”

“Okay, okay!  Go easy.”

Seth motioned with his gun for the others to take their seat, then he walked to the back of the room.  The burly man was lying on the floor holding his crotch.  “Oh my God!  You blew off my fucking dick, you sorry motherfucker!”

Seth pulled out a sheetrock saw and started cutting into his right shoulder.  The man’s screaming was ear-piercing as Seth sawed away.  In less than thirty seconds, Seth had severed his arm.  He sprayed the wound with an aerosol can filled with a clotting agent, then stood up.  “You got anything else you want to say?”

The man was filled with rage even though he was in a lot of pain.  “You’re going to pay for this, you psychotic piece of shit!”

Seth began to beat him with the severed limb.  He didn’t stop until all the bones in the arm had shattered and it was nothing more than a limp noodle.  Seth cut off his other arm, then beat him the same way.  The man’s face had been beaten so badly that his eyes were swollen shut, nose was broken, all his front teeth had been knocked out and his body was covered in bruises, welts and gashes.  Seth tossed the arm onto his chest.  “Any more comments?”

He could barely speak.  “Fuck you!”

Seth pulled out a knife and severed the man’s jaw, then grabbed his tongue and ripped it off.  “Anything else, pal?  I can keep going all day.”

He didn’t respond.

As Seth cut out his eyes, someone in the group shouted, “Why you doing that?  He didn’t say anything.”

Seth threw the eyeballs into a trashcan, then walked to the front of the room.  “He blinked hatefully.”

Everyone was staring at him like he was crazy.

“Now that I have y’all’s full attention, it’s movie time.”

The room was quiet, except for the burly man’s moaning.

A few seconds later, an overhead projector started playing a video on the front wall, then Seth and Kenneth left the room.

Everyone sat quietly as a documentary about animal abuse played.  Twenty minutes later when it was over, pictures of abused animals started coming across the screen with the caption that read Animal Cruelty.  Then pictures of people being tortured started coming across the screen with the caption that read Human Cruelty.  At this point, everyone was uneasy, not knowing why they were being forced to watch the gruesome video.  Towards the end, pictures of Seth torturing people started coming across the screen.

Paul stood up and shouted, “Oh shit!  I recognize him!  That’s the Angel of Death.  He’s a fucking psychotic killer.”

Another man started freaking out.  He ran to the door and tried to open it.  “Oh my God!  He locked us in here!”

Some of the people didn’t know who the Angel of Death was.  They didn’t know he was a sadistic vigilante that the cops have been after for decades.  The ones who did were freaking out.  Several men were trying to kick the door open as the others watched.  When the film’s credits started, a thick cloud of smoke engulfed the room, knocking everyone unconscious.

An Evil Piece of Shit

“Time to wake your ass up!  Hey, wake up, asshole!”  Kenneth was going around the room shaking people.

As each person awoke, they found themselves nude.  Within minutes, everyone was awake and yelling for help.  All the men’s balls and the women’s pussy lips had been nailed to their chairs.

Seth was standing at the front of the room.  “I need everyone to be quiet.”

No one listened as they continued to freak out.

“I said shut the fuck up!”

Jim had a pain-filled expression.  “Why did….”

Seth pointed at him.  “I said shut the fuck up!”

A man in the back shouted, “You’re a sick and twisted motherfucker!  Look what you did to me!”  He was a heavy-set man in his mid-twenties, with a baby-face, red hair, and a goatee.

Seth motioned to Kenneth by grabbing his own crotch, then he ran the back of his thumb across his throat.  Kenneth walked over to the man and sliced his penis off with a knife.  The man screamed at the top of his lungs as he stared at his bloody stump in disbelief.

Kenneth tied a thin strip of leather around the base of the penis, making it into a necklace, then tossed it to Seth.  Seth put it around his neck, then shouted, “The next person that speaks out without being spoken to first, will have their cock cut off!”  He looked at Amanda and the other woman.  “Or tits.”

The only sound in the room was the fat man’s whimpering.  Seth walked up to him.  “What’s your name, dickless?”

He remained silent.

“You better speak up, or I’ll have Kenneth cut off your balls too.”

He looked up with a grimace of terror.  “Wayne Maddox.”

“Oh yeah.  You’re from England.  You and your butt buddy went around and stole people’s pets and tortured them for fun.”  Seth looked around.  “Where’s your accomplice, Aaron?  I hope he made the trip.”

Kenneth pointed to a man.  “That’s him.”  He was in his early thirties and looked like a sissy.

Seth smiled.  “Oh good.  I’m going to have fun with y’all.”

Wayne’s hands were shaking.  “Please call 999.”

“999?”

Kenneth laughed.  “That’s the UK’s 911.”

Seth squatted down.  “What’s wrong, pal?”

“I’m bleeding badly and need medical attention.”

“I’ll help you out with that if you tell me why you tortured those animals.”

Aaron became upset and shouted.  “Leave him alone!”

Seth pointed at him.  “Shut the fuck up, motherfucker!”

“We served our time.”

“You say another word and I’m going to poke out your fucking eyes!”

Aaron was gritting his teeth as he glared at Seth.

Seth was staring back.  “Fuckin’ say it!  I dare you!”

He put his head down.

“That’s what I thought.”  Seth looked at Wayne.  “I’m waiting.”

“I...  Uh…  Not sure why.  It just happened.”

Seth jabbed a knife in his thigh.  “Oh, I’m sorry.  That just happened.”

Wayne screamed out.  “Okay!  Okay!  Please stop hurting me!  I did it because I have psychological problems that led to sociopathic behavior.  I’ve been this way since I was a kid.  It causes me to have a lack of empathy towards animals, so I inflict pain and agony on them with no feelings of remorse.”

“That sounds like you repeated what your therapist said about you.  I would have simply settled for you saying that you were an evil piece of shit.”  Seth motioned to Kenneth, “Stop his bleeding.”

Wayne screamed as Kenneth burned his stub with a torch.  His hands were also being burned as he desperately tried to stop the flame from burning his crotch.  Everyone was staring in horror as Wayne jumped around in his seat screaming.  He was grotesquely stretching his ball sack and his skin was starting to tear around the nail head.

Kenneth shut off the torch, then looked at the others.  “I’ve got plenty of propane if anyone else wants to have an outburst.”

A few people were crying, some were staring in horror and the rest were freaking out.

Slūshy

Seth snapped his fingers.  “Okay folks, show’s over.  I need y’all’s attention.”

They quieted down as they faced forward, except for the man whose penis had been cut off.  He was crying uncontrollably.  And the burly man was still moaning, but was on the verge of death.

“Before we move on, I want everyone to introduce themselves and tell why you’re here.”

No one spoke up as they covered their private parts.

“Don’t everyone speak at once.”

They stayed quiet.

Seth held up a piece of paper.  “I have a list of assfucks here that need to pay the piper, and I want to put a face with these names.”

The man wearing the red flannel shirt and shaggy hair raised his hand.

Seth smiled.  “Finally, someone with a sack.”

He looked scared.  “Uh….”

“Don’t just sit there.  Speak up.”

“Uh….”

“Cat got your tongue?”

“No.”

“Then speak the fuck up.”

“Are you really that Angel of Death dude?”

“Do you want me to be?”

“Uh….”

“Are you fucking retarded?”

“No.”

“Then what’s the fuck’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Then stop saying ‘uh’ and answer my question.”

“What question?”

Seth nodded at Kenneth.  “Cut off his dick.”

The man’s eyes got big.  “Okay, okay!  I don’t want you to be that person.”

“So, you were listening, meaning you were just being a prick.  I’ll remember that later.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because you’re a cruel son-of-a-bitch.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“What’s your name?”

“Paul.”

Seth looked at the piece of paper.  “You’re from East Texas.”

“That’s right.”

“That wasn’t a question, dumbfuck.”

He started getting upset.  “I’m not a dumbfuck!”

“Sure, you are.  And you’re also a lowlife, piece of shit.”

“Why are you treating me this way?”

“Because you get off on torturing animals.”

“Torture?  You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!”

“Really?  So, you didn’t steal someone’s donkey and drag it behind your truck?”

“Nope.”

“So, you didn’t cut off his dick and balls after you dragged him?”

“Wasn’t me.”

“And it wasn’t you that spent a whopping six months in jail for it?”

He smiled arrogantly.  “Sure wasn’t.”

“You’re a lying bastard.”

His eyes got big.  “Hold up!  I told you I didn’t do that.”

Seth held up a folder.  “Bullshit!  I have all the proof right here.”

“Why are you playing games with us?”

“Games?  How do you figure that?”

“You’re acting like you don’t know who we are, but you apparently do.  So, that makes you the fucking liar.”

“For your information, Kenneth is the one who put this together and sent out your letters, so I have no idea who is who, as far as what you look like.  And by the way, you mouthy motherfucker, I can’t wait until you’re begging me for mercy.”

He looked worried.  “Begging?  What are you talking about?”

“You’ll find out later.  All of you will.”

“What are you going to do to us?”

Seth held up a sheet of paper.  “That’s on here, but it’s a secret.”

Everyone was too scared to speak, but Gary was boiling with anger.  He pointed at Seth.  “You have no fucking right to do this!  I’m going to kill your ass when I get loose!”

Seth grabbed his own crotch as he looked at Kenneth.

Gary shouted as Kenneth walked up with his knife.  “You stay away from me, you fucking black piece of shit!”

He put his knife back in a side holster, then grabbed Gary’s penis.  He pulled on it so hard that he lifted him and his chair off the floor.  Gary was holding onto Kenneth’s hands with all he had as he screamed.  Suddenly, he and his chair fell back to the floor.  He pushed Kenneth away.  “Get the fuck away from me, asshole!”

Kenneth pulled out another strip of leather and started tying it around something.  Gary looked confused for a moment, then looked down.  “Oh my God!  You ripped off my dick!”  He covered his wound with his hands.  “You’re going to pay for this, you sorry motherfucker!”

Seth walked up.  “Keep running your mouth and I’ll poke out your fucking eyes!”

“You can go fuck….”

Seth grabbed his face and shoved his thumb in his left eye, then started smashing it.

“Please stop!  You’re going to pop it!  I’m sorry!”

He shoved his head away.  “Keep your mouth shut!”

Gary didn’t say a word as he held one hand over his crotch and the other over his eye.

Kenneth handed Seth the penis.  He put it around his neck, then looked at his watch.  “We need to get this shit wrapped up.”  He walked to the front of the room.  “Anyone else want to give me a souvenir?”

Everyone sat quietly as they stared at Seth.  The severed penises were dripping blood all over the front of his tan shirt as he stood in front of them.  “Okeydokey.”  He looked at his paper, then the group.  “So, who’s going to go first?”

Jim looked angry.  “I will.”

“I already know who you are, dipshit.”

Someone in the back of the room shouted out, “Why are we here?”

Seth looked around.  “Who said that?”

No one spoke up.

“If the one who said that doesn’t speak up, I’m going to have so many dick necklaces around my neck that I’ll have to have a back brace to support them.”

Kenneth stood next to Seth.  “I got this.”

“Fuck that!  I want some more necklaces.”

“Seriously.  I got this.”

“All right.”  Seth sat on the edge of the desk.

Kenneth looked at the group.  “I’ll tell y’all why.  Some piece of shit broke into my house and cut the head off my dog, Roxie.  I asked Seth to help me….”

Jim shouted out.  “What the fuck does that have to do with me?  I didn’t have anything to do with that!”

Seth pointed at him.  “Shut the fuck up!  Kenneth is trying to explain what’s going on!”

“I haven’t done shit, so I want to know why I’m in here!”

“Because you have no respect for animals.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play stupid.”

“Does this have anything to do with the Siberian Tiger?”

Seth clapped.  “Wow!  You’re not as dumb as you look.”

“Are you some type of anti-hunting nut?”

“I’ve been called a nut plenty of times, but I don’t have anything against hunting for food.  I hunt myself.  In fact, I have a room full of mounted heads.  They are my trophies.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The animals I hunt are deserving.  They are the lowest pieces of shit on earth.”

“You sound like a hypocrite.”

“Yeah, maybe, but at least my nuts aren’t nailed to a fuckin’ chair.”

“Why the fuck do you care what I did?  It’s no concern of yours, or that black motherfucker standing next to you.  I didn’t kill his fucking dog, so you have no right doing this to me.”

A few of the others jumped on Jim’s band wagon.  They were yelling at Seth and getting unruly.

Kenneth walked up to Jim and grabbed him by the ear, then started dragging him across the floor.  He was frantically holding onto the chair, keeping it close to his rear so his sack wouldn’t be torn apart.  Kenneth dropped him onto the floor next to Seth.  “I think we need to play musical chairs with these assholes.”

Seth laughed as he looked at Jim.  “What do you think of that?  Should we make all ya fuckers swap chairs?”

Jim was lying on the floor on his side with the chair positioned under his rear as if he was sitting in it.  He held up a hand.  “I’m sorry.  Please don’t hurt me anymore.  You’ve taught me a lesson.”

“The lesson is coming later.”  Seth raised his paper.  “Where are the three stooges: Brian, Casey and Douglas?”

Three men slowly raised their hands.  They all looked to be in their late twenties.

“Who’s who?”

A dark-haired, heavy-set man with a beard waved his hand.  “I’m Casey.”

A skinny man with a bald head and handlebar mustache nodded.  “Brian.”

The other man stayed quiet.  He had long black hair and a goatee.  Both his ears had large gauge flesh tunnels and his arms and neck were covered in tattoos.

Seth walked over to him.  “You must be Douglas?”

He was looking down.  “Maybe.”

“Maybe, my ass.”  Seth glanced at his paper.  “This says you and your butt buddies cut off a cat’s dick before you stuck him in a microwave.”

“That’s not true.”

“So, Kenneth is a liar?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I tell you what.  I’m going to look you up on the Internet and if you didn’t do it, I’ll let you go.  But if you did, I’m going to have Kenneth cut off your dick with a pair of fingernail clippers.”

Seth started to walk away.  “Okay, okay.”

“Okay, okay, what?”

“I might have been there, but I didn’t do it.”

Seth looked at the other two.  “Then which one of you fuckers did it?”

They remained quiet.

Seth looked at Kenneth.  “Cut off their dicks.”

Casey shook his head as he held out his hands.  “Hold up!  If I tell you what happened, will you promise not to kill me?”

Seth made an X with his finger on his chest.  “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“We did it.  But Douglas is the one that cut off the cat’s penis.  And Brian is the one that put the cat in the microwave.”

Douglas got mad.  “You cocksucker!  Don’t blame me.  You’re the one that got the cat and came up with the fucking idea!”

Brain was glaring at Casey.  “Yeah, and you’re the one that turned on the microwave, you backstabbing prick!”

As the men argued, Seth walked to the front of the room.  “Where are Arul and Rajat?”

Casey interrupted.  “Can I go?”

“What?”

“Now that I told you, can I go?”

“No.  Now be quiet.”  Seth looked around the room.  “Arul!  Rajat!  Where’re y’all at?”

Casey interrupted again.  “You said you weren’t going to hurt me.  So why are you keeping me here?”

“I didn’t say that I wasn’t going to hurt you.  I said I wasn’t going to kill you.”

“What does that mean?”

Seth walked over to him and whispered in his ear.

Casey looked like he was going to cry.  “Please don’t….”

Seth put his finger across his lips.  “Shhh.  If you say anything, I will do it now.”

Casey began crying hysterically.

Seth started walking up and down between the rows of chairs.  “For some reason, I can’t find Arul and Rajat.  Anyone see two bastards from Saudi Arabia?”

No one said anything.

“These fuckers poached rhinos in Africa.  They made a living from cutting their horns off and selling them on the black-market.  But that’s not why they’re in here.  Instead of having a tiny bit of humanity and killing the animals, they would tranquilize them, then cut off their horns and most of their faces.  They purposely let them live just so they would suffer a slow and miserable death.”

Seth walked to the front of the room.  “The thing that really confuses me is why they mutilated their faces.  There’s no value there, so it must have been done just out of meanness.”  He looked around the room.  “Does anyone see these douchebags?  I really want to return the favor.”

No one commented.

“Okay.  I have an idea that might flush them out.  I want everyone to take a turn and say the phrase, you want a slushy?”  He pointed to the person in the first row on the far right.  “You start.”

“Uh, you want a slushy?”

Seth pointed to the next person.

“You want a slushy?”

Seth pointed to an Arabic man.

“Yoū want a slūshy?”  He had spoken with a Middle Eastern accent.

“Say it again.”

“Yoū want a slūshy?”

“Again.”

“Yoū want a slūshy?”

Seth looked at Kenneth.  “Does it sound like we’re in a 7/11?”

He laughed.  “Fuck yeah.”

Seth pointed to the next man, another Arab.  “Say it.”

“Yoū want a slūshy?”

“Yep.  I think I found my two Arabs.”

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

Seth looked at his paper.  “Who’s the asshat that purposely ran over a group of baby ducks and their mother with a riding mower?”

No one spoke up.

“Who is Jimmy Owens?”

No one responded.

“Y’all motherfuckers better start answering me.”

There was silence in the room.

Seth looked at Kenneth.  “Where’s the duck killer at?”

Kenneth pointed to a sloppy fat man that hadn’t bathed in months.  The top of his head was bald and the remaining hair encircling it was gray.  He looked to be in his late fifties.  Seth walked up to him.  “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“I’ve got something special for your ass.”

He looked scared.  “What are you going to do?”

“You’ll find out later.”  Seth looked at his paper, then walked over to Amanda.  “Wow!  You’re one sick bitch.  You want to tell everyone what you did?”

She shook her head.

“I’d be embarrassed too.”  Seth looked at the group.  “This sick bitch got mad at her boyfriend and killed his puppy by putting fireworks in every orifice.”  He handed her a large box.

She looked confused.  “What is this?”

“Burn cream.”

“What?  Why are you giving me this?”

“You’re gonna need it later when I’m done with ya.  I’d go ahead and rub that shit all over yourself if I was you.”

“Please….”

“Shut up!”  He walked over to a gothic looking woman.  “And you must….”

Gary raised his hand.

Seth motioned for him to put it down.  “I already know who you are.”  He looked back at the woman.  “You must be….”

Gary interrupted again.  He seemed desperate.  “Will you call an ambulance?”

Seth took a deep breath.  “For what?”

“So, I can go to the hospital and have my penis put back on.”

“It’s not yours anymore.  It’s mine.”

Joe popped off.  “What the fuck, dude!  We didn’t do anything to you or Kenneth.”

“No, but you asswads fight dogs.  And if they don’t perform up to your expectations, they get abused.”

He became angry.  “We’re good to our dogs!  They’re like family.”

“I’d hate to be a part of your family if that’s what you consider good.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!”

“Really?  Then tell me about Titus, Butch, Ace, Rocky, Tig and Rufus?”

His eyes got big.  “How do you know about…”  He realized he was saying too much.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, homes.”

“I know more than you think.”  He looked at the group.  “In fact, I know everything about each of you.”

Jim was glaring at Seth as he laid on the floor.  “You said you didn’t know us.”

“You think I’ve gotten away with this shit for so long because I’m careless?  Kenneth might have put this together, but I still did my own thing in the background to ensure each of you fuckers are deserving of what’s coming.”

Amanda was upset.  “Why are you helping Kenneth?  His issue is with the person that killed his dog.  Not me.”

Kenneth came to the front of the room.  “I’ll tell you why.  Roxie was family.”  He looked at Joe and Gary.  “Not the kind of family you two fuckers have.  She meant everything to me.”  He started walking up and down between the rows of chairs.  “This young punk named Brad Johnson broke into my house when I was at work.  The bastard cut off Roxie’s head and put it in the freezer with a note that said fucking jigaboos must die.  The dumbass left fingerprints all over my house and my neighbor’s camera had recorded him and his car’s license plate number, so the police were able to link him to the crime.  He was arrested, but this judge named Randy Cox dropped the charges shortly after.  Brad also had a buddy named Herb Moeller come forward, stating Brad had been with him all day.  I found out later that Brad’s father, Richard, was a wealthy prick and he and Randy were friends.  That’s why the charges were dropped.  And, as far as his alibi, Herb was a lying fuck.”

Kenneth leaned against a wall.  “I didn’t know who Brad was until this event.  And I still don’t know why he did that to Roxie or what he has against me.  I tried to get the district attorney to refile the charges, but he said all the evidence had come up missing.  A few days later, Brad filed a restraining order against me, then I was fired from my job.  I had been a security guard at a power plant for fifteen years and had never been in trouble.  Come to find out, Richard played golf with one of the owners.  It didn’t take a genius to see why I had been let go.  After that, Brad started harassing me.  He would follow me around, and if I stopped somewhere, he would taunt me, telling me I was violating the restraining order.  I finally had enough of his shit and we got into it.  All I did was shove him onto his ass, but the little prick said I had beaten him with a club.  The police had pictures of him with all these bruises and gashes.”

Seth walked over to a man in his mid-twenties that looked like a spoiled brat.  He was holding his head down.  Seth laid his hand on his shoulder.  “You want to tell them what happened next?”

The man stayed quiet.

“I wouldn’t either if I was in your shoes.”  Seth looked around the room.  “Guess what happened?”

No one spoke.

“Kenneth had to serve four months in jail and pay Brad restitution.  When Kenneth got out, Brad started harassing him even worse.  Everyone has their breaking point, and Kenneth had reached his.  He started making comments on the Internet stating how he wished he could find the Angel of Death, and together they could make Brad pay in the most horrific way possible.  I knew he was just blowing off steam, but after reading what happened to him and his dog, I located Kenneth and said I was game.  He didn’t believe that I was the Angel of Death and thought I was just messing with him, so I cut off Herb’s head.  When I showed it to him, he was convinced.  After that, he jumped on the bandwagon.  I’m not sure if it was because he really wanted to fuck up Brad, or if he was scared that I was going to cut off his head too.  I came up with the idea to round up some other animal abusing pricks.  Why stop with Brad when we can turn this into a fucking clinic.  An exhibition of pain and suffering.  A way to vindicate our four-legged friends who have no way to defend themselves.  Kenneth and I knew we were going to have some fun doing this.”  Seth laughed.  “I added the fun part.  Kenneth probably isn’t going to have the stomach for what I have planned for y’all.  The shit I do is way beyond cruel and unusual.  In fact, it’s so fucked up there’s not even a name for it.”  Seth looked at the man he was standing next to.  “But Kenneth is probably going to enjoy fucking you up, Brad.”

Brad was shaking with fear.  “Please have mercy.  I’m sorry for what I did.  Please don’t….”

“Shut the fuck up!  You will have plenty of time to whine and beg later.”

Amanda looked worried.  “What are you going to do to us?”

“The same thing you did to the animals.  Kind of an eye for an eye thing.”

“You have no right to do this.”

“Okay.”  Seth walked up to a tall man in his early thirties.  He looked like the actor Josh Hartnett.  “Are you retarded?”

The man was looking down.  “No.”

“Are you fucking evil?”

“No.”

“Are you on drugs?”

“No.”

“Then what the fuck possessed you to do such an atrocious act?”

He didn’t say anything.

“I want you to tell the group your name and what you did.”

“Michael Hill.  But I didn’t do anything.  You have me mixed up with someone else.”

Seth held up a news article.  “So this isn’t you?”

He looked at it, then lowered his head back down.  “It’s me.”

“It says you twisted the legs and tail off a kitten, then ripped its head off.  What the fuck would possess you to do something like that?”

He started crying.  “I…  I’m sorry.”

Seth looked at the others.  “I just don’t get how you fuckers can do such sadistic shit to an innocent creature.”

Jim popped off.  “You have a lot of room to talk considering all the shit you do.  You’re the most sadistic piece of shit there is.  And you’re no different than these assholes in here.”

“Thanks for giving me kudos on being the most sadistic piece of shit there is.  I try really hard, and it’s nice when someone acknowledges that.  But what I don’t do is harm the innocent, human or animal.  That’s what separates me from dirtballs like you.”

Jim was aggravated that Seth was being condescending.  “First off….”

Seth stepped on his head, smashing it against the floor.  “Hush!  I’m tired of your mouth.  Just lie there and be quiet.”

“Okay, okay!”

Seth walked across the room and stood by the gothic woman.  She was covering her breasts with one arm and her crotch with the other.  She had jet black hair and was wearing dark eyeliner.  She was twenty-four, and the youngest of the group.  “So what the fuck do we have here?”

She had been crying so much that the eyeliner had ran down her cheeks.  “Please don’t hurt me.”

“Why?”

“I’m a good person.”

“Really?”  Seth looked at the group.  “This is Kerri.  This gothic bitch poured alcohol on a turtle and set it on fire.  Then the dumbass put the video on YouTube.  After that, she made the news, then was arrested for animal cruelty.”

Jim was furious.  “You’re going to hurt her over a fucking turtle?”

Seth walked over to him and stood on his head with both feet.  “If it would have been just the turtle, I would have probably cut off one of her tits and been done with it.” 

Jim was hitting his legs.  “Get the fuck off me!”

Seth started moving one of his feet as if he was putting out a cigarette.  “But the bitch also burned several dogs and cats.  The police found the videos on her computer.”

Jim was screaming.  “Okay, okay!  I’ll be quiet!”

Seth stepped off his head, then kicked his chair, causing his ball sack to tear.  “But since she’s an evil bitch, yes, I’m going to hurt her…  Badly.”

Jim remained quiet as he lay on the floor.

Seth walked over to two young men sitting in the back.  “Here are some more evil bastards: Jasper and Marcus.  They’re from Australia.  I read about them online when they were arrested for animal cruelty.  They stole a terrier puppy from an elderly couple’s RV, then took him out in a wooded area and cut him into pieces.  The dipshits also recorded it on their cell phone and uploaded it to the Internet.”  Seth shook his head as he looked at Kerri, Jasper and Marcus.  “This younger generation isn’t very bright.”

Jasper was twenty-five and Marcus twenty-six.  They looked like punks.  Marcus was on the stocky side.  He had short brown hair, a thick mustache and tattoos on his arms and neck.  Jasper was skinny, with an eighties mullet and an earring in each ear.  He also had a mustache, but it was thin with patches of missing hair.  He was covering his penis, but Marcus was letting his hang.

Seth laughed as he looked at Jasper’s mustache.  “Hey, peach fuzz, your boy here must think he’s hung.  If three inches in Australia is considered big, then I’d hate to see what you’re hiding under your hands.”

Jasper became upset.  “Screw you!  You don’t know shit!”

“I know if you pop off again I’ll make you suck your buddy’s big dick.”

Marcus wasn’t saying anything.  He looked pissed.

Seth looked at him.  “Hey, Ron Jeremy, what are you sulkin’ about?”

“Can I speak freely?”

“Sure, pal.”

“Why are you doing this?  We haven’t done anything to you.”

Seth took a deep breath.  “This has to be the most non-listening group of motherfuckers I’ve dealt with.  I’m not going to repeat why everyone is here.”

“I heard you.  It’s just bullshit that you lured us all the way across the Pacific Ocean with a fucking lie.”

“Lie?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t lie to you.”

He looked at Kenneth and nodded towards him.  “The letter he sent said we had been accepted into a special program that helps foreigners with free housing and medical.”

“None of that’s a lie.  This is a special program.  So special, it’s probably the only one that’s ever been offered.  And your stay is absolutely free, unless you consider pain, screaming and begging payment.”

He just looked at Seth as if he was crazy.

“And I’ll give you all the free medical I can to keep you alive as long as possible during that screaming and begging.”

He looked down, not knowing what to say.

Seth looked at the group.  “Everything in your letters was accurate.  So, stop calling Kenneth and me liars.”

Jim laughed sarcastically as he lay on the floor.  “So, who do I get to hunt?”

“Who said anything about you hunting anyone?”

“The letter did.  That just proves you’re a fucking liar.”

Kenneth laughed.  “Liar liar, pants on fire.”

Seth looked at Kenneth and laughed.  “This dumbass is more upset about me lying than his nuts being nailed to a fucking chair.”  He looked at Jim.  “Do you have the letter?”

“Sure do.  It’s in my pants.”

Seth left the room for a moment, then came back.  “Hey, queerbait, why did you have this in your back pocket?”  He held up a big, black dildo.

“That’s not mine.”

He tossed it onto the floor next to him.  “Sure, pal.”  He opened the letter, then showed it to him.  “Is this it?”

“Yep.  And you can read it for yourself.”

Seth scanned it.  “I’m not seeing it.”

“It says it right there.”

“Show me.”  He handed it to Jim.

He read part of it.  “The selected person to be hunted is the lowest form of society.”

“Where does it say you get to hunt someone?”

“I just read it.”

“No, it says the person to be hunted is the lowest form of society.  That’s you.  You’re going to be hunted, not the other way around.  So, no one lied.”

Jim’s eyes got big.  “That’s deceiving.  You’re not going to get away with this.”

“Maybe, maybe not.  But either way, you’re going to pay for what you did.”  Seth looked at the group.  “In fact, each of you will pay for what you did.  I’m going to treat you as if you mean absolutely nothing.  Make you suffer in the most horrendous ways.  No compassion.  No remorse.  No empathy.  And definitely, no mercy.  Just the way you treated the animals you hurt.”  He tossed a pair of pliers onto the floor.  “I’m giving you fuckers fifteen minutes to pull out your nails, then I’m coming for you.”  Seth walked out the door.

Kenneth paused at the doorway and looked back.  “By the way, the burly man in the back that got all fucked up, only ran a puppy mill.  Think about what’s going to happen to your asses when Seth gets ahold of you.” 

Everyone started freaking out when the door shut behind Kenneth.

Chaos

Jim crawled over to the pliers, then started pulling at the nail.  He was trying to be as easy as possible since his ball sack was extremely sore and swollen.  The others in the group were yelling at him to hurry up, but he couldn’t get it out.  “It’s stuck.  It won’t budge.”

Joe reached out.  “Let me try.  Toss me the pliers.”

As soon as he got them he started pulling on the nail.  “Oh shit!  Mine is stuck too.”

His buddy Gary was getting impatient.  “Just get it out so I can remove mine.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Then give me the pliers.”

“Chill out.  I’m trying.”

“Hurry up before that crazy fucker comes back.”

Joe moaned as he pulled at the nail, but it wouldn’t move.  “Fuck!  It won’t come out!” Jim crawled across the floor, dragging his chair behind him.  He looked under Joe’s chair.  “The bastard bent the end of the nail over.  Give me the pliers so I can straighten it out.”

As Jim worked on the nail, Gary was getting impatient.  “Hurry up.  He only gave us fifteen minutes.  We’re running out of time.”

“I think I got it.”  He handed the pliers to Joe.  “Try to pull it out.”

Joe’s eyes were huge as he worked the nail around.  “It’s moving.”  When it pulled out he took a deep breath.  “Got it.”  He noticed the nail was rusted.  “Oh shit!  I’m going to get an infection from this.”

“Don’t worry about that.  You can get some antibiotics when we get out of here.”  Jim motioned to him.  “Bend mine so I can get it out.”

Gary grabbed the pliers.  “Fuck that!”  He started tugging at his nail with everything he had, ignoring the pain.  To everyone’s surprise, he was able to pull it out.  He jumped out of his chair and ran for the door.  Jim yelled at him.  “Give me the pliers!”

He stood next to the door on the hinged side.  “Shut the fuck up!  I’m going to hit that motherfucker with them when he comes back in and get my dick back.”

“You’re a fucking idiot!  He has a gun.” 

Joe ran and stood next to Gary with his chair in his hands. 

Jim started yelling at them.  “We need to help each other if we’re going to have a chance!”

Joe threw him the finger.  “Fuck you!  We’re getting out of here!”

“You stupid motherfuckers!”

Everyone was freaking out and yelling at Joe and Gary, but they were dead set on their plan.  Jim knew they were running out of time, and if he was going to have a fighting chance he was going to have to free himself.  Out of desperation, he grabbed his sack and started pulling on it.  He screamed as he ripped it from the nail.  Blood was running down the insides of his legs and pieces of veins were hanging out from the gash in his sack as he walked towards Gary and Joe.  “You fucking assholes!  I’m going to fuck you up!”

Suddenly, part of the ceiling fell in.  An arrow with a cable attached to it struck Jimmy, the duck killer, in the shoulder.   He and his chair were pulled up into the ceiling before anyone could react.

Jim shouted to the others.  “If you want to survive, tear yourselves loose!”

Everyone was screaming as they pulled themselves from their nails.  Jim noticed Joe was fixing to open the door.  “Don’t open that!  We don’t know what’s on the other side!”

Paul had torn his nut sack open and one of his testicles was hanging out the large gash.  “Oh my God!  I need to get to the hospital!”  He took off running towards the door in a panic, and as soon as he opened it, a boom echoed out and he fell to the floor on his back.  Joe slammed the door shut as Jim ran over to Paul.  His face, neck and chest were covered in hundreds of small metal darts with fins.

Jim checked for a pulse.  “He’s still alive.”

Joe noticed there were so many darts in him that he looked like a porcupine.  “What the fuck are those?”

“Flechettes.”

“Is he going to die?”

“I don’t think so.  The darts don’t go in very deep.”

“What the fuck would shoot something like that?”

Jim went to the door and slightly opened it.  “I can see a string.  The door was booby-trapped.”  He opened it further.  “The string is tied to the doorknob and it’s connected to a shotgun.  There’s also razor wire blocking our exit.”  He closed the door.  “We’re going to have to be careful.  The bastard probably has boobytraps everywhere.  Maybe we need to stay put for a while.”

Gary was getting impatient.  “We need to find that bastard and take him out so I can get to a hospital.”

“Stop worrying about your fucking dick!”

“That’s easy for you to say.  He didn’t rip your shit off!”

Paul started coming around.  He was feeling around his face.  “Oh my God!  What’s going on?”  He felt his left eye.  “What’s in my eye?”

Jim knelt beside him.  “Just stay calm.  We’ll get them out.”  Jim motioned to the two men from England, Aaron and Wayne.  “Y’all come here.”

They both had blood running down the insides of their legs as they came walking up while cupping their crotches, and Wayne was limping from the knife wound in his leg. 

Jim stood up.  “Y’all start pulling out the flechettes.”  He walked over to Brian, Casey and Douglas.  They were standing off to the side.  “I need y’all to guard the door.  And don’t let anyone open it, including on this side.”

Michael was just sitting in his chair.  Jim walked over to him.  “You need to get yourself loose.”

“I can’t.  The nail is through one of my testicles.”

Jim motioned to Joe and Gary.  “You two come here and help Michael get the nail out.”

Joe was getting upset because Jim was telling everyone what to do.  “Who in the fuck made you our leader?”

“We need to stick together if we’re going to make it out of here, and I have the most experience in this kind of situation.”

“Screw you.  Me and Gary can handle ourselves just fine.”

Gary agreed.  “We don’t need anyone slowing us down.”

Joe walked to the door.  “You fuckers can stay here, but we’re going to find a way out.”

Jim shook his head.  “Y’all are making a mistake.  We all need to stay in here where it’s safe.”

Gary held his hands out, palms up.  “Safe?  Look at my dick, asshole!  Oh yeah, you can’t, because it’s hanging around some psycho’s neck.”

Joe pointed at Paul.  “Look at him.  He’s all fucked up.  And Jimmy was shot with a fucking arrow and pulled up into the ceiling.  Who knows what’s happening to that fat fucker.  Naw.  I think we’re going to get the fuck out of here.”

Jim was getting angry.  “Listen, you walk out that door, you’re on your own!”

Joe started walking towards Jim.  “Screw you, cocksucker!  I’ll beat your ass!”

Jim was just as hot-headed as Joe.  The two went at it, throwing punches and wrestling around.  Aaron and Wayne tried to break up the fight, but Gary started pushing them.  They immediately took Gary down and began hitting and kicking him as he lay on the floor in the fetal position.  Brian, Casey, and Douglas had jumped on Brad.  As they beat him, they were blaming him for their predicament.

The others in the group were freaking out.  A few were yelling for everyone to calm down while some were provoking the fights.  The women were still in their seats because they hadn’t torn themselves from their chairs.  The situation was getting out of hand and turning into chaos.

S & K Lawn Service

As the group acted like savages, the room on the other side of the large window lit up.  Everyone immediately stopped fighting and looked.  They noticed Jimmy was in the center of the room on his hands and knees.  A large metal collar was around his neck with a chain secured to it.  The other end of the chain was connected to a D-ring mounted to the floor.  His eyelids were sewn open and he was crawling in circles like a wild animal while yelling for help.

Jim noticed the room looked like an outdated surgery room.  The equipment and furnishings appeared to be from the mid-twenties to early thirties.  “I think we’re in an old hospital.”

Aaron and Wayne walked up.  Aaron was watching Jimmy.  “Why do you think Seth has him chained in there?”

“Not sure.”

Wayne was looking at the old equipment.  “Maybe we can use some of that stuff against Seth and Kenneth.”

Jim looked at him with a worried expression.  “Yeah, or maybe they’ll use it on us.”

Seth came walking into the surgery room wearing a mask and carrying a toolbox and a weed burner.  He was wearing a blue, buttoned up work shirt with a name tag that read S & K Lawn Service.  There was a tag on the other side of the shirt that read Seth.  His mask looked like it was made from different parts of several different animals.  The main portion of it was a goat’s skull.  It had pig ears, sheep horns and a giraffe mouth.  There was also a bear claw symbol carved into the forehead.

Jimmy was scared shitless when he saw him.  “What are you going to do to me?”

Seth tossed a large syringe filled with a green substance onto the floor.  “Inject that into your heart.  It’s gonna keep you from dying so soon.”

“You’re fucking crazy!  I ain’t injecting shit into my heart!”

Seth lit the weed burner.  It had a long shaft with a nozzle on the end and a one-pound propane bottle near the hand grip.  “The pain will stop when you do it.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Seth started burning his body.  The flames were shooting out of the torch head like a flame thrower.  Jimmy stood up and took off running, but the chain jerked him to the ground, almost breaking his neck.  Seth kept burning him, showing no mercy.  Jimmy was rolling around on the floor in a desperate attempt to get away.  His screams were so loud they were echoing in the other room.

Jim, Wayne and Aaron backed away from the window and stood next to the others against the back wall, getting as far away as they could from Seth.  Amanda, Kerri, and Michael had carried their chairs with them since they hadn’t torn themselves loose yet.  They all watched in horror as Jimmy flopped around on the floor.  Smoke was billowing from his body as he screamed.

Finally, he grabbed the syringe and shoved it into his arm.

Seth yelled, “Your heart, jerkoff!”

He shoved it between his ribs and into his heart, then injected himself.  He pulled out the needle and tossed it onto the floor, then just lay crying as his hair smoked.  His skin all over his body was bright red with patches of charred flesh.  Seth shut off the torch, then looked at the group through the window.

Joe ran to the door.  “We need to get the fuck out of here!”

Jim pushed him against the wall.  “Hold up!  It’s not safe!”

Joe pushed him away and pointed at Seth as he stood on the other side of the glass staring back.  “That crazy motherfucker is right there!  I’m going the other way.”

“There are booby-traps.  And we don’t know where that black bastard is.”

“I’ll take my fucking chances.”

“Don’t be a fool.”

About that time, Kenneth entered the other room pushing a lawn mower and carrying a weed eater on his shoulder.  He was wearing the same blue work shirt.  It also had a tag that read S & K Lawn Service.  The other tag read Kenneth.  “Look!  There’s the black dude.  Now we can get the fuck out of here.”

When Joe opened the door, he noticed razor wire.  When he started to pull it apart, blue arcs shocked his hands.  “Fuck!  It shocked me!”  He grabbed at them again.  This time he was knocked onto his ass.

Jim knelt next to him.  “You all right?”

He sat up.  “Yeah.  But how in the fuck are we going to get through those?”

The sound of a lawn mower starting up got everyone’s attention.  Kenneth was holding the handle of the lawn mower down, elevating the front of the deck.  Jimmy was lying right in front of it.  Seth was standing over him with the torch, yelling, “Stick your fucking hand in the blade!”

Jimmy had a grimace of terror.  “Please don’t make me!  I beg you for mercy!”

“You didn’t have any mercy for the ducks you ran over.”

“They were just ducks.”

“Now you get to stick both of your hands in there.”

“You’re fucking crazy, dude!”

Seth started burning him.  “Do it, you fucking piece of shit!”

Jimmy was screaming as he rolled around the on floor.  “Stop!  Stop!  I beg you!  Oh my God!  You’re killing me!”

“I’m not stopping until you do it!”

Jimmy finally couldn’t take the pain anymore.  His flesh was burned so badly in places that it had cracked open and was steaming where his body fluids were boiling.   “Okay!  Okay!  I’ll do it!  Please stop burning me!”

Seth pulled back the torch.  “If you don’t do it, I will burn your face off.”

Jimmy eased his right hand towards the blade.  As he got closer he could feel the suction.  He was scared, but he didn’t want to be burned anymore.  It was the worst pain he had ever experienced.  Seth had burned him from head to toe, horribly disfiguring his body.  If he lived, he would be a freak.  But he also didn’t want to die.  For now, he just wanted the pain to stop, so he had no choice but to do what Seth asked.  He shouted, “Fuck you!” as he shoved his hand under the mower.  A loud thump echoed out as his face and body were covered with blood.  Large pieces of ravaged flesh and bones shot out of the mower’s discharge chute, covering the floor and the back wall.  When he pulled back his arm, his hand was gone.  He looked up at Seth with anger as blood squirted out of his stub.  “Look what you made me do!  You’re gonna pay for this!”

“Not by you.”  He pointed to his other hand.  “And you’re still not done.”

His eyes got big.  “What?”

“Don’t ‘watt’ me, you’re not a fucking light bulb.  Stick that fucking hand in the mower!  And hurry up before you bleed out.”

“Please don’t make me!”

Seth lit the torch.

Jimmy knew he didn’t have a choice.  He screamed as he shoved his hand under the deck.  The blade cut off all his fingers, but his thumb was still intact.  He rolled over on his back and looked up at the ceiling, waiting to bleed out so his suffering would end.

Seth kicked him in the side.  “You’re still not done!”

“What?”

“You have a thumb left.”

He didn’t say a word as he shoved his arm back under the lawnmower.  When he pulled it out, the rest of his hand and thumb were gone.  He lay on his back.  “I’ll see you fuckers in Hell.”

Kenneth shut off the mower, then helped Seth pour glue on the open ends of his stubs.  Jimmy didn’t understand what was happening.  “What the fuck are y’all doing?”

“Preventing you from bleeding to death.”

Jimmy looked confused.  “Are you going to let me live?”

“Yes, because….”

He was so excited that he blurted out.  “Thank you, thank you, thank you!  I really didn’t want to die!  I appreciate you giving me another chance!  You’ve taught me a lesson.  I’ll be kind to any animal I come across from here on out.  You will not regret it.”

“If you would have let me finish what I was saying, you wouldn’t be so excited.”

He raised his head off the floor.  “What?”

“You interrupted me before I was able to say you were going to live so we can torture you some more.”

His eyes got big.  “Please don’t!  I beg you.  Please have mercy.”

“Did you show the ducks mercy?”

“That was an accident.  Please don’t do this.”

“Accident my ass.”  Seth injected him in the leg with a strange looking device.

Kenneth was staring at it.  “What the hell is that?”

He handed it to him.  “An automatic injection syringe.  I use it now instead of fucking around with individual syringes.”

Kenneth noticed there was a glass vial mounted on the top.  It had a yellowish fluid in it.  “What did you give him?”

“A mixture of adrenaline, clotting agent and Provigil.”

“What’s Provigil?”

“It alters neurotransmitters in the brain to keep a person awake.”

“How did you come up with this mixture?”

“Over the years, I experimented with different combinations of drugs.  I severely fucked up around fifty assholes and killed twenty or so until I perfected this version.”

Kenneth laughed.  “Fuck the animal trials.  You jumped straight to human trials.”

“That’s the way it should be.  Our government should use death row inmates as guinea pigs.”

Jimmy looked scared.  He had caught bits and pieces of Seth’s and Kenneth’s conversation.  “Oh shit!  That sounds like some bad stuff!  What’s it going to do to me?”

Seth smiled.  “I injected you with a male castration serum that’s going to make your wiener fall off.”

He tried to get up, but Kenneth held him down.

“Oh my God!  You’ve already mutilated my body!  Please don’t take my dick too!”

“You’re shit out of luck, pal.  I’ve already injected you with it.”

He started freaking out.

Seth laughed.  “You fucking idiot.  There’s no such thing as a castration serum that will make your dick fall off.”

Relief overcame him.

“But what I did give you will prevent you from passing out when I skin you alive.  It will also slow down your bleeding.”

His eyes got big.  “Please don’t!  There has to be something else I can do to make it up to you.”

“You don’t owe me shit.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“You know the reason, so don’t ask again.”

“Come on, man.  You’ve gotten me back.”

“If you were me, what would you do?”

“I would show mercy and call an ambulance.”

Seth laughed.  “I’m sure.”

“I’m serious.  If you call an ambulance, I won’t do anything bad ever again.  And I won’t say anything.”

“Did you call one for the ducks after you chopped them up?”

“I’m sorry for what I did.”

“You’re definitely sorry.”

He started crying.  “Just let me die.”

“Make up your mind.  Do you want to live, or do you want to die?”

“I want to live, but I can’t take any more pain.”

“Well, unfortunately for you, we’re just getting started.”

He screamed as Seth screwed eyehooks into his elbows.  When he was done, he tied a rope to them that was hanging from a pulley mounted on the ceiling, then he and Kenneth hoisted him up to where his feet were barely touching the floor.

Seth squatted next to Jimmy’s legs with a hammer and some nails, then began beating them through his feet and into the floor.  When he was done, he took a rusted lawn mower blade and started hitting his toes, whacking them into pieces.  He didn’t stop as he moved up his feet, taking off an inch or so at a time.  Jimmy was screaming as loud as he could and jerking around.  When Seth reached the nails, he stopped, leaving half of his feet in a pile of bloody pieces.  He raised the blade, and in one hard swing, whacked off the bone that stuck out on the outside of Jimmy’s left ankle, then did the same on his other ankle.  He stood up and started hitting him in the knees until he removed his kneecaps.

Seth walked to the window and stood staring at everyone through the mask as Kenneth applied glue to Jimmy’s wounds with a paintbrush.  Seth wiped some blood off the blade with his fingers, then started smearing it on the glass.  He drew a skull, then wrote Human Cruelty above it.

Everyone was panicking.  Jim wasn’t sure what to do as Seth stared at them.  “If he breaks the glass, we’re going to have to jump through the wire.”

Joe looked scared.  “We’ll get electrocuted.”

“Better than him coming after us with that mower blade.”

Gary walked to the center of the room and looked at Seth.  He noticed he still had his penis around his neck.  “The bastard still has my dick.  I hope he comes in here.  I’ll beat his ass with a chair.”

Joe was pumping his fists as he thought about taking on Seth.  “That’s right!  Together we can fuck him up!”

Paul was feeling better.  All the flechettes had been removed from his body and the bleeding had stopped.  His eye was swollen shut and sore, but he was thankful that it was still intact.  He walked over to Joe and Gary.  “Don’t you fuckers know anything about this guy?  He’s not stupid.  If he comes in here, he’s going to have more than just that blade.  Everything he does is planned.  That’s why he hasn’t been caught.”

“How in the fuck do you know so much about him?”

“Because I can read.”

Joe bowed up as if he wanted to fight.  “Fuck you, holmes!  I’ll beat your ass!”

Paul shoved him.  “Getcha some, bitch!”

Jim got between them.  “Y’all chill out!”

Someone screaming got their attention.  They looked towards the other room, noticing Seth was cutting off Jimmy’s nose and ears with a pair of pruners.  When he was done, he rolled a mirror on wheels in front of him.  “You’re getting more handsome by the minute, pal.”

Jimmy was at his limit, physically and mentally.  He had already looked like a freak from being burned, but now he looked like a monster.  He became angry as he looked at himself.  “Look what you’ve done to me!  And all over some fucking ducks!  You will pay for this!”

Seth plugged in a pair of electric hedge trimmers, then pulled the trigger a few times, revving it up.  “Guess what I’m doing to do with this?”

“Fuck you!”

He held the blade next to his crotch.  “Speaking of fucking, you’re not going to be needing this anymore.”

Up to this point, Jimmy had gone through numerous emotions, from being scared to angry, wanting to live to dying, then back to living.  Now he was just horrified as he thought about losing his most valuable asset.  “Please don’t do it!  I beg you!  I will do whatever you want!  Please have mercy!”

Seth slightly touched his penis, allowing the blade to cut a small gash in his flesh.  Jimmy started jerking around frantically as he shouted, “Oh my God!  Please stop.  I beg you!”

Seth looked at Kenneth.  “Pull his dick out so I can whack it off at the base.”

He shook his head.  “I ain’t touching his shit.”

“Use some pliers.”

As Kenneth walked up, Jimmy shouted at him.  “Get the fuck away from me, you fucking ape!”

Seth stuck the long blade across Jimmy’s face.  The reciprocating teeth immediately started slicing gashes all over his skin as Seth shouted, “Stick out your fucking tongue, asshole!”

Jimmy threw his head around in a desperate attempt to avoid the blade, but Seth kept cutting him from his forehead to his chin.  “Oh my God!  You’re fucking killing me!  Please stop!”

“Stick out your fucking tongue!”

Jimmy had no choice if he wanted the pain to stop.  As soon as he stuck it out, Seth cut it off.  “That’ll teach you to keep your racist comments to yourself.”

Jimmy started crying as blood ran out of his mouth.  His face had hundreds of gashes that were bleeding.  He had surrender in his eyes as he looked at Seth.  His severed tongue made it difficult to pronounce his words.  “Pease ‘ust ‘ill me.”

“Hush!”  Seth looked at Kenneth, then pointed to his penis.  “Grab the end of it and pull back.”

Kenneth grabbed the head of Jimmy’s penis with the pliers and stretched it outwards.  “Got it.”

Seth set down the trimmers and pulled out a knife.  He shoved it through the center of his penis near the base, then started cutting towards the head.  Jimmy was screaming at the top of his lungs as Seth cut his penis in half.  When Kenneth let go, the knife split his head in two. 

Spit and blood were flying out of Jimmy’s mouth as he shouted, “Ook wat ew id to my ick!”

Seth wiped the blood off his knife on Jimmy’s chest.  “You’re welcome.  Now you can fuck two women at once.”

Kenneth was shaking his head as he looked at Jimmy’s penis.  It looked like a forked tongue as it hung in two.  “That’s freakin’ sick.”

Seth picked up the hedge trimmers.  “I knew you would like that.  Now hold up the pieces so I can amputate his nuts.”

Jimmy was jumping around and screaming as Seth shoved the blade between his legs.  Not only did he sever his nut sack, but he also cut the insides of his legs.  He set the trimmer onto the floor as blood ran down Jimmy’s legs.  “Get me the weed burner before he bleeds out.”

“What about the glue?”

“He’s bleeding too much.”

Jimmy was on the verge of passing out as Seth burned him.  When he was done, the flesh between his legs and his entire crotch area looked like charred wood.  Blood was still oozing out of numerous cracks that had formed in his burnt skin.  He looked at Kenneth.  “Now you can use the glue.”

Jimmy screamed as the glue burned his charred skin.

Seth started the weed eater.  He revved up the engine to taunt Jimmy.  “Guess what’s going to happen next?”

He looked down.  “Pease ‘ust ‘ill me.”

“No.  So, stop asking.”  Seth started running the trimmer’s head against Jimmy’s back.  At first, the strings turned his skin bright red, leaving welts as if he were being beat with a whip, then his skin started coming apart, causing pieces to fly everywhere.  Seth was running the weed eater all over his body, in the front, back and sides.  Jimmy screamed with everything he had as his flesh was being mutilated.

Kenneth looked confused.  He couldn’t fathom how a person’s body could go through so much trauma and still be alive.  He yelled over Jimmy’s screams.  “Why isn’t he dying?”

Seth yelled back.  “Because I pumped him full of some special drugs.”  Seth pulled back the weed eater and released the trigger to reduce some of the noise.  “I told you this was going to be sick.”

“Your definition of sick is completely different than mine.”

Seth laughed.  “You can go wait outside the room if you want.”

Kenneth felt that Seth was being barbaric.  He didn’t realize it was going to be this bad when he took him up on his offer.  He didn’t know what to say, worried that he would get upset if he said anything.  “I’m fine.”

“That’s the spirit.”  Seth went back to ripping off Jimmy’s flesh.

Kenneth was standing off to the side, feeling guilty.  He didn’t feel sorry for Jimmy because he was a worthless human being, but he did want him to die so his suffering would end.  “Why don’t you just kill the fucker and get it over with?”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?”

“Just cut his throat or something.”

Seth knew Kenneth was having second thoughts.  He expected it.  “I know you think this is some real barbaric and sadistic shit.  I don’t expect you to do anything you don’t want to do.  This is my thing.  I’ll even fuck up Brad for you when it’s his turn.”

Kenneth felt weird, as if Seth had read his mind, but he still didn’t want to admit to the way he felt.  “Like I said, I’m fine.”

“If you say so.”

A few minutes later, Jimmy passed out.  Seth had ripped off fifty percent of his skin.  He set the weed eater against a wall.  “Let’s cut him down.”

Jimmy’s entire body was covered in blood.  Seth felt his pulse, noticing it was getting weak.  “Damn!  He’s losing too much blood, and probably not going to last much longer.”

“Do you want me to smear glue all over him?”

“No, it’s too late for that.  His skin is porous like a sponge now.  I need to wrap this up before he’s gone.”  Seth quickly walked out of the room, then came back with a leaf blower.  “Roll him over onto his stomach.”

After Kenneth rolled him over, Seth injected him with the auto-injector into his ass cheek.  Within a few seconds, Jimmy started coming around.  He lay motionless on his stomach as he whimpered.  His skin felt like it was still on fire due to all the trauma, and his other wounds were throbbing.

Seth smeared some glue on the tapered end of the blower, then shoved it into his ass.  The end was so big it was tearing his anus.  He held it in place for a few minutes, then tried to pull it out.  “Good.  It’s stuck.”  He laid the blower on the back of Jimmy’s legs, then walked in front of him.  “We probably only have one or two more exciting things we can do to you before you head to Hell.”

Jimmy started crying.  “Ust do it an get it over ith.”

Seth went to start the blower, but paused as he looked at Kenneth.  “You might want to stand back.  I’m not sure what’s going to happen.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”  He walked to the edge of the room.

Seth started the motor, revved the engine to its maximum RPMs, then locked the trigger.

At first, Jimmy’s eyes got big as his intestines filled with air.  He started screaming, then a loud pop echoed out as his intestines blew apart.  The air was now causing his abdomen to swell up like a balloon.  Seth started walking backwards as it got bigger and bigger.  Everyone in the other room was staring in horror.  Suddenly, Jimmy’s stomach exploded, blowing blood and feces all over the room.  Seth quickly started up a chainsaw and began cutting him into pieces as he screamed out with his last breath of air.  He shut off the saw, then pulled out a knife and started cutting around his neck.

Jim noticed Seth was laughing as Kenneth shook his head.  He couldn’t tell what they were saying, but it appeared Seth was trying to get Kenneth to do something.  When Seth was done, he pulled the skin off Jimmy’s skull.  Blood was dripping from the flesh as he held it towards Kenneth.  Kenneth was holding his hands out as if he were saying no.  Seth pulled off his mask and tossed it to Kenneth, then to everyone’s horror, he pulled Jimmy’s skin over his head like a Halloween mask.

Infamously Agonizing

Seth walked up to the window and stared at the group through Jimmy’s face.  Jim was unsure what to do as he stood dumbfounded, staring back.  Seth ran his thumb across his neck, then started the chainsaw.  Jim was shaking with fear as he yelled, “Everyone grab a chair!  If he tries to come in here, we’ll attack him!”

Suddenly, the lights went out in both rooms, then the sound of glass shattering echoed out, followed by the sound of a chainsaw being revved.  Everyone took off towards the door, tripping over each other and the chairs as they ran in the dark.  When someone opened the door, the light from the hallway slightly lit up the room.  Seth could be seen crawling through the broken window while holding the chainsaw.

In a state of panic, Amanda, Kerri, and Michael tore themselves from their chairs.  Joe took off running towards the door.  He dove at the last moment, allowing himself to slide through the wire.  The razor-sharp barbs sliced his body from head to toe and he received a quick shock, but he made it.  Gary did the same thing, then the others followed.  Some were cut worse, and some were caught in the wire, but were able to wiggle themselves loose.  Joe and Gary had taken off, leaving everyone else behind.  They ran to the elevator and pressed the ‘down’ button.  When everyone made it to the hallway, they took off running towards the elevator, but Joe and Gary didn’t hold the door for them.  The others had no choice but to take off down another hallway as the sound of the chainsaw echoed out behind them.

Joe had pressed the button to the ground floor, but the elevator stopped on the third floor, then the power went out.  Joe pressed the button again.  “The fucking thing is dead!”

Gary looked down the dimly-lit hallway.  “We need to get moving.  Maybe there’s a staircase or something.  As they snuck down the hallway, they noticed there were numerous rooms with large windows.  They looked through the windows as they eased along to see if there was a way out.  The rooms looked like old medical research labs.  They were filled with antiquated equipment, stainless steel tables, and glass display cases that held jars, books, and tools.  Gary felt uneasy.  “This place creeps me out.”

“Me too.”

When they came to a door that read Staircase, they found it locked.  Joe tried to kick it open, but it wouldn’t budge.  “The damn thing is solid.  I can’t get it open.”

Gary tried, but failed too.  “Fuck!  Let’s keep going.”

A few rooms down Joe noticed an axe laying on a table.  “Look!  We can use that to open the door.”

“And I can use it to take out that fucking psycho and get my dick back before we leave.”

Joe ran into the room first.  When he picked it up, the door slammed shut.  Gary tried to open it, but it was locked.  “Dammit!  It’s locked.”

“Why in the fuck did you shut it?”

“I didn’t.  Use the axe to bust it open.”

Joe was standing dumbfounded.

“I said, bust the fucker open!”

“I can’t.  The axe is made of rubber.”

Gary grabbed it.  “What the fuck!  We must have been set up.”  He started looking around in a panic.  “Oh shit!  The bastard must be close!”

Out of nowhere a dart struck Gary in the neck.  He fell to his knees, then to his face.  Joe started beating on the window, but a dart struck him in the back, knocking him unconscious.

Jim and the others had found a staircase.  As he led the group down the stairs, something struck him in the back of his right leg.  He noticed an arrow was sticking out of him, then shouted, “Everyone get away from the center of the stairs!  He must be up there!”  He moved as quickly as he could, hovering against the outer wall.  When he got to the third floor, he waited until everyone was out, then slammed the door shut.  His leg was feeling like it was on fire and getting worse by the second.  He fell on his side and yelled, “Get this fucking thing out of me!  It’s burning really badly!”

Jasper knelt beside him.  He grasped the arrow.  “You ready?”

“Just do it!”

Jasper put his foot on his leg, then jerked it out.  He looked at the tip, noticing how far the blood was on it.  “It doesn’t look like it went in very far.  You’re lucky.  It could have hit an artery.”

Jim looked like he was suffering.  “Something’s wrong.  My leg feels like it’s on fire.”

Marcus was looking at the wound.  “Probably just hit a nerve, mate.”

“That’s not it.”  Jim started panicking.  “The pain is getting worse!  Oh my God!  What the fuck is going on?”  He stood up and starting walking in hopes it would relieve the pain.  “My whole leg feels like it’s burning inside.”

Michael had picked up the arrow.  He noticed there was a piece of paper wrapped around the end by the feathers.  He pulled it loose, then read it.  “Hey, man.  This says the arrow was coated with some shit called the Gympie-Gympie plant.”

Marcus grabbed the piece of paper and read it.  “Oh shit!  This is bad.”

Jim looked worried.  “What’s it say?”

“Just what Michael said.  The tip of the arrow was covered with the Gympie-Gympie plant.  It’s from the rainforest areas of northeastern Australia where I’m from.”

“Is it poisonous?”

“Yes.  It’s a potent neurotoxin and one of the most venomous plants in the world.”

“Am I going to die?”

“I don’t think so, but the Gympie Gympie’s sting is infamously agonizing.  You’re going to be in pain for a while.”

“For how long?”

“The burning sensations will grow more intense over the next half hour or so.  It can then lead to aching joints and vomiting, and the intensity of pain can last from a few days up to several months.  It can become so severe that it can eventually lead to shock.”

“Oh my God!  How much more painful can this get?”

Jasper squatted next to him.  “I’ve been told the pain has been described as unbearable.  It can drive its victims to the point of madness.  Stories have been told of horses jumping off cliffs after being stung just to escape the pain.  An officer once killed himself because he was in so much agony.”

Jim looked scared.  “What if we cut open the hole and let it bleed out like a snake bite?”

“That won’t work.  It’s not a liquid.  The plant is covered in fine, silicon-like hairs that embed themselves in your body, and they release the painful toxins.  The arrow’s tip was covered in them.”

Jim looked at everyone.  “Does anyone have painkillers on them?”

Paul was standing off to the side.  His face was extremely swollen and covered in blood from where the flechettes had pierced his flesh.  His left eye was swollen shut and oozing fluid.  “Dude?  We’re all naked.  Where in the fuck would we have some pills?”

Marcus snapped at him.  “You need to shut your mouth!  Jim is in a lot of pain and isn’t thinking rationally.  Show some fucking respect.”

Jim stood up.  “We have to keep moving.”

Marcus grabbed his arm.  “You sure?”

“Yeah.  We need to get out of here.”

Amanda tried to open the door to the staircase.  “The bastard has locked it.”

Jim pointed down the hallway.  “Fuck it!  Let’s go that way.”

Marcus and Jasper helped Jim walk as they eased down the hallway with caution.  Suddenly, Aaron got everyone’s attention as they passed by a window.  “Oh shit!  There’s Joe and Gary.”

The group looked through the window into another room.  Joe and Gary were tied to the top of stainless-steel tables.  They were looking back and screaming for them to help.  Jim tried to open the door but it was locked.  “We have to get them out of there.  Find something and try to break the window.”

Michael found a large fire extinguisher.  When he slammed it into the glass, it didn’t break.  He did it again.  This time it only cracked.  Jim could tell it was shatterproof.  “It’s no use.  It’s safety glass.”

Brian and Casey grabbed a desk from another room.  They picked it up over their heads, then threw it at the glass.  It still didn’t break.  Jim got everyone’s attention.  “We need to keep going, and when we get help, the police can rescue them.”

Everyone started arguing.  Some wanted to leave them, but some thought it was chicken shit.  Jim raised his hand.  “I think we should leave them.  Raise your hand if you agree.”

Brian, Casey, Douglas, Michael, Brad, and Paul raised one hand while covering their privates with the other.

“Who wants to stick around and try to get them out?”

Amanda, Arul, Rajat, Aaron, Wayne, Jasper, and Markus raised a hand.  Everyone was covering their genitals except for Markus.  He seemed to be proud of his short penis.

“That makes it a tie.”  He looked at Kerri, the gothic woman.  “You didn’t raise your hand, so you will be the deciding vote.”

She seemed hateful.  “I don’t give a shit one way or another.”

Everyone became upset.  One person pushed another, then it turned into a pushing match filled with threats and name calling.

KICK ME—I’M A PSYCHO

As everyone argued, Seth came down the hallway with the chainsaw.  He was dressed like a gangbanger.  He had on brown baggy pants, a white tank top, a brown toboggan that was pulled down low and shades.  Everyone started to run away, but Kenneth was coming from the other direction carrying a large wooden club with spikes.  He was also dressed like a gangbanger.  The group started trying to open doors, but they were locked.  Finally, they found one open.  They ran into the room, then shut the door and barricaded it with some furniture.  Seth didn’t try to come in.  Instead, he locked the door, then he and Kenneth walked off.

Jim had a gut feeling.  “They wanted us to come in here.  Keep a look out for anything unusual.  This place might be booby-trapped.”

Amanda and Kerri had found an old bed sheet.  They tore it into sections, then covered their breasts with one piece and their waists with another.  It looked like primitive clothing.  Aaron made a flap that hung over his genitals.  Wayne didn’t need one since his penis had been cut off.  Arul and Rajat did the same thing, but also made some turbans to cover their heads, using up the rest of the material.  The others became upset and started yelling at the ragheads.  Jim got their attention.  “Y’all stop fighting!  We have more important things to worry about.”

Jasper and Marcus noticed some window blinds.  When they opened them, they saw Seth and Kenneth.  They were in the next room where Joe and Gary were tied to the tables.  Kenneth was laying tools out as Seth mounted Joe’s head in a vice.  Gary was screaming for help as he looked at everyone in the other room.

Paul was upset.  “We need to get out of here!  Those crazy bastards are going to come in here and get us!”

Jim was lying on the floor.  He was still in a lot of pain.  “I don’t think so.  We’re fine for now.”

Michael looked confused.  “How can you say that?”

Everyone gathered around to hear what Jim had to say.  “They’re fucking with us.  They want us to watch as they torture Joe and Gary.  Just like they did with Jimmy.  This is some type of sick and twisted game to them.”  He grabbed his leg.  “Just like shooting me with that poisoned arrow.  They could have just as easily shot me in a vital area and killed me on the spot, but they wanted me to suffer.”

Amanda was scared.  “What are we supposed to do?”

“We need to stick together.  They’re not going to take all of us on at once.  The bastards are going to try to get us one at a time.  Once they’re done with whatever sick shit they’re planning on doing to Joe and Gary, we won’t run, but stand our ground and fight.  We’ll fight together.”

Casey looked around.  “There’s plenty of stuff in here we can use as weapons.”

Brad was shaking his head.  “Seth has a gun.  The other dude might too.  We can’t take on guns with fucking clipboards and jars.”

“They’re not going to shoot us.  They want us alive so they can play their games.”

Brian disagreed.  “He shot that dude back in the conference room.  He shot him in the fucking nuts, then beat him with his own arms.  I think we’re making a mistake.  We need to find a way to get the fuck out of here.”

Wayne walked up.  “We need to take out Seth first so I can get my penis back.  That way the doctors can sew it back on.”

Amanda popped off.  “Your dick is the least of our worries.”

He snapped back.  “Screw you!”

She looked at his stub.  “Not by you.”

“That’s fucked up!”

Something started making a tapping sound.  Kerri shouted, “Oh shit!”

When everyone turned to see what she was looking at, they noticed Seth was standing at the window, tapping on the glass.

Jim stood up.  “What the fuck do you want from us?”

Seth smiled, then walked away.

Jim looked at everyone.  “Dammit!  Why didn’t someone notice he was standing at the fucking window.  Now he heard what we were saying.”

Paul snapped back.  “If your ass hadn’t been lounging on the floor, we would have been looking up.”

“Fuck you!  You know I’m in a lot of pain.”  He eased back to the floor.

Michael knelt next to him.  “Maybe we should act like we’re watching, just as he wants, while a couple of us try to climb into the ceiling to see if there’s a way out.  We can do it in the corner next to the window.  That way he won’t see us.”

Jim thought for a moment.  “I’ve read about this guy.  He’s not stupid.  He’s probably already thought about that.”

“We can’t just wait like lambs at the slaughter.  We have to at least try.”

“Fuck it.  If you want to risk it, go ahead.”

“I will.”

Brian pointed.  “Hey, guys.  Seth left the room.”

Jim stood up, looking to see where he was going.  “Everyone grab something in case he comes in here.”

Aaron, Wayne, Brian, Casey, and Douglas each grabbed a chair.  Jasper and Marcus found some canes.  Paul had a trashcan.  Arul and Rajat were holding jars of liquid. Michael had a fire extinguisher.  Brad was wielding a bed pan and Kerri and Amanda were off in the corner hiding.  Jim was standing in front of everyone, facing the door.  He was holding the arrow he had been shot with.  “If he comes in here, attack him at the same time.”

The doorknob jiggled.

“He’s coming!  Get ready!”

When the door opened, Seth was standing in the hallway with some type of tactical weapon.  He motioned for them to back up.  “Get back unless you want an ass full of lead.”

Jim yelled, “He can’t take on all of us!”

Seth fired in full auto mode above them, causing parts of the wood and plaster ceiling to collapse onto everyone.  The rounds were devastating, disintegrating everything they hit.  As everyone lay on the floor covering their heads, Seth walked into the room and stood on the debris.  The air was still filled with dust and gun smoke.  He dropped a drum magazine, then inserted another one.  He lit a cigarette, then laughed.  “A Saiga 12 gauge with a full auto conversion and a twenty-round drum sure does make an impression, don’t ya think?”  Joe’s dogs, Lola, Scar Face and Kobie, came into the room and stood by Seth.

Jim was holding his hands out.  “Please don’t kill me.”

Some of the others started begging also.

Seth pointed at Brad.  “Stand up, you little punk.”

Brad stumbled to his feet.  “Yes, sir.”

Seth took a picture of him with his cell phone, then looked at the rest of the group.  “Instead of plotting ways to escape and take me out, I want that energy used to turn this fucker’s skin as black as charcoal since he’s a racist prick.  And I mean every fucking square inch of it.”  He tossed a bag onto the floor.  “That’s full of tattoo equipment and black ink.  If you don’t do it, I’ll cut off your fucking dicks, except for Wayne’s since he doesn’t have one.”  He looked at the women.  “And I’ll cut off y’all’s tits.”  He turned and walked to the door, then paused.  “Oh yeah.  When I get done with Tweedledee and Tweedledum in the next room, we’re going to be betting on some dog fighting.”

Jim became angry as he lay in the rubble.  “What?”  He looked at the dogs.  “You’re a fucking hypocrite.”

As Seth walked out of the room, the group noticed he had a sheet of paper taped to his back that read, KICK ME—I’M A PSYCHO.  He called out to the dogs.  “Let’s go.”  They ran out of the room, then he locked the door.

Jim stood up.  “What a fucking prick!”

Michael brushed himself off, then looked at Brad.  “This shit is all your fault.”

Brad put his hands out, palms up.  “What?  I didn’t have anything to do with this shit.”

Douglas started walking towards him.  “Fuck if you didn’t!  We’re all in this because of what you did to Kenneth and his fuckin’ dog.”

Jim got between them.  “Hold up!  It doesn’t matter why we’re here.  We just need to figure out a way to get out of it.”

Aaron walked up with a screwdriver that he had found.  He pointed it at Brad.  “We should kill this motherfucker.  Then maybe that crazy bastard will forget about all of this.”

Jim pushed him back.  “That might piss him off.”

“Maybe it’s what he wants us to do.  Maybe it’s a test.”

Seth tapped on the glass.  When everyone looked, he pointed at the bag.

Jim looked at Aaron.  “I don’t think so.  We’d better do what he asked.”

Brad looked scared.  “Are you serious?  You said we have to stick together.”

Rajat dumped out the contents from the bag.  It was full of tattooing equipment, batteries, and black ink.  Arul counted the guns.  “There are only seven guns.”  He handed one to Aaron, Wayne, Brian, Casey, and Douglas, keeping one for himself and Rajat.

Jim looked at Michael and Paul, then nodded towards Brad.  “Take his ass down.”

Brad took off running around the room like a madman, throwing chairs and anything he could get ahold of at Michael and Paul.  When they caught him, they dragged him to the ground, then stretched him out on the floor.  After the others got the tattoo stuff ready, they each took a different part of his body and started coloring his skin.

Foreplay

Seth looked at Kenneth as they were standing next to Joe.  “I can hear the fuckhead screaming from here.”

Kenneth looked through the window.  Brad’s body had large sections of black skin where each person was working.  “He looks like a fucking zebra.”

Seth laughed.  “That’ll teach him to call you a fucking jigaboo.”

He walked over to Seth.  “What are you going to do to these pricks?”

“Something appropriate.”

“Is it going to be fucked up, like what you did to Jimmy?”

“That depends on what you consider fucked up.”

“At least there isn’t any lawn equipment around, so it can’t be that bad.”

“True.”

“Good.  I don’t think I could see that again.”

Seth patted Joe’s forehead.  “You ready to get started?”

Joe’s body was tightly secured to the top of a stainless-steel table with ratchet straps and his head was in a vice.  He was horrified as he looked at Seth.  “Please don’t hurt me.  I beg you.”

Gary was strapped to a table a few feet away.  He was pissed.  “Get the fuck away from him, you fucking asshole!”

Seth walked over to him and started sewing his penis back on.  Gary screamed as his swollen and sore flesh was being punctured with a needle.  When it was stitched in place, Seth took a can of expanding foam sealant commonly used in buildings, and shoved the can’s plastic straw into his piss hole, then punctured his urethra just below the head.  He slid the straw down the center of the penis, then started injecting the foam.  When the base of his penis swelled, he started moving the straw back as he continued to inject the foam, which allowed his penis to swell evenly.  When he was done, it looked like he had an erection.  The foam was seeping out of his piss hole and around the base of his penis where it was stitched.  The penis was dull white in color due to the lack of blood, and didn’t match Gary’s darker skin tone.

Seth laughed.  “Damn thing looks like a cadaver’s dick.”

Kenneth was holding his hand over his mouth.  “Why in the hell did you do that?”

“For the fun of it.”

Foam was starting to come out of the end of the penis and around the base where it was stitched in place.  “Why is foam coming out?”

“It’s expanding.  That’s what it’s supposed to do.”

“Is that going to make his dick bigger?”

“Yeah, probably several times bigger.”

His eyes grew wide.  “Really?”

Seth laughed.  “Do you need a can?”

“Hell no!”

“Just checkin’ since you got so excited.”

Gary started freaking out.  “Please take it off!  It’s burning!”

Kenneth looked confused.  “How can he feel his dick?”

“He can’t.  The foam is probably seeping into his groin and burning his insides.”

“That’s fucked up.”

Seth was looking at the penis.  “What’s fucked up is, I think that’s Wayne’s dick.”  Seth dug around in his pocket, then pulled out another penis.  He frowned as he looked at it.  “Dammit!  I did get them mixed up.”

Kenneth was shaking his head.  Not because Seth had mixed up the penises, but because he was carrying them around in his pocket.  “I’m not even going to ask.”

Seth shrugged his shoulders.  “What?”

“Nothing.”

Gary had been listening. “Please cut that thing off me.”

“What the fuck, dude?  You’ve been bitching and moaning about not having one, now you’re wanting me to cut it off.”

“You’re fucking crazy!  It’s not even mine.  And if it was, you fucked it all up with that shit you put in it, you crazy piece of shit!”

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m going to rip it off and shove it up your ass.”  Seth walked over to the window, then tapped on the glass.  When everyone looked, he held up Gary’s penis as he looked at Wayne.  “Hey!  I fucked up and sewed your dick on Gary.  You can have his if you want.”  Seth looked at it.  “It’s bigger, so it’s a win-win on your part.”

Wayne was furious as he looked at his penis that was standing erect on Gary.  He glared at Seth.  “You’re a barbaric motherfucker!”

“Does that mean you don’t want it?”

“You’re going to pay for this.”

Seth shrugged his shoulder as he put the penis back in his pocket, then went back to Joe.  “What do you want me to start with, your fangs or paws?”

Joe couldn’t move his head or body, but his eyes were chaotically looking around.  “What?”

“Fangs or paws?”

“Oh my God!  Please don’t hurt me!”  He started crying.  “Please have mercy.  I’m sorry for what I’ve done.”

Seth injected him in the neck with the auto-injector.

Kenneth looked nauseated.  “Why in the hell did you do that?”

“It’s to keep him from passing out to soon.”

“I know.  But why in his freakin’ neck?”

Seth laughed.  “You must be needle phobic.”

“A little.  But that’s just sick.”

“Exactly.”  Seth put a dental mouth spreader in Joe’s mouth, then cranked it open.  “We’ll do your teeth first.”  He took a Dremel tool with a cone-shaped cutting bit and started grinding his front teeth, shaping them into sharp points.  Joe was screaming at the top of his lungs as Seth showed no mercy.  When he was done with his top teeth, he began on his bottom.  Joe was in so much pain that he was defecating and urinating on himself.  When Seth was finished, Joe was on the verge of passing out.  He patted him on the head like a dog.  “It’ll be okay, boy, I’ll let you rest before the next part.”

Kenneth was shaking his head as he looked at Joe’s mouth.  “Damn!  That makes my teeth hurt.”

“Speaking of pain…”  Seth looked over at Gary.  “You ready for your dental contouring?”

He glared at Seth.  “You’re not going to get away with this, you fucking psycho!”

Seth shoved his head into a vice, then started cranking it closed.  Gary screamed as his skull cracked.  When his eyes started bulging, Seth stopped.  He inserted the mouth spreader, then cranked it open until his jaws started popping.  Gary was in so much pain that he was letting out a continuous wail.  Seth thumped him on the forehead.  “Hush!  I can’t hear myself think.”

Gary was trying to speak, but only gibberish came out.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re saying.”

“Ease ake e ain op illin e.”

“Dude, you sound fuckin’ retarded.”

Kenneth was shaking his head.  “Damn, Seth!  He’s probably got brain damage from the way you smashed the shit out of his head.”

“Naw, that’s not it.  He’s just overreacting, like a little bitch.”

“You sure?  Blood is running out of his ears.”

“Watch this.”  Seth removed the mouth spreader.

Gary shouted, “Oh my God!  Please stop hurting me!  I beg you!  I will….”

He shoved the spreader back in his mouth and cranked it open.  He looked at Kenneth.  “See, I told you he was overreacting.”

“Are you going to shape his teeth like you did Joe’s?”

Seth looked Gary in the eyes as he injected him in the neck.  “You want your teeth done now, or would you rather have your paws done first?”

“Nawww!  Naww!  On’t ew eeth.”

“Paws it is.”  Seth tied a tourniquet around his left elbow, then sliced through the tendons at his wrist with a knife, severing his hand.  Gary screamed at the top of his lungs as Seth sewed the end closed.  When he was done, he slid a handmade prosthetic dog paw over his stub, then sewed it to his skin.

Kenneth looked disturbed.  “What the hell is that?”

Seth tossed him one of the dog paws.  “I made them just for these assholes.”

Kenneth noticed the paw was made of wood with steel claws.  It had a leather cuff attached to the top of it.  Seth had sewn the leather part to Gary’s stub to hold it in place.  “You have too much time on your hands, pal.”

“Or not enough.”  Seth took a drill and ran two long screws through the bottom of the paw, making sure they went into bone.

Kenneth looked nauseated as he watched.  “Damn, dude!  Did you really have to do that?  The stitches would have held it in place.”

Seth walked to Gary’s other side and started tying a tourniquet around his right elbow.  “Stitches in the flesh can be easily torn out.  The screws will ensure the paws will stay on.”

“Then why did you waste time stitching it in the first place?”

“Just for the fun of it.”

“Fun my ass.”

Seth looked into Gary’s eyes.  “Tell Kenneth how much fun you are having.”

He was breathing heavy and could barely speak.  “I an’t ake any or ain!  Ease op urtin e!”

Seth laughed.  “He said he’s having a blast.”

Kenneth shook his head.  “I read that you did some crazy shit, but this is way beyond sick and twisted.”

“I know.  Isn’t it fun torturing the shit out of scumbags?”  Seth sliced off Gary’s hand, then sewed a paw into place.  He looked at Kenneth.  “Do you wanna run the screws into his stub?  You have to put one in the radius and one in the ulna for the best holding power.”

“Naw, you can do it.  You seem to like doing this shit.”

Seth drilled in the screws, then tossed the drill onto Gary’s crotch, racking him in the process.  “I told you this was going to be disturbing.”

“I know, I know.  I just didn’t know it was going to be this bad.”

Seth laughed as he tied a tourniquet around Gary’s right thigh.  “You haven’t seen shit yet.  I’m just getting started.”  Seth looked at Jim, who was eavesdropping on the other side of the window.  “Did y’all hear that, Jim?  It’s going to get a whole lot worse than this.”

Jim walked back towards the others and started whispering to them.

Seth laughed.  “Those conspiring fuckers are trying to think of anything they can to get out of this.”

“I’m sure, after seeing this shit.”

Seth started cutting through Gary’s knee with a hacksaw.  He yelled over his screaming.  “They haven’t seen shit yet.”  As soon as Gary’s lower leg fell to the floor, Seth took a propane torch and started burning his stub.  Gary was blowing snot bubbles and slobbering all over himself as his blood boiled.  Flesh smelling smoke was engulfing the air as his screaming echoed in the room.  When Seth was done, he pointed to a bag on the floor.  “Grab me one of the larger paws.”

Kenneth pulled one out.  It was twice the size as the one Seth had attached to Gary’s arms.  He handed it to him.  “You got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.  You’re turning him into a damn dog, aren’t you?”

“You catch on quickly.”  Seth sewed the leather cuff to Gary’s flesh, then ran some screws into his bone.  He removed the tourniquet and put it on his other leg.  “You wanna do this one?”

Kenneth shook his head.  “No thanks.  This is actually getting to be too much for me.”

He put the saw on Gary’s knee.  “Don’t forget what these assholes did.”

“I haven’t.  That’s why I’m sticking around until it’s Brad’s turn.”

“Does that mean you’re going to get your hands dirty?”

Gary started shouting muffled curse words.

Seth struck him across the face with the saw.  “Hush!  I’m talking to my buddy.”

Kenneth nodded.  “Yeah.  That motherfucker is mine.”

“Cool.”  Seth pointed to the window.  “Speaking of the motherfucker, check him out.”

Kenneth laughed when he saw Brad.  He was standing on the other side of the window staring back while pumping his fists.  He looked angry.  His entire body had been tattooed black, causing the whites of his eyes to stand out.  “That’s some funny shit.”  Kenneth ran the back of his thumb across his neck as he looked at Brad.

Brad threw him the finger as he shouted, “I’m going to kill your black ass!”  The others quickly pulled him back.

Kenneth looked at Seth.  “Can we do him next?”

“We can.  But if we make him watch his little butt buddies get it first, it will make him more terrified when it’s his turn.”

“You think so?”

“One thing I’ve learned over the years is, there’s just as much pain in psychological torture as there’s with physical torture.  If you save the physical shit for last after fucking with their heads, it will make it a lot worse.”  Seth had already cut through Gary’s skin, but was taking it slowly as he barely sawed into his knee cap.  “Just like how I’m procrastinating in sawing through his knee.  I could go ahead and sever his leg with a few hard strokes, but if I take my time, it will make it more dramatic.  Talking shit is also a must.”  Seth pulled the blade out of the bloody gash and held it up as he looked at Gary.  “What do you think?  Should I whack your shit off quickly, or take my time?”

Gary had blown his voice box.  All he could do was make muffled moans.

“Okay.  I’ll take my time.”  Seth started cutting again.  When he got through his kneecap, he jabbed his knife between the two halves, then started cutting tendons, ligaments and muscles as he worked his way around the joint.  When he almost had it severed, he took the lower part of his leg and started twisting it until he tore it in two.

Kenneth was shaking his head.  “I’ve seen it all now.”

Seth tossed the leg onto the floor, then burned the end of the stub.  Gary had passed out, so Seth laid the paw on his stomach, then walked over to Joe.

Kenneth followed him over.  “Why didn’t you put the paw on?”

“He’s out.”

“So?”

“He wouldn’t be able to feel it.”

Kenneth laughed.  “Of course.”

Seth looked at Joe.  “You ready for your paws?”

Joe’s eyes were closed and he wasn’t moving.

“Oh cool, he’s unconscious.  I guess I’ll go ahead and cut off his dick.”  Seth jabbed his penis with the point of his knife.

Joe’s eyes opened wide as he mumbled.  “Pease on’t ew it!”

“That’s what I thought, you sneaky bastard.”

“Ohhh, pease op urtin eee!”

Seth removed his mouth spreader.  “I’m sick of your ramblings.  Now what the fuck are you whining about?”

Joe worked his mouth around for a moment—the spreader had stretched his jaws and they were stiff.  It was also the first time he was able to feel his teeth with his tongue.  He noticed they were pointed and sharp.  “Oh my God!  What have you done to my teeth?”

“Be careful.  You might cut your tongue.”

“Why in the fuck….?”

Gary started coming around.  Seth held up a finger.  “Hold that thought.”  He went over to Gary.  “Welcome back, sunshine.”  As Seth stitched the cuff in place, Gary violently jerked around and hollered muffled and raspy pleas of mercy.  He shouted louder as the screws penetrated his bones.  Kenneth had a confused look.  “Why is he freaking out so much?  He didn’t act like this with his other leg.”

“The soreness has set in and his adrenaline rush has settled down, so it’s more painful.”

“That sucks for him.”

“Yep.”  Seth went back to Joe.  “You ready for your paws?”

“My mouth.  It’s killing me.  Please make it stop.”

“I’m going to give you something to really whine about if you don’t answer my question.”

“Please don’t hurt me anymore.  I beg you.”

“Answer the fuckin’ question, asshole!”

“I…  I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Seth loosened the vice.  “Take a look at your pal over there.”

When Joe raised his head and looked at Gary, he noticed there was blood on the table and floor.  Then he noticed the severed hands and lower legs laying in a pile.  At first, he didn’t understand what was going on until he noticed the prosthetic paws.  He started going crazy.  “Oh shit!  What have you done to him?  You cut him apart.  You killed him, you sorry bastard!”

Gary moved one of his arms.  “Pease elp ee!”

Joe’s eyes got big.  “Oh my God!  He’s still alive!”  He yelled to Gary.  “Gary!  Gary!  I’m here!  Don’t worry!  I’ll get you some help!”

Seth held up a paw.  “Now that you see what I’m talking about, are you ready for yours?”

He had a look of terror.  “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Why are you doing this to us?”

“’Cause it’s fun.”

Kenneth was standing to the side with his arms crossed.  “Because you sorry bastards get off on harming animals.  You fucking abused them for your own amusement and monetary gain.  They didn’t do shit to you.  Your dogs loved you with unconditional love, and you treated them like they were nothing but dirt under your feet.  You two fuckers deserve to be treated the same way.”

Seth laughed.  “Yeah, that’s what I meant too.”

Joe looked at Kenneth.  “I’m sorry for what Brad did to your dog.  But I didn’t have anything to do with that.”

“Maybe not.  But you have the same mentality as he does.  All you fucking animal abusers do.”

Joe looked at Seth.  “It’s illegal to do this to me.  It’s cruel and unusual punishment.  It’s against the law to do this.  The constitution says so.”

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot.  But regardless, what you did was wrong, so you’re going to pay the price.”

“Come on, man.  Two wrongs don’t make a right.”

“Yeah, but one wrong doesn't make a right either.  At least two wrongs will make me feel better.”

Kenneth laughed.  “Of course, three lefts do make a right though.”

Seth sang, “If this is wrong, then I don’t want to be right.”

Joe became frustrated.  “What’s wrong with you fuckers!  Look what you did to my teeth!  Look at Gary!  And you have the audacity to make jokes!”

Seth laughed.  “Audacity?  That’s an awfully mighty big word for a thug.”

“Fuck off!”

“Apparently, Mr. Audacity got his feelings hurt.”

“Screw you, asshole!”

“You know what.  I’ve decided not to cut off your hands.”

Joe’s eyes got big.  “Really?”

“Really.  Because you’re going to do it yourself, smartass.”

“You’re fuckin’ crazy!”

Seth held up a propane torch.  “If you don’t cut off one of your hands, I’m going to burn your dick off.”

Joe went nuts and started shouting, “Fuck you!  Get the fuck away from me, you crazy son of a bitch!”

Seth released his hands, then tossed a knife onto his stomach.  “Get to it, asswad.”

Joe tried to stick Seth, but his body was still strapped down, restricting movement.  He started to cut a strap, but Seth hit the ignition trigger, lighting the torch, then started burning his face.  Joe dropped the knife as he covered himself.  “Please stop!  Oh my God!  Please stop burning me!”

Seth pulled back the flames.  “Take off one of your fucking hands!”

“Okay!  Okay!  Please just don’t burn me anymore!”

“Shut the fuck up and do it!”

“I dropped the knife.”

“Then chew the motherfucker off.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“You’re crazy.  There’s no way I can do that.”

“Sure, you can, especially with those teeth I gave you.”

Joe just stared at Seth.

“I’m not telling you again.”

“Uh…  I can’t.”

Seth lit the torch.  “Say bye-bye to your pee-pee then.”  He moved the flame towards his crotch.

Joe started freaking out, covering his penis to protect it.  The flames were burning the backs of his hands in the process.  Slobber was running down his chin as he shouted for mercy.  Seth pulled back the flame.  “Pick a hand and get to chewing.”

“Please don’t….”

“This time I’m not stopping until you do it.”  Seth started burning him again, causing the flames to billow all around his hands.  His pubic hair caught fire and the air was engulfed with a rancid odor.  The skin on the backs of his hands was bright red, and blisters were beginning to form.  The pain was so intense he had no choice but to do what Seth asked.  He sank his pointed teeth into his left wrist and started ripping off pieces of flesh.  He was gagging and screaming at the same time, and his adrenaline rush was allowing him to overcome the pain as he tore himself apart.

Seth lit a cigarette using the torch, then laughed.  “That’s right.  Eat that motherfucker like a chicken drum.”

Kenneth felt sick.  “Dude!  This is freakin’ disgusting!  It’s making me nauseated!”

“Then don’t look.  And if you’re going to puke, do it on Joe’s face.”

When Joe had all the soft tissue removed, he started gnawing at his bones.  His entire face, arms and chest were covered in blood.  Seth got his attention.  “Hold up!  Just twist the fucker off.”

He glared at him with hate-filled eyes.  “Fuck you!”

Seth knew he would bleed to death if he didn’t get the hand removed and the stub cauterized.  He looked at Kenneth.  “Hold his other arm.”

Seth grabbed his hand, then started twisting it.  The only thing holding it in place was the cartilage between the bones and some tendons.  After a few turns, his hand popped off at the wrist.  Seth tossed the hand onto the floor, then started burning the stub.  Joe was violently jerking around as he screamed, begged, and cursed.

The flames coming into contact with his body fluids was making a sizzling sound.  Seth laughed.  “Smells and sounds like we’re at a Sizzler.”

“What the fuck does this have to do with her?”

Seth looked confused.  “What?”

“What the fuck does this have to do with my sister?”

“Sister?  No, I said Sizzler.  You know, the steak and seafood restaurant.”

“Oh yeah.  I thought you said sister.”

Joe was breathing heavily and his body was so tense that the veins in his neck were sticking out.  “Okay!  Okay!  That’s enough!  Please stop!”

Seth slid a paw over his stub, then started stitching the leather cuff to his skin.  Joe became angry, ignoring the pain.  “You motherfucker!  I’m going to kill your fucking ass when I get loose!  Do you hear me, you bastard?  You’re dead!”  He looked at Kenneth.  “You too, you black piece of shit!  I’m going to fuck you up!”  He laid his head back and started laughing in a maniacally way.

Kenneth was having a hard time holding down his other arm as Joe freaked out.  “What’s wrong with this bastard?  Why is he freaking out and acting this way?”

“People do some weird shit when they’re going through a traumatic experience.  I’ve seen it too many times.”

“I would think he would act right, knowing it’s only going to cause him more pain.”

“He’s in what I refer to as a don’t-give-a-shit-mode.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“He’s so angry that he doesn’t give a shit what happens to him.  The fact that he has no control over what’s happening to him, and being taunted in the process, causes a lot of anger.”  Seth drilled in the screws.  “But don’t worry—he’ll be back to survival or crybaby mode later.”

Joe raised his head, looked at the paw, then glared at Seth.  “Fuck you!  I ain’t gonna cry about shit!  You can do your worst!  I don’t give a fuck!”

“Good.  Then I shouldn’t hear you whine and cry about having to gnaw off your other hand.”

He started laughing.  “I ain’t doin’ shit, motherfucker!  And you can’t make me!”

Seth set the end of a chisel on top of his left kneecap, then started whacking it with a hammer.  Joe screamed as Seth split his kneecap in two.  He moved the chisel to the outside of his knee, then drove it into the joint, breaking cartilage and cutting ligaments, tendons, and muscles.  He then moved to the inside of his knee and did the same thing.  Joe was screaming at the top of his lungs, but Seth was ignoring him as he twisted his lower leg, tearing the remaining skin, muscles and tendons that were holding the joint together.  He tossed it onto the floor next to his hand, then started burning the stub.  When he was done, he sewed and screwed the paw in place, then went to his other leg.  He set the chisel on his kneecap and started to hit it with the hammer.

Joe yelled out, “Don’t hit it!  I’m doing it!”  He bit into his flesh.

Seth noticed Joe was violently chewing at his other wrist.  Within seconds, he had removed majority of the skin and muscles around it.  “Oh good.  You didn’t need any motivation to bite off your hand.”

His eyes got big as he paused.  “What was that?”

“Do you not understand English?”

“You’re making me do this.”

“No, I’m not.”

“That’s why you ripped off my fucking leg and fixin’ to do my other one!”

“No, it’s not.  I had planned on chiseling off both of them before I made you chew off your hand.  You just jumped the gun, pal.”

He became violent.  “You sorry motherfucker!  I’m going to fucking….”

Seth grabbed his hand and twisted it off, then started slapping him in the face with it as he said repeatedly, “Why you hitting yourself?”

Kenneth was standing back with a disturbed look as he watched.  He was speechless.

Seth noticed Kenneth’s facial expression.  He nodded towards the floor.  “You can grab his other hand and join in if you like.”

“How much more shit are you planning on doing to him?”

“I’m almost done with the foreplay.”

Joe’s eyes got big.

Blood Sport

Kenneth didn’t know what to say.  He knew Joe was being tortured because of him.  He was the one that started the whole thing when he posted the comments on the Internet about wanting Seth to avenge Roxie.  Now there were a lot of people that were going to suffer because of it.  He kept having mixed feelings, going back and forth wondering if what they were doing was right.

Seth could tell what Kenneth was thinking.  He slapped Joe a few more times, then tossed his hand onto the floor.  “I can tell you’re having second thoughts again.”

Kenneth shook his head.  “I’m not.  And why would you say that?”

Seth started cauterizing Joe’s stub.  “Because I can read people.  I’ve been analyzing the way the human mind works for years.  I can tell this is bothering you, just like it did with Jimmy.”

“Naw, I’m all right.  Just keep doing whatever you want to do.”

Seth secured the paw to Joe’s stub, then leaned back against the table.  “I’m only doing this because of Roxie.  And of course, because the others deserve it.  Roxie’s incident just initiated it.”

“I guess what’s bothering me is you brought in a bunch more people.  I don’t have an issue fucking up Brad.  I’m actually looking forward to it.”

“Scumbags.”

“What?”

“I refer to them as scumbags, lowlifes, or assholes, not people.  And dirtbags, jackasses, asshats, fucksticks, douchebags, asswads, fucktards, dickheads, assbags, jerkoffs, fuckheads or ass clowns will work too.”

“Uh, okay…  I just feel like they’re gonna be tortured because of me.”

“No.  They’re going to be tortured because of their own arrogance and evilness.  Don’t feel bad about it.  I fuck up animal-abusing pricks all the time.  I just thought it would be more exciting to do a whole bunch of them at once.  And think about this.  Several of these fuckheads are going to make it out of here alive and tell their story to the entire world.  That’s going to make others think twice before they break into someone’s house and cut the head off the owner’s pet, then stick it in the freezer like a pot roast.”

Kenneth frowned.  “That’s kind of rude.”

Seth picked up a battery-operated reciprocating saw.  “You know what I mean.  If some jackass doesn’t harm an animal because he thinks I will come for his ass, then it’s all worth it.”

“So, you do this kind of shit for the greater good of mankind?”

“And animal-kind.  But I also enjoy the fuck out of it.  It’s a win-win for everyone.”  Seth cut straight though Joe’s right knee with the saw.  “Except for this prick.”  He quickly started burning the stub to stop the bleeding.  “But if you wanna end it, I’ll let these fuckers go.”

Kenneth thought about it as Seth mounted the last paw to Joe.  “You’re right.  I see how this can make a difference.  I just don’t understand why you like doing it, or why you do such sick shit to them.”

“Everyone likes different things.  I just happen to like fucking up scumbags.  Can’t explain it, just do.  Now, as far as fucking them up real nasty-like, that makes a huge impact on other scumbags.  If I just went around and popped a cap in their ass, that wouldn’t be scary, but turning a dog abuser into a fucking dog, well, that creates a whole other type of scary, don’t ya think?”

Kenneth nodded.  “I guess.  Not the liking part, but the scaring-the-fuck-out-of-the-others.”

“So, do we carry on, or do you want to throw in the towel?”

“Game on, baby.”

“All right.  Let’s get to it then.”  Seth stapled some floppy dog ears made of leather to Joe’s ears, put a studded dog collar around his neck, then shoved him off the table and onto the floor.  Joe had blown his voice box from screaming.  He just lay on the floor motionless as he cried.

Seth showed Kenneth a tail that he had made.  The center part was a piece of rebar with a pointed end that had barbs.  The whole thing was covered with long hairs.  He jabbed the pointed end into Joe’s back where his tailbone was.  The barbs locked it into place, preventing it from falling out.  Seth kicked Joe in the side as he yelled, “Get, boy!”

Joe started crawling across the floor on his stomach.  He looked like a wild animal that had been run over by a truck.

Kenneth shook his head.  “Apparently, you’ve thought about what you were going to do to him?”

“Of course.  I have something planned for each person.  It’s just as fun planning the shit as it is getting to do it.”

“You know you need help, right?”

Seth laughed.  “Don’t we all.”  He walked over to Gary.  “You ready for your teeth?”

Gary looked white as a ghost.  He was in a lot of pain since the soreness had set into his limbs.  He didn’t answer.

“Good.”

Gary screamed as Seth ground his teeth into points.  When he was done, he stapled on the ears, put a collar and tail on him, then dumped him onto the floor.  Seth went over to the window and banged on it.  “Listen up, fucktards!”

Everyone was sitting on the floor.  They had witnessed a very disturbing sight and were feeling numb inside, knowing their turn was coming.  They felt hopeless.

“Joe and Gary are going to fight each other to the death.  I need y’all to bet on who the winner is going to be.”

No one said anything.

“Wow!  No response?”

They sat quietly.

“If you motherfuckers don’t show some enthusiasm, I’m going to turn you into a human centipede, meaning I’m going to sew everyone in a row, mouth to ass.”

Jim shrugged his shoulders.  “What are we betting with?  We have nothing of value.”

“Sure, you do.  You’re going to be betting with one of the most precious things you own.”

“And what the fuck would that be?”

“It’s a surprise.  You’ll find out if you lose.”

“Is this your way of conning money from me?  You’re not only a murdering bastard, you’re also a fucking thief.”

Michael stood up.  “I don’t have a pot to piss in, so you’re shit out of luck.”

Everyone started yelling, saying they weren’t going to give Seth shit.

Seth pointed to the left side of the room.  “Whoever thinks Joe is going to win, get on this side.”  He pointed to the right.  “Over there for Gary.”

No one moved.

Seth shouted, “Move your asses before I come in there!”

Jim walked to the left side of the room.  Aaron, Wayne, Kerri, Amanda, Jasper, Marcus, and Brad followed him.  Brian, Casey, Douglas, Paul, Michael, Arul and Rajat chose the right side.

“Good.”  Seth walked over to Joe and Gary.  They were both lying on the floor on their sides.  “You two ready to fight?”

Joe could barely speak.  “Just kill me.”

Gary was in no better shape.  “Please leave me alone.”

“I know what y’all fuckers need to get this party started.”  He injected them in the neck with the automatic injection syringe.  Within seconds they pepped up.  “Here are the rules.  Use whatever means necessary to kill your opponent.  The winner gets to go to the next round.”

Gary was getting upset.  “Why are you doing this to us?”

“Question time is over.  And you know why, so stop asking.”

“You’re a sorry bastard!”

“I’m not that sorry.  I’m granting bonus points to anyone that rips off the other’s dick.”

Joe was glaring at Seth.  “And what the fuck would that be?”

“The asshole that does it, gets to take their limbs to the hospital for reattachment.  Of course, that’s if they survive this round and the next round.”

Gary became angry as he looked at his severed limbs.  They were laying in a bloody pile on the floor mixed with Joe’s.  “You need to pick up my hands and legs before they get some bacterial shit on them.  And put them on ice.”

Seth laughed.  “You sound awfully cocky.  You must think you’re going to win.”

The adrenaline and Provigil running through his veins was working full force, allowing him to overcome his pain.  He rolled onto his paws, then glared at Joe.  “I’m going to fucking kill his brown ass!”

Joe had become aggressive as well.  He got on all fours.  “Fuck you, Gary!  You’ve always been a fucking bitch!”

Kenneth was covering his mouth.  The sight of two men with short, stubby legs, paws instead of feet and hands, tails, floppy ears and pointed teeth was almost too much to watch.  He couldn’t believe his eyes.  He had never seen such an atrocity, but he was also amazed that not only were they alive, but feeling well enough to fight.  “This is some fucking strange shit.  I can’t believe they’re not dead, and the fact they’re actually getting aggressive and wanting to fight is amazing.”

“It’s called survival instincts.”  Seth laughed.  “And the effects of the drugs.”

“Regardless.  This is the craziest shit that I have ever seen.”

Seth whipped out a wad of money, then laid five bills on a table.  “I’ve got five-hundred on Joe.”

Kenneth tossed down his money.  “You’re on.”

Seth kicked Joe in the ass.  “Get to it, asshole!  Go make me some money!”

Gary and Joe went at it.  Gary sunk his teeth into the side of Joe’s face as he buried his claws into the back of his neck.  Joe was clawing at Gary’s face, ripping gashes in his skin as he tried to get him off him.  Gary jerked his head back and tore off a large piece of Joe’s cheek, exposing his back teeth.  They were ignoring the pain as they continued to go at it, clawing and biting each other like wild animals.

Seth and Kenneth were rooting for them as the others stared in horror.  Gary was a little stronger, allowing him to flip Joe over onto his back.  As he held him down, he started ripping gashes in his neck with his claws while biting off chunks of skin from his face.  Joe was violently swinging his paws, hitting Gary in the face.  During the struggle, Gary’s left eye was ripped open.  Intraocular fluid was running down his face as he sat up and screamed.  Joe took advantage of the situation and pushed Gary onto his back, then crawled on top of him.  He went straight for his penis, sinking his teeth deep into the foamed-filled flesh.  When he pulled back, he not only tore the penis off, but a large piece of flesh where it was stitched in place.  Part of the urethra and a few veins were the only things left hanging out of the gaping hole.

Gary was screaming as he tried to get Joe off him, but he was sitting on him backwards.  He was clawing him in the back, but Joe was ignoring the pain.  Gary reached under Joe’s ass with both paws and sunk his claws into his ball sack, then tore it open, causing his testicles to fall out.  Joe tried to get up, but Gary sunk his claws into his hips and pulled down, then grabbed ahold of his testicles with his teeth.  Joe screamed as he lunged to the side.

Joe rolled across the floor, then sat up on his rear to examine his injuries.  He became infuriated when he noticed his testicles had been ripped off.  “You fucking bastard!  Look what you did to me!”

Gary spit the testicles out, then looked down at his crotch, noticing the penis Seth had sewn on him was missing.  “Ha!  How’d Wayne’s dick taste, faggot?”

“I’m going to fucking kill you!”  Joe charged Gary.  They both went at it with everything they had, clawing, punching, and biting.

Seth was excited as he watched.  He was rooting for Joe as Kenneth rooted for Gary.  Everyone in the other room was standing at the window, watching in horror as the two men ravaged each other’s body.  They were covered in gashes and puncture holes, and their entire bodies were covered in blood.  Joe finally managed to get ahold of Gary’s throat with his teeth, ripping a huge gash into his esophagus.  Gary fell on his side as he gasped for air.  His screams were coming out of the hole in his throat as Joe continued to ravage his body.  Within minutes, Gary choked to death on his own blood.

Seth clapped.  “Fuckin’ A Bubby!”

Kenneth shook his head.  “I’ll be damned!”

Joe rolled onto his side.  “Get me to a fucking doctor.”

Seth walked to the door.  “You’re not done yet, pal.  You have one more match.”

Joe had a cocky look.  He was feeling indestructible.  “Fuckin’ bring it on!  I’m getting the fuck out of here.”  He looked at Kenneth.  “And your black ass can go ahead and bag up my shit.  And pick up my fucking nuts while you’re at it.”

Seth shook his head.  “Don’t listen to the prick.  It’s just the adrenaline talking.”

Joe laughed.  “I don’t give a fuck about you or that black piece of shit.”

Seth opened the door.  “Well, maybe you’ll care about this.”

Lola, Scar Face and Kobie came running into the room.  Joe smiled as they ran to him.  “There’s my babies.”

They lunged on top of him, sinking their teeth into his flesh.  Joe screamed as they ravaged his body.  They looked like wild and starving animals killing their prey.  Within minutes, they had him torn apart.

Seth looked at the others in the other room.  “Time to pay the piper.”  He held up a remote-control device and pressed the button.

Jim noticed gas was entering the room through a vent.  “Everyone try to find something to cover your mouth and nose!  He’s gassing us!”

Before anyone could react, they fell to the floor, then into a state of unconsciousness.

Seth handed Kenneth a body bag.  “Put Joe in there, then take him to my van.”

“Why?”

“He’s got headlines to make.”

FUBAR

Jim awoke with a mild headache.  He sat up, feeling nauseous and his lower abdomen was hurting.  He tried to stand up, but a sharp pain shot through his guts.  He examined himself, finding a freshly stitched wound a few inches above his penis.

Jasper started freaking out.  “Oh fuck!  Something’s wrong with my nuts!”

Jim felt his own, noticing he had four oblong objects in his sack.  “Me too!”  He started frantically fondling them.  “What the hell are these?”

Michael was on his knees, bent forward.  He was feeling around his ball sack, noticing it was empty.  “Oh my God!  There’s nothing in here!  My nuts are gone!”

Now Amanda began to freak out.  “What the fuck are these?”

Jim noticed she had two oblong balls hanging from her vagina with some type of thread.  They were dangling between her legs.  He looked closer.  “Oh fuck!  I think those are testicles.”

Paul started yelling.  “My nuts are missing too!”

Arul and Rajat noticed their ball sacks were empty and they had fresh stitching in their lower abdomens too.  Aaron, Wayne, Marcus, and Brad had two extra objects in their ball sacks, and Kerri had balls hanging between her legs like Amanda.

Jim knew what was happening.  “Remember he said we were betting on something precious.  He was talking about our fucking testicles.  The bastard has taken them from the ones who bet on Gary and put them in the ones who bet on Joe.”  He rubbed his stitching.  “The sick fucker went in through our abdomens to do it.”

The men that had their testicles removed were very pissed off.  Paul was holding his sack in the palm of his hand.  It was flat like a pancake.  “This is fucking bad!”  He looked at Jim.  “I wonder which of you fuckers have my nuts.”

“Right now, we can’t worry about that.  We need to figure out a way to get out of here, then we can get to a hospital and have this fixed.”

“That’s easy for you to say.  Your nuts are fine.  Mine are rotting in one of you, so by the time we do get out, I’m shit out of luck.  I don’t even have kids yet.”

Amanda became agitated.  “Your fucking balls are the last thing I’m worried about.”

Paul stood up.  “Fuck you, bitch!  It’s easy to say that when you’re not all fucked up.”  He pointed to his face.  “My fucking eye is busted and all these damn holes in my face from the darts are going to scar.  I’m going to be a ball-less freak.”

“Cry me a river, motherfucker!”

Jim was looking around.  “Where are Brian, Casey and Douglas?”

Everyone looked around, noting they were missing.

Michael found a piece of paper hanging on the wall.  “I found a note.”

Jim walked over to him.  “What’s it say?”

“We’re invited to a special event.  It says for us to find the medical observation deck on this floor.”

“Fuck!  That means Seth has taken them.  He wants us to watch what he’s going to do to them.”  He thought for a moment.  “Fuck that.  We’re going to find a way out of here instead.”

“The note specifically says if we try to escape, they will be FUBAR.”

Kerri had been listening.  “What does FUBAR mean?”

Michael walked up.  “Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition.”

Arul was scared.  “Maybe we should do what he says.”

Jim shook his head.  “Screw that crazy bastard.  While he’s playing his games, we’re going to find a way out of here.”

Rajat opened the door.  “Hey!  It’s unlocked!”

Jim ran to it.  “Hold up!  Remember what happened last time?”  He eased the door open.  “We’re good.  It looks safe.”  He looked at the group.  “Let’s go.”

Brad was standing off to the side, pissed that he had been tattooed.  He felt betrayed.  “Go on out there.  Maybe he’ll cut your fucking throat!  In fact, I hope each of you suffer immensely for what you did to me.”

Jim felt bad.  “We had no choice.”

“You always have a choice, and you made yours.  I’ll remember that.”

Michael was getting angry as he glared at Brad.  “Fuck you, dude!  You’re the one who got us into this mess, so shut the fuck up!”

“I didn’t get you into shit.  He came after you because you fucked a cat in the ass.”

“I didn’t do that!”

“You might as well have, you sick fuck.”

“I’ll beat your ass, smart mouth!”  He started walking towards him.

Jim got between them.  “Save it for later!  We need to get going.”

Michael pointed at Brad.  “Your black ass is mine when we’re out of here.”

“Screw you!  And you better grow eyes in the back of your head.”

“Is that a threat?”

Jim intervened again.  “I said chill out!”  He pushed Michael towards the door.  “Go see what’s out in the hallway.”  He looked at Brad.  “And you need to calm down.  You know we didn’t have a choice.”

Brad walked away shaking his head.

Michael was standing in the hallway.  Most of the lights were burned out or broken, making parts of the hallway illuminated, while leaving other areas dark.  “I think it’s okay.”

Jim walked out, followed by the others.  He pointed.  “There’s a staircase.  Let’s go that way.”  The group followed him.  When he got to the door, he eased it open to see if it was clear.  “It’s kind of dark, but it looks fine.”  He nodded to Arul and Rajat.  “You two go check it out.”

Arul was hesitant.  “I think it’s a bad idea.  We need to do what he said.”

“At least go see if there’s a way out.”

“Why don’t you go?”

“My leg hurts.  And I’ve been doing plenty.  It’s time for everyone to step up and take risks.”

Arul and Rajat started talking in Arabic to each other, then they became upset and started arguing.

Jim looked at Wayne.  “You go check it out.”

He was holding the stub where his penis had been cut off.  “I’m hurting too bad.  And my balls are starting to swell and it’s painful to walk.”

Jim motioned to Michael.  “You go.”

“Screw you.”

Kerri walked to the door.  “Fuck it!  I’ll go.  You motherfuckers don’t have any balls.”  She caught what she had said, remembering she had a pair hanging between her legs.  She laughed.  “And that’s because I’ve got ‘em.”  She looked at Wayne.  “I’m surprised you’re being a bitch, considering you have four.”

“Screw you, bitch!”

Michael grabbed her.  “Yeah, fuck you!”  He pushed her into the stairwell, then held the door closed.

She tried to open it.  “You fucking asshole!  Open the fucking door!”

“You got balls, so fuck you!  Take your ass on down the stairs.”

Suddenly, Jim was struck in the left ass cheek with an arrow.  He fell to his knees and shouted, “Oh fuck!  I got hit again!”  He tried to pull it out.  “It’s burning the shit out of me!”

The arrow had come from a dark section of the hallway.  Michael and Marcus ran in that direction.  Everyone else took cover.  Jim looked at Jasper.  “Get this out of me!  I think it’s got that fucking Gympie shit on it.”

He pulled it out, then examined the tip.  “Sorry, Jim.  It does.”

“My ass feels like it’s on fire!”  He was holding the wound.  “There’s got to be something we can do to make it stop.  My fucking leg is still hurting from the last one, and that was hours ago.”

“Sorry.  There’s nothing we can do here.  You need a doctor.”

“Then cut out the affected flesh.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.  You might bleed to death.”

“I’ll risk it.  I can’t take this fucking pain.”

Michael and Marcus came walking up.  Michael squatted down next to Jim.  “We didn’t find anyone.”

Jasper looked at Marcus.  “The arrow had Gympie-Gympie plant on it.  He wants us to cut out the flesh around the puncture hole.”

Marcus shook his head.  “Jim, that’s a bad idea.  For now, you’re going to have to fight the pain until we can get you some help.”

Jim stood up.  He was in agony.  Jasper and Marcus had to help him keep his balance.  “Let’s go down the stairs and find Kerri.  She’s been gone a while.  Maybe she found a way out.”

Michael was concerned.  “Maybe Seth got her.”

“Or maybe she got out and hauled ass.”

Arul was worried.  “Maybe we should go find the observation deck before something else bad happens.”

Jim was suffering so much he could barely speak.  “I have to get to a hospital.  Let’s go.”

When they opened the door, Kerri was lying on the floor in the stairwell.  Her body was covered in blood and her nose, ears, eyelids, lips, fingers, toes, and tits had been cut off.  Her wounds had been cauterized.  She was in a state of shock.  “Look what he did to me!”

Amanda knelt beside her.  “It will be all right.  We’re on our way to find help.”

“I’m hurting really bad.  Please do something.”

Brad was standing off to the side.  His tattooed skin had crusted over, making it painful to move.  “Welcome to the club, you fucking bitch.”

Amanda glared at him.  “What the fuck is your problem?  Look what that bastard did to her.”

“And look what y’all did to me.”  He laughed as he looked at Kerri.  “Now we know what FUBAR meant.”

She started crying.

Michael shoved him against the wall.  “Shut your fucking mouth before I kill you!”

“Fuckin’ do it if you think you can!”  He pushed him back.

Jim was lying on his side on the floor.  “Y’all fucking stop it!  Killing each other isn’t going to solve anything.”

Arul and Rajat pulled Michael back.  Michael raised his hands.  “All right, all right!  I would be doing his ass a favor anyway.  No telling what that crazy motherfucker has in store for him.”  He walked away.

Brad didn’t say anything as he thought about what Michael had said.  Not only was he worried about what Seth was going to do to him, but he had made enemies with everyone else.

Amanda and Paul helped Kerri sit up and leaned her back against the wall.  She was in a lot of pain.  “I’m not feeling well.”

Jim looked at her.  “Try to stay awake.”

“Something isn’t right.”  She leaned over and started vomiting up blood and large items.

Amanda put her hand over her mouth.  “Oh my God!  She’s throwing up her own body parts.”  In the pile of vomit were fingers, toes, and other pieces of flesh.

When she was done, she started freaking out.  “Please get me the fuck out of here!  I can’t take this!  I don’t want to die!”  She tried to stand up, but slipped in the blood.

Jim crawled over to her and held her down.  “Calm down!  It will be all right.”

She felt her face with the palms of her hands.  “How can you say that?  He turned me into a monster.”

Amanda felt bad for her, knowing she was right, but didn’t want to tell her.  “That’s not true.  A plastic surgeon can fix everything.  When we get out of here, you’ll get the help you need.”

Jim slid to the edge of the stairs and looked down.  It was dark and he couldn’t see anything.  “Kerri, did you happen to see if there was a way out?”

“I only made it to the second floor when I was knocked unconscious.”

“Who knocked you out, Seth or Kenneth?”

“Not sure.  They were wearing that animal mask.”

“You must have at least noticed their skin color.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t tell.  It happened too quick.”

Paul knelt beside Jim.  “What are you thinking?”

“I don’t think they’re both down there.  Whoever shot me with the arrow is up here.  That gives us an advantage.  Twelve of us against one.”

“Yeah, but you and Kerri are in no condition to fight.”

“If we’re going to get out of here, we’re all going to have to fight.”  Jim stood up, using the handrail to balance.  His leg and rear were hurting so badly it was almost crippling.  Out of nowhere, an arrow struck him in the back of his shoulder.  He lunged forward, falling onto his face.  Before anyone could react, another arrow struck him in his right ankle.  Michael grabbed Jim’s arm and pulled him out of the stairwell as Aaron and Wayne pulled Kerri out.  Paul slammed the door shut.   

Jim was in so much pain that his body was shaking.  “Get these fucking arrows out of me!”

Jasper pulled them out, then helped Jim lean his back against the wall as he sat on the floor.  He was on the verge of passing out due to the pain being so intense.

Michael squatted down beside Jim.  “Let’s go find that damn room.”

“No.  We have to find a way out.”

“He’s going to keep shooting you with these fucking arrows unless you do what he wants.”

He could barely speak.  “Fuck him!  He’s just doing it because I killed that Siberian Tiger.  When I get out of here, I’m going to hunt his ass down.”

Another arrow came flying down the hallway, striking the wall a few inches from Jim’s head.  Michael and Paul grabbed Jim by the wrists and started dragging him in the opposite direction from where the arrow had come from.  Jasper and Marcus was right behind them dragging Kerri.  The rest of the group was in the front.  They knew they needed to find the medical observation deck to prevent Jim from being shot again, or someone else from being tortured like Kerri.

Dirty Sanchez

Jim was in absolute agony as Michael and Paul dragged him by his arms.  He now had four wounds where the poison from the Gympie-Gympie plant was burning his insides.

When the group came to a T in the Hallway, they found a sign with an arrow that read Medical Observation Deck.  The group took off in that direction.  At the end of that hallway was a set of double doors.  Arul was the first one to make it to the doors.  He was skeptical about rushing in.  He eased them open a little and looked in.  “I don’t see anything.  It’s dark.”

The group was hesitant about going into the dark room, not knowing if something horrifying was awaiting them.  Michael and Paul leaned Jim against a wall as he sat on the floor.  He was in so much pain he could barely speak.  “We can’t just stay here.  We’re sitting ducks.”

Brad laughed.  “We ain’t shit.  You’re the one getting your ass shot.”

Michael pointed at him.  “Keep running your mouth, punk!”

“Screw you!  Each of you are going to get what’s coming.”

Amanda pushed him.  “Get the fuck away from us!”

He started to punch her.  “Don’t fucking touch me, bitch!”

“Why don’t you go your own way.  We’re all tired of your whining.”

He held his arms out, showing his black skin.  Even his penis and balls were black.  “Look what the fuck you did to me, bitch!”

“I said we’re sick and tired of hearing it, asshole!”

Brad started to walk away, but noticed something down the hallway.  “Oh shit!  Someone is down there!”

Everyone looked.  The end of the hallway was dark.  Michael walked in that direction, then stopped.  “I don’t see anything.”

“I’m telling you I saw something moving around.”

“I don’t see…”  Something moved in the dark, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up.  “Who’s there?”

Something growled.

His body was frozen as he stood staring into the dark.  He could now see an outline of something and its eyes were glowing.  It wasn’t a human, unless they were on their hands and knees.  He started walking backwards as he yelled to the others.  “Y’all get ready to run!”

To his horror, a four-legged creature came charging out of the dark.  It was wearing Gary’s skin like a costume.  Its snout was sticking out of Gary’s mouth and it was looking through his eye holes.  Gary’s arm and leg skins were dragging the ground as it ran.  Michael couldn’t tell what kind of animal it was, but it was big and had long teeth.

There was nowhere to run but into the dark observation deck.  The others had already run in, dragging Jim and Kerri with them.  The animal was on Michael’s heels as he ran through the doors.  Arul and Raul slammed them shut at the last moment.

Everyone huddled together in the dark as they listened to the animal claw at the doors.  Suddenly, the lights came on.  They found themselves on a deck that was about five-feet wide and encircling a room on the floor below.  The room was round and large, around forty-feet in diameter.  It was very antiquated and had old equipment and steel tables.  The deck appeared to be for people to watch autopsies or medical procedures from up above.  Everyone lined up along an old wooden handrail, staring down at the room.

Jim was lying on the floor looking between the balusters.  “We need to find a way down.”

Michael had already walked all the way around the deck.  “There’s not one.”

“Is there a way to climb down?”

“No.  There’s nothing to climb on.  And we can’t jump because it’s about a fifteen-foot drop.”

“Dammit!”

“Maybe we can…”  He noticed the door in the lower room opened.  “Oh shit!  Someone is coming in.”

Seth came in the room pushing a table with Douglas strapped down on top of it.  He was wearing a 1920’s doctor coat and a head mirror and was whistling a tune as if he didn’t have a care in the world.  He parked the table in the center of the room.

A few seconds later, Kenneth came in pushing Brian and Casey on a table.  They were lying side by side and strapped down.  Kenneth was also wearing an old doctor’s coat and head mirror.  He parked the table off to the side, then went over to Seth.

Michael whispered to everyone.  “Y’all stay quiet.  We don’t want them to know we’re up here.”

Jim laughed sarcastically.  “They know we’re up here.  It’s been their fucking plan from the beginning.”  He looked at Seth through the balusters and shouted, “Hey, asshole!  I’m sick of your fucking games!”

Seth walked over to a wall and flipped a switch.  An old lighted display hanging from the ceiling came on.  It read PROCEDURE IN PROGRESS: PLEASE REMAIN QUIET.

Jim became angry, shouting, “You’re a fucking psycho!”

Seth picked up an arrow and wiped something on the tip of it, then set it next to a compound bow that was on a table.  He never even looked up, as if Jim and the others weren’t there.

Jim knew what the arrow was for; if he kept talking he was going to be shot again.  He gritted his teeth as he mumbled, “What a fucking prick!”

Michael was crouched down next to him.  “Don’t worry about it.  While he’s fucking around down there, we’ll figure out a way to get out of here.”

“How?”

“Not sure.  Maybe that damn animal will go away.”

About that time an ear-piercing scream echoed out.  Everyone looked down to see what was happening.

Seth was cutting the head off Douglas’ penis with a pair of tin snips.  He tossed the head onto the floor, then started cutting the insides of his penis with a scalpel.  He was meticulously working the blade around not to damage the outer skin.  Kenneth walked up and spoke over Douglas’ screams.  “What the hell are you doing?”

“Hollowing out his dick.”

Kenneth had a look of disgust.  “Why in the fuck would you do that?”

“Because he didn’t have a problem pulling off that cat’s dick.”

“I don’t even want to know what you’re planning on doing.”

Seth pulled out the last piece of flesh, making Douglas’ penis just an empty shell.  He sewed the end closed, then pushed the skin inside him.  He looked at Kenneth and laughed.  “What do you think of that?”

“I…  I’m not sure.  What the hell is it?”

“A pussy.”

Kenneth shook his head.

Seth grabbed Douglas’ empty ball sack and flopped it around.  “A pussy with a grab handle.  Brian and Casey are going to like this.”

“Do I even want to know what you mean by that?”

“Probably not.”

Douglas had screamed so much that he had mucus all over his face.  It was obvious he was a smoker because it was yellow.  When he caught his composure, he glared at Seth and shouted, “You’re not going to get away with this, you sick piece of shit!”

Seth secured a cable to his left ankle.  “If you say so, pal.”

He looked down at his crotch.  “You’re going to get the electric chair for this, asshole!”

“Not in Texas I’m not.”

“You know what the fuck I mean!”

Seth secured the other end to Brian’s right ankle.  “How’s it going?”

Brian was scared.  “Please don’t hurt me.”

“You don’t want a pussy like your buddy Dougly?”

He started crying.  He had watched Seth hollow out Douglas’ penis.  “Please don’t do that to me!  I beg you!  I’ll do whatever you want.”

“You’ll do whatever I want, you say?  I’ll remember you said that.”  Seth ran another cable from Brian’s left ankle to Casey’s right ankle.  “And how are you doin’?”

Casey had a horrified expression.  “I’ll do whatever you want too if you don’t do that to me.”

“That’s the spirit.”  He ran a cable from Casey’s left ankle to an anchor in the floor.

Kenneth was confused.  “Why are you doing that?”

“So they can’t run.”

“But they’re strapped to the tables.”

“For now, but I’m going to let them loose.”

“Why?”

“Not sure yet.  Just kind of winging it.”

“I thought you had a plan for everyone.”

“I do, but ran into a kink with them.  I was going to start off with microwaving their nuts until they popped, but since they lost the bet and don’t have any, I’ll have to come up with something else that’s creative.”

Kenneth looked at Douglas’ crotch.  “Well, you definitely came up with something creative.  Are you going to do the same thing to the others?”

“Naw, I don’t like to be repetitive.  And besides, Douglas wants to be fucked like a bitch.”

Kenneth’s eyes got big.  “What?  I know you ain’t gonna make them do some gay shit up in here.”

Douglas was so angry his face was red.  “Fuck you!  I’ll kill your ass before that happens!”

Seth thought for a moment, ignoring Douglas as he continued to bitch and make threats.  He looked at Kenneth.  “Now that I’ve thought of it, you’re right, it is sick.”

“Thank God!”

“That’s why you’re going to make them do it.”

Kenneth laughed.  “Sure, pal.”

Seth dug through his bag, found some pills, then made Brian and Casey swallow them. 

Brain looked worried.  “What did you just give me?”

“Viagra.”

Kenneth was shaking his head.  “I know you’re not really serious about making them do some nasty shit.”

Seth started writing on a piece of paper.

“What are you doing?”

“Working on something.”

“What is it?”

“Hold up.  I’ll be done in a minute.”

“Can I see it?”

“Chill out.  I’m almost done.”

“Hurry up.”

Fifteen minutes later he was done.  He handed it to him.  “That’s some Grammy type shit there.”

Kenneth’s eyes got big as he read it.  “What the fuck is this shit?”

“A song.  It’s called the Dirty Sanchez.”

“This is fuckin’ nasty.”

“Of course.  It’s for these assholes.”

“Looks like a rap song.”

“It’s kind of like a rap song I suppose.  You do say the words instead of singing them.”

“So, what are you planning on doing with it?”

“You’re gonna perform it so they know what to do.”

Kenneth glared at Seth.  “Oh!  I must know how to rap because I’m black.  That shit’s fucked up.”

“First off, I said it wasn’t a rap song, but if it was, weren’t you a rapper back in the day?”

“Uh, maybe.”

“So, don’t you think it’s appropriate to ask a former rapper to rap something?”

Kenneth started laughing.  “That was a long, long time ago.  And how did you know about that shit?”

Seth pulled out his cell phone and showed him a picture of a young black dude in eighties’ style clothes, an eraser head haircut, large star shaped glasses and enough jewelry to make Mr. T jealous.  “Isn’t this you?”

Kenneth laughed.  “I ain’t admittin’ to a damn thing.” 

“Come on, Big Scrappy, you looked so cool back then.”

“I haven’t heard that name in a long time.”  He held up the piece of paper.  “I’ll do this if you don’t bring that shit up again.  And delete that damn picture.”

Seth deleted it.  “Done.  I want you to do it like an old-time square dance call.”

“Do I look like I know how to do that hillbilly shit?”

“If you can rap, you can figure it out, partner.”  Seth handed him a cowboy hat.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.  It’ll be funny.”

“Fuck it.”  Kenneth took off his head mirror and put on the hat.

Seth looked at Douglas, Casey, and Brian.  “Whatever Kenneth is saying, your asses are going to do it.  If you don’t, I’m going to whip your ass.”  Seth picked up a whip.  It was made up of a steel cable with a wooden handle.  The end of the cable was laying inside a kiln and was glowing red-hot.  He raised it up so they could see it.  “This fucker here will light your asses up, so you better cooperate.”

Casey and Brian didn’t say anything, but Douglas was still angry.  “You can’t make me do shit, so you might as well go ahead and kill me!”

Seth laughed.  “That can be arranged, but you’re still going to get your freak on before I do.”  Seth searched the Internet on his phone and found an old square dance tune.  He set the phone on a table, then looked at Kenneth.  “I’ve got your background music.  It’s time to get this nasty ass square dance started.  Go ahead and release the fuckers.”

As Kenneth removed their restraints, Seth stood ready with the whip to ensure no one would try anything.  When Kenneth was done, he stepped outside the cable’s reach.

Seth turned on the music, then nodded towards Kenneth.  “You’re up.”

Kenneth looked at the paper, then shook his head.  “I’m going to try my best with this shit.”  He looked at the men.  “All right, here we go.  This is called the Dirty Sanchez.  King of hearts, jack of spades, meet your partners, hope you fuckers don’t have AIDs.  It’s in and out by nasty you go, Casey must stick his dick in Brian’s butthole.”

The men just stood there.  Seth shouted, “Do it, jackass!” as he struck Casey across the back with the whip.  The red-hot cable burned a line across his flesh.

Casey screamed as he fell to his knees.

Seth struck him again.  “I’m not stopping until you do it!”

“Okay!  Okay!  What do you want me to do?”

Seth looked at Kenneth.  “I guess you’ll have to start from the top since these motherfuckers don’t listen.”

Kenneth shook his head.  “King of hearts, jack of spades, meet your partners, hope you fuckers don’t have AIDs.  It’s in and out by nasty you go, Casey must stick his dick in Brian’s butthole.”

Casey started approaching Brian, but Brian pushed him back.  Seth spun the whip around in the air, then struck Brian in the chest.  “Bend over, asshat!”

Brian tried to run away, but his cable jerked him back, causing him to fall on his face.  Seth began whipping him all over his body as he rolled around on the floor, burning and ripping his flesh.  He finally put his hands out and shouted, “Okay!  I’ll do it!”

Seth looked at Kenneth as he put the end of the cable back in the kiln.  “Start over.”

“King of hearts, jack of spades, meet your partners, hope you fuckers don’t have AIDs.  It’s in and out by nasty you go, Casey must stick his dick in Brian’s butthole.”

Casey was gagging as he rammed Brian doggy-style.  Brian was making a strange facial expression as he cried.

Kenneth was doing a good job keeping rhythm with the music as he read the square dance call.  “Don’t take it out as you go.  It’s home for your penis and do-si-do.  Is it going to be the last time, I don’t know.  Oh my gosh, you better not blow.  Douglas, it’s time to plow, put your hand in Casey’s backdoor now.”

Douglas just stood there, looking at Casey as he was pounding Brian.  He looked at Seth.  “You’re fucking nuts!”

After Seth whipped him across his face, he got on his knees and started working his hand into Casey’s ass.

Kenneth looked at the paper.  “Three in a row, stroking each other’s butthole.”  The paper said wait five minutes before progressing.  Kenneth walked over to Seth.  “This is fucking nasty.”

“I wouldn’t know.  I’m not watching because I’m not gay.”

“I’m not fucking gay either!”

“Just fuckin’ with you.”

“You’re the one that came up with this shit!”

Seth laughed.  “I said I was just messing with you.”

Kenneth shook his head as he glanced at the men.  They were all gagging as they sodomized each other.  “I’m going to step on in the hallway for a moment.”

“For what?  To jack off?”

“I’m not even going to acknowledge that.”  He walked off.

Eight minutes later Kenneth came back, noticing the men were all crying and Brian’s back was covered with some kind of brownish substance.  He sat next to Seth.  “What’s been happening?”

“Just love making.”

“What’s Brian covered in?”

“Casey got so worked up with excitement he puked.”

“I doubt it was from excitement.”

Seth looked at his watch.  “That’s probably long enough.  Go ahead and move on.”

Kenneth walked over to the men as they were stroking each other.  “Pull out your cock and hand now, wipe that shit off on your partner’s brow.”

The men didn’t argue as they wiped shit across each other’s forehead.

“Casey, put your dick in Douglas’ pussy, stroke it and make it moist and juicy.  Rooty tooty fresh ‘n fruity, Brian get ready, stick it in Casey’s booty.”  The paper said wait a few minutes so Casey could break in Douglas’ new snatch.  Kenneth looked away as the men were pounding each other in a sex train position.  He waited until the time was up, then started back.  “Take that dick, Casey the queer, stick it in Douglas’ rear.  You’ve swapped partners, keep stroking those asses, you anal warriors.  It’s in and out by nasty you go, time to pull them out the butthole.  Move them to your partner’s mouth, keep on going, carry on so.  It’s a new home for your penis and do-si-do.  Making a mess, shit smearing around your mouth, giving you a dirty Sanchez.”  Kenneth tossed the paper onto the floor and walked over to Seth.  “I can’t believe I was a part of this.  I’m never going to get those images out of my head.”

“How do you think they feel?”

The men were sitting on the floor with shit covered mouths, holding their head down in shame.  The group on the balcony were being quiet.  They had witnessed a very grotesque act.

Triple Hole Threat

Seth struck Brian with the whip.

He screamed for a moment, then shouted, “I did what you said!  Why did you fucking hit me?”

“I want you to rip off your dick.”

“You’re fucking….”

Seth struck him again.

“I can’t….”

He struck him again.

His body was bruised, and the skin torn and covered in charred marks.  The pain from the whip was agonizing, and with each strike it got worse.  “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you thought it was okay to rip off that cat’s dick.  Now you’re going to rip yours off.”  Seth struck him again.

“I’m sorry for….”

Seth struck him again.  “Do it, asshole!”

He grabbed his penis and started stretching it.  As soon as the skin tore, he let go.  “Please….”

Seth struck him across the face, busting open his left eye.  He screamed as he rolled around on the floor holding his hand over it.

Seth struck him again.  “Stop fucking around and do it!”

He grabbed his penis and started stretching it.  When it was about three times its normal length, it tore off at the base.  Blood vessels and a short section of his urethra were hanging out of the bloody wound.  He fell on his side and started crying as he held his hands over his crotch.

Seth struck Casey as he yelled, “Pull off your fucking dick!”

Casey curled up in the fetal position on his left side as he shouted, “Oh my God!  Please don’t make me do it!  I beg you!  Please have mercy!”

Seth started hitting him over and over across his right side.  After twenty or so blows, so much of his flesh had been removed that his ribcage was starting to show.  He finally couldn’t take the pain anymore and started pulling on his penis.  He screamed with everything he had as it ripped from his body.

When Seth turned to Douglas, Douglas had a smug expression, knowing he didn’t have a penis to pull off.

Seth shrugged his shoulders.  “I guess you’re going to have to rip off your empty ball sack.”

Douglas didn’t need any motivation after seeing what happened to the others.  He screamed as he tugged on it.  The skin was tough and he was having a difficult time tearing it.  He was stretching his sack almost twice its length, but it wasn’t budging.  He finally sunk his fingertips into the base of it.  After he tore a small hole in it, he was able to rip the skin.  His sack came off in one piece.  Seth motioned with his fingers.  “Toss it over here.”

Douglas was pale and looked as if he was going to pass out.  He tossed the sack next to Seth’s feet, then fell on his side.  Seth picked it up and looked at Kenneth.  “Can I have it?”

Kenneth shrugged his shoulders.  “Uh, sure.  But why?”

“They make great coin pouches.”

“I hope you’re joking.”

“Of course, I am.”  He stuck it in his coat pocket.  “But I’ll keep it, just in case.”  He smiled.

Kenneth shook his head.  “Dude, after the shit I’ve seen, I really don’t care what you make out of it.”

Seth raised the whip.  “Y’all get back on your tables.”

The men didn’t argue as they crawled on top of them.

Seth looked at Kenneth.  “Strap them down.  And do it quickly before they bleed to death.”

After Kenneth strapped down Brian, Seth came over to him with a torch.  “You might want to piss before I seal your hole closed.  Otherwise your bladder could rupture.”

Brian was in a state of shock as he stared at the ceiling.

“Okeydokey.”  Seth started burning his stub.  His pubic hair caught fire, causing a foul odor to fill the air.  The pain was so intense that he shit himself.  Seth laughed.  “I said pee, not defecate.”  Seth moved over to Casey.  “What about you.  Do you need to piss before I close you up?”

He was crying.  “Oh my God!  Please don’t do this to me!  You said you weren’t going to kill me.”

“I’m not.”  Seth lit the torch and started burning his bloody wound.  Casey’s body violently shook as he endured the pain.  When he was done, he went over to Douglas.  “You’re up, pal.”

Douglas was angry.  “Fuck you!”

“Why are you so mad?  I’m trying to save your life, you ungrateful bastard.”

He glared at Seth, knowing he was being sarcastic.  “Screw you, you fucking faggot!”

“Faggot?”

“Yeah.  You get off on watching men fuck each other.”

“I didn’t see you complaining when Casey was pounding your holes.  All you had to do was say no.”

“You were fucking whipping me!”

“Did you ever say no?”

“I…  Uh….”

“Well?”

“I don’t think so.  But I didn’t want to do it.  You know that.”

“No I didn’t.  And ‘no’ means ‘no’.  Everyone knows that, except for rapists and molesters.  And you never said it.  So, that means you really wanted to.”  Seth laughed.  “So, who’s really the fag?”

“Fuck you!  You had no right to make me do that!  And you had no right to fuck up my dick and make me rip off my fucking balls.”

“Sack.”

“What?”

“You didn’t have any balls.”

He became irate, spraying slobber as he shouted, “You can go to Hell!  Fuck you, you fucking piece of shit!”  He smiled sarcastically.  “And by the way, you can do whatever you want to me!  I don’t give a shit anymore!”

“Great attitude.”

“Fuck you!”

Seth looked at Kenneth.  “Help me flip him over.”

After they laid him on his stomach and strapped him down, Seth showed Douglas a large cylindrical device with a long flexible hose on one end and a handle on the other end.  It kind of looked like a hand-operated air pump.  “I have a surprise for you.  Since you microwaved that cat, and I don’t have one big enough to put you in, I came up with something that will give you the same kind of pain.”  He shoved the hose up his ass about four feet, then started pumping the handle.

Douglas’ body tensed up.  “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m filling your intestines with white phosphorus.”

He was worried as he looked over his shoulder.  “What?  What is that?”

“It’s a chemical that gets a thousand degrees when ignited.”  He looked Douglas in the eyes as he pumped the handle.  “That sounds like you’re going to have a blast, pal.”

Douglas was making a strange facial expression as if he had to take a really bad shit.  “Oh my God!  Please stop!  It’s hurting!”

“I’m sure.”

“You’re going to rupture something!”

Seth looked at a gauge that was mounted to the pump.  “Almost.  Just a few more pumps and you’ll be at the maximum pressure to prevent that, so be thankful I’m so generous.”

He became angry.  “You’re a fucking bastard!”

Seth kept pumping.  “Tell me when you feel a sharp pain.”

“Please stop!  It’s….”  Something popped in his abdomen, causing him to scream.

Seth looked at the pressure gauge and noticed the pressure had dropped.  “Yep, that was part of your intestines ripping.  Now the white phosphorus is filling up your stomach cavity.”

Douglas was panicking.  “Is that bad?  Is it going to kill me?”

Seth laughed.  “I think you have more important shit to worry about.”  He sewed a fuse inside his anus cavity, then sewed his asshole closed.  He stitched the fuse down the back of his right leg all the way to his foot.

Douglas was in agony.  “Please stop hurting me!  I beg you!”

“Chill out.  You’re done for now.”  Seth rolled him off to the side, then went over to Brian.  “You’re next.   And if you run your mouth like Douglas, I will bust your intestines as well.”

“Please don’t do this to me.  I beg you.”

Seth and Kenneth flipped him over and strapped him down, then Seth inserted the hose.  As he pumped in the white phosphorus, Brian was crying.  He hadn’t cursed or threatened Seth during the procedure, so when the gauge reached the correct pressure, he pulled out the hose.  He sewed in a fuse, closed his asshole, sewed the fuse down the back of his leg, then pushed him off to the side next to Douglas.

Casey also fought the urge to name call and make threats, so his procedure went without a ruptured intestine.  After Seth pushed him to the side, he looked at Kenneth and grinned.

Kenneth noticed Seth was smiling.  “What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking about that dirty song you recorded back in 89.  It was called Hole Threat or something.”

Kenneth laughed.  “Triple Hole Threat.”

“Oh, yeah.  You thought you were Eazy-E.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Do you remember the lyrics?”

“Unfortunately, yeah.”

“Good.”  Seth injected Kenneth with a syringe filled with a special drug that renders its victims incapable from exercising free will while remaining coherent.

“What the fuck did you just….”  His eyes glazed over.

Seth handed him a bag.  “Change into that, then perform your song Triple Hole Threat for the group on the balcony.”

“Okay.”  Kenneth pulled off his clothes, then put on an adult diaper, a blue cap with a propeller on top and bright red clown shoes.  He walked to the center of the room with a kid’s pink microphone that had a built-in speaker.  Seth pulled out his cell phone and started recording him.

Kenneth pointed to the group above, then started rapping and dancing.  “Hey, baby, big daddy gonna put it in ya.  Wanna do ya right, wanna do ya all night.  Gonna bust you out, gonna make you scream, gonna do you right, gonna make you cream.  Everything goes, cause I’m a triple hole threat, pounding all your holes, showing no regret.  Stick it between your lips, stretch that mouth, now that it’s wet, gonna take it down south.  Spread them thighs, baby oh baby, here’s your big surprise.  Two holes down, one to go, let’s get to it, time to stick it in the butthole.  I’m a booty hole reaper, driving it deeper, spanking that ass with balls of brass.  I’m a booty hole reaper, your butthole keeper, turn on the lights, I’m no shadow peeper.  Wanna boom boom in the bedroom, stick ya, lick ya, bend you over, break your ass in half.  Gonna make you cuuuuum.  Gonna make you cuuuuum.  I’m a bitch taker, a punk maker, gonna bust that ass like a stone breaker.  I’m a booty hole reaper, driving it deeper.  I’m a booty hole reaper, your butthole keeper.  I’m a triple hole threat, showing no regret.”  He took a bow, then walked back over to Seth.  “Hows you like dat shit?”

Seth injected him with a chemical to reverse the effects of the drug.  Within seconds Kenneth was standing in front of Seth with a confused expression.  He noticed he was wearing the diaper and large red shoes.  “What the hell?”

Seth was shaking his head.  “Dude!  You went crazy.  You ripped off your clothes, then started doing that nasty song in front of all of us.”

He threw the cap onto the floor, then put on his clothes.  “Bullshit!”

Seth pulled out his phone and started the video.  “Check this shit out.  I recorded it.”

Kenneth couldn’t believe his eyes as he watched himself breakdancing while singing the song.  He became worried.  “Oh fuck!  What’s wrong with me?”

Seth laughed.  “Remember that kick me sign that you stuck on my back?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, this was payback.”

Kenneth’s eyes got big.  “What the…?  How did…?  I don’t understand.”

“I injected you with scopolamine.  It makes people do shit that they’re told.”

“That’s fucked up!  All I did was stick a damn sign on your back.”

“I know.  Isn’t playing pranks fun?”

Wrecking Ball

Kenneth was upset.  “That wasn’t right.”

“I’m sorry.  Sometimes I get carried away.”

“Is that shit that you gave me safe?”

“Sure.”

“That didn’t sound too reassuring.”

“Yes, it’s fine.”

“How do you know for sure?”

“Because your dick hasn’t fallen off.  That’s the first side effect if you’re going to have a reaction.”

Kenneth immediately checked his penis, then shook his head.  “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

Seth laughed.

“Truce.  No more jokes.”

Seth took a deep breath.  “All right.”

He looked at Douglas and his friends.  They had fallen asleep due to exhaustion.  “What are you going to do with them?”

“Let ‘em chill for a while so they’ll be extra sore for the next part.”

“That’s nice of you.  But what are we going to do in the meantime?”

“Play wrecking ball.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“You’ll see.”  Seth pointed at Aaron as he was looking over the handrail.  “Red rover, red rover, Aaron come on over.” 

Aaron stepped back so Seth couldn’t see him.  Everyone on the balcony was exhausted.  They hadn’t eaten or drunk anything all day and the stress of their situation had taken a toll on them.  Jim was still suffering from the Gympie-Gympie plant and Kerri’s wounds had become so inflamed and painful that she was lying on the floor motionless.  Brad’s body was sore from being tattooed and his skin had scabbed over.  If he moved too much his skin would crack and bleed.  It was too painful for him to sit or lie down, so he was standing.  Paul’s punctures from the flechettes were very inflamed and becoming infected.  His eye was so swollen it looked as if he had been sucker punched by MMA fighter Rampage Jackson.  He was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall.  Arul, Rajat and Michael could barely move their legs now that inflammation had set into their empty ball sacks.  Wayne’s penis stub was extremely red and oozing blood, and the extra testicles in his ball sack were causing a lot of swelling.  Standing was painful since his sack was so swollen, so he was lying on his back with his legs spread apart.  In fact, everyone’s injuries had become more sore and painful since they hadn’t moved in a while.

Seth shouted again, “Red rover, red rover, Aaron come on over.”

Aaron whispered to Jim as he crouched down.  “Shit!  What’s he doing?”

Jim was lying on the floor looking down.  “Standing there staring up at us.”

He was scared.  “This is fucked up.  What should we do?”

Michael was sitting with his back against the rails.  “We ain’t doin’ shit.  He’s calling your fucking name.”

“What the fuck does that mean?  I thought we were going to help each other?”

Seth pushed a bed under the balcony, then looked up.  “I want that bloody wanker to jump his arse down here now!”

No one said or did anything.

“If that sissy motherfucker isn’t down here in two minutes, I’m coming up there with a mace and beat y’all’s ass.”

Michael looked at Aaron.  “Dude, you’re going to have to go down there.”

“There’s no fucking way I’m doing that.”

Seth picked up a wooden club with spikes on the end and headed for the door.

Jim looked at Michael.  “Throw his ass off the balcony.”

Wayne tried to intervene as Michael and Paul fought with Aaron, but Jasper and Marcus held him back.  Aaron screamed as they threw him from the balcony.  As soon as he landed on the bed, Seth and Kenneth made him lie on the floor in the center of the room.  Seth chained him down to some anchors in the floor, securing his body, arms and legs.  When he was done, he looked up at the group.  “Red rover, red rover, Wayne come on over.”

Wayne fought with everything he had as the others threw him from the balcony.  He hit the side of the bed, then went flopping across the floor like a rag doll, breaking an arm in the process.  Seth and Kenneth tied his hands behind his back, then nailed his feet to the floor where he was standing above Aaron’s face, looking towards his feet.  The two men both look scared, not knowing what kind of sick game Seth had in store for them.

Seth lit a cigarette, then took a long drag.  “Y’all ready to get started?”

Aaron was scared.  “What are you going to do to me?”

“Something special.  It was bad enough that you Jerkoffs tortured animals, but what really pisses me off is that y’all stole them.  They were people’s pets, which in my book is the same as family.”

He started crying.  “Please don’t hurt me!  I’m sorry for what I did!  Please have mercy!”

“Did you show those animals you tortured mercy?”

“I…  I wasn’t thinking.  They were just animals.”

Seth blew smoke at Wayne.  “What about you?”

Sweat was dripping from his face.  His feet were throbbing and he was having a hard time standing.  “What about what?”

“Were they just animals?”

“I didn’t do anything to any animals.”

Seth laughed.  “Back in the conference room you said you did it because you have psychological problems.  Do you also have a memory disorder, or are you just a liar?”

He started staring into space.

Seth waved his hand in front of his face.  “What’s wrong, pal?”

He looked at Gary’s penis that was hanging around Seth’s neck.  He snapped, going from being docile to chaotic.  He tried to head-butt Seth as he shouted, “You cut off my fucking dick!  Then sewed it on that fucking asshole!  I’m going to kill your ass!”

Seth was standing back far enough where Wayne couldn’t reach him.  “Wow!  It sure took you a while to get upset about that.  You shouldn’t hold in your anger.  Bottling up stuff can be bad for your health.”

Wayne went absolutely nuts.  He tried to tear his feet loose, but they wouldn’t budge.  He finally became so angry that he was blowing spit out of his mouth as he yelled, “You’re so fucking dead!  When I get loose I’m going to rip out your fucking heart!  You motherfucker!  I hate you so bad!  You’re going to wish you never met me!”

Seth backhanded him so hard that he fell to his back, causing him to scream as he landed on his broken arm.  He couldn’t move much as he laid on the concrete.  His knees were bent since his feet were nailed to the floor.  Seth knelt beside him and took off his necklace.  “You can have Gary’s dick since you’re making such a fuss.  I’ll glue it on you if you like.”  He held it up.  “And the best part is it’s bigger than what you had been packing.  I think Gary got the short end of the stick.  No pun intended.” 

Wayne had spit running down his chin as he held his head up.  “Get the fuck away from me, you fucking piece of shit!”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“Fuck you!”

“I thought you wanted it put back on.”

“By a fucking doctor, asshole!  And I want mine!  Not that fucking thing!”

“I’m as close to a doctor as you’re going to get, pal.”

Wayne looked at Seth’s head mirror and coat.  “You’re a fucking psycho.”

Seth took a six-inch dowel rod with pointed ends and squirted superglue on half of it, then shoved it into the bottom of the severed penis.  He covered the bottom of the penis and the other end of the rod with glue, then shoved it into Wayne’s charred wound.  Wayne screamed at the top of his lungs as the glue burned his inflamed flesh.  Between his feet being nailed to the floor and his hands tied behind his back, all he could do was lie there and take the pain.

After Seth and Kenneth lifted him to his feet, he became angry as he looked at the penis.  Seth had put it on where the urethra was facing up and the dowel rod was causing it to stick straight out.  “Get that thing off me, you fucking bastard!”

“Don’t be so negative.  You’ll be able to pound your butt-buddy Aaron’s ass all night without the need for Viagra.”

“You’re a sadistic piece of shit!”

“Don’t be like that, you ungrateful prick.”

Wayne knew Seth was just fucking with him.  “I know all about you.  You can take your games and shove them up your ass.”

Kenneth hadn’t said much.  He looked at Wayne.  “Listen, dude, just do whatever he asks.  It will save you a lot of agony.”

Wayne spit at him.  “Screw you, too!”

Seth threw him back onto the floor, then shoved his knife under his mouth.  He cut out a large hole, then pulled his tongue through it.  He stretched it downwards and sewed it to his Adam’s apple.  Wayne’s eyes were opened wide as he tried to figure out what had happened.  Every time he tried to speak, the movement of his tongue would pull on his throat, causing him to gag.

Seth stood him up.  “Now that should keep you quiet for a while.”

Wayne was moaning as blood ran down his neck.  All he could do was stand in place as he stared at the monstrosity sticking out from his crotch.  Aaron hadn’t said a word, hoping if he cooperated he wouldn’t be harmed.

Kenneth looked at Seth.  “Now what?”

“It’s time for them to play wrecking ball.”

“What is that?”

Seth looked at Wayne.  “I want you to slam that fuckin’ bag down on your buddy’s face.”

He looked confused.

“Your fuckin’ balls.  I want you to slam them motherfuckers into his face until he’s out cold.”  Seth knelt and looked at Aaron.  “And you get to bite.”

Aaron looked as if he was going to cry.  “Please don’t….”

“Hush!  I’m tired of hearing it.”

“But I haven’t said anything.”

Seth walked off, then came back with a fire poker that had been laying in the kiln.  “You two are going to go at it until someone passes out.  And if you don’t participate, I’m going to burn out your fucking eyes.”

Aaron was horrified.  “This is unfair.  He’s on top.”

Wayne tried to speak, then started gagging.

Seth smiled.  “Good idea, Wayne.”  He looked at Aaron.  “Your buddy said he wants to fight to the death.”

Wayne started shaking his head while mumbling.

“Don’t say there’s no way you can win.  All you have to do is press your sack against his face and suffocate him, or slam down on top of him until you break his fucking neck.”

Wayne was desperately trying to tell Seth that he didn’t say that. 

Aaron became emotional.  “I don’t want to die!  Please don’t do this!”

Seth thought for a moment.  He knew he needed to give them motivation.  “I tell you what.  The winner gets to leave this room alive.”

Both of their eyes got big.

“That’s right.  I’m giving one of you a chance.”

They looked relieved.

“Well, get to it.”

Wayne started to squat down.

“Hold up!  I forgot something.”  Seth pulled out his phone and started the song Wrecking Ball by Eric Church.  “I really like this song.  It’s what gave me the idea to do this.”  He motioned to them.  “Now y’all can go at it.”

Wayne dropped down and slammed his rear into Aaron’s face.  The impact on his swollen balls and the penis flopping around was excruciating.  He knew he had to endure the pain if he wanted to win, so he stood up and slammed down on Aaron again.  This time Aaron sank his teeth into his ball sack.  Wayne moaned as he tried to stand up, stretching his sack as Aaron held onto it like a dog.  Finally, it popped loose.  Wayne stood up, but waited to drop back down to give his balls time to stop hurting, but Aaron started biting his left leg.  Wayne was shocked.  He didn’t expect that.  He dropped down hard, slamming Aaron’s head against the floor.  He quickly stood up before Aaron could bite his sack, then rammed him again.  Each time he dropped down, Aaron was holding his head off the floor trying to bite him.  The impact would cause Aaron’s head to hit the concrete floor.  The violent up and down motion caused the glue on his penis to come loose.  His penis flopped around the end of the dowel rod for a bit, then fell off.  Wayne wasn’t fazed as he continued to slam into Aaron as the rod stuck out of him.

Seth walked over to a table and sat on top of it.  Kenneth sat next to him.  “Really?  Wrecking Ball makes you think of this kind of shit?  I thought it was about a man giving it to his woman really good.”

“Hey, I can’t help it if my mind works differently.”  Seth laughed.  “You got to admit this is some funny shit though.”

Kenneth shook his head as he watched Wayne pound Aaron’s head as Seth tapped his foot to the rhythm of the song.  “You’re freakin’ nuts.”

Aaron was able to grab Wayne’s ball sack again.  This time he bit down hard as he held on for dear life.  Wayne howled as he tried to pull himself loose.  The men struggled with each other as if they were playing tug-of-war.  Suddenly, Wayne’s legs straightened out as his sack ripped open.  Blood and yellowish body fluid sprayed down on Aaron’s face right along with the two extra balls Seth had implanted in his sack.

Wayne was horrified as he looked down, noticing his testicles were hanging by their spermatic cords.  He wasn’t sure what to do as he stood frozen.  Aaron had a sudden rush of aggressiveness now that he had drawn first blood.  He attacked Wayne’s leg like a wild animal, tearing pieces of flesh from him.  Wayne lunged forward to escape the pain.  The fall caused both of his ankles to break.  As he laid on top of Aaron, Aaron was showing no mercy as he continued to tear into his leg.  Out of desperation, Wayne started biting Aaron’s feet.  Both men were in a race to make the other one bleed to death.  Aaron was almost to the bone as he gnawed into Wayne’s leg.  Wayne was biting Aaron’s toes off.

During the violent struggle, the nails in Wayne’s feet had pulled loose.  He took advantage of being free and turned sideways.  He went straight for Aaron’s penis, sinking his teeth into it.  Aaron screamed as Wayne started biting it.

Kenneth was sickened.  “Why in the fuck did he do that?”

“It’s payback for ripping his sack apart.”

“But that’s kind of gay.”

“Gayness has nothing to do with vengeance.  It’s pure savagery at this point.”  Seth pulled Wayne back.  “Okay, that’s enough.”

He started freaking out like a kid throwing a temper tantrum and he was desperately trying to speak.

Seth cut the stitches, releasing his tongue from his neck.  “What the fuck are you so wound up about?”

He worked his tongue around for a moment.  It was very sore, but he could speak.  “Are you trying to cheat?”

“No.”

“Then why did you pull me back?”

“I need Aaron’s dick intact.”

“This is bullshit!  I had him beat!”

“Chill out.  You fucking won.”

Wayne glared at him.  “Are you going to keep your word?”

“I told you the winner gets to leave this room alive.”  He walked to the door and opened it.  “Go on.”

“Will you release my arms?”

“Nope.  That wasn’t part of the deal, dickless.”

“Fuck you too, then.”  Wayne got on his knees, then wobbled out of the room as his hands were secured behind his back.  He was covered in blood and his testicles were dangling between his legs.

Torture Porn

Seth dragged Aaron over to a table and strapped him down.

Kenneth was standing off to the side.  “What are you planning on doing to him?”

“He’s going to help me avenge two beagles that this evil bitch sodomized with a broom handle.”

He was confused.  “What are you talking about?  What beagles?  What evil bitch?”

“She showed up late and is waiting in the conference room.  She thinks she’s here for a movie audition.”

“Who is she?”

“Kim Houston.  She’s a thirty-eight-year-old, trailer trash, scumbag.”

“Why in the fuck did she stick a broom stick in the dogs’ asses?”

“Not sure.  She never confessed, even after she was found guilty.  She stuck with her story that her son did it.”

“Then how do you know she did it?”

“Because the dumb bitch recorded it on her cell phone.  That’s why she spent a year in jail.  It was undeniable evidence.”

“Did the dogs live?”

“Nope.  They hemorrhaged to death.”

“What a sorry bitch.”  Kenneth shook his head.  “What the fuck is wrong with people?  It’s bad enough they do this kind of shit, but then they record it.”

Seth looked up at Jasper and Marcus as they looked down.  “Kenneth wants to know why dumbfucks like yourselves record animals being abused.”

They didn’t say anything.

“If you don’t speak up, I’m coming up there.”

Marcus stepped back so Seth couldn’t see him.  Jasper looked at him.  “He’s talking to you also.  Don’t leave me hanging.”

Marcus was scared.  “Dude, I don’t know what to say.  He’s staring at me like he wants to kill me.”

Seth yelled at them.  “Hey!  I’m not asking again!”

Jasper started to step back, but paused.  He knew he didn’t have a choice.  “I…  I mean Marcus.  He thought it would be cool to show our friends.”

Marcus got mad.  “You asshole!  Why did you throw me under the bus?”

Jasper looked back at him.  “Shut up!  You did it to me first.”

Seth got his attention.  “Hey!”

“What?”

“Did any of your friends like it?”

“I guess.”

“What are their names?”

“Uh….”

“Say it!”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I might pay them a visit.”

Kenneth laughed.  “Yeah right.  Like you’re going to go all the way to Australia for that.”

“I went there just to get some Gympie-Gympie plants.  You don’t think I’ll go there for a pocket full of eyeballs?”

“I’m sure you would.”

Seth looked up Jasper.  “Tell Marcus he’s on my shit list.”  Seth walked to the door, then looked at Kenneth.  “I’ll be back in a little bit.”

“All right.”  Kenneth lay back on a bed.  He was exhausted.

Jim was looking down at him.  This was the first time he had been around Kenneth alone.  He yelled down to him.  “Hey!  Can I talk to you?”

Kenneth had his arm covering his eyes.  “No.”

“Listen.  I can make you a rich man if you let me go.”

Michael elbowed him.

“I mean if you let us go.”

Kenneth didn’t respond.

“I’ll give you a hundred grand.  Would that do it?”

Kenneth moved his arm so he could see him.  “I’ll give you a bottle of Ibuprofen for that.”

Jim sarcastically laughed.  “Yeah, right.  You’re fuckin’ crazy.”

“I guess you like feeling pain then.”

“I want out of here.”

Michael elbowed him again.

“We want out of here.  And you know a hundred grand will make a huge difference in your life.  So what do you think?  Do we have a deal?”

“Naw.”  He pulled out a bottle of Ibuprofen from his pocket.  “I think a hundred G’s for this is fair.”

“Come on, bud.  There must be a number that will do it.”

Kenneth sat up.  “Five-million, and I’ll personally walk your ass to the front door.  But the other assholes have to stay.”

Jim stood up.  “I’ll do an even million.”

Kenneth thought about it.  “Okay. That’s a deal.”

Jim raised his fists and shouted with joy.  “Fuck yeah!”

Michael was upset.  “What about me?”

“What about you?  Do you have a million bucks?”

“I’ll fucking kill you before I let you leave me here!”

The others were getting upset and yelling at him too.

Jim held his hands out to get their attention.  “Listen.  I’ll go straight to the police.  This is the only option to save your asses.”

They knew he was right.

Jim looked at Kenneth.  “Let’s go.”

Kenneth held his hands out, palm up.  “Where’s my money?”

“At the bank.”

“Fuck that!  I don’t trust your ass, and you ain’t leaving here until I have it.”

“Then give me a phone.  I’ll make a call and have it delivered.”

“Hell no.  You’ll call the police.”

Jim was getting aggravated.  “What the fuck!  How am I supposed to get you the money?”

Kenneth shrugged his shoulders.  “I guess you’re shit out of luck then.”

Jim slid down to the floor.  He was boiling with anger, knowing Kenneth had been fucking with him.

Kenneth yelled up to him.  “Hey!”

Jim looked between the balusters.  “What?”

“You wanna still do the Ibuprofen for a hundred G’s?”

“I have no money on me, so I guess we’re both shit out of luck.”

“Naw, dog.  I can do a bank transfer from my cell phone.  I just need your banking info.”

Jim stood back up.  “You’re right.  I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.  I will transfer a million dollars to your account.”  He held his hands over the railing.  “Toss your phone up here.”

Kenneth shook his head.  “Hell no!”

“Why?”

“I’ve got some pics on here that’s personal.”

Jim gave him a glare.  “You’re fucking kidding me, right?”

“No, dog.”

“Are you just fucking with me again?  Trying to get my hopes up?”

“I tell ya what.  I’ll give you a pill for every eye that you toss down here.”

He became angry.  “I’m not going to rip out my fucking eyes, you asshole!”

“I was talking about theirs.”  He pointed to the others.

Jim knew Kenneth was just trying to instigate a fight.  “Fuck that!”

“Okay.  I’ll make it fair.  Anyone that tosses an eye down here gets ten pills.  That’s two-thousand milligrams of pain reliever.  I know you fuckers could use that.”

Everyone looked at each other for a moment, then a fight broke out.

Seth came back in the room pushing a table.  There was a nude woman strapped down on top of it.  She was blonde haired, top, and bottom.  She was average in size and had large boobs.  She was cursing and making threats until she saw everyone on the balcony fighting, then she became quiet as she tried to figure out what was going on.

Seth also noticed them fighting.  He parked the bed next to Aaron, then walked over to Kenneth. “What the hell is going on up….”  Something hit him in the head.  He picked it up, noticing it was an eyeball.  “What the fuck?”  He yelled at the group.  “Hey!  You motherfuckers better stop before I come up there!”

Marcus looked over the handrail.  “Where’s my fucking pills?”

Seth looked at Kenneth.  “What’s this all about?”

“They just started acting stupid.”

Marcus yelled at him.  “Bullshit!  You said whoever pulled out someone’s eye would get some painkillers.  Ten of them in fact.”

Seth noticed everyone’s faces were scratched up where they had been trying to rip out each other’s eyes.  Some of their eyes were swollen up.  He gave Kenneth a high-five.  “That’s freakin’ cool.  Glad to see you’re coming around.”

“I’m trying.  And fucking Jim offered me a million dollars to let him go.”

“That all.  The bastard is worth eighteen million.  What a cheapskate.”  He looked at Jim.  “Hey, dipshit, you can’t take it with you.”

Jim was surprised Seth wasn’t angry.  “Hey, I’ll give you all of it if you let me go.”

“Too late.  I’ve already transferred all of your money to the Wounded Warrior Project.”

“Bullshit!  You’re lying.  You don’t even know where my money is, much less my account numbers and passwords.”

Seth wadded up a piece of paper and threw it up to him.  “Check that out.”

Jim’s eyes got big when he noticed it was a transfer of all his funds from his bank to the Wounded Warrior Project.  “This must be a joke.  There’s no way you could have done this.”

“I didn’t.  You did.”

“Now I know you’re full of shit.”

“Remember Kenneth’s nasty show he performed for y’all?”

“What about it?”

“I used the same drugs on you, then had you do it.”

He looked at the paper again, then became angry.  “You had no right to do this, you sorry motherfucker!  You’re not going to get away with this.”

Kenneth was shaking his head.  “I should be the one angry.  Your ass didn’t even have the money to back up the deal you were trying to make.”

Seth laughed.  “And all that arrogant shit talking back in the conference room how you were so much better than everyone else, now you’re just as much of a broke ass loser like the rest of the scumbags you’re hanging around with.”

He got mad and walked off.

Kim raised her head off the bed and shouted at Seth.  “You better let me go, you fucking prick!”

Seth looked at Kenneth.  “Give Marcus his pills, then tape her mouth shut.  I don’t want to hear her shit.  After that, set the camera up on the tripod.”

“What are you going to be recording?”

“A porno.”

“I hope you’re not going to be doing anymore gay shit?”

“No.”  Seth thought for a moment.  “Well, that depends on if getting fucked by your own dick is considered gay.”

“I don’t even want to know.”

Seth looked up at the group.  “Anyone want to be in a porno?”

No one spoke up.

Kim yelled out again.  “Fuck you!  You better not fucking touch me!”

Seth looked at Kenneth.  “Hurry up and get her mouth taped.”

“Will do.”  Kim cursed him as he approached her with a roll of tape.

Seth walked over to Aaron and gave him a shot with the automatic injector, then picked up a scalpel and started making an incision above his penis.  He ran the blade a few inches across his lower abdomen, cutting through his skin and muscle layer, then turned down, going between his right leg and ball sack.  He ran the blade around his ball sack, then went up the other side between his ball sack and left leg, stopping where he started above his penis.

Aaron was in a horrendous amount of pain and screaming for mercy, but Seth ignored him.  Kenneth was watching with his arms crossed, trying to figure out what Seth was doing.  When Seth pulled back Aaron’s penis and ball sack, the entire piece that he had cut came out as one entire unit.

Kenneth put his hand over his mouth when he noticed Seth was holding a large section of Aaron’s flesh that had his penis and balls attached to it.  “What the fuck, dude?”

“This is going to get a little disturbing, so you might want to go take a nap or something until I’m done.”

“I can handle it.”

Seth set the slab of flesh down next to Aaron’s open cavity that was between his legs.  “If you say so.”  He put on a set of medical magnification visors with a built-in flashlight, then started clamping off the blood vessels that were still attached to the slab of flesh.  When he was done, he cut them in two, then cut both of his ureters off at the top of his bladder.  He set the severed section of flesh to the side on another table, then started controlling Aaron’s bleeding with a synthetic collagen.

Kenneth was staring at it, noticing his penis and ball sack were on one side and organs and other internal body parts were hanging out the backside of it.  “What is all that?”

“It’s his bladder, prostate, ejaculatory duct, vas deferens tubes, bulbourethral gland and seminal vesicles.”  Seth looked at him.  “That’s all his male organs all in one self-contained unit.”’

Kenneth was feeling nauseated.  “Why did you do that?”

“Givin’ him a gender reassignment.”

“What is that?”

“Politically correct name for sex change.”

“Oh.”  He looked at Aaron’s open cavity that was between his legs. “What the fuck you going to put in there?”

“A pussy.”

“Mighty big pussy.”  He laughed.  “Finally, one that can accommodate me.”

Seth shook his head.  “Yeah right, pal.  Keep dreaming.”

“You know what they say about black men.”

“Yeah, and I know I’ve cut off about thirty black dicks, and some were smaller than an Asian’s dick.  So, that saying, you don’t go back once you go black, is just bullshit made up by blacks to make white people jealous.”

Kenneth had a strange look.  “Hold up!  Why the fuck….”

Seth interrupted.  “Before you start crying that I’m being racist, there were a few that had a hog leg for a cock.  So not all of it is propaganda.”

“That’s not where I was going.  Why in the fuck did you cut off that many black dicks?”

“Oh.  That’s not that many.  I’ve probably cut off a hundred brown dicks and at least three-hundred white dicks.  And just a few yellow dicks.”

“What’s the deal with your dick fetish?”

Seth laughed.  “What’s a better way to fuck up a pervert’s world than cutting off his shit?  That’s like cutting the arms off a baseball pitcher, or the ears off a music producer.  Or maybe the hands off a pianist.  Another thought is the eyes from a sniper.”

“I get it.  All you had to say is you’re just a demented fuck.”

Seth laughed as he walked over to Kim.  “What’s up?”

She mumbled through the tape.

He ripped it off, then laughed.  “That’s one way to remove your mustache.”

She was boiling with anger.  “Fuck you!  You have no right doing this to me.”

“Yeah, yeah.  Like I haven’t heard that a thousand times today.”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“We’ve already went over that back in the conference room.”

“You’re just a piece of shit.  You probably get off on taking advantage of needy women.”

Seth was curious.  “Now I haven’t heard that one.  Go on.”

“I needed that acting job.  You lured me here under false pretenses.”

“No I didn’t.  You’re going to be in a movie.”

“I heard what kind of movie it is.  I’m telling you right now, whatever sick ass plans you think you have for me, you better think twice, buddy.”

“So you think you have this all figured out?”

She looked at Douglas and his friends, then at all the body parts and grotesque fluids on the floor, then at the naked group in the balcony.  “This is some type of bogus snuff film that you want to make.  A torture porn.  But I’m not fooled.”

Seth laughed.  “So you think all this around us is a prop?”

“And a bad one at that.”

Seth held up his automatic injection syringe.  “Does this look fake?”  He shot her in the face.

She started freaking out. “Oh fuck!  What did you just do?  My face is burning.”

Seth shot her again in her left tit.

She shouted at him.  “What the fuck?  Why are you doing that?”

“I wanna make sure you don’t pass out, so I gave you some fake go-go juice.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“From what I’ve read in the paper, quite a lot, apparently.”  He yelled to Kenneth.  “Come help me.”

He walked up.  “Watcha need?”

“Help me tie her legs in the spread-eagle position.”

She went nuts as they repositioned her legs.  “You motherfuckers!  If you try to rape me I’m going to rip off your fucking dicks!  Do you hear me?”  She was jerking her legs around.  “Get the fuck away from me!”

When they had her restrained, Seth pulled out a scalpel.  “Only one that’s going to be poking your pussy is you.”

She looked at him like he was mentally disturbed.  “What?”

Seth shoved the blade into her flesh above her vagina, cut across her lower abdomen, then turned down going between her right leg and vagina.  He ran the blade across her perineum, went upwards between her left leg and vagina, stopping where he started.  Kim was in absolute agony and screaming at the top of her lungs.  She had never experienced such pain.  In fact, she was suffering so much she couldn’t even think straight.

Seth pulled back on the severed flesh, which contained her pussy, and set it on the table between her legs.  Her uterus and bladder were being pulled out of her open cavity since her vagina was still connected on the back side of the slab of flesh.  Seth looked into the cavity and started clamping off the ovarian, uterine, and vaginal arteries and veins, then cut them in two.  After he severed both the ureters and the supporting ligaments, he pulled out all her female organs and bladder as one unit.

Kenneth was off to the side throwing up and the group on the balcony were horrified as they watched.

Seth stopped her bleeding with the synthetic collagen, then carried the slab of flesh with Kim’s pussy and organs over to Aaron.  He set it down between his legs, then started connecting Aaron’s clamped off blood vessels to the severed vessels of Kim’s organs.  When he was done, he removed the clamps, connected the ureters together and supporting ligaments, then placed her organs into his open cavity.  After he adjusted everything, making sure it was in the correct placement, he then started sewing her flesh to him.  Aaron was screaming, begging, and crying at the same time as the needle punctured his extremely sore and inflamed flesh.  Kim’s flesh had a lighter skin tone than Aaron’s surrounding flesh and her pubic hair was blonde and the hair on his lower abdomen was dark, making his crotch area look like a patchwork doll.  When Seth was done, he stood back admiring his work.  Aaron now had a functioning pussy.  He looked at him.  “What do ya think of that, pal?”

He was in a lot of pain.  “Please stop hurting me.  I beg you.”

“I said check it out.”

He lifted his head, but couldn’t see what Seth had done.  “I can’t.”

Seth motioned to Kenneth as he sat on the floor with a look of disgust.  “There’s a mirror leaning against the wall.  Bring it over here and show Aaron his new play toy.”

Seth picked up Aaron’s slab of flesh that contained his male organs, then took it over to Kim.  As he attached the blood vessels, supporting ligaments and ureters, Aaron was freaking out as he looked in the mirror.  “Oh my God!  You sick son of a bitch!  What have you done to me?”

Seth laughed.  “Isn’t it obvious?”

“You’re not going to get away with this.”

Seth looked at Kenneth.  “You can fuck him if you like.”

He was so disgusted at what Seth had done he didn’t even know what to say.  He walked off and sat on a table as he stared at the floor.  The group on the balcony was also disgusted.

When Seth was done connecting everything, he placed Aaron’s organs into her cavity, then started stitching his flesh to hers.  She was screaming and begging for him to stop hurting her, but he ignored her pleas.  When he was done, she had a penis and set of balls.  Seth looked at Kenneth.  “Bring the mirror over here.”

He wouldn’t look up.  “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m feeling nauseous.”

“You big baby.”  Seth grabbed the mirror and held it between her legs.  “Check it out.”

She refused to look.

“I said check it out!”

She started screaming as she stared into the mirror.  Having a penis and ball sack were bad enough, but the different skin tones, hair color and bloody stitching made it horrifying.  Something that would only be seen in a horror movie.

Seth set the mirror down, then started cutting her left tit off with a scalpel.  As soon as he was done, he did her other tit, then took them over to Aaron.  He laid them on his chest in the correct position, then ran a black marker around the base of them, making an outline on his skin.  He set the tits to the side, then cut the circles out with the scalpel.  After he peeled the circular flesh off Aaron’s chest, he sewed her tits to him.  He took the round pieces of his flesh over to Kim and sewed them to her where he had cut off her tits.  When he was done, she had two large, circular skin patches that were hairy with nipples in the center.  Seth walked over to Kenneth.  “You’re missing out on the fun.”

He looked at Aaron’s tits for moment, then Kim’s dick.  “That’s an abomination.”

Seth laughed.  “I was only shooting for sick or disturbing, but that works too.”

The group on the balcony was numb.  They had witnessed Seth doing some barbaric shit, but this was so sadistic that it surpassed anything they could have ever imagined.

An Abomination

Kenneth stood up.  “Now that you’re done playing musical crotches, roll them the fuck out of here so I don’t have to look at them.”

Seth was writing on two pieces of paper.  “I’m not done with ‘em yet.”

He was watching him write.  “I’m not doing any more of your fucking songs.”

“It’s not a song.”

“Well, whatever you’re doing, you better not be including me.”

“What about a small part?”

“Not no, but hell no.”

Seth handed him the two sheets of paper.  “Hand these to Kim and Aaron, then unstrap them from their tables.”

He looked at the papers.  “What is this?”

“A script.”

He remembered the porno Seth had mentioned earlier.  “I know your sick ass ain’t gonna make them fuck.”

“Why in the hell would I not.  It’s not every day you get a chance to see two freaks get it on.”

“I’m leaving the room if you go through with it.”

“Not only am I going to make them do the nasty, but I’m going to put the recording on the Internet to make an example out of them to other animal abusing pricks.”

“Don’t take this wrong, but you need help.”

“I’m surprised you’re being such a baby.”

Kenneth got a little aggravated.  “I’m not a fucking baby!  This is just some brutal and disgusting world of shit that you created.”

Seth laughed.  “A world of shit.  I like that.  And don’t be so negative.  I’ll make you a copy of the video.”

“I have no desire to see what you’re going to make them do, much less have a copy of it.”

“That’s fine.  I’m sure there are some freaky ass pervs out there that will actually love to have it in their collection.”  Seth walked over to Kim and Aaron.  “Listen up.  I want y’all to act out the script that Kenneth has.  If you don’t, I’m going to make you suffer in ways you couldn’t imagine.”

Aaron was in so much pain he just lay crying.  Kim was in a state of shock.

Seth shot them in the arm with the automatic injection syringe.  Within seconds Aaron shouted at him. “You sick and twisted bastard!  You’re going to pay for this!”

Kim was freaking out.  “Oh my God!  Why have you done this to me?”

Kenneth released them, then handed them the scripts.

Seth turned on the camera and set it to record, then started the Debbie Does Dallas porn groove on his cell phone.  He clapped his hands and shouted, “Action, folks!”

Even though Aaron and Kim were in a horrendous amount of pain, and knowing it was even going to get worse, they refused to do what Seth asked.

Seth picked up a one-handed flail with three spiked balls.  “We can make this a legitimate porn flick, or turn it into a snuff film, I don’t give a shit.  And either way your asses are going to do it.”

Aaron glared at him.  “You’re going to kill me anyway.”

“I promise if you do what’s in that script, I’ll let you walk out of this building unharmed.  Both of you will.”

“Unharmed?”  He grabbed his tits.  “What the fuck do you call this?”  He pointed to his crotch.  “And this shit?”

Seth laughed.  “Okay.  I should have said without further harm.”

“Even if I wanted to, I’m in too much pain to move.”

“I’ll numb you up.”

Kim was so angry her face was red.  “You’re not going to get away with this, you motherfucker!”

Seth walked up to her with the flail.  “I can bash your head in now and let Aaron have sex with your dead body, or you can participate.”

Her attitude changed.  “Okay, okay!  Will you really let me live if I do it?”

“Yes.”

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

“I might do some sick shit, but I always keep my word.”

She looked at the penis hanging out of her crotch.  “This is way beyond sick.”

“Now we’re just talking semantics.  Are you in, or do you want a bashing?”

She knew there was a good chance doctors could reverse what Seth had done to her, especially if she got there before a severe infection set in.  She also knew Aaron had to survive as well so she could get her parts back.  She looked at Aaron.  “Let’s get this shit over with so we can get to a hospital.”

He looked at Seth, knowing if he wanted to live, he had to go along with it.  “Give us the damn shots so we can make your sick ass movie.”

Seth smiled.  “That’s the spirit.”  He looked at Kenneth.  “See what a chance at survival will accomplish?”

“You’re crazy.”  He shook his head, then walked off and sat on the table.

“Party-pooper.”  Seth injected Aaron and Kim with oxycodone, then injected her penis with collagen to make it hard.  He sat next to Kenneth.  “All right.  The camera is rolling, it’s show time.”

Kim could barely walk as she eased over to Aaron, who was sitting on the edge of his table.  She looked at the script, then said, “Come here often?”

He looked at his paper.  “No.  I just caught my husband cheating on me and thought I would get away for a while.” 

Kim started rubbing his leg.  “Is there anything I can do that will make you feel better?”

“I’m in desperate need of a stud that knows how to give it to a woman right.”  Aaron looked at Seth.  “Really?  This is fucking stupid.”

“It’s supposed to be.  It’s a porn.  Keep going.”

He shook his head as he started rubbing Kim’s circular hair patches on her chest.  “You’re like a grizzly bear.”

Seth yelled at him.  “Act like you’re getting turned on, asshole!”

Aaron tried to play the part as he ran his fingers through her hair.  “A man bear ready to pounce his prey.”

Kim looked at her lines.  “Oh baby, your delicate hands are turning me on.”

He looked down at her crotch and acted like he was excited.  “Oh, my!  That’s what I’ve been looking for.”  He reached down and grabbed ahold of Kim’s erect penis and started stroking it.  “I bet you know how to use this, big boy.”

Kim started massaging his tits.  “Oh, baby.  That feels so good.”

He read the next part, then glared at Seth.  “There’s no fucking way I’m going to suck a dick!”

“Just do it.”

“I’m not fucking gay.”

Seth held out his hands, palms up.  “It’s your own dick.”

“I don’t give a shit.  I’m still not doing it.”

Seth started walking over to him with the flail.

Aaron got on his knees.  “Okay, okay!”  He started gagging as he sucked on the penis.

Seth yelled at him.  “Deep throat it.”

He tried to take it all, but turned and vomited, then looked at Seth.  “Come on, man!  Please don’t make me do this.”

Kim was just as grossed out.  “This is too much.”  She looked at Seth.  “You’ve already gotten me back.  Please just let us go.”

“Here’s what’s going to happen.  If either one of you break character again, or refuse to follow your script, I’m going to cut off your fucking arms and legs, then sew them to the other person.  And that’s a promise.”

Kenneth walked over to them.  “Listen.  Seth will follow through with his threat.  Just fucking do it and get it over with.  It will save both of you a lot of pain.  And he’s giving y’all an opportunity to live, so suck it up.”

Aaron spoke softly so Seth couldn’t hear.  “Is there something you can do to stop this?”

“No.  And don’t ask me any shit like that again.”  He walked back over to the table and sat down.

Seth twirled his finger in the air.  “Let’s get going.”

Aaron knew he had no choice, so he started sucking on the penis again.

Kim looked at her lines.  “Oh, fuck, baby!  You sure know how to please a man.”  After a few minutes, she pushed him back onto the floor, then started sucking on his nipples as she caressed his tits with one hand and fingered his pussy with her other hand.  A few minutes later she slid her head between his legs and started to go down on him, but paused.  She looked at Seth and started to say something, then changed her mind.  She lowered her head and started eating his pussy.

Aaron started moaning as he moved his hips around.  “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!  You’re going to make me cum!  Please don’t stop!”

Kenneth looked confused.  “Is that possible?”

Seth laughed.  “Hell no.  All the nerves in their parts have been severed and they’re numb.  He’s just doing a good job of acting.”

“What a sick bastard.”

“No, he just doesn’t want me to play musical limbs.”

Aaron grabbed Kim’s head and pulled her on top of him.  “Fuck me!”

Seth tossed a bottle of lube toward them.  She picked it up, squirted some on her penis, then shoved it into his pussy.  She was making a fuck face as she said, “Oh my God!  You’re so tight!”

Aaron was rubbing her hairy chest as she was on top of him.  “Pound me, motherfucker!  Pound me with that big dick!  Treat this pussy like you just got out of prison.”

Kenneth was shaking his head.  “My mind is having a hard time grasping this shit.  Seeing a woman with a dick fucking a dude with a pussy and tits is confusing.  And their dialog is backwards.  It’s fucking strange to hear a man’s voice saying what a woman should be saying.  My mind sees her on top of him, but what he’s saying is fucking with my head.  The whole thing is just so fucking weird.  It’s an abomination.”

Seth laughed.  “I know.  This should do well on the Internet.  I’m sure there are plenty of sickos out there who will get off on this shit.”

She grabbed him by the legs and started pushing him to the side.  “Flip over.  I wanna fuck you doggy-style.”

Aaron bent over.  He was holding his script and reading it.  “Jam that motherfucker in me!”

As she started pounding him from behind, his tits were flopping around as he yelled, “Fuck me!  Fuck me hard!”

She pulled out, then started to stick it in his ass.  He lunged forward.  “Hold up, bitch!  What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

She held up the paper.  “It says to pound you in the ass.”

He looked at his paper, then at Seth with disbelief.  He wanted to say something, but knew what the consequences would be.

Seth knew what he was thinking.  “I bet you never thought in your wildest dreams that you’d be fucked in the ass by your own dick?”

“I….”

Seth put his finger across his mouth.  “Hush!  That wasn’t an invitation for you to start whining.”  He looked at Kim. “Get to pounding.”

She covered her penis with some more lube, then shoved it into his ass.  He made a strange facial expression as he tried to read his line.  “Oh…  Oh fuck me!”  He was gritting his teeth.  “This fucking hurts!”

Seth yelled at him.  “That’s not one of your lines!”

His hands were shaking as he held the paper.  “That’s right.  Fuck my tight ass.  Give it to me hard.”  Sweat was pouring off his head as she rammed him with no mercy.

Kenneth looked confused.  “I thought they couldn’t feel anything?”

“I didn’t swap their assholes, so he’s definitely feeling it.”

“That’s so fucking nasty.  I thought you said there wasn’t going to be any gay shit.”

“I never really said that.  I said it would depend on if getting fucked by your own dick is considered gay.”

“Well, this is fucking gay.  I don’t care if it’s by his own dick or not.”

Kim pulled out the penis, then lay on her back.  Aaron looked at his paper.  The next part was a sixty-nine.  He shook his head as he crawled on top of her.

Kenneth started gagging when they started sucking and licking.  “What the hell, dude?  You don’t do a sixty-nine after you’ve fucked.  Especially after his dick…  I mean, her dick, has been in his ass.  That’s just fucking nasty.”

Seth laughed.  “Oops!  I guess I got the scenes out of order.”

“Sure, you did.”

Seth stood up.  “All right, you sick bastards, go put your noses in the corner while I wrap this shit up.”

They didn’t argue as they each walked to a corner of the room and faced it like kids that were in being punished.

Seth went over to Brian and secured a metal collar around his neck.  He ran a short chain between his wrists, then another one from the center of that chain to the collar.

Kenneth looked confused.  “Why did you do that?”

“So he can’t reach his fuse.  Go ahead and do the other two the same way.  Also, remove their cables and unstrap them from the tables.”

When Kenneth was done, they were in too much pain to move.  Their crotches were extremely sore and oozing blood.  Their abdomens were swollen and their insides ached like as if they had to take the shit of all shits, except for Douglas—his insides felt like they were filled with acid.  His tongue was also swollen from being sewn to his neck.  Their gashes and burn marks from the whip were inflamed and bright red.  They were covered from head to toe with blood, feces, and other indescribable body fluids.   

Seth lit three torches on long wooden shafts.  He leaned one against each of their tables.  “You fuckers are going to fight with these.  If you can light your opponent’s fuse, their insides will turn into a large pile of molten shit.  The last man standing gets to leave the room and join the others.  If you don’t fight, I’m going to do shit to you that made all this look like a tea party.”  Seth nodded towards Kenneth.  “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“Where’re we going?”

“I’m going out to my van, turn on the air conditioner and take a nap.  You can join me, or do whatever.”  He looked at the group above.  “I’ll see all ya fuckers after I rest up.”  Seth put a leash on Aaron and Kim, then made them leave the room with him.  Kenneth stopped at the doorway, stared at everyone for a moment, then shut and locked the door.

Nimrods

Jim stood up, holding onto the handrail to keep his balance since he was still in a lot of pain.  “We’re dealing with one sick bastard.”

The others were so grossed out from watching Aaron and Kim they were speechless.  Michael looked at Jim.  “What do you want to do?”

“Go check to see if that fuckin’ animal is still out there.”

Michael started to open the door, but something growled.  He came back.  “It’s still there.”

“We might have to jump onto the bed.”

Paul was looking down.  “It could be a trick to get us down there.”

Jim agreed.  “Possibly.”

Arul and Rajat wanted to stay on the balcony.

Jim wanted to take a vote.  “Whoever wants to stay up here raise your hands.”

Arul, Rajat, Paul, Brad, Amanda, and Kerri raised their hands.

Jim sat back down.  “Okay.  We’ll stay up here a little longer.”

Michael nudged Jim.  “Check it out.  They’re getting off their tables.”

Everyone lined up along the handrail.  Casey and Brian were standing by their tables.  They could barely stand due to the trauma to their bodies.  Douglas was still lying on his bed.  The men were holding their torches as they kept an eye on each other.  They didn’t want to fight—they had been friends since grade school, but in this situation, it was now about survival.

Jim yelled to them.  “See if the door is unlocked!”

Brian took his torch as he kept an eye on Casey and Douglas.  He could barely walk as he eased to the door.  He tried to turn the knob.  “It’s locked.”

Casey started walking towards Douglas with his torch.

Douglas jumped to his feet.  He was in a great deal of pain and his stomach was extremely swollen, but he still had a little fight left in him.  He pointed his torch at him and grunted since he couldn’t speak.

Casey noticed Brian was sneaking up behind him.  He moved out of the way so he could watch both of them.  It turned into a standoff as the three men started poking and swinging their torches at each other.

Jim shouted to them.  “Hold up!  There’s no need in fighting.  We’ll jump down there.  They can’t take on all of us.”

Casey yelled at Douglas.  “This motherfucker started it!”  He swung his torch at him.  “Stay away from me!”

Casey noticed Brian was getting closer.  He swung at him too.  “Get the fuck back, asshole!”

Brian and Casey started swinging their torches at each other.  It looked like they were sword fighting.  Suddenly, Casey screamed out, “Oh fuck!  My fuse is lit!”  He tried to reach it with his hands, but the chains weren’t long enough.  He fell to the floor and started rolling around to put it out.  The flame was burning his leg as it traveled upwards.  Brian and Douglas showed no mercy as they started hitting him in the head with their torches.  The flames caught his hair and beard on fire.  Casey stumbled to his feet and took off running.  Before he was able to take his fourth step, the flame went inside him.  A huge fire ball blew out his ass as his entire abdomen expanded.  He fell to the floor screaming as his skin turned red.  Within seconds, his abdomen became so huge he looked like the Michelin Man.  Before anyone had a chance to react, his skin ruptured from below his chest to his lower abdomen, blowing feces and pieces of intestines all over the floor.  Fire and huge amounts of smoke were billowing out of his open cavity and as he lay on the floor screaming at the top of his lungs.

Brian and Douglas were staring in horror.  Jim was angry.  “You stupid fuckers!  Look what you did!  We could have used him!”

As Douglas was looking up, Brian stuck the torch to his leg, lighting his fuse, then took off running.  Without thinking, Douglas threw his torch at Brian, hitting him in the back of the head.  Brian stumbled, then tripped over his own feet, causing him to fall.  Horror overcame him when he noticed he had accidently caught his fuse on fire when he fell on top of his torch.  He shouted at Douglas in a state of panic.  “Help me put mine out and I will put yours out!”

Douglas couldn’t speak with his tongue sewn to his neck.  He ran over to him and turned around, suggesting that Casey put his out first.

“No!  Put mine out first, then I’ll do you.”

Douglas shook his head.  As the two idiots argued, the flames went into their asses at the same time.  The group on the balcony were horrified as Brian and Douglas blew apart.  The white phosphorus lit up the room down below like a thousand sparklers going off at the same time.  When the smoke dissipated, there wasn’t much left of their torsos.

Jim was frustrated.  “Fucking Nimrods.”  He looked at the others.  “Listen.  We have to work together if we’re going to have a chance to get out of here.”

Brad laughed sarcastically.  “Stick together my ass.  Sure, buddy.  That’s why you had Aaron and Wayne thrown over the fucking balcony.”

“We didn’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice.  Just like when you tattooed me.  Sounds like you’re just using us.”

Jim started getting upset.  “Screw you, you little punk!  You don’t know shit!”

“I know I’m not risking my neck for your ass anymore.”  He walked to the hand railing.  “You can go fuck yourself.”  He jumped onto the bed down below.

Jim was looking down.  “Hey, dumbass, the door is locked.  Now you’re trapped.”

“I’d rather be locked in here than be stuck with you.”

Michael had checked the door again.  “Hey, I don’t hear the animal.”  He walked out, then came back in a few minutes.  “Yeah, it’s gone.”

Jim laughed as he looked at Brad.  “Guess what numb nuts?  We’re out of here.”  He walked to the door and looked out.  There was no sign of the animal.  “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Kerri was in too much pain to continue.  “I’m staying.”

Jim started walking towards her.  “No.  You’re coming with us.”

She jumped from the balcony, landing onto the bed.  She knew Jim didn’t care if she made it or not.  He was willing to sacrifice anyone if it saved his own ass.  At least she had a place she could rest comfortably until help arrived.

Jim looked down.  “You’re fucking ignorant!”

She was lying on the bed looking up.  “And you’re just a weenie ass bastard.  You can go fuck yourself.”

“Stupid bitch!”  He turned and walked to the door.  Jim motioned to the others.  “Fuck her too.  She was just going to slow us down.”

Michael was standing in the hallway.  One end was dark and at the other end was a faint light.  “Which way should we go?”

Jim pointed to the lighted end.  “Let’s go this way.”

Paul was concerned.  “Maybe the light is on so we will go that way.”

“Just do what the fuck I say!”  Jim started walking that direction.  He turned around when he noticed no one was following him.  He was standing slightly in the dark.  “I said let’s go!”

Suddenly, something jerked him down the hall.  His screams were echoing as he disappeared into the darkness.

The group ran the other direction.  A little way down, they turned down another corridor.  It was lined with rooms that had large windows like the previous floor, but they looked like they had been used for examinations and procedures instead of labs.  They each had a bed and cabinets filled with supplies.  Some of them had old lights burning that were dim and flickering.  They tried each door as they moved along, trying to find one unlocked.  When they came to a staircase, the door was open.  Michael eased down the steps slowly.  When he got to the next level, the second floor, the staircase going on down had been covered with razor wire.

Arul walked up beside him.  “We’re being led.”

“I know.  Between the door being open and this wire, he wants us to go to the second floor.”

“Maybe we should go up.”

“There was nothing on the third floor.”

“I mean back to the fourth floor. Maybe we can find a way to the roof.”

Michael agreed.  Everyone took off up the stairs.

Jim awoke on a table.  He was strapped down tightly.  Seth and Kenneth were standing next to him wearing lab coats, latex gloves, safety glasses and hospital masks.  Jim looked around, noticing he was in a morgue.  He became scared.  “Please don’t hurt me!”

Seth inserted a large needle into the end of his index finger on his right hand, then taped it in place.

Jim was shaking with fear.  “What are you doing?”

“Going to embalm your arm.”

“Please don’t!  I beg you!  I’m sorry for what I’ve done.”

Seth flipped a switch, causing embalming fluid to start pumping into his finger.  Jim screamed as the veins inside of his hand burned.  “Oh my God!  It’s fucking killing me!  Please stop!”

When the fluid reached his wrist, he was screaming so loudly it was echoing throughout the building.  His veins were swelling up and turning green as the fluid pushed his blood out of them.  It looked alien like.  When his veins at the inside of his elbow swelled up and turned green, he was in absolute agony as he shouted, “Please kill me!  I can’t take the pain!”

Seth waited until the veins in his bicep turned green, then took a hacksaw and started cutting his arm off at the shoulder.  Jim passed out about the time his arm hit the floor.  Seth cleaned the wound, stitched the larger blood vessels closed, then bandaged it.  He picked up the arm.  “This is going to make an awesome display piece.”  He looked at Kenneth.  “You can have it if you like.”

Kenneth shook his head.  “What the fuck am I going to do with an arm?”

“Hang it on your wall.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“It’s like a souvenir.  Or artwork.”

“I’ll pass.”

Seth stuck it in a duffle bag.  “Suit yourself.”

Gothic Bitch

When the group made it to the fourth floor, the door was bricked up.  Michael became frustrated.  “We don’t have any choice but to go to the second floor.”

A faint sound of a man’s screams could be heard.  Amanda was scared.  “That sounds like Jim.”

Paul was angry.  “Fucking bastard is torturing him!  We need to help!”

Michael disagreed.  “Even if we could find him, you know Seth has him locked in a fucking room.  Then we’ll be watching helplessly as we’ve done with the others.  We need to stick with our plan of getting out of here.”

Jasper came up with an idea.  “What if we go back to the third floor and jump down to that room with Brad and Kerri.  Seth wouldn’t expect that.”

Marcus frowned.  “Or maybe that’s exactly what he thinks we’ll do.”

“We really don’t have a choice.  But fortunately, there were a lot of items in there that we can use as weapons.”

“You’re right.  I didn’t think of that.  We should go back.”

Michael nodded.  “I agree.  Let’s get moving.”

They ran down the stairs and back to the observation deck.  When they looked down, they noticed the door was open and Kerri was gone.  Brad was huddled in the corner with a blanket over him.  Michael climbed over the handrail.  “I’ll go first.”  He jumped, landing onto the bed on his back.  As he lay there, he noticed the others were staring down at him with horrified expressions.  When he tried to get up, his body was stuck.  He raised his head and noticed spikes were sticking out of his legs, one through his abdomen and one in his right arm.  “Oh shit!  Can someone help me?”  He noticed a spike was sticking through his empty ball sack.  He quickly felt of his penis to make sure it hadn’t been damaged from a spike.  He was relieved when he noticed it was okay. 

Jasper looked at Michael.  “I’m looking for a way down.  Just hold tight!”

“Hold tight?  Where in the fuck would I be going?”

Marcus went over to Jasper and whispered to him, then they ran over to Paul and threw him over the rail. 

He screamed as he fell.  His body made a thump as he landed on his side.

Jasper yelled down to him.  “You all right?”

He was dazed and barely moving.

“Hey!  You all right?”

The impact dislocated his shoulder and broke his left leg.  He sat up, then started rubbing the side of his head where it had hit the concrete. 

“Go push another bed over here.”

He looked up.  “You fucking assholes!  Look what y’all did to me!”

Marcus was looking down at him.  “You’ll live.  Go get a fucking bed so we can jump down.”

Paul eased up on his right leg, then hopped over to a bed.  He pushed it under the balcony.  “Here.  I hope you break your fucking necks.”

“Check it to make sure there are no spikes.”

Paul pushed down on the mattress in several places.  “It’s good.”

Marcus jumped, landing safely, then the others followed him. 

Jasper motioned to Arul and Rajat.  “Y’all go help Michael.”  He looked at Paul.  “Go check the hallway to make sure it’s clear.”  He pointed towards Brad as he was sitting in the corner with a blanket over him.  “Go check on Brad.”  Jasper looked at Marcus.  “Let’s find something we can use as weapons.”

He was holding two of the torches that Douglas and his buddies had used.  “Got ours already.”  He handed one to Jasper.

Everyone was walking around the mess on the floor.  It was covered in feces, intestines, blood, and pieces of flesh from where Brian, Casey and Douglas had blown apart.  Their bodies were putting off a foul odor of burnt flesh, rotten shit, and stale blood. 

When Amanda pulled the blanket from Brad’s head, she shouted, “It’s Jim!”

Marcus and Jasper ran over to her.  Jim was leaning against the wall unconscious.

Marcus shook him.  “Jim, wake up!”

He started coming to.  “What’s going on?”

Jasper knelt beside him.  “You okay?”

Amanda pulled the blanket off his shoulders.  “Oh shit!  His arm is missing.”

Jim was feeling nauseous.  “I don’t feel good.”

Jasper stood up.  “Amanda, stay here with him.  We’re going to look for some more weapons.”

Arul and Rajat had helped Michael get off the spikes.  He was sitting on the edge of the bed holding the puncture wound in his abdomen.  “How’s my back look?”

Arul was holding a rag over a puncture wound.  “Same as your front.”

“This is bad.”

“It could have been worse.  The spike barely missed your spine.”

“I’m going to bleed to death on the inside.”

“I don’t think so.  There’s not a lot of blood coming out, so I don’t think any large blood vessels were hit.”

He looked at his hand, noticing it was covered in feces.  “That’s good.  But my intestines are leaking.  I’m going to get an infection if I don’t get to a hospital soon.”

“I know.  Just try not to move around too much.  Maybe your insides will clot or something.”

“I hope so.”

Marcus had overheard their conversation.  “It doesn’t work like that with a bowel perforation.  His intestinal contents are going to keep spilling out into his intraperitoneal cavity until the damage is surgically repaired.”

Michael’s eyes got big.  “Then it is bad?”

“You’ll be fine if we can get out of here in time.”

Jasper got everyone’s attention.  “We’re going to see if we can find a way out of here.”

Michael raised his hand.  “I can’t walk.”

“I’ve already thought of that.”  He pointed to a wheelchair that was in the corner of the room.  “You can use that.”  He looked at Rajat.  “I need you to push him.”

Paul was getting frustrated as he sat on the floor while holding his shoulder.  “Who made you our boss?”

“Someone has to take charge.”

“So, you elected yourself?”

“If you don’t like it, you can go your own way.”

“I can’t walk.  My fucking leg is broken thanks to you.”

“Then keep the fuck quiet.”

Paul put his head down.

Jasper looked at Arul.  “I need you to help Jim walk.  He’s still a little woozy.  Amanda, you need to help whiney ass there since he has a broken leg.”

Paul glared at him.  “You don’t have to be such a prick.”

“Prick?  I’m trying to save your ass.”

“You’re only thinking of yourself.  Just like Jim had done.  You don’t give a shit what happens to anyone but yourself and Marcus.  That’s why y’all threw me off the fucking balcony.  You’re nothing but a chicken shit!”

Jasper started approaching him.  “I’ll beat your fucking ass, smart mouth!”

Marcus had been gathering some items to be used as weapons.  He walked over and intervened before they got into it.  “We don’t have time for this shit!”

Jasper pointed at Paul.  “You say anything else I’m going to break your other fucking leg.”

Paul put his head down and he mumbled under his breath.  “Damn kangaroo-fucker.”

Jasper’s eyes opened wide.  “What the fuck did you call me?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit!  You called me a kangaroo-fucker.”

Paul rattled off the first thing that came to his mind.  “No I didn’t.  I said go bang a Jew, fucker.”

Jim glared at him.  “Fuck you, you anti-Semite!”

He was caught off guard.  “I didn’t say anything anti-Semitic.”

“You said go bang a Jew, fucker.”

He spoke again without thinking.  “No, I said hang a Hebrew trucker.”

Rajat became upset, causing his Eastern accent to be more prominent.  “Fuck you, hillbilly!  I kill you!  I kill you bad!”

Paul held his hands out, palms up.  “What did I do to you?”

“My father is of Hebrew descent and he’s a trucker.”

“You misunderstood.  I said let’s gang up on Sue and fuck her.”

Amanda glared at him.  “I’ll cut off your fucking dick if you try to touch me!”

Paul was starting to become frustrated.  “Now why are you getting mad?”

“Sue is my middle name, asshole!”

Marcus laughed as he looked at Paul. “You better stop before you have everyone pissed at you.”

Jasper was shaking his head.  “What a fucking tool.”

Paul was embarrassed as he held his head down.

Michael was hurting badly.  “We need to stop dicking around and get out of here so I can get to a hospital.”

“You’re right.”  Jasper laughed.  “Paul’s creative phrases to save his ass a beating has wasted valuable time.”  He looked at Marcus.  “Did you find anything the others can use as weapons?”

“Yeah.”  He handed Arul one of the torches, then handed Amanda and Paul broken legs from a stool.  “I sharpened the ends a bit by grinding them on the floor.  You can use them to stab or hit.”  He handed another leg to Michael.  “I know you’re hurting, but you need to fight if the time comes.”

Jim walked up to Marcus.  “I need something too.”

He handed him a leg.  “Glad you’re feeling better.”

“I’m still hurting, but I’m strong enough to fight.”

Jasper got everyone’s attention.  “It’s time to go.  And I need everyone to stay close and keep their eyes open.”

Jim felt it would be safer if they stayed in the room.  “I think it’s a bad idea to leave.  We need to hang here.”

Jasper shook his head.  “No, we’re going to do it our way from here on out.”

Marcus agreed.  “You’ve made too many bad decisions.  Me and Jasper will get us out of this.”

Jim became aggravated.  “I have a lot of experience.  I should lead the group.”

Jasper laughed.  “Shooting animals standing at a feed trough isn’t the experience we need.”

“First off, you’re just repeating what that psycho said.  And they weren’t at a fucking feed trough.  I’ve been all over the world and have….”

Marcus pushed him.  “Shut the fuck up!  If you don’t like the arrangement, you can stay here by yourself.  You’ll only slow us down anyway.”

Jim held his hand out.  “Okay, okay!  We’ll do it your way.”

Jasper opened the door and looked around.  “It’s clear.  Let’s go.”  He and Marcus led the group down a dimly-lit hallway.  They were now on the second floor.  It was just like the third floor—it had the same kind of rooms with large windows.  They tried to open the doors as they moved along, but they were locked.  At the end of the hallway there was an elevator.  The doors were open, but the elevator was at an upper level.  Jasper looked down.  “Hey!  I found Kerri and Brad.”

Everyone gathered around and looked.  Kerri and Brad were at the bottom of the shaft, which was only one floor down.  She was hanging by her wrists as Brad stood in front of her with his head down.  He didn’t appear to be bound, but there was a wire hanging out of his penis that ran across the floor.  Razor wire had been run back and forth in the shaft.  There was so much of it, it looked like a spider’s web.  It was obviously done to prevent anyone from climbing or jumping down.

Jasper yelled down to them.  “What the fuck is going on?”

Brad looked up.  He had a grimace of terror.

“Where’s Seth and Kenneth?”

He shrugged his shoulders as he lowered his head.

“Dammit!  Speak to me!”

Brad picked up a propane torch and a can of PVC glue.

Marcus yelled at him.  “What the fuck are you doing?”

Brad looked up with a solemn expression.  “I have to punish her.”

Rajat started getting upset.  “You don’t have to do it!”

He grabbed the cord sticking out of his penis.  “He put detonation cord in me.  If I don’t, he will burn my penis off.”

Paul yelled down to him.  “Just pull it out.”

“I can’t.  He glued it in me.”

“Then find a way to cut it in half.”

A tear ran down his cheek.  “Sorry.  I have no choice.  Seth told me to tell y’all it’s her punishment for burning those animals.”

Kerri was already in a lot of pain from being cut up.  She could barely speak as she stared up at the group.  “Please help me!”

Jasper became angry.  “Don’t fucking touch her, Brad!  I’ll kill your ass if you do!”

Jim looked at Jasper.  “This was planned by Seth.  He knew we would find this shaft.  If we would have stayed in the room, Kerri wouldn’t be in this position.”

Jasper glared at him.  “Bullshit!  This has nothing to do with us staying or leaving.”

“It has everything to do with it.  Seth isn’t going to torture anyone without an audience.”

“Don’t blame this shit on me.  She chose to jump off the balcony.”  He thought for a moment.  “If I remember correctly, Brad and Kerri jumped to get away from your ass, so this is your fault.”

Marcus noticed Brad was pouring the PVC glue on Kerri’s back.  “What’s the little bastard doing?”

Jasper yelled at him.  “What the fuck are you doing?”

Brad looked up.  “This is for the turtle she burned.”  He lit the highly-flammable glue.

Kerri’s back erupted into flames.  As the PVC glue burned, it was melting to her skin.  Her screams were being magnified by the elevator shaft.  She was in so much pain that her body was violently flopping around and the steel cuffs around her wrists were cutting into her flesh.  When the fire went out, her entire back was charred and her skin had cracked open.  A pinkish liquid was running out of the cracks and dripping onto the floor.  As she hung helplessly, her moans filled the shaft.

When Brad started pouring glue on her left arm, Jasper shouted, “You’re dead, motherfucker!  Just wait and see!  You better hope that fucking psycho kills you first!”

The others were yelling at him to stop, but he ignored them.

She screamed as he lit her arm on fire.  Before the flames had a chance to go out, he had coated her other arm and lit it on fire.  A few minutes later she passed out from the pain.  The group was relieved that she wasn’t suffering anymore.  But to their horror, Brad injected her with something, causing her to regain consciousness.  He shoved his fingers under the flesh where her right breast had been cut off, pulled back on it, then dumped some glue inside her, filling the cavity between the outer skin and muscle layer.  Her chest was already swollen and sore from the amputation, and now the glue was burning her raw flesh.  She was screaming so hard that her voice box sounded like it was going to bust.  He showed no mercy as he did the same thing to the other side.  As soon as he lit the glue, her voice made a popping sound.  She could only make faint sounds as she endured the pain of her chest burning.

When the flames went out, he shoved the torch head in her pussy, then pulled the trigger, igniting the gas.  She raised her head and looked at the others up above.  Her voice was deep and muffled as she yelled out.  “Please help me!”

Amanda looked away.  “Oh my God!  I can’t watch this!”

Michael leaned forward in his wheelchair and grabbed her arm.  “It’ll be all right.”

She jerked her arm away.  “All right?  Look what’s happening to her!  The sick bastard is burning her fucking vagina!”  She looked at Marcus.  “Tell him to kill her and get it over with.”

Marcus yelled down.  “Brad!  Please end it.  She’s suffered enough.”

He wasn’t listening as he held the torch inside her.  Flames were billowing out her vagina, burning her lips, pubic area and the inside of her legs.  When he pulled out the torch head, burnt flesh was stuck to the end of it and a gush of boiling fluid ran out of her.

Jasper was trying to crawl down.  He was standing on the razor wire, but he couldn’t find a way through.  His feet were being cut as he balanced.  He finally gave up and crawled back out of the shaft.

Brad walked behind Kerri and shoved the torch head into her ass, then pressed the trigger.  All the muscles in her body were sticking out as he burned her colon.  She was moaning as loud as she could as she endured the pain.  Within a few minutes, she calmed down.  Brad was confused.  He pulled out the torch head, noticing there was no flame.  Even though the flame had gone out on the torch, the propane was still being pumped in her, causing her intestines to be filled with the gas.  When he stuck it back in and pulled the trigger, fire came blowing out of her ass.  He dropped the torch and started rubbing his hands on his legs to ease the pain.

As the flames shot out between her butt cheeks, she was violently jerking around.  The strain to her body was causing her to fart, which caused large surges in the flames.  The pain became so intense that her bowels released a gush of smoking shit.  It was burning her skin as it ran down the back of her legs. 

The group above was horrified.  They felt helpless as they watched.  Brad was showing no mercy as he poured glue on her legs.  When he lit them, Kerri started gagging as the toxic smoke burned her eyes and lungs.

When the flames went out, the skin from her feet to lower abdomen was black.  She was on the verge of death as he lifted her head up.  He took the torch and started burning her right eye.  She made a strange screeching sound like a rabbit being killed as the intraocular fluid started boiling.  When the eye ruptured, steam came blowing out of her socket.  He did the other eye, then poured glue all over her head.  He lit it on fire, then walked out of the elevator shaft, leaving her head in a huge ball of fire.

Dunce Hat

Foul smelling smoke was coming out of the shaft as the group sat on the floor in a state of shock.  Jasper stood up.  “We need to keep going.”

Amanda had tears running down her cheeks.  “What’s the use?  He’s going to keep picking us off one at a time.”

“I’m not just going to stay here like a sitting duck.”

Marcus stood up.  “Jasper is right.  We have to keep going.”

As the group headed away, Arul and Rajat were helping Jim walk as Amanda pushed Michael.  Everyone was keeping an eye out, knowing any of them could be next.  When they came to a T, they went left.  The hallway was dark, but some of the rooms with the large windows had lights on.  The atmosphere didn’t feel right, almost as if they were being watched.  It was very creepy.

About halfway down the hallway, Arul found a display cabinet that was lit on the inside.  He yelled to the others.  “I found Wayne!”

Everyone gasped as they looked inside the glass cabinet.  Wayne was suspended in the center of it by fishing lines.  His arms and legs had been cut off.  He was looking back at them.  “Please help me.”

Marcus started to open the door, but Jim stopped him.  “Hold up!  It’s booby-trapped.”

“How do you know?”

“Just a suspicion.”

“It’s fine.”  When he turned a handle to open it, the inside of the cabinet erupted into flames.  The group stared in horror as Wayne burned to death.

Jim was angry.  “I fucking told you not to open it!”

Marcus felt bad.  “I didn’t see any wires.  It looked okay.”

“You’re going to get us killed with your stupidity.”

“Screw you!”

Jasper intervened.  “Who gives a fuck?  He’s better off now anyway.”

Amanda became upset.  “How can you say that?”

“What kind of life would it have been to live without limbs?”

“He could have done just fine.  There are special places where he could have lived a productive life.”

“The dude didn’t even have a dick.  If I get all fucked up like he was, I hope someone would do me the same favor.”

Amanda shook her head as she walked off.

Marcus got everyone’s attention.  “Let’s keep going.”

Arul and Rajat continued to help Jim walk as Amanda pushed Michael in the wheelchair.  Around fifty-feet down the hallway, the lights went out.  It was pitch dark.  No one could see anything.  They weren’t sure what to do as they panicked.  Something knocked Arul and Rajat to the floor, then Jim started screaming.  His screams seemed to fade away as if he was being quickly dragged away.  Marcus and Jasper were moving down the hallway by feeling the wall in search of him.  They were shouting Jim’s name, but his screaming was echoing throughout the building and they couldn’t tell where he was.  Finally, he stopped making sounds.  Everyone gathered in a huddle to protect themselves, worried that one of them would be next.  To their horror, Jim started screaming again.  It seemed to last forever.

Around thirty minutes later the lights came back on.  Jasper jumped to his feet, noticing Michael was missing from his wheelchair and Jim was sitting in it.  He was slouched forward and his other arm was missing.  Marcus knelt beside him.  “Jim, you okay?”

He could barely speak and was dazed and confused.  “I don’t know.”

“What happened?”

“Seth had me.  He cut off my arm with a hatchet.”

“Where’s Michael?”

“I…  I don’t know.”

Jasper heard someone yelling.  “Let’s go!”  He took off towards the sound.  Amanda pushed Jim as the group followed him.  When they came to a T in the hallway, they made a right towards the sound.  At the end, they found a monitor and camera hanging from the ceiling.  In the monitor, they saw Michael.  He was standing in the center of a room.  His arms were secured above him by a chain hanging from the ceiling.  His feet were shackled to the floor, with chains connected to anchors.  Seth was standing in front of him.

Amanda looked at the camera, knowing it was probably so Seth could see them.  She yelled at it.  “Leave him alone, you fucking bastard!”

Seth turned and looked at her in his monitor.  “If you volunteer to take his place I will let him go.  Otherwise, he’s going to suffer the same fate that he bestowed on that cat.”

“Okay!  Okay!  I’ll do it.”

Jasper pulled her to the side and whispered to her.  “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m just trying to buy Michael some time.”

“He’s not stupid.”

“I know what I’m doing.”  She looked at the camera.  “I said I would do it.”

Seth got close to a camera on his side.  His face took up most of the monitor on their side.  “You sure?  I’m going to twist this fucker into pieces, one appendage at a time.”

“I said I would.”

“Show me that you’re serious.”

She looked confused.  “What do you mean?”

“Rip out one of your eyes.”

She shook her head.  “That’s not necessary.  Tell me where you’re at and I’ll come to you.”

“Either you do it, or I’ll have the others do it for you.”

She started walking backwards.  “Just forget I said anything.”

Seth got closer to the camera.  Only his mouth could be seen.  “Whoever rips out one of her fucking eyes will be shown some mercy.”

Everyone looked at each other for a moment, then looked at her.  Jasper and Marcus started walking towards her.  She put her hands out, telling them to stop.  “Hold up!  Y’all really can’t be considering that.  I was just trying to help Michael.”

They kept coming.

She took off running, but Marcus and Jasper tackled her.  As they held her down, they ripped out her left eye.  She lay on the floor screaming while covering her bloody eye socket.  Marcus walked up to the camera and held up the eyeball.

Seth smiled.  “Good job.  I’ll make sure you get some mercy when it’s your turn.”

Jasper walked up.  “What about me?”

“What about you?”

“I helped.”

“That deal was only for one person.”

“That’s bullshit!  I’m the one that ripped it out.”

“Well, Marcus is the one who has it, so I don’t know what to tell you.”

Jasper glared at Marcus.  “Tell him who did it.”

“I did.”

“You lying motherfucker!”

Jasper and Marcus started fighting.  Paul broke them up.  “Hold up!  He’s doing this shit just to get you riled up.”

Seth picked up a drill with a half-inch chuck.  He stuck Michael’s left pinky finger in the drill, tightened down the chuck, then started twisting his finger very slowly.  Michael screamed as the joints began to tear apart.  He screamed louder as his finger twisted like a twisted piece of taffy.  When it tore off at his hand, tendons were still connected.  Seth ran the drill some more, causing them to twist in his wrist and arm.  The more they twisted, the more knotted up they became.  When they finally broke, they left large knots under his skin.  Seth removed the finger from the drill and tossed it onto the floor, then moved to his ring finger.

Jasper was angry as he watched Michael being tortured.  He started yelling at the camera.  “You’ve made your point!  You don’t have to do this!  We’ve all learned our lesson.”

Paul was limping on his broken leg as he went down the hallway trying to open doors.  Marcus yelled at him.  “What are you doing?”

Paul had a look of desperation.  “He has to be in one of these rooms.”

Arul and Rajat started helping Paul.  Then Marcus and Jasper joined in.  Amanda was sitting on the floor upset and Jim was sitting in the wheelchair feeling helpless.

Seth watched as they tried to open doors and beat on windows.   He yelled out to them.  “Hey, Jasper!  Marcus!  Y’all are going to be next.  If you want, go ahead and find room 227.  I already have it set up for your surprise.”

Marcus ran up to the camera and yelled.  “You’re a sadistic son of a bitch!”

“That means a lot from someone who ripped out a woman’s eye to save his own ass.”

“Fuck you!  If you had any balls, you’d come out here and face me like a man.”

Seth laughed, then started the drill, twisting Michael’s ring finger off.  His ligaments twisted into knots inside his arm like the others had done.  Seth tossed the finger onto the floor, then did the next finger, then the next.  Michael’s body was flushed and he was sweating profusely as he screamed at the top of his lungs.  When Seth was done with all of his fingers on that hand, including his thumb, he burned the wounds to stop the bleeding.  His arm looked like it had twisted rubber bands under the skin from where the ligaments had bunched up.  Seth lit a cigarette, then started on his other hand.

Michael was begging for Seth to stop, but he ignored him as he twisted off one finger after another.

Kenneth came into the room pushing a four-wheeled dolly.  He left it by the door and walked over to Seth.  “Hey!  I’m back.”

Seth couldn’t hear him over Michael’s screams.  He stopped the drill.  “What was that?”

“Just lettin’ ya know I was back.”  He looked at Michael’s hands and arms.  “Damn, dude!  That’s some twisted shit!”  He laughed.  “No pun intended.”

Seth started the drill.

Kenneth noticed Seth had a cigarette hanging from his mouth, and his expression said he didn’t have a care in the world.  “It amazes me how you can do this kind of shit like it’s no big deal.  It’s like a job to you.”

Seth shut off the drill.  “Sorry.  I couldn’t hear you over this pussy’s screaming.”

“It was nothing important.  But I did get the Rigid pipe threader, hammer drill and anchors that you wanted.”

“Good.  If you want, go ahead and set up the threader in the center of the room and anchor the legs to the floor.”

“Will do.”  Kenneth walked off.

Seth knelt by Michael’s feet with the drill.  “You ready to have your toes twisted off?”

He had already suffered immensely and was at his limit.  He was panicking as he looked down.  “Please don’t!  I beg you!  Please have mercy!”

He chucked his left pinky toe in the drill.  “Did you show that animal mercy when you twisted off its legs?”

“I’m sorry.  You’ve already gotten me back.  You took my balls and my fingers.  That should be enough.  Please don’t hurt me anymore.  I can’t take the pain.”

“I’m sure the kitten didn’t like the pain either, but you didn’t stop, so I’m not going to stop.”  Seth looked up at him.  “In fact, we’re just getting started.  And just to let you know so you can ponder on it, I’m going to twist off your dick later.”

Horror overcame Michael.  “Oh my God!  Please don’t!  I will do anything you ask if you don’t do that!”

Seth thought for a moment.  “Okay.  If you twist off all your toes, I’ll save your dick.”

“I…  I, uh…”  He closed his eyes as he thought about it.  “Yes.  I will do it.”

Seth got excited.  “What a sport!”  He looked at Kenneth.  “Bring the vice over here, please.  It’s the large one.”

He set it onto the floor next to Seth.  “What are you up to?”

“Giving Michael a chance to save his precious ding-a-ling.”  He slid the vice up to Michael’s left foot, then clamped the drill in it, which was still attached to his pinky toe.  He taped the male cord cap from the drill to Michael’s right hand, then taped the female cord cap of an extension cord to his left hand.  “There you go.  I locked the trigger in the ‘on’ position, so all you have to do is plug those in and it will start.”

Jasper and Marcus were pacing back and forth.  Amanda was still sitting against the wall pouting.  Arul and Rajat were at the other end of the hallway looking for a way to escape.  Paul was sleeping.  Jim was sitting in the wheelchair watching the monitor, knowing Seth was just playing mind games with everyone.  He was boiling with anger because his arms had been cut off.  Now what was he going to do, he thought?  He couldn’t imagine living like a cripple after the life he had lived.  As he thought about it he became so upset that he yelled at Seth.  “I hope someone fucking kills you very slowly, you piece of shit!  If your mother is alive, I hope she dies a painful death just for giving birth to your sorry ass!”

Seth said something to Kenneth, then left the room.  A few minutes later, Rajat and Arul came running down the hallway, followed by Seth.  When Jasper and Marcus saw him, they wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go.  They both started kicking a door that went into one of the rooms with a large window.  When Rajat and Arul came running up, they started kicking at it to.  Seth was walking as if he didn’t have a care in the world as he whistled a tune.  Right before he got to them, the door busted open. They ran in and slammed it shut.  Paul had been asleep, and when he noticed what was going on, he covered his head with his hands as he lay on the floor.  Amanda was sitting with her back against the wall.  She didn’t move as Seth walked up to Jim.  He grabbed the handles on the wheelchair and pushed him down the hall as he continued to whistle.  Jim was yelling for help as they disappeared into the dark.  Arul cracked open the door to make sure it was clear, then the men came out of the room.

Paul was confused.  “What the fuck just happened?”

Amanda was shaking her head.  “The tough guys left us out here to save their asses.”

Marcus was pissed.  “Screw you, bitch!  You don’t know shit!”

“I know you told him if he had the balls, he should come out here and face you like a man.   Well, you had your chance, but scurried away like a scared little rat.”

“Fuck you!”

She laughed.  “And you even have two sets of balls.”

Paul pointed at the monitor.  “Check it out.”

Seth had rolled Jim into the room where Michael was.  Kenneth walked over to him.  “Why did you bring him in here?”

“For running his mouth.”

“You would figure these fuckers would learn to keep their mouths shut.”

“I saw a yellow and blue baby walker in the storage room on the first floor.  The round type with toys all the way around it.  Will you go down there and get it?”

“Sure.”  He left the room.

Seth dragged Jim on top of a table and strapped him down.  Amanda was upset as she watched the monitor while listening to Jim beg for mercy.  She glared at Marcus.  “You bastard!  You let Seth take Jim without even trying to stop him.”

“You better watch your fucking mouth.  I don’t want to hurt a woman, but I will.”

She pointed to her eye.  “You already have, asshole!  But you sure didn’t have the balls to stand up to a man.”

Marcus raised his fist and was going to punch her, but Arul got between them.  “Fighting with each other isn’t the solution.”

Jim started screaming, getting everyone’s attention.  They watched in horror as Seth cut off Jim’s right leg at the knee with a hacksaw, sewed the end closed, then did the same thing to his other leg.

Kenneth came in as Seth was bandaging Jim’s stubs.  He set the baby walker onto the floor.  “What are you planning on doing with this?”

“It’s for Jim.  Help me put him in it.”

Seth and Kenneth set Jim in the center of it, then Seth began stitching the flesh around his waist to the plastic top of the walker.  Jim couldn’t do anything to fight back since his arms had been cut off.  He just sat there and screamed.  When Seth was done, he stuck a plastic dunce hat on his head, then sewed it in place.

Kenneth was shaking his head as he looked at Jim.  It was disturbing seeing a grown man with no arms and short legs sitting nude with a dunce hat in a baby walker.  Seth rolled him to the door.  “Get the fuck out of here, dipshit.”

Jim was bitching as he disappeared into the dark.

Colonoscopy

Amanda became upset when she saw Jim coming down the hallway.  She ran up to him.  “Oh my God!  I’m so sorry for what that bastard has done to you.”

Jim was in a lot of pain.  “Please get me out of this.”

Marcus noticed the stitching around his waist.  “We can’t.  He has sewn you to it.”

“No shit.  Cut me loose.”

Jasper knelt beside him.  “We don’t have anything to cut the thread.”

Raul started looking around the floor.  “I’ll try to find some broken glass.”

Paul got on his knees to see if he could reach the thread with his teeth, but there wasn’t enough space between Jim and the walker.  Amanda tried to remove the dunce hat.  “The fucker has sewed this to his head.”

Jim started crying.  “Look what he’s done to me!  I’m a fucking freak!”

Amanda ran up to the camera and started yelling, “You’re a sorry motherfucker!  You’re going to pay for this!”

Seth ignored her as he stood in front of Michael.  The drill was still in the vice and attached to his left pinky toe.  Seth pointed to the cords in his hands.  “When you plug these in, the drill will rip off your toe.”

Michael had a solemn look.  “I, uh…  Well, I’ve been thinking, and….”

“You’re not backing out on me, are you?”

He started crying.  “Please let me go.  I want to go home.  I’m sorry for what I did.”

Seth was aggravated as he looked at Kenneth.  “That little bastard in the walker cost me the motivation Michael had going.  I should go cut off his fucking dick.”  Seth looked at Michael.  “And speaking of dicks, I guess I’ll go ahead and twist yours off since you’re being a bitch.”  He latched onto it with a pair of pliers.

Michael started shaking his head.  “No, no, no!  Please don’t do it!”

Seth smashed the head of his penis a little.  “Ten toes for a wiener.  Make your choice.”

He screamed as he plugged in the cords.  The drill instantly ripped off his toe, and as it flopped around in the end of the drill, the tendons were being twisted inside his foot like his fingers had done in his hands. 

Seth tossed the pliers onto the floor.  “Excellent job, pal.  You can unplug the cords now.”  He cauterized the bleeding hole, then moved the drill to his next toe.  “Ready whenever you are.”

Michael was breathing heavily.  “Can I have a minute.”

“Hell no.”

“I can’t do it.”

Seth picked up the pliers.  “Am I going to have to threaten to rip off your dick each time?”

“I’ll do it.  Just give me a minute.”

He grabbed his penis with the pliers and smashed his head until blood ran out of the piss hole.  “Do it, fuck stick!”

Michael screamed.

Seth started smashing it harder.  “I’m not stopping until you do it!”

Michael plugged in the cords, causing his toe to be twisted off.  Seth moved the setup to his next one.  Michael plugged in the cords before Seth even picked up the pliers.  He did the same thing with the next one.  Michael was hesitant doing his big toe.  It grossed him out thinking about twisting it off since it was so big.  The top of his foot was bruised and had twisted and bunched up ligaments under the skin.  It looked alien-like.  He was feeling sick as he looked at it.  “I can’t do it.  Please don’t make me.”  A tear ran down his cheek.  “I said I was sorry.  Please stop hurting me.”

Seth gripped his penis with the pliers and started twisting it.  “Do it, or it’s gone.”

“Oh my God!  Please let go of my dick!”

Seth followed through with his threat, twisting it off at the base.

Michael was horrified.  He couldn’t believe Seth had actually done it.  His mindset changed from being scared to angry.  “You fucking bastard!  You’re going to pay for this!”

“Not by you.”

“One of these days you’re going to get caught.”

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t, but either way you’re going to plug in them cords.”

“Fuck you!  You can’t make me do shit!”

“You think so?”

“I fucking know so!”

Kenneth was standing behind Seth.  “Sounds like he’s not going to do it since you can’t use his dick for leverage anymore.”

“That’s what he thinks, but I have other tricks up my sleeve.”

Michael glared at Seth.  “You can go fuck yourself!”

Seth handed Kenneth a torch.  “Cauterize his pussy so he doesn’t bleed to death, then remove the cords from his hands.”

Michael fought the urge to scream.  “Fuck both of you!  I’m not giving y’all the satisfaction of begging anymore.”

Seth laughed.  “Yeah you will.”

“Fuck if I will!  You might as well go ahead and kill me!  I don’t give a fuck anymore!”

Seth removed the drill from the vice and put a large knife in its place where the blade was sticking up.  “Now I want you to cut off the rest of your toes by sliding them against the knife.”

Michael laughed sarcastically.  “You’re fucking insane!”

Seth left for a moment, then came back with a strange-looking device.  He held it up so Michael could see it.  It looked like a four-bladed paddle bit that is used for mixing paint, but each of the paddles had curved barbs.  “Guess what this is?”

“Something you can shove up your ass?”

Seth laughed as he mounted it into the drill.  “You’re half right.  It does go in the ass, but not mine.”

“What?”

“Yep.  I’m going to shove this up your bunghole, and when I start the drill the barbs are going to hook into your rectum.  And guess what’s going to happen then?”

Michael looked worried.  “I, uh….”

“It’s going to rip your anus loose as it starts twisting your intestines.  And I’m not going to stop there.  I’m going to keep drilling until your guts are all knotted up.”

Kenneth was shaking his head.  “What’s the deal with wanting to twist shit?”

“Because this fucker likes twisting shit.”

Michael was staring at the paddle bit.  “Okay, okay!  What do you want me to do?”

“Cut off your big toe by sliding it on the knife, then do all the other ones on your right foot.”

He started getting nauseous as he looked at the knife.  “I…  I don’t think I can do it.”

“Sure, you can.”

He started crying.  “Please don’t make me.”

Seth walked behind him.  “You might feel a little pressure.”

“Hold up!  You don’t have to do this!  I’ll do it with the drill!”

Seth now knew he had a phobia of being cut with a knife.  “Naw, I think we’re going to stick with this setup.”  He shoved the paddle into his ass.

Michael screamed.  “Oh fuck!  You’re ripping me!”

Kenneth laughed because the paddle was about three inches in diameter.  “Feel a little pressure my ass.  You’re probably ripping him.”

Seth laughed too.  “I know.  I’m sure this feels like he’s at the proctologist getting a colonoscopy.”

“Yeah, with a freakin’ baseball bat.”

Michael’s eyes were huge.  “Please get it out!”

“Slice off your big toe and we’ll talk about it.”

He moved his foot towards the blade, then jerked it back.  “I can’t!  Please don’t….”

Seth pulled the trigger, causing the curved barbs to hook into the inside of his rectum, then released the trigger.  “How’s that feel, pal?”

Michael was hollering as he moved his hips around.  “Oh my God!  Please get it out!  It’s killing me!”

“If you think this is painful, wait until I rip your ass loose.”

“Please don’t do it!  I beg you!”

“Then slice off your big toe.”

He placed his toe next to the sharp blade, then started moving his foot up and down.  Before the blade made it to his bone he jerked it back.  “I can’t do it!  Oh my God!  Please have mercy!”

Seth started the drill, ripping his anus from its supporting structures. 

Michael was screaming at the top of his lungs as Seth turned the bit at a slow speed.

Kenneth was standing off to the side with a disturbed expression.  He had to shout over Michael’s screaming.  “What the hell are you doing to him?”

Seth yelled back.  “Twisting his intestines.”

“How is that possible?”

Seth pulled back on the drill, allowing some of Michael’s rectum to come out.  Kenneth noticed the organ was turning with the drill.  “That’s fucking sick.”

Seth shoved it back in.  “And the longer I rotate it, the more it’s going to knot up.”

Michael was horrified as he looked at his stomach and sides.  He could see his skin grotesquely moving around as if he had snakes flopping around inside of him.

Kenneth noticed it too.  “Why is his skin moving?”

“As his intestines are rotated, they’re bunching up and pushing on his abdominal wall.”

Michael finally shoved his big toe against the knife and started working it up and down.  When he got to the bone he shouted, “It won’t cut through the bone!  I can’t do it, but I’m trying!”

Seth shut off the drill, leaving it hanging from his rear, then walked in front of him.  “Kick the vice.”

Michael was crying.  “What?”

“Kick the vice until you can break the bone.  Then you can finish cutting it off.”

Out of desperation he started slamming his big toe into it.  When the bone broke, he shoved the blade back into the gash and started working his foot around.  He was screaming as he stared in horror.  When his toe fell to the floor, he started on his other foot.  With each toe, he had to break the bone on the vice before he could get it severed.  He was sweating profusely and he was white as a ghost.

Kenneth had become sick and was off in the corner of the room vomiting.  Seth was sitting on a stool smoking a cigarette.  When Michael was done with the last toe, his eyes rolled back in their sockets, then his head fell forward.  Kenneth came walking up.  “Is he dead?”

Seth cauterized his toes, then stood up.  “No.  Just passed out from all the excitement.”  He injected him with the automatic injection syringe.  “But he’ll be back with us here in a moment.”

“Why are you waking him up?  Isn’t he done?”

“Just with his toes and hands.  We still have his arms and legs to go.”

Kenneth had a sad expression.  “Are you serious?  Hasn’t he suffered enough?”

“He didn’t care how much agony he caused that kitten, so why should I give a fuck about how much he’s suffering.”

“I know.  I just didn’t realize how sadistic this shit was going to be.  I thought you were going to fuck them up quickly, then kill their asses.  I didn’t know you were going to drag this shit out.  Just like with Aaron and Kim.  That was absolutely uncalled for.  Then you humiliated them by making them fuck.”

“Do you want me to cut his throat and be done with him?”

Michael had awakened.  He overheard what Seth had said.  “Please kill me.  I don’t want to suffer anymore.”

Seth handed Kenneth a knife.  “If you want it to stop, do it.  You can also go cut Aaron’s and Kim’s throats since you’re so worried about them.  In fact, just go ahead and kill all these motherfuckers.”

Kenneth thought about it for a moment, then handed it back.  “Fuck it!  Just do your thing.”

“You are one wishy-washy individual.  I hope you don’t act like that when it’s Brad’s turn.”

“Fuck that little bastard.  He’s the only reason I’m going along with this shit.”

“Cool.”  He looked at Michael.  “Guess what?  We get to have some more fun.”

Amanda was staring at the monitor.  She was hoping Seth was going to end Michael’s suffering.  Now she was upset.  “Leave him alone!  He’s gone through enough!  Don’t you have any decency?”

Seth looked at her.  “Decency?  That means a lot coming from you.”

“Screw you!  You’re just a fucking psycho that gets off on hurting people.”

Seth looked at Michael.  “Do you want me to go ahead and fuck up Amanda so you can rest for a while, or finish you up now?”

He could barely speak.  “Please….”

“Please what?”

“Please don’t hurt me anymore.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He just stared at Seth.

“I’ll make it simple.  If you want me to finish you now, look at the pipe threader in the center of the room.  If you want me to fuck up Amanda, look at her.”

He looked at the monitor.

Seth motioned to Kenneth.  “Go get that bitch and bring her in here.”

“Will do.”  He left the room.

Seth looked at Jasper and Marcus in the monitor.  “I guess I lied when I said y’all were going to be next.  Michael threw Amanda’s ass under the bus, so I’m sending Kenneth out for her.”  He looked at Amanda.  “You ready for your surprise?”

She took off running down the hallway, disappearing into the dark.

A Star Is Born

A few minutes later, Kenneth came dragging Amanda into the room.  Seth hung her from the ceiling by her wrists, then chained her feet to the floor.  She was angry as she glared at Seth.  “Let me go, motherfucker!  You have no right to do this!”

“And you had no right torturing that puppy.”

“You don’t know shit!”

“I know you’re going to scream until you die.”  He shot her in the neck with the automatic injection syringe.

“What did you just do?”

“Gave you a shot so you won’t pass out from the pain or bleed to death so soon.”

Her attitude changed.  “Please don’t hurt me.  I beg you.  You’ve already gotten me back.”

“How do you figure that?”

“You took my eye.” 

“No I didn’t.  Marcus and Jasper did.”

“But you made them do it.”

“I didn’t make them do shit.  That was their choice.”

“But you did sew these nuts to me.  That hurt a lot.”

“You don’t know what hurt is.”

“Come on, man.  You’ve scared the shit out of me.  I’ve learned my lesson.  You don’t have to be cruel.  I have rights.”

“Rights?”

“Yeah.  The constitution says you can’t do this.  You have no right to torture me.”

“The Eighth Amendment to the US Constitution prohibits the federal government from imposing cruel and unusual punishments, including torture.  I’m not the fucking government, so you’re shit out of luck.”

She started crying.  “What are you going to do to me?”

“Same thing you did to that animal.”  Seth looked at Kenneth.  “There’s a box of goodies over there.”  He pointed at it.  “Please bring it over here.”

“Where do you want it?”

“You can set it on the floor.”

Kenneth opened it, noticing it was full of fireworks.  “Damn!  Is it the 4th of July?”

“It’s gonna be.  Hand me some bottle rockets while you’re digging around in there.”

Amanda became upset as she looked at all the fireworks.  “You better not fucking touch me!”

“Touching you is going to be an understatement.”

“What are you, a fucking pervert?”

Seth ripped the cloth from around her waist.  “You’re gonna think pervert when I get done with you.”  He took a hand full of bottle rockets and shoved the sticks up her ass.  Then he took another hand full and stuck them up her pussy.

She was angry as bottle rockets hung out of her.  “You’re a fucking sick bastard!  You’re not going to get away with this!”

Seth handed Kenneth a Roman candle.  “Let’s shoot these at her and see if we can set off the rockets.  You take her back; I’ll take her front.”

Kenneth lit his, then pointed the Roman candle at her rear-end.  Seth was pointing his at her crotch.  As the projectiles burned her skin she shouted at Seth.  “Fuck you!  I hope you burn in Hell!”

He shot her in the face.  “Shut up, bitch!”

She rubbed her face on her shoulder, then screamed, “Fuck you!  You’re a ball-less piece of shit!  I bet you’re getting off on hurting a woman, you motherfucker!”

He lit another Roman candle, then started shooting at her crotch again.  This time one of the bottle rockets ignited.  As it took off, it ignited some of the other ones.  Fire was burning her pussy as they shot out of her, causing intense pain.  Her pubic hair caught fire, causing more pain as it burned her pubis mons.  Kenneth had ignited the ones hanging out of her ass.  She was screaming and jumping up and down as bottle rockets shot out of her from both sides.  Michael was holding his eyes tightly closed as some of the bottle rockets were flying past his head.  He was relieved that Seth wasn’t hurting him anymore, but was also feeling ashamed for what was happening to Amanda.

Kenneth didn’t want to participate anymore and was sitting on a table, but Seth continued to shoot Roman candles at her, one after another.  Her flesh was covered in burns and the hair on her head had caught fire.  All she could do was scream and flop around as smoke billowed from her body.  When he ran out of the Roman candles, he went and sat with Kenneth.  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“I figured you’d have fun getting to shoot the bitch with fireworks.”

“This is your deal.  I just want to get this over with so I can fuck up Brad.”

“He’s tied up in the basement if you want to go on down there.”

“I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet.”

“Really?  You haven’t picked up a few things to do with all the shit you’ve seen?”

“I have a few ideas.”

“Cool.  I can’t wait.”

Amanda had become angry as she looked at all the burns on her body.  “I can’t wait until you’re frying in the electric chair, asshole!”

Seth dug through the box, then walked over to her.  “Texas doesn’t use the electric chair.”

“Screw you!”

He held up a firecracker.  “Open your fucking mouth.”

She turned her head, refusing to do it.

Seth lit a propane torch.  “Open up, or I’m going to burn your tit.”

She didn’t budge.

Seth started burning her left tit.  She screamed at the top of her lungs as her skin turned red.  He didn’t stop until boiling fluid came squirting out of her nipple.  He shut off the torch, then sat with Kenneth as she continued screaming.

When she calmed down he walked up to her.  “Open up.”

“Please don’t do this!  I beg you!”

“Open up, or I’m going to burn you some more.”

“I’m sorry!  Please have mercy!”

He lit the torch.

“Okay, okay!”  She opened her mouth.

He stuck the firecracker between her teeth.  “If you spit this out, I’m going to cook your tit until it falls off.”

Her body was shaking as he lit the fuse.  Right before it got to the firecracker she spit it out, then shouted, “You’re a crazy motherfucker!”

Seth started burning her left tit again.  She screamed as her flesh cooked.  Thirty seconds into it, her tit started swelling as the fluids inside of it boiled.  Finally, the charred skin ruptured allowing boiling fluids to run down her stomach.  When it turned completely black, he hit it with the bottom of the torch, breaking a large chunk from it.  She was on the verge of passing out, so he went and sat on the table.  He noticed Kenneth had a strange expression.  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I think I’m going to puke.”

“Why?  You don’t like the smell of barbequed tit?”

He put his hand over his mouth and started gagging.

“It does smell like barbequed tit sautéed in milk.”

He turned and vomited, then wiped his mouth. “You’re a sick bastard.”

“Thanks.”  Seth walked up to Amanda with another firecracker.  “Open up.”

She was in so much agony she didn’t argue.

He stuck it between her teeth, then lit the fuse.  She closed her eye as snot bubbles came out of her nose.  When it popped, she didn’t even flinch.  The pain she was suffering from her tit being burned off had over-shadowed the pain from the firecracker burning her lips and rattling her teeth.  Seth held up a larger firecracker.  “This one will probably blow out your front teeth.”

She could barely talk.  “Please just kill me.”

“Open up, or I’ll burn your other tit off.”

“Please don’t do this.”

He lit the torch.  “Your choice.  Kenneth says he likes the smell of burned tit anyway.”

“Okay, okay!”  She opened her mouth.

He stuck it between her teeth.  “What a sport.”  He lit the fuse.

She was holding her eye tightly closed and moaning loudly as if she was trying to block out what was going on.  When the firecracker popped, pieces of broken teeth fell out of her mouth as she screamed.  Her top lip had a black line burned in it and her bottom one had busted open.  Seth pulled a bottle rocket that hadn’t been ignited out of her ass and put it in her mouth.  “Hold onto this.”

She held the stick with her back teeth.

He lit the fuse.  “You better not let go of it.”

As soon as the flames came shooting out of the rocket, burning her face, she let it go.  It flew across the room, ricocheted off a wall, then popped next to Kenneth’s head.  He jumped off the table.  “Fuck!  That almost got me!”

Seth laughed.  “That was her fault.  Do you want to burn off her other tit?”

“No.”  He was actually feeling sorry for her.  “Why don’t you just kill her and be done.”

“Because she’s a cruel bitch and deserves what she’s getting.”

“Man!”  He looked at her face and chest.  “This is way too much.”

“You have to remember what she did.”

“I know, I know.  She killed a dog to get back at her boyfriend.  But this is crossing the line.  It’s sadistic.  Just like what you did to Kim and Aaron.  We’re going to burn in Hell for this.”

“It was a puppy, and she put firecrackers in its ass, ears, and mouth.  And I’m not going to get in a debate over right and wrong, morality or divine consequences.”

“You have to have some type of conscience about doing this?”

“Only that I can’t make the bitch suffer more.”  Seth walked over to him.  “I don’t expect you to understand, but what she did was very fucking cruel.  She chose to inflict harm on something that couldn’t defend itself.  You’re either a cruel person or not.  You should know this over anyone.  We’re here because of Roxie.”

Kenneth sat down.  “Roxie was my baby.  I have a beef with Brad.  Not her, or the others.”

“And I have a beef with all scumbags that choose to harm the innocent, humans or animals.”

“I know you do.  I just didn’t expect this.  I started feeling this way with Jimmy, then it got worse with each person.”

“They’re Scumbags.  I’ve already told you that.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Why don’t you go slap around Brad while I finish her up.  That way we’re both getting to have some fun.”

“That’s what I’m talking about.  This isn’t fun to me.”

“It would be if you got inside these fuckers’ heads and know how they think.  They’re nothing but fucking evil, causing pain and misery to others.”

“That’s kind of going overboard with that description.”

“You have two types of people: good people and bad people.  It’s that simple.  Anyone that purposely inflicts pain on an animal has proven they are bad and have no decency.  They have the same mindset as any other lowlife in my book, and they have no remorse for the shit they do.  They’re the abusers of society and are sorry in all aspects of their life.  They have no guilt, virtue or respect for anything.  A lot of rapists, abusers and molesters started out harming animals.  She’s simply an evil bitch and is getting what she deserves.”

“Wow!  You have it all figured out.”

“So you think Amanda is a good person and simply made a mistake?”

“Maybe.”

“What about Brad?”

“That’s different.  He planned on breaking into my house and doing what he did.”

“I’ll make you a deal.  If she’s a decent person I’ll pack up my shit and leave now and you can do whatever you want with Brad.  If she’s not, I don’t want to hear any more about it.”

“How are we going to know that?”

Seth looked at Amanda.  “Have you ever harmed anyone?”

She shook her head to say no.

“You can add liar to her list of bad deeds.”

“How do you know?”

“I know quite a bit about these assholes.”  He looked at Amanda.  “You wanna tell him about Kelly and Preston?”

“You’re a bastard!”

Seth grabbed her face and stuck a firecracker in her empty eye socket.  “You better spill the beans, bitch!”

She jerked her head away.  “Get the fuck away from me, you fucking prick!”

“I got your prick hanging.”  He lit the fuse.

She threw her head around and shouted curse words as the fuse burned her face.  When it went off, it blew out a large blood clot.  It landed next to Kenneth’s feet.  He stepped back.  “That’s fuckin’ nasty.”

Seth broke the stick off a bottle rocket, tied on a longer fuse, then shoved it up her pussy backwards.  “You ready to tell on yourself?”

Even though she was in agony, she wasn’t going to give in.  “Go fuck yourself!”

Seth looked at Kenneth.  “What a hard-headed bitch.”  He lit the fuse.

She started jumping up and down as the flame from the fuse burned the insides of her legs.  When the rocket ignited, it started burning the inside of her vagina.  Smoke was billowing out between her legs as she violently jerked around and screamed.

Kenneth was shaking his head.  “Dude!  You didn’t have to burn her pussy.”

Seth shoved a knife into her crotch, then started cutting around her pussy.  When he was done, he pulled out her vagina, cut it off at the uterus, then tossed the organ towards Kenneth.  It landed at his feet.  “There.  You can take it home with you since you’re so worried about it.”

He moved away from it.  “Why in the fuck would I want that?”

“For a pocket pussy.”

“You’re fucking demented.”

Seth burned her open cavity to stop the bleeding, then showed her a mortar.  “You don’t want to know where I’m sticking this.”

She was in a horrendous amount of pain, but refused to submit.  “Just go ahead and kill me, and get it over with, you piece of shit!”

Seth tied a long fuse to the mortar, then shoved it up her ass.  He lit the fuse, then walked over to Kenneth and sat down.  “This might get messy.”  He looked at Amanda.  “You wanna speak up before it’s too late?”

“Fuck you!”

Michael was a few feet behind Amanda.  He was watching the fuse as it burned.  When it went into her ass he turned his head and closed his eyes.   A second later a boom echoed out, then shortly after that a louder boom and bright lights filled the room.  When he opened his eyes, he noticed he was covered in feces and blood.  The skin between Amanda’s butt cheeks was gone and her muscles could be seen.  The backs of her legs were covered with blood and fecal matter and part of her colon was hanging out of her ass.  The group in the hallway was horrified as they watched fluids run down the screen due to the camera being hit with Amanda’s blood and fecal matter.  In fact, the entire room behind her had been splattered.

Seth walked over to her and looked at her backside.  “Well, no more anal sex for you.”

She was in so much pain she could barely speak.  “Please just kill me.  I beg you.”

“Later.  For now, you better get to tellin’ on yourself unless you want to suffer some more.”

“Fuck off!”

“You hardheaded bitch.”  He looked at Kenneth.  “There’s an electric meat cutter around here somewhere.  Will you find it for me?”

Kenneth looked around.  “Here it is.”

Seth took it and started cutting off her right tit.  Kenneth turned and vomited, then walked to the other side of the room.  Seth took the severed tit and laid it on the top of her head, nipple side up, then half assed sewed it in place.  Blood was running out of the tit, drenching her head and face.  Seth cauterized the open wound on her chest, then yelled at Kenneth.  “Get back over here.  I need your help.”

When he saw what Seth had done, he stopped breathing for a moment.  “Holy fuck!  What the…  I can’t believe…  Why?”

“Why not?”

“Wow!  You need help.  I’m not trying to be rude, but you really, really do.”

“I just think you had a thing for this bitch.”

He quickly came back.  “No I didn’t!”

“Sure, pal.  Same thing happened to Kim, in a roundabout way, and you didn’t make such a fuss over that.”

“You’re fucking delusional.”

Seth pointed at Amanda’s vagina.  “I won’t hold it against you if you take that home.”

“I told you I didn’t have a thing for her!  You’re making me upset!”

“All right, all right.  Calm down.  We’ll change the conversation.”

“Fine.  But I still don’t give a shit about her.”

Seth handed him a whole bunch of bottle rockets and a knife.  “Sharpen the ends of the sticks, then whack them at an angle facing away from the rocket to make barbs.”  He did one to show him how to do it.  “It needs to be like this.”

“Why?””

Seth walked over to Amanda and jabbed the stick into her right arm.  “The point helps penetrate her flesh.”  He pulled back on it.  “And the barbs prevent it from pulling out.”

“How many do you want me to do?”

“All of them.”

Over the next thirty minutes, Seth and Kenneth worked on the bottle rockets.  When they were done, Seth started sticking them all over Amanda’s body.  She moaned as each one punctured her flesh.  When he was done, there were about three hundred bottle rockets sticking out of her.  Seth laughed.  “She looks like a fucking porcupine.”

Kenneth was shaking his head.  “You never did prove she was a bad person.”

Seth dug through a duffle bag, then pulled out a folder.  He flipped through it, stopping on a page, then handed it to him.  “That’s her criminal record.  Her kids Kelly and Preston were taken from her because of child abuse.  Then there’s numerous criminal convictions for theft, domestic violence, assault, vandalism, arson, and fraud.”

Kenneth read it, then looked at Seth.  “I had no idea.”

“I told you that scumbags who do mean shit to animals are pieces of shit.”

“What about the others?”

“They’re pieces of shit too.  Some of them might not have as long of a rap sheet as she does, but they’re still lowlifes.  And even if they had a clean slate, I would have still fucked them up for what they did.  The fact they have done other shit is just more fuel for the fire.  And speaking of fuel…”  Seth picked up a spray bottle and walked over to Amanda.  “You ready to be turned into a star?”

She glared at him through her only eye.  “You don’t know shit about me.  I’ll see you in Hell.”

He set the spray bottle down and grabbed a firecracker.  He tied on a long fuse, then stuck it under her eyelid.  “You just don’t know when to shut the fuck up.”  He lit it, then stepped back.  The fuse hung down by her knees.

She was desperately moving her eye around to dislodge the firecracker.  She could feel the flame running up the fuse by her thigh.  Seth had made it that long just to increase the fear factor.  The anticipation of having her eye blow out would be horrifying.

When the flame reached her stomach, she started jerking around as she yelled at Seth.  “Okay!  Okay!  I’ll tell you what I did!”

“It’s too late for that.”

“Please don’t do this!  I beg you!”

“I would stop jumping around.  You might set off some of the bottle rockets.”  The fuses to the bottle rockets were about eight to ten inches away from her body, but as she jumped around the long fuse from the firecracker was flopping around and getting close to them.

She held still.  “Okay!  I’m doing it!  Please get this out of my eye!”

“I didn’t say I was going to remove it.  I just didn’t want you to set off all those rockets.”

“Oh my God!  It’s almost to my eye!”  The flame was now burning her face.  She screamed right before it got to her eye.  A few seconds later she relaxed.

Seth laughed.  “It’s a fucking dud.”  He stuck another one under her eye with a short fuse and lit it.  Before she could say anything, it blew out her eye.  She screamed as intraocular fluid ran down her face.  Seth picked up the spray bottle and started soaking her body and all the bottle rockets.

Kenneth could smell it.  “Is that alcohol?”

“Yep.  Everclear.”

“Why are you doing that?”

“You’ll see.”  After he had her soaked from head to toe, he walked to the other side of the room, lit a zippo, then tossed it at her.  The Everclear erupted into flames, igniting all the fuses to the bottle rockets.  Amanda screamed as she was completely engulfed in flames.  The hundreds of rockets were putting out such a bright light that Kenneth put his hands in front of his eyes, but Seth was watching with excitement.  “I told you I was going to make that bitch a star.”

All the bottle rockets popped at the same time, causing pieces of paper to be blown everywhere.  As the paper floated to the floor like snow, and as the smoke cleared, Amanda’s body began to appear.  All her flesh was black as coal, but miraculously, she was still moving.  Kenneth was feeling nauseous as he looked at her.  “Oh my God!  She’s still alive!”

Seth lit a cigarette as he stood in front of her.  “Well, fuck!”

Kenneth walked up.  “What’s wrong?”

“We’re all out of fireworks.”

“Just go ahead and put her out of her misery.”

“Na, I’m kinda bored with this bitch.  Go ahead and put her in the hallway.”

“Why?”

“I’m tired of looking at her.”

“I meant, why are you going to let her keep suffering?”

“Good point.  After you drag her ass out there, pour this on her.”  He handed him a jug.

“What is it?”

“Bleach.  That should really make those burns feel real good.”

Rag Doll

Seth walked up to Michael as Kenneth dragged Amanda out in the hallway.  “You ready to have your limbs twisted off?”

He looked confused.  “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Please don’t twist off my arms and legs.  And I thought you weren’t going to hurt me anymore.”

“See, you were listening.  And where in the hell did you get the idea you were done?”

He started crying.  “Please don’t!  You’ve already gotten me back!”

“How do you figure that?”

“My hands and feet are mutilated.  They make me look like a freak.  And you took my penis.  That’s the worst thing you could have done to me.  How am I supposed to live like this?  And my guts and ass are killing me.  I think you might have torn something.  If I don’t get to a hospital soon, I might get an infection.”

Seth laughed.  “An infection is the least of your worries.”

Kenneth came walking in the room.  “Hey, I poured bleach on her like you said.  She’s going crazy, flopping around on the floor and shit like she’s having a seizure or something.”

“Good!”  Seth nodded towards Michael.  “Numb nuts said he wants to be turned into a rag doll.”

“I’m sure he did.”

Michael started freaking out.  “I didn’t say that!   Please don’t do this!”

Seth started removing his restraints.  “Help me get him to the pipe threader.”

Michael started fighting with them, so Seth hit him in the head with a club, knocking him unconscious.  They dragged him to the threader, stuck his right arm through the rotating section, then chucked it down.

Seth injected him with the automatic injection syringe.  A few seconds later, his eyes opened as he was sitting on the floor with his arm stuck in the threader.  He got on his knees and started freaking out.  “What the fuck is this?  Why is my arm in here?”  He tried to pull it out, but it was bound tightly in the threader, which was on a three-legged stand, anchored to the floor.  He tried to stand up.  “Oh my God!  My feet are killing me!”  They were very swollen and blue and the cauterized ends were oozing blood and clear fluids.  He fell back to his knees.

Seth was standing next to him. “When I start this machine, your arm is going to start rotating.  You’re going to have to flip around with it or it’s going to twist off your arm.”

His eyes got big.  “You’re fucking crazy!”

“That’s not true.  I could have stuck your hand in the threading die.  You need to show some thanks.”

“Please don’t do this to me!  I beg….”

Seth flipped a switch on the machine.  The rotating section started slowly twisting his arm.  He wasn’t sure what to do.  He tried to get to his feet, but the threader had already twisted him to the side, throwing him off balance.  He screamed as his arm forced him to fall on his ass.  As it continued, he had to rotate to his side, to his knees, then to his other side before falling back on his rear.  His arm was twisting unnaturally and Kenneth could hear the ligaments in his elbow and shoulder popping.  “Damn!  That’s making my arm hurt!”

Michael was panicking as he rolled around.  Not only was his arm feeling like it was breaking, but his twisted intestines were causing agonizing pain as he flopped around.  He screamed at Seth.  “This is fucking killing me!  Please make it stop!”

“See how you like this.”   Seth moved a lever, speeding up the machine.

At first, Michael tried to keep up by doing backflips.  If he jumped too soon, his body would beat his arm before it was rotated enough, causing it to bind up.  It would make loud popping sounds as ligaments broke and bones cracked.  If he jumped too late, his arm would be twisted too much, throwing him off balance.  The machine would flip him around, causing even more damage to his arm.  Feces and blood were slinging from his rear-end, splattering the floor, walls, and ceiling, as he flipped around.  He finally became dizzy and couldn’t keep up.  The machine started flipping him around like a rag doll.  He was screaming at the top of his lungs as all the bones in his arm shattered into pieces.  Finally, there wasn’t enough bone structure left and his arm started twisting as his body remained stationary.  To his horror, his arm tore apart at the elbow.

Seth burned his stub as he lay on the floor screaming.  The upper portion of his arm was as limp as a noodle from all the broken bones.

Kenneth couldn’t see Jasper, Marcus, Arul or Rajat in the monitor.  “Hey!  Only Paul and Jim are in the hallway.”

Seth walked over to the monitor, then yelled at the camera.  “Paul!”

Paul looked up as he sat on the floor with his back against the wall.  “What?”

“When the others get back from trying to escape, tell Marcus and Jasper to head to room 227.  It’s unlocked.  And I want you and Jim to join them.  I’ll be wrapping up here soon and don’t feel like chasing y’all around.”

Paul stood up.  “Why am I going?  You said Jasper and Marcus were next.”

“It will make it more fun.”

“Please don’t do this.  I’ve learned my lesson.  Please let me go.  I promise I will never harm another animal.”

“Tell them to go ahead and sit in the chairs and you can get in the cage.  Jim can do whatever.”

“Cage?”

“Yeah, I designed it just for you.”

He took off limping, disappearing into the dark.  Jim was struggling as he scooted his baby walker down the hallway.

Seth went back over to Michael.  “Arm or leg?”

He was lying on the floor in his own piss, shit and vomit.  He wouldn’t look up.

“Let’s do a leg this time.”  He looked at Kenneth.  “Go grab the sledgehammer.”

“Are you going to kill him?”

“Not on purpose.  I just need to make a few adjustments so his leg will fit in the threader.”

“Oh.”  He went and got it.

Seth raised the hammer above his head, then slammed it down on Michael’s right ankle, causing blood to gush out of the crushed joint.  He raised the hammer as Michael crawled on the floor screaming.  He struck his ankle again, smashing it as flat as a pancake.  He struck him again, but this time in the foot.  Kenneth was shaking his head.  “Why in the hell did you do that?”

“So his leg will go in the threader.”

“You could have just stuck it in there.”

“The threader only has a four-inch opening.  I needed his foot to be straight with his leg.”

“I thought when you said adjustment, you were going to do it to the machine.”

Seth laughed.  “I wouldn’t beat on my shit like that.”  He grabbed Michael’s foot and dragged him across the floor, then stuck his leg into the threader.  “Low, medium or high?”

Kenneth looked confused.  “Huh?”

“I was talking to Michael to see what speed he wanted to start off at.”

Michael was panicking.  “Please don’t turn it on!  I don’t want to lose my leg!  Please have mercy!”

“We’ll start off slow.”  Seth put it on low, then flipped a switch.

Michael was lying on his back with his right leg bent as it went into the threader.  He wasn’t in any kind of bind until the machine started forcing him to his left side.  Since his knee didn’t bend sideways, he was having to hold himself up with his left arm.  He continued to hold himself up as he turned face down, but when he started rotating to his right side, he had no way to hold himself up since his arm had been ripped off at the elbow.  Plus, even if he had his right arm, his body was too far from the floor since his left leg was now above the one in the threader.  As he rotated that direction, Seth was watching with excitement.  He yelled at Kenneth.  “Twenty bucks that his leg breaks before his knee hyperextends.”

“You’re on.”

Michael started yelling at Seth.  “Please stop the machine!  It’s going to break my fucking leg!”  About that time, his tibia and fibula snapped, causing his body to hit the floor.  Bone fragments were protruding out of his leg as he screamed.

Seth moved a lever, speeding the threader up.  Michael didn’t have time to react as his body flopped around.  His leg started twisting where his bones had broken and the skin looked like a twisted washcloth.  When it became very tight, Michael grabbed his knee right before it gave out.  He lay on his back, watching in horror, as his lower leg continued to twist.  The skin at his knee had ripped apart and all that was holding his leg together were some tendons and muscles.  After a few more rotations, his stub fell to the floor.  Seth gave him an additional injection with the automatic syringe, then cauterized his stub.  He turned off the machine, removed the severed limb, then looked at Kenneth. “I’m getting bored with this shit.  Do his other arm and leg, then come to room 227.”

Kenneth looked confused.  “You’re leaving me here?”

“You can handle it.”

“I don’t want to do this.”

“Fuck!”  Seth picked up the sledgehammer and started hitting Michel’s left foot and ankle.  After he flattened them, he shoved his leg into the threader.  He moved the speed lever to high, then turned the machine on.  Michael didn’t even have time to scream before the threader ripped off his leg at the knee.  Seth quickly cauterized the stub, then shoved his left arm into the threader.  He put the machine on low speed, turned it on, then walked out of the room.

Since Michael didn’t have lower legs, he was spinning on his stubs as the threader rotated his arm.  He yelled at Kenneth as he was walking off.  “Please turn it off!  I don’t want to lose my arm!”

Kenneth paused.  “Sorry.  I can’t help you.”

“Then fuck you, you black piece of shit!”

He walked over to the machine and lowered the threading die.  “No, fuck you!”  He pushed the die against his hand.  The sharp threads immediately started cutting into his flesh.  Instead of cutting smooth threads, it was mutilating his flesh, muscles and bones until his hand came off at the wrist.  He turned off the machine, then shoved his arm all the way into the rotating assembly up to his shoulder. 

Michael was panicking.  “What are you doing?”

“Shut up, asshole!”

“You don’t want to do this!  You’re not like Seth!  Please let me go!  I won’t say anything!”

Michael’s arm was sticking out the other side of the machine about ten inches.  Kenneth started it, then pushed the die against his stub.  The die ripped off his flesh as it cut threads into his bones.  The die was on a trolley, so as it cut, it moved up his arm.

Kenneth walked out of the room as Michael flopped around and screamed for mercy.

Home Away From Home

Kenneth caught up to Seth in the hallway.  He noticed he was dragging Jasper by the hair.  He looked dead.  “Did you kill him?”

“No.  Just shot him with a tranquilizer gun.”

“Where’s Marcus?”

“Already in the room.”

“What about Paul?”

“I haven’t found him yet.”

“You need me to do anything?”

“Yeah.  Go round up Jim.  He’s hiding in the dark in the east hallway.”

“You think he’s with Rajat and Arul?”

“No.  I have them locked in the room next to Marcus.”

“Think Paul could be down there with him?”

“No.”  He nodded toward the ceiling.  “I think he’s hiding in the heat duct.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I could hear something banging around in there.”

“Might be a big ass rat.”

“Yeah, named Paul.”

“How you going to get him down?”

“Not sure yet.  Maybe I’ll get you to go in after him.”

“Fuck that.”

“You scared of confined spaces?”

“I’m not scared of shit.”

“Good.  After you round up Jim, figure out a way to get him out of there.”

“All right.”  Kenneth took off.  When he got to the east hallway he found Jim.  “Let’s go, asshole.”

Jim was angry.  “Get the fuck away from me!”  He started scooting his baby walker backwards.

Kenneth grabbed it, making him come to a stop.  “Don’t make me drag your ass, you little prick!”

Jim started throwing his upper body around and kicking his legs.  “Leave me alone!  I haven’t done shit to you!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you!”

He stopped moving.  “Really?  Look what the fuck y’all did to me!”

Kenneth took off his belt, tied it to the walker, then started dragging him.  Jim was furious as his armless torso jerked around.  “Stop pulling me, asshole!”  He shoved his stubs against the floor.  “I said stop!”

“Shut the fuck up!  And stop fighting me!”

Kenneth was aggravated as he dragged Jim.  They argued the entire way to the room.

Seth was laughing.  He had heard them cursing and threatening each other.  “What the hell is wrong with y’all?”

Jim was gritting his teeth.  “Fuck you too!”

Kenneth was frustrated.  “You should have gotten this fucker yourself.”

Jim pushed his walker into Kenneth’s leg, then tried to bite him.  Kenneth kicked him away.  “Get off me, you creepy bastard!”

Jim came back at him.  “Fuck you!”  He tried to bite him again.

Kenneth punched him in the face.  “Back off!”

Jim got mad and rolled to the other side of the room.

Kenneth noticed Jasper and Marcus were sitting in heavy wooden chairs with armrests.  They were facing each other with only about an inch of space between their legs.  Their arms were secured to the armrests with steel shackles and their ankles were secured to the front legs.  Their waists were chained to the backs of the chairs, which were anchored to the floor.  They had steel collars around their necks, with short chains connecting them to the tops of the chairs.

Paul was also in the room.  He was in some kind of a strange cage.  Kenneth pointed at him as he looked at Seth.  “When did you get him out of the duct?”

“The dumbass fell through a rusted area right in front of me.”

Kenneth looked at the cage he was in.  “What the fuck is he in?”

“I built a cage over a treadmill.  And I glued sandpaper to the belt.”

“Why?”

“Punishment for dragging that donkey behind his truck.”

“I don’t understand.  What’s it supposed to do?”

Seth flipped a switch, causing the treadmill’s belt to start up.  Paul started limping at a fast pace.  “He has to run, even with a broken leg, or he’s fucked, because if he falls, the sandpaper is going to shred off his skin.”  Seth grabbed the bars on the side.  “I purposely welded the bars vertical so he can’t hold onto to them.  I also removed the treadmill’s handrails so he can’t hold onto them, and I removed the guard plates at the bottom.  He has no choice but to run, or he’ll get skinned alive.”

Kenneth noticed that Paul could hold onto the top of the cage.  “He could hang from the top if he wants.”

“Yeah, but he’ll eventually get tired and fall.”

Paul was panicking as he jogged.  “Come on, man!  Please turn it off!  My leg is killing me!”

Seth grabbed a knob.  “You want me to speed it up?”

“No!  Please don’t!”

“Then shut the fuck up.”  Seth looked at Kenneth and laughed.  “I hope he’s got good cardio.”

“I wonder how long his leg will hold up.  And I hope he’s got tough feet.  That sandpaper is going to shred them into pieces.  Then he’s going to bite the dust.”

“You already owe me twenty bucks, you wanna bet double or nothing?”

“On what?”

“I say he will collapse due to being out of shape.”

“I think it will be because of his feet or leg, so I’ll take you up on that.”

“You’re starting to like this shit, aren’t you?”

“I’m just getting tired.”

“Sure, pal, keep telling yourself that.”  Seth walked off, then came back with a spinning wheel mounted on a stand.  He set it next to Jasper and Marcus, then motioned to Kenneth.  “Guess what this is?”

He noticed it had pictures of a finger, toe, penis, ball sack, ear, nose, kneecap, tooth, lip, eye, eyelid, tongue, nipple, chest and belly button.  They encircled the wheel.  There was a pointer mounted to the top.  “I…  I don’t know.”

Seth spun it.  The pointer made a clicking sound as it hit some dowel rods that separated the pictures.  “It’s just like Wheel of Fortune, but for assholes.”

Jasper was angry.  “Screw you!  You can’t make me play!”

Kenneth looked confused.  “What’s he upset about?”

“I’ve already explained the rules to them.  They’re going to spin the wheel for each other, and whatever it lands on they have to cut that part off.”

Marcus was so upset he was foaming at the mouth.  “You’re a sorry motherfucker!  You’re not going to get away with this!”

Seth laughed.  “He’s just pissed because there are more penises on the wheel than anything else.”

Kenneth noticed there was only one picture of each item, except for the penis.  There were five of them.  “Oh shit!  That’s fucked up.”

Everyone started freaking out.  Marcus and Jasper started cursing and making threats.  Rajat and Arul were in the next room beating on a window as they looked in.  Paul was yelling for someone to turn off the treadmill.  Jim was scooting around in his baby walker bitching and moaning.  Kenneth shook his head as he looked at the nude men and the contraptions they were in.  It looked like he was in a torture chamber, or a horror movie.  “What a fucking circus you’ve created.”

Seth laughed.  “It’s just like home away from home.”

“I don’t even want to know what that means.”

Jackass

Seth held up a remote as he looked at Marcus and Jasper.  “This will activate some electrodes under your chairs.  If you get stupid, I will light your asses up.  So, who wants to go first?”

They both told him to fuck off at the same time.

Seth pulled a coin out of his pocket, then looked at Marcus.  “Heads or tails?”

“Screw you, asshole!”

“Asshole?  I guess that would be tails.”  He flipped the coin in the air.  It landed on heads.  “Jasper, you’re up first.”  He handed a key to Kenneth.  “Unlatch his hands and the chain to his collar.”

As soon as Jasper was released, he tried to grab Seth.  “I’m going to fucking kill….”

Seth pressed the button on the remote.  Within seconds, smoke started billowing out from under his rear.  He screamed as a loud arcing sound echoed out.  Finally, he shouted, “Okay!  Okay!  I’ll do it!”

Seth smiled.  “That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”  He moved the wheel closer.  “Give it a spin.”

He looked scared.  “Why?”

“You know why.”

“Please don’t cut me.”

“You dumbass.  Weren’t you listening when I explained this?”

“Yes.”

“Apparently not.  Whatever it lands on you’re going to cut it off Marcus.  Now spin the wheel.”

He was relieved as he spun it, but Marcus’ eyes were huge as he watched the pointer, worried it was going to stop on a penis.

Seth shook his head when it stopped on a toe.  “You lucky bastard.”  He handed Jasper a pair of scissors.  “You get to pick which one to cut off.”

He tried to stab Seth.

Seth backhanded him, took the scissors, then walked behind him.  He looked at Kenneth.  “Hold his head between his legs.”

Kenneth shoved him forward, then forced his head down.  Seth pulled out a knife and cut a large square on his back, from his shoulders to his ass crack.  He pulled the skin loose at the top, wrapped it around a wooden rod, then stapled it in place.  The rod had a crank handle, and as he turned it, his skin was being ripped off his back as it wrapped around the rod.

Jasper was screaming for mercy.  “Oh my God!  You’re killing me!  I’m sorry!  Please stop!  I’ll do what you say!”

Seth had only pulled about ten inches of skin loose.  He pinned the rod in place, then motioned to Kenneth.  “You can let him go.”

Jasper was in a lot of pain as he sat back.  “What did you do to me?”

“Ripped some skin off your back.”  He handed him the scissors.  “Pick a toe or you’re going to lose more.”

He leaned forward and grabbed Marcus’ pinky toe.  “I…  I don’t know if I can.”

Marcus was jerking around in his chair.  He couldn’t fight back since his waist, arms, legs, and neck were secured to the chair.  “Don’t do it, Jasper!  Don’t fucking do it!”

Seth grabbed the handle to the rod.  “Do it, or I’ll rip off your fucking back!”

Jasper pulled back on his toe, then started cutting it with the scissors.  Marcus screamed out.  “Stop cutting me, you motherfucker!  It fucking hurts!”

Marcus was struggling.  “These scissors won’t cut through the bone.”

Seth yelled at him.  “Bend it until it breaks.”

He bent the toe upwards until it snapped, then twisted it until it came off.  Seth handed him a propane torch.  “Burn it so he doesn’t bleed out.”

Marcus was panicking.  “Please don’t!  I beg you!”

Jasper looked sad.  “Sorry, bro.  I don’t have a choice.”

Marcus jerked around in his chair as Jasper burned him.  When he was done, Seth had Kenneth secure Jasper, then release Marcus.  Seth pointed to the wheel.  “Your turn.”

Marcus glared at Seth with hate-filled eyes.  “You’re fucking nuts!  I refuse to play your game.”

Seth pulled out a knife, then looked at Kenneth.  “Hold the bastard so I can add a skin crank to him too.”

Marcus’ attitude changed.  “Okay!  Okay!  I’ll do it.”  He spun the wheel.  Everyone was watching to see what it was going to stop on.  When it landed on a picture of an eye, Jasper started shaking his head. “No, no, no!  You can’t do that!  Please!  I’ll do whatever you want!”

Seth handed Marcus an ice cream scoop.  “Pick an eye.”

Jasper looked at the scoop.  “Please don’t!  I beg you!  We’ve been friends since grade school.  Please don’t take my eye.”

Marcus looked down.  “He’s right.  I can’t do it.”

Seth cut a large square in his back as Kenneth held him down.  After he pulled the top part loose and stapled it to a rod, he started rolling up his skin.  Marcus was screaming.  “You’re fucking killing me!  Please stop!  I beg you!”

“I’m not going to stop until you pop out his fucking eye.”

“Okay!  I’ll do it!”

When Kenneth let him go, he lunged forward and shoved Jasper’s head against the back of the chair with one hand as he shoved the scoop under his right eyeball.  He had to wiggle it around to break the optic nerve, then he popped it out of the socket.

Jasper was screaming as his eye rolled across his lap and onto the floor.

Marcus dropped the scoop and grabbed Jasper’s shoulders.  “Please forgive me!  I’m sorry!”

Jasper was crying, causing tears to run down his left cheek while blood was running down his right one.

“Please talk to me, bro.”

“Get the fuck away from me, man!”

Marcus sat back in his chair.  “You don’t have to be like that.  I didn’t have a choice.”

“Fuck you!  You ripped out my fucking eye!”

“And you cut off my toe.”

“It’s a fucking toe!  An eye is different, you fucking asshole!”

“You know I didn’t have a choice, so stop acting like a bitch!”

Seth nodded to Kenneth.  “Time for them to swap.”

As Kenneth secured Marcus and released Jasper, Seth went over to Paul.  “How’s it hangin’, pal?”

Paul was hanging from the top of the cage.  He had his right elbow bent around a bar as he held onto his wrist with his left hand.  The pressure from the bar was smashing the inside of his elbow and cutting off circulation, causing his arm to turn blue.  He was straining as his arm supported the weight of his body.  “Please get me out of here!  I don’t think I can hold on much longer!”  He knew if he fell, the belt would throw him against the back of the cage, then the sandpaper would start shredding his skin.  He could try to land on his feet and start running, but he was exhausted.

Seth leaned against the cage and lit a cigarette.  “You should be grateful that I’m showing you more mercy than you gave that donkey.”

“How do you figure that?”

“He didn’t get a chance to get off the asphalt.  At least you’ll get to hang for a while between sanding’s.”

“Sanding’s?”  He became angry.  “That’s fucked up!  You think this is a fucking game!  You’re a sadistic piece of shit!”

Kenneth walked up.  “Why is he freaking out?”

“He’s just excited that he’s going to get a free derma peeling.  It can be expensive at the dermatologist’s.”

Paul was gritting his teeth.  “Screw you, asshole!”

Seth climbed up the side of the cage, then started stomping on Paul’s arm.  “Let go, you fucking retard!”

He tried to land on his feet, but the belt flipped him onto his head, then onto his back.  Before he could react, he crashed into the back of the cage.  He was screaming as he tried to get up, but the belt was holding him against the bars as it shredded the skin from his body as he flopped around.  He was finally able to get on all fours, but the sandpaper started shredding the skin on the palms of his hands and his knees.  The pain became so intense that he rolled onto his side.  The belt started turning red from blood as his skin was being sanded off his shoulder, arm, hip, and leg.  He didn’t know what to do, so he rolled onto his back when he couldn’t take the pain anymore.  Within seconds he rolled onto his other side.  He was screaming as he fought to get to his feet.  His body was covered in blood and pieces of chewed up skin.  He finally was able to stand up, but the belt held his feet against the bars.

Seth had climbed down and was standing next to Kenneth.  He pointed at Paul’s feet.  “Check that shit out.”  The weight of his body was causing the flesh on the bottom of his feet to disintegrate at a fast rate.

Kenneth shook his head.  “He’s not going to last long in this contraption.”

“Sure, he is.”  Seth turned off the machine.

Paul fell on his side as he breathed heavily while crying.  “Thank you for stopping it.  I’m in so much pain.  Please get me some help.”

Seth walked off, then came back with a bug sprayer.  He pumped it up, then started spraying Paul with alcohol.  He violently flopped around and screamed at the top of his lungs as his raw flesh burned.  When Seth had him soaked, he put his hand on the start button.  “I’m fixin’ to turn it back on, so you need to get your lazy ass up and hang from the top.”

Paul was in so much pain he couldn’t move.

“Okay.”  Seth started the treadmill.

Paul screamed as the belt flopped him around.

Seth turned it back off.  “One last opportunity.”

Paul eased to his bloody feet, then jumped up, grabbing a bar.  He wrapped his arm around one bar and a leg around another.  He was so exhausted and in so much agony that he didn’t say a word.  Seth started the machine, then climbed back up on the cage.  He tied a wire around the base of Paul’s penis and balls, then tied the other end to the top of the cage.

Paul was freaking out. “Oh my God!  Why did you do that?”

“’Cause you cut off that donkey’s dick and balls, you fucking jackass.”  He climbed down and walked back over to Marcus and Jasper.  Kenneth looked confused.  “Why did you give Paul a chance?”

“You tell me.”

“Uh, so his suffering will last longer.”

“Correct.  And?”

“The anticipation of having his skin ripped off is fuckin’ scary.  And tying his dick and balls to the top of the cage makes it even worse.”

“Good job.  I’m glad you’re catching on.”

“Maybe so.  But I still don’t find any enjoyment in this like you do.”

“Of course, you do.  That’s why you’ve stuck around this long.”

“That’s not it.  I just want to fuck up Brad.”

“Then consider all this a crash course in how to be a murdering ass lunatic.”

“You’ve definitely takin’ me on a free trip to crazy town.”

Seth laughed.  “Right.  And speaking of crazy…”  He looked at Jasper.  “You ready to spin the wheel?”

“I’m hurting really badly.  Please don’t do this.”  His right eye socket was extremely swollen and the right side of his face was covered in dried blood with the exception of a few places where a pinkish fluid was running out from under his eyelid.

“Don’t start whining.”

“You have no right to do this.”

“And you had no right cutting up someone’s pet.  Now spin that fucking wheel before I give you something to bitch about.”

Marcus started jerking at his restraints.  “Jasper, fuck this crazy bastard!  Don’t do what he says!”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, you do.”

“You said you didn’t have one when you took my eye.”

“Come on.  We’re even now.”

“Even?”  He started getting aggravated.  “When did this become something vengeful?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m starting to.  And you’re just acting this way because it’s my turn to cut something off you.”

“Don’t be like that.  We’ve been through a lot together.”

Seth glared at Jasper.  “Don’t pay any attention to him.  And I’m not telling you again.”

He was torn in what to do, but he decided to spin the wheel, especially since Seth was holding a knife to his penis.  Suspense filled the room as the pointer made a clicking sound.  Marcus’ eyes were big as the wheel started slowing down, not knowing what it was going to land on.  Seth laughed when it stopped on a tooth.  “Nice.  Maybe that will keep Marcus quiet for a while.”  He handed Jasper a pair of pliers.  “Pick one.”

Marcus glared at Jasper.  “Stay the fuck away from me!”

Jasper was still pissed about his eye.  He showed no mercy as he held Marcus’ head back while grabbing a hold of a front tooth.  As he pulled on it, Marcus was making a loud ‘awww’ sound.  Jasper was having a difficult time getting it to come out.  He finally started twisting it, causing the tooth to break off at the gum.

Seth shook his head.  “That doesn’t count.  It had to be a whole tooth, roots and all.”

Jasper moved over to the next one and started jerking on it with everything he had.  When it popped out, he pulled another one just for the hell of it, then tossed the pliers on the floor as he glared at Seth.  “Does that satisfy ya?”

Marcus was angry.  “Release me!  I want to spin that fucking wheel!”

“Great attitude.”  Seth was hoping they were going to get mad at each other.

As Seth released Marcus, Kenneth secured Jasper.

Marcus eagerly spun the wheel, then glared at Jasper.  “I hope it lands on your throat.”

Seth laughed.  “That’s not on there.”

Jasper was scared.  “Come on, man.  You know I had no choice.  Don’t be mad at me.”

“Fuck you!  You took three of my teeth, asshole!”

“I should be the one upset.  You took my eye.”

“Fuck your eye!  And I’m going to take a lot more from your ass before this is over!”

“Okay, you motherfucker!  You wanna play like that?  Bring it on!”

As Marcus and Jasper argued with each other the wheel came to a stop.  Seth laughed.  “Uh, I don’t think you’re going to like this one.”

Jasper’s heart felt like it stopped when he noticed it landed on a penis.  He looked at Seth with a frightened expression.  “There’s no way you’re going to let that happen.  You’re not that sorry.”

Seth handed Marcus a pair of scissors.  “Cut off the whole thing.  I don’t even want a stub left.”

He started to sit forward, then leaned back.  “I…  I can’t do it.  Eyes and teeth are one thing, but his penis, that’s too much.”

Jasper was relieved.  “That’s right.  We’re done playing your fucking game.”

‘You think so?”  Seth walked behind Marcus and grabbed the handle to the rod.  He started to turn it, then walked back to the side of them.  “I have a better idea, Marcus.  If you refuse to do it, then I’ll cut off your dick.  In fact, from here on out, whatever y’all refuse to cut off the other person, I will cut it off you.”

Marcus was looking at Seth with a disturbed expression.  “Wait!  You can’t change the rules!”

“Fuck if I can’t.”

“That’s not fair!”

Seth laughed.  “The worlds not fair, pal.  Now get to snippin’, or say bye-bye to your little friend.”  He pulled out a knife.

Marcus sat forward.  “Sorry, bro.  I have no choice.”

Jasper started panicking.  “No, no, no!  You can’t do that!  Please!  I beg you!”

“It’s either yours or mine.  And I wouldn’t be able to live without my cock.”

“And you fucking think I can!  Please….”  He screamed as Marcus started cutting into his penis.  The scissors were cheap, so he was having to work them around as he squeezed the handles.  As soon as Jasper’s penis fell off, Seth handed Marcus a torch.  “Take care of the bleeding.”

Jasper screamed as the flames burned his flesh.  The smoke billowing out from his crotch was burning his eye, and as he breathed it in, it caused him to cough.

When Marcus was done, he sat back in his chair as he watched Jasper cry.  “It’ll be all right, dude.  You can get a prosthetic or something.”

When Jasper caught his composure, he went absolutely nuts.  His anger was overshadowing his pain.  He couldn’t wait to be released.  “Let me loose!  I want to make that fucker pay!”

Marcus refused to be restrained.  He was fighting with Seth.  “Get the fuck away from me, you fucking piece of shit!  You’re not going to touch me anymore!  Do you hear me?”

Kenneth had to help Seth restrain him.

As soon as Jasper was released, he spun the wheel.  He was watching it like an eagle.  “Yeah, baby!  I’m going to cut me off a wiener.”

Marcus was panicking.  “Listen!  I went easy on you.  Please don’t take this out on me.”  He looked at the wheel as it started to slow down.  He took a deep breath when the pointer stopped on a nipple.

Jasper reached over and rotated it to a penis.  “Fuckin’ A!  Give me those scissors!”

Marcus started shaking his head as he looked at Seth.  “He moved it!”

“I didn’t see shit.”

“No, no, no!  This isn’t fair!”

Jasper leaned forward and grabbed his penis.  “Payback’s a bitch.”

“I beg you, Jasper!  Please don’t do it!”

Jasper started cutting his penis in half long ways, from his piss hole to the base.  Marcus was screaming as loud as a person could scream.  When Jasper had it in two pieces, he cut his penis off at the base.  He grabbed the two halves, then threw them at Marcus’ face.  “Fuck you, asshole!”

Seth handed him the torch.  “Get after it.”

He waved it in front of Marcus.  “My turn to burn your ass.”

Marcus screamed as the flames boiled his blood and burned off his pubic hair.  He was about to pass out, so Seth injected him in the neck with the automatic injection syringe.  Then he gave Jasper a dose.  He looked over at Paul.  “Hey!  You need a pick-me-up too?”

Paul was at his limit.  “I can’t hold on much longer.”  Seth handed Kenneth the auto-injector.  “Go give him a shot.”  He looked at Marcus’ and Jasper’s eyes, noticing their pupils were large.  “Good.  The shit is working.  Y’all ready to continue?”

Marcus was so angry his entire body was red.  “Let’s do it!  I’m ready to fuck him up!”

Over the next hour, Marcus and Jasper cut each other into pieces.  Jasper had lost his nose, both ears, a kneecap, his balls, three fingers, four toes, a nipple and his tongue.  Marcus had lost an eye, bottom lip, both eyelids, two more toes, three fingers, both kneecaps, all the skin on his chest, a nipple and his belly button.  Towards the end, Jasper lost his eye.  Even though he couldn’t see, he wanted to continue.  They had become so angry that Seth didn’t even have to strap them down anymore.  They would take their punishment just so they could have another turn to inflict pain on the other one.  Seth finally handed them each a knife.  They went at each other like savages, stabbing and cutting.  Within a few minutes, they both bled to death.

Kenneth was shocked.  “I can’t believe two friends would do this to each other.”

“Their anger got the best of them.  Plus, the adrenaline and Provigil increased their will to fight.”  Seth walked over to Paul.  He had both legs and his arms wrapped around bars on the ceiling.  “How much longer are you going to hang there?”

He was covered in sweat and his limbs were bruised.  He was very exhausted.  “Please let me out.  I’ve learned my lesson.”

“No, Jasper and Marcus have learned their lesson.  You haven’t given a pound of flesh yet.”

He had witnessed the gruesome savagery.  “I don’t want to die.  Please have mercy.  I’ll do whatever you want.”

Seth nodded to Kenneth.  “Let’s go next door.  The ragheads look bored.”

Rajat and Arul were lying on tables, asleep.  Seth knocked on the window to get their attention.  “Hey!”

They both jumped to their feet.

“Good.  I was worried that y’all were dead.  That would have been a shame to get off that easy.”  He pointed to a tall rack in their room.  “Feel free to go ahead and strap yourselves to that.”

They looked like they wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go.

Seth walked towards the door, then looked at Jim.  “Hey, stinky, keep an eye on Paul.”

Jim was parked in the corner of the room.  He had defecated and his legs were covered in feces.  “You’re going to Hell for this.”

“And make sure you clean yourself up, you nasty bastard.”

Psycho Art

Arul and Rajat were horrified as Seth and Kenneth walked into their room.  They took off running around like scared rats.  They were running into things, crawling under tables, and jumping over furniture as Seth and Kenneth chased them around.  When they caught them, they dragged them to a custom-made rack.  It was made of steel and had two upright sections that stood about seven feet tall.  Seth stood Arul on one side and strapped him in a standing position, then he did Rajat on the other side.  They were facing each other and their heads, torso, arms, and legs were tightly secured in place.  The two sections were on rollers, allowing them to slide towards each other.  Seth slid them together, then sat down on a stool next to them.  “I’m curious about something.  It’s bad enough to cut the horns off a rhino, but why did y’all cut off their faces, knowing they would die a slow and painful death?”

Rajat was cutting his eyes towards Seth.  “No, no.  We didn’t do that.”

Arul agreed.  “That wasn’t us.”

Seth showed them a video.  “These assholes look like you two.”

At the same time, they both said, “That’s not us.”

Seth held up a foreign newspaper.  “I can’t read this shit, but that’s a picture of y’all being arrested.”  He pointed to a picture of a rhino with its face missing in the same article.  “It doesn’t take a genius to know what this is saying.”

They started talking in Arabic to each other.

“Hey!  Cut that shit out!”

Rajat’s demeanor changed.  “You can do whatever you want.  We’re not going to give you the satisfaction of begging.”

“Great attitude.”  Seth walked off, then came back pushing a cart loaded with medical tools and supplies.  “Well, since y’all don’t have horns to cut off, I have something special for y’all.”

Kenneth was sitting in a chair.  He jumped up and ran to the window.  “Oh shit!  Paul fell!  He’s on the belt.  And his dick and balls are hanging from the wire.” 

Seth could hear him screaming as he walked over next to Kenneth.  He pulled up a stool and sat down, then lit a cigarette. “He didn’t succumb from being out of shape or from his feet, so I guess the bet is void.”

“I suppose so.”

“Let’s bet on how long he’ll scream.”

Kenneth sat on a stool to get comfortable.  “Okay.”

“I say fifteen minutes.”

Kenneth was watching how he was being flipped around.  “Shit!  I say only five.”

“The one closer to the time wins.”  Seth started a stopwatch.

Paul was trying to lay on different parts of his body where the sandpaper hadn’t already mutilated his flesh.  The areas that had gotten it the least were still scraped up.  His knees, elbows, hands, shoulders, feet, and hips had gotten it worst, so badly, that bones were starting to show through the missing skin and muscles.  After a short time, there was no part of his body where the skin hadn’t been ripped off, except for parts of his face and head.  He looked like a skinned animal as he desperately fought to get back to his feet so he could jump to the bars above.  His feet had become so ravaged that he was standing on bones and most of his toes were gone.

Seth looked at his watch.  “Nine minutes, pal.”

Kenneth couldn’t believe what he was seeing.  Paul had hardly any skin left and he looked like one of those medical displays of the human body that showed all the muscles.  “How in the fuck is he lasting this long?”

“I gave him two extra doses with the auto-injector before we left the room.  The adrenaline and Provigil is keeping him going like the Energizer bunny and the clotting agent is slowing down his bleeding.”

“That’s cheating.  You should have told me that.”

“If it will make you feel better, then change your time.”

“All right.  Sixteen minutes.”

Seth laughed.  “Oh shit!  His intestines are falling out of his abdomen.”

Kenneth stood up, noticing they were piling up at the end of the belt and cage.  “Damn!”

By now, all of Paul’s fingers were missing.  His head had hit the belt enough times that his ears and nose had been removed, and parts of his skull and jawbone could be seen.  Seth looked at his watch.  “Twelve minutes.”

“Fuckin’ A!  I’m getting closer.”

Paul finally stopped moving as he lay on his back.  He was still screaming though.  When the belt started cutting into his spine, his legs started violently twitching.  A moment later he screamed out for the last time.  Seth looked at his watch.  “Fourteen and a half minutes.”

“I’ll be damned!”

“That’s forty bucks now.”

“I’ll get it back.  But how did you know he would last this long?  Have you done this before?”

“Nope.  I try not to be repetitive.”

“You must know something I don’t.”

“Yeah, I’ve been fucking up assholes for decades.  I know how long a person can last when given certain drugs.”

“Well, that’s just fucked up.  I think that’s borderline cheating.”

“You can come up with the other wagers if you like.”  Seth walked over to Rajat and Arul.  “So where was I?”

They didn’t say anything.

“Oh yeah.  I came up with something special for y’all.”  Seth injected them with the auto-injector, then sat on the floor by their feet.  “I know you both said you weren’t going to give me the satisfaction of begging, but feel free to scream.”  He put in some earbuds, selected an MP3 folder on his phone labeled Mötley Crüe, then cranked up the volume.  He started singing along with the music as he cleaned his surgical tools with alcohol.  When he was done, he picked up a scalpel and started cutting off their toes at the middle joint, making sure he didn’t cut any tendons.  He quickly cauterized the individual blood vessels with a soldering iron as he moved along.  When he had them all severed, he slid the racks closer where the ends of their toes were touching.  He started sewing the tendons of Rajat’s left pinky toe to the tendons of Arul’s right pinky toe, then sewed the stubs end to end.  He did their fourth toes the same way, then their middle, index and big toes.  He then did their other foot the same way.

They had screamed the entire time, but Seth couldn’t hear them as he sang out of tune to the Mötley Crüe songs.  Kenneth was worn out from a long day of chaos and was trying to sleep on a table, but Seth’s singing was distracting him.  He could deal with Arul’s and Rajat’s screaming, begging, and cursing, but Seth’s out-of-tune singing was too much.  He walked over to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

Seth looked back, then removed his earbuds.  “What?”

“Dude, stop singing.  It’s keeping me awake.”

“You don’t like Mötley Crüe?”

“Sure, if it was in tune.”

Seth handed him some cotton.  “Stick that in your ears.”

“Seriously?  You’re gonna keep on even after I told you that you suck?”

“I don’t care.  It’s not like I can hear myself.”

Kenneth shook his head as he walked off.  “What a crazy motherfucker.”  He stuck the cotton in his ears, then lay back on the table.

Seth put the earbuds back in, then started singing again.  He grabbed Arul’s left arm and carefully cut through his wrist without severing the tendons.  When he had his hand amputated, he sliced it open and cut the tendons loose from the bones.  Before he lost too much blood, he cauterized the blood vessels.  He did his other arm the same way, then did Rajat’s arms.  He took Arul’s left arm and sewed the tendons to the tendons on Rajat’s right arm, sewing their arms together end to end, then did their other arms the same way.

Kenneth couldn’t sleep due to Seth’s singing.  He had been sitting on the bed trying to figure out what he was doing.  He walked over and tapped Seth on the shoulder again.

Seth pulled out his earbuds.  He started to speak, but Rajat and Arul were screaming and yelling.  He grabbed their dicks.  “Shut the fuck up!”

They began whimpering.

Seth looked at Kenneth.  “Now what?”

“What were those noodle looking things that were hanging out of their arms?”

“Tendons.”

“Why did you connect them to each other?”

Seth laughed.  “So, when Rajat’s tendons contract, they will pull on Arul’s tendons, and vice versa.”

“Okay.  But why would you want to do that?”

“Because it will be creepy as fuck.  And I did their toes the same way.”

“That’s fuckin’ weird.  And it’s kind of a waste of time when you’re just going to kill them.”

“Who said I was going to kill them.”

His eyes got big.  “Really?  You’ve killed everyone else.”

“No I didn’t.  Jim, Amanda, Aaron, Kim, and Wayne are still alive.  Maybe even Michael.”

“For now.  But what you did to them, they’re not going to live much longer, so they might as well be dead.”

“Speaking of Jim, when are you going to finish him off?”

“I have plans for his ass, so he’s done for now.”

“Okay.  So, what about Brad.  When are we going to start on him?”

“As soon as I’m done with the ragheads.”

“All right.”  He started to walk off, but paused.  “Can you at least try to keep it down?”

“Sure.”  Seth put his earbuds in, then started singing louder than before.  He grabbed Rajat’s penis, then cut its head off.  After he cauterized the blood vessels, he cut a hole in the bottom of it close to the base, then pulled the urethra out so he could still urinate.  Rajat was screaming so loudly that it was drowning out Seth’s music.  Kenneth finally got aggravated at Seth’s loud singing and Rajat’s screaming.  He headed for the other room to get some sleep.  When he walked in, it smelled like death’s outhouse.  Paul’s body had completely disintegrated and the floor around the treadmill was covered in shredded flesh, organs, feces, urine, and bones.  He shut off the machine, then lay down in an old hospital bed.  He thought he was going to get some sleep, but Jim came rolling up in his baby walker.  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Don’t start.”

“Fuck you!  You can’t do some shit like this to me and think everything is going back to normal.  When I get out of here, I’m going to make sure you die a very slow and painful death.”

“I’m so scared.  You can’t even wipe your own ass.  What the fuck are you going to do to me?”

“I’ll hire someone.”

“Your ass is broke, dipshit.”

“I have money stashed in several places.”

“You did, but Seth took care of those too.”

His eyes got big.  “Bullshit!”

“Just leave me alone so I can get some rest.”

He started head-butting the bed as he yelled, “Fuck you, asshole!  You’re going to pay for this!”

Kenneth dragged him across the room and tied his walker to a desk, then put tape over his mouth.  He lay back on the bed, and within a few minutes he was snoring.

By now, Seth had done the same thing to Arul’s penis and had sewn the end of it to the end of Rajat’s penis.  He slid the two men closer, then cut the ends of their tongues off and sewed them end to end.  Horror overcame Rajat when Seth stuck a curved needle with thread in his left eye.  He then stuck Arul’s right eye and pulled the men’s faces together by tightening up the thread.  He ran the needle several more times through their eyes to ensure they wouldn’t be able to pull themselves apart, then tied off the thread.  He did their other eyes the same way, then sewed their noses side to side.

Now that he was done sewing them together, he sliced open the sides of their abdomens and inserted a control box that contained a circuit board, sensors, a lithium-ion battery, and an explosive charge.  He cut holes throughout their bodies, then started fishing a multi-conductor cable inside them by using a long rod.  Both the cable and rod were sterile to prevent infections.  He would insert the rod in one hole and push it to the next, tie on the cable, then pull it through a long section of their bodies.  He ran the cable through their toes that were sewn end to end, through their penises and arms.  The difficult part was going to be at their heads.  He carefully ran the cable through their chests, through their necks, then through their tongues.  He didn’t want to run it through their eyes, so he implanted a magnet in Raul’s forehead and a magnetically activated switch in Rajat’s forehead, then connected four wires of the multi-conductor cable to the switch’s normally open and normally closed circuit to prevent it from being tampered with.  Their heads were touching since their eyes were sewn together, causing the switch to be engaged.  If they were separated, it would send a signal to the circuit boards in each of them, activating the explosives.  He had run the cable in one continuous piece, and it had wires that were opened loop systems, and some were closed loop systems.  Anyone that tried to disable the system wouldn’t know which wires they could cut or bypass.  If the wrong cable was cut, or bypassed, or if the control boxes were tampered with, the explosives would detonate.  The batteries needed a way to be charged, so he ran a two-conductor cable from the control boxes to the top of their heads.  He mounted solar panels on their heads, then connected the wires.  He also mounted a digital readout on the panels to check the battery voltage.  If the voltage got too low, the explosives would detonate.  This would ensure the batteries wouldn’t be purposely allowed to go dead.  He switched on the unit, then sewed up their abdomens.

The final thing now was to let others know that Rajat and Arul couldn’t be separated without the explosives detonating.  He took a tattoo gun and tattooed the information on Arul’s back.  It explained how the system worked.  He designed it where there was no way it could be turned off or bypassed.  It even had sensors that would detect X-rays, cat scans or any kind of imaging.  The two men were pretty much fucked and were going to have to live in a nursing home or hospital like this for many years, unless they died from an infection or from a hardheaded doctor that tried to separate them.  Unfortunately for them, even if they got an infection, or any other kind of illness, they would get treatment.

Seth went into the other room to get Kenneth.  When he walked in he covered his mouth.  “Dude! How can you breathe this?”

Kenneth sat up. “Really?  This bothers you after all the shit you’ve done?”

Seth laughed. “Just fuckin’ with ya.  Come help me load the ragheads in the van.”

“Okay.”

Seth pointed at Jim as he was still tied to the desk.  “Don’t go anywhere.”

He was so mad he was trying to shout through the tape.

Seth locked the door, then they went to the next room.

Kenneth gasped when he saw Rajat and Arul.  They were begging for help.  “What the fuck did you do to them?”

“Isn’t it awesome?”

“Oh my God!  This is fucking sick.”

“Maybe to you, but it’s art to me.”

“Fuckin’ psycho art.  And what the hell are you going to do with them?”

“Leave ‘em on the streets.”

“Why?”

“So they’ll have to live like this.”

“No, they’re not.  As soon as someone sees them, the cops will be called.  Then they will be taken to a hospital and separated.”

Seth pointed to Arul’s back.  “Read that.”

Kenneth read it, then looked at Seth with a disturbed expression.  “You really did that to them?”

“Yep.”

“This is some medieval type of shit.”

“No, it’s not—they didn’t have the technology to do this back then.  It’s more like modern psychopath type of shit.”

“You know what I meant.”

Seth pulled up a four-wheeled cart, then released Rajat and Arul from the contraption.  “Help me get them on the dolly.”

After they loaded them up, they went down to the parking garage and loaded them into a van.

Dicks, Balls and Asses

Seth shut the van’s door and locked it.  “You ready to fuck up Brad?”

Kenneth seemed eager.  “Of course.”  He looked at all the cars parked in the garage.  “How are you going to hide all this when we’re done?”

“I’m not.”

“Someone will find them.”

“I’m sure they will.”

“Are we going to get rid of the bodies?”

“Hell no.  I’m not cleaning up that mess.”

“The cops will find them.”

“So.”

He looked worried.  “Dude, I’m going to be a suspect.”

“It’s all good.  I’ll take care of it, so don’t worry.”

“How you going to do that?”

“Because I’m the Angel of Death.  The cleverest psychopath of modern times, or at least that’s what the newspapers say about me.”

“You’re fucking nuts!”

“Now let’s see how nuts you can get—Brad is waiting.”

They walked down some stairs and into a basement.  Brad was hanging by his wrists and his feet were chained to the floor.  The basement was old and dirty.  It was full of antiquated medical devices, tools, instruments, machines, chemicals, and furniture.  There were a few lights burning around Brad, but the rest of the area was dimly-lit.

Seth lit a cigarette.  “What are you going to do to this black bastard?”

“Not sure yet.”

Brad’s tattooed skin had stiffened up, making it painful to move around.  He was scared as he looked at Kenneth.  “Come on, man!  Please don’t do this!  You already got me back with the tattoo.”

“Fuck you!  I haven’t even begun getting your ass back.”

Brad looked at Seth.  “Please don’t let this happen.  I’m sorry fo….”

Seth kicked him in the nuts.  “Shut the fuck up!  And if you say another word I’ll cut out your fucking tongue.”  He looked at Kenneth.  “Well, he’s not going to torture himself.”

“I know.”

“Don’t just stand there, do something.”

“I’m not sure what to do.”

“Whatever you do, make it creative.”

“Like how?”

Seth motioned to all the equipment laying around.  “You have a ton of shit at your disposal.  I wish I had this much stuff when I started out.” 

He was hesitant.  “I…  I don’t know.  I thought I wanted to do this, but it doesn’t seem right now.”

“What was your dog’s name?”

“You know what her name was.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Roxie.”

“And what happened to her?”

He became upset.  “This fucker broke into my house and cut off her head.”

“Wasn’t there a note?”

“You know there was.”

“Tell me what it said.”

He was pumping his fists in anger.  “Fucking jigaboos must die.”

“So, what are you going to do to this bastard?”

He went crazy, beating Brad like a punching bag.  Brad was screaming as Kenneth busted his lips, knocked out his teeth, broke his nose, racked his jaw and blackened his eyes.  After he beat his face into a bloody pulp, he starting punching him in the stomach until he vomited up some blood.  Kenneth stepped back, then started kicking him in the nuts and dick.  He didn’t stop until they were black and blue.  He leaned over and rested his hands on his knees as he looked at Seth.  “I’m freakin’ worn out.”

He laughed.  “Fuckin’ up scumbags can be hard work.”

Brad was furious.  “I ain’t a fuckin’ scumbag!  And y’all are going to pay for this!  My dad is going to bury y’all’s ass when he finds out what y’all have done!  Even if you kill me, he has connections that will find you!” 

Seth pulled out his phone, found a video, then started it for Brad.  “Check this shit out.”

Brad noticed two men lying in a deep hole.  They were naked and their bodies were secured to stakes driven in the ground around them.  He looked at Seth.  “Who gives a fuck!”

“Keep watching.”

He noticed the men were moving as someone started filling in the hole.  “So what.”  He laughed sarcastically.  “You’re just burying a couple of helpless dudes.  You like it when someone can’t fight back, you fucking piece of shit!”

“You’re not going to find this next part funny, asshole.”

One of the men in the video started screaming out Brad’s name.  “Oh my God!  That’s my dad!”  He watched in horror as his dad and the other man were buried alive.  He glared at Seth as he violently jerked around.  “You sorry motherfucker!  You murdered my dad!  I’m going to fucking kill you!”

Seth put his phone away.  “That’s what he gets for not pulling out of your mother.”

He was so angry, blood and spit were spewing from his mouth as he shouted, “I’m going to rip out your fucking heart!  You’re so fucking dead, you bastard!”

Seth put his hand up to block the spit coming from Brad’s mouth.  “Say it, don’t spray it.”

“Screw you and your stupid sayings!”

Kenneth looked confused.  “Was that really his dad?”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Because he was a crook.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Listen.  It was bad enough he got this punk off after what he did to you, then he had the nerve to let him harass you.”

Brad shouted, “You’re not going to get away with this!”

Seth put his finger across his lips.  “Hush!”

“You’re gonna die by lethal injection, asshole!”

“Say another word and I’ll rip out your fucking tongue!”

“You can….”

Kenneth punched him in the mouth.  “He said shut the fuck up, prick!”  He looked at Seth.  “Why didn’t you tell me you did that?”

“It was four or five weeks ago, and it slipped my mind.”

“What?  How can you forget something like that?”

“Do you know how many assholes I bury in a month?”

“Uh, no.”

“Well, too many to keep up with.  And besides, it’s all good.  He got what he deserved.”

“Who was the other person?”

“Randy.”

“The judge that let Brad off?”

“Yep.”

“Man, the cops are going to be all over this shit.”

“I wouldn’t sweat it.”

“Now I’m really going to be a suspect when they realize Brad is missing along with his dad and Randy.”

“I’ve taken care it, so don’t worry about it.”

“How can you say that?”

“All you need to know is I set up another lowlife to take the fall.”

“How do you know it’s going to work?”

“He’s already pleaded guilty to kidnapping and murder.  He said he burned up the bodies and dumped their ashes in a lake.”  Seth looked at Brad.  “That’s right.  You’re already considered dead.”

He remained silent as he looked down.

Kenneth was concerned.  “I’m confused.  Who is this person?  And why would he do that?”

“Just some lowlife.  I gave him a choice of taking the rap, or I was going to fuck him up.”

“What if he tells the truth?”

“Then I’ll get blamed for this shit, not you.  He doesn’t even know who you are or that you’re involved.”

“I guess that makes me feel better.”

“Then let’s get this party going.”  He rolled a mirror on a stand in front of Brad so he could see himself.  “You ready to be fucked up?”

He started crying hysterically.  “You have no right doing this to me.  And my dad didn’t do anything to you.  You’ve destroyed my family.  How could you do this?  You’re a very bad person.  And you’re going to pay for this.”

“I might pay for the shit I do one day, but it’s not going to be by your hands.  And where’s the tough guy?  The smart ass?  The animal killer?  The racist?  I thought you had some balls.  The way you’re acting now I would have thought you had lost the dog fight.”  He thumped his nut sack.  “Nope.  You got four in there.  You need to act like it.  And by the way, your dad cried like a little bitch too.”   

His attitude changed.  “Fuck you!  I’ll see you in Hell, you fucking piece of shit!”  He looked at Kenneth.  “And fuck you too, jigaboo!  And your fucking mutt!”

Kenneth pulled out a knife.  “I’m going to cut out your fucking eyes!”

Seth stopped him.  “I would save that for last.”

“I want to do it now!”

“If you do, he won’t be able to see the shit you’re doing to him.”

“So.”

“He needs to see the shiny knife blades, the needles, the weapons.  All of it.  The anticipation of pain is crucial.  And he needs to see what you’ve already done to him.  This is a key aspect in torture.  That’s why the mirror is in front of him.”

He pointed the knife at his crotch.  “Then I’ll cut off his fucking dick.”

“That’s a bad idea too.  You want to save that for last.”

“Why?”

“Once you do that, these fuckers have no desire to live, so torturing them isn’t as fun.”

“I told you already this isn’t fun to me.  That’s your thing.  I just want to make this bastard pay.”

“Then calm down and take your time.  You don’t want to kill him too soon or have him lose his desire to live.”

“Okay, okay.  Then what should I do?”

“First, I’d cut out his fucking tongue for calling you that name.”

Kenneth tried to reach in Brad’s mouth, but he was holding it closed and throwing his head around.  “I can’t get it.”

Seth handed him a pair of pliers.  “Make him.”

He started hitting him in the mouth with the tool as he shouted, “Open up!”

Brad was still refusing.

Kenneth stuck the knife up his nose.  “Do it now!”

Seth was getting excited.  “There you go!  Show that motherfucker who’s the boss!”

Brad was pushing his head back.  “Get off me, you fucking piece of shit!”

He shoved the knife in deeper, cutting his septum.  “I said do it, asshole!”

“Okay, okay!”  He opened his mouth.

“Stick out your fucking tongue!”  Kenneth grabbed it with the pliers, pulled back on it, then cut it in half.  Blood was spewing out of Brad’s mouth and running down the front of his body as he screamed.  Kenneth stepped back.  “That’ll teach you to call me a fucking jigaboo!  And your ass is blacker than mine, dipshit.”  He stuck the knife to his neck.  “And say something racist again and I’ll cut your fucking throat.”

Seth laughed.  “That would be doing him a favor.”

Kenneth looked at Seth.  “You have any firecrackers left?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I want to stick some in his mouth.”

“That’s boring.”

“You did it to Amanda.”

“Exactly.  Come up with something we haven’t done today.”

“What do you think I should do?”

“You don’t need my help.  Just come up with something creative and exciting.”

“Should I cut off his fingers and toes?”

“Still boring.  And too close to what I did to Michael.”

“What if I burn him with the torch?”

“I’ve cooked more flesh today than a barbeque cook-off.”

He became frustrated. “Then give me some ideas.”

“You could cut off one of his arms, then sodomize him with it.  Or cut off his ball sack and pull it over his head.”  Seth got excited.  “I know.  You could pull the intestines out of his ass and jump rope with them.  That way you can get in some cardio.  That’s a win-win for everyone.  Or you could pull his testicles out through his dick.  That’s like trying to pass a golf-ball-sized kidney stone.  Splitting his dick in half is also an option.  Or you could….”

“Hold up!  What the hell is wrong with you?  Why does everything have to be so sick?  And why does everything have to do with the dick, balls, or ass?”

“Would you rather have your dick split in half, or be burned with a torch?”

“Neither.”

“Pick one.”

“The torch then?”

“Why?”

“The other is fucking gross.”

“Exactly.  Fucking up dicks, balls and asses grosses out every man.”

“Now you’re being contradictive.”

“How’s that?”

“You said I should save his dick for last.”

“That’s cutting it off.  Even though it can be reattached, they usually don’t work afterwards.  All men know that.  If you just fuck up their dick a little, there’s still hope it can be fixed.  That’s the key to torture.  Don’t take away their hope, at least not right away.”

“I would rather not play games and just make him suffer.”

“Listen.  There’s more to torture than just causing the body pain.  The psychological portion is just as important.  In fact, it makes the physical part more painful.”

“You take this shit way too serious.”

“Why did you seek me out?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you want me to help you punish Brad?”

“Because I knew you would…”  He caught what Seth was getting at.  “You’re right about everything.”

“Finish what you were going to say.”

“I knew you would make him suffer in ways I couldn’t.”

“That’s right.  And that includes the psychological shit, including dicks, balls, and asses.”

The Vigilante’s Handbook

Kenneth understood what Seth was trying to tell him.  “I got it.  And I do want to make him pay for what he did in the most gruesome way that a sick and twisted fucker like yourself can come up with.”

“Now you’re talkin’.”

“Just give me a little guidance here and there.”

“That’s a deal.”  Seth thought for a moment.  “I know what you can do.  Make him disembowel himself.”

“You said I shouldn’t kill him so soon.”

“It won’t.  He can live a long time with his guts laying on the floor.  Only an infection would be the issue, but we’re not worried about that.”

“How do I make him?”

Seth sat in an old chair, then propped his feet up on a box.  “You can figure it out.”

Kenneth released one of Brad’s hands, then started to hand him a knife.

Seth intervened.  “Hold up!  If you give him that he will attack you with it.  Or if the fucker was smart he would cut his own throat.”

“Then what….”

“Here.”  Seth handed him a pizza cutter.  The kind with the wheel.

“But this isn’t sharp.”

“He can roll it back and forth until he opens himself up.  Plus, it will take longer, making it gross as fuck.”

Kenneth held it out.  “Cut your guts out, asshole.”

Brad wouldn’t take it.  Blood was oozing out of his mouth as he mumbled.  “Ew can go uck ewself!”

“Take the fucking cutter!”

“Ick it up ew ass!”

Kenneth got aggravated.  “Dammit!”  He looked at Seth.  “I can’t get the fucker to do it.”

“No one in their right mind is going to cut out their own guts without the proper motivation.  That’s where his dick will make a great motivational tool.”

Brad was filled with rage as he yelled, “Uck ew!  Ew ain’t ouching my ick!”

Seth walked over to Brad and shoved an ice pick in his throat, causing him to gag.

Kenneth held his hands out, palms up.  “What the fuck did you just do?”

“Punctured his voice box so I don’t have to listen to him mumble.”

“Oh.  I thought you were trying to kill him.”

“Nope.  Just get tired of hearing gibberish sometimes.”

“Then why did you have me cut out his tongue?”

“I get tired of hearing these assholes talk too.”

“You’re awful cranky.”

“Just bored.”

Kenneth laughed.  “I bet you hate sitting on the sidelines?”

“Yes, I do, but this fuckhead is all yours.”

“I’ll fix your boredom.”  Kenneth looked around the room to find something he could use.  He found an old cabinet filled with vials.  Some had fluid left in them and some just had a tar looking substance where the liquid had dried up.  Most of the labels had faded or fallen off.  He picked one up that had a dark and moldy liquid in it.  He also found an old syringe with a corroded needle.  He walked over to Brad and showed it to him.  “How would you like this shit injected into your cock?”

Seth smiled.  “Great idea.  That even grosses me out.  No tellin’ what that shit will do to his dick.”

Brad looked worried as Kenneth filled the syringe with the old fluid.  His eyes were big and he was shaking his head while making a weird moaning sound.

Kenneth looked at Seth.  “Come hold his arm so I can inject this in him.”

Brad started reaching out while moving his fingers.

Kenneth was confused as he looked at Seth.  “What the fuck is he doing?”

“He wants the pizza cutter.”

“I haven’t even done anything to him yet.”

“Unfortunately for him, you found one of his phobias.”

He looked at the needle.  “He’s that fucking scared of needles that he’s willing to cut open his stomach?”

“Or he’s going to use it against you.”

Kenneth looked at Brad.  “If you try to use this on me I’m going to inject this shit in your eye also.”

Seth stood up and clapped.  “Fuckin’ A!  That’s what I’m talkin’ about!”

Kenneth handed it to him.  “Don’t get stupid or I’ll….”

Brad swung the cutter at him as he made a grunting sound.

Seth walked behind Brad and grabbed his arm, then made him drop the cutter.  He looked at Kenneth.  “Tie a string or something around the base of his dick.” 

Kenneth found an old pair of shoes and removed one of the shoestrings.  He was hesitant in touching Brad’s penis.  “I don’t want to fondle his junk.”

“I wonder what Roxie was thinking as this fucker cut off her head.”

He wrapped the string around Brad’s penis and started tying it.  “You sure in the fuck know how to push my buttons.”

“Make sure it’s tight.  And I mean tight.  To the point you think it’s going to cut it off.”

When he was done, the base of Brad’s penis was being squeezed so tightly it looked like a joint in a link of sausages, or a twisted joint in one of those balloon animals.  Brad was violently jerking around while making a muffled howling sound.  Kenneth noticed his penis was swelling up and turning blue.  “Check out his fucking dick.  I think it’s going to pop.”

“I see that.”  Seth forced Brad’s head down.  “What do you think of that, pal?  If we don’t remove that shoelace soon, your dick will die from a lack of blood.”

He made a loud “aww” sound.

Seth pulled his head back and held it tightly.  “Pump that shit into one of his eyes.”

Brad screamed as Kenneth shoved the needle into his left eye.  The plunger was hard to push due to the fluid being thick and moldy.  His eye was getting larger and larger as he pumped it in.  By the time he was done, his eye was protruding past his eye socket to the point his eyelid couldn’t close over it.  Seth spoke into his ear.  “Look in the fucking mirror.”

Brad had a grimace of terror as he looked at his eye.  The whole thing was black from the old liquid and it looked like it was going to pop.  A tear ran down his cheek as he moaned.

Seth let him go.  “You have two choices now; you can slice open your belly and Kenneth will remove the shoelace, or let your dick fall off.  Also, we need to get that shit out of your eye before the fluid leaks into your bloodstream.  It might go to your heart or brain and kill you.  It could also cause severe pain in the process.”  Seth held up the vial and looked at it.  “No tellin’ what this shit is.”  He noticed his eye was bleeding.  “Whatever it is, it’s bad.  Check out your eye again.”

Brad looked horrified as he noticed his eyeball was oozing the black fluid.  It seemed to be making his tissue melt. 

Kenneth handed him the pizza cutter.  “I would get to cuttin’ if I was you.”

Brad was panicking as he looked at his penis in the mirror.  He tried to cut the shoestring with the cutter, but it was buried too deep inside his skin.  He dropped the pizza cutter, then tried to untie the knot with his fingers, but he couldn’t do it with one hand.

Seth yelled at him.  “Cut your fucking stomach open and stop screwing around with your dick!”

Kenneth handed him the pizza cutter.  “Don’t drop this again.”

Brad started shaking his head as he tried to speak.

Seth glared at him.  “I don’t give a fuck what you have to say.  Stop procrastinating and get to slicing.”

He held the blade next to his eye, contemplating if he should cut it out.

Seth was pumped up with excitement.  “Do it!  Cut that fucker out!  You don’t want blood poisoning!”

He lowered the cutter.

“You fucking pussy!”

Brad was desperately trying to speak.

“I told you I don’t give a fuck.”  Seth pointed at his dick.  “And I wouldn’t wait too long.  Your shit is turning black.”

He had desperation on his face as he tried to say something.

Kenneth looked at Seth. “What the hell is he trying to say?”

“Who gives a shit?”

“I’m curious what’s so important.”

“Just the same old crap.  He’s wants to say how sorry he is and wants us to give him another chance.  And he’ll make up shit just to get out of this.  It’s the same old song and dance and I don’t care to hear it.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“I’ll bet you a hundred bucks that’s what it is.”

“I’d take you up on that bet, but he can’t speak, so it’s pointless.”

“Sure, he can.”  Seth pointed to his bag. “There’s an electro-larynx in my bag.  Strap it to his neck.”

“What’s that?”

“You know, the vibrating gadget that people with vocal cord damage stick to their throat so they can talk.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen one.”

“It makes them sound like a robot.”

“Oh, yeah.  I know what you’re talking about now.”  As he dug through Seth’s bag, he was shaking his head.  “Why do you carry all this shit?”  There were all kinds of weapons, torture devices, tape, glue, ropes, costumes, and things he didn’t even recognize.  He pulled out a rubber chicken.  “Why in the hell do you have this?”

Seth shrugged his shoulders.  “You never know.  It might come in handy.”

He pulled out a rubber thing, and when he realized it was a dildo he dropped it.  “What the fuck!  I don’t even want to know.”  He finally found the electro-larynx.  “Found it.”  He taped the device to Brad’s neck.  “There you go, ass wad.  Now, what was so important?”

“I’m…  I’m…  What is this?  Is that me?  Hey!  Hey!  What’s going on?  Why do I sound like this?  Can y’all hear this?” 

Seth laughed.  “Yes, and you sound like a fucking retarded android.”

“Make it stop.”  He didn’t like the way he sounded.

“Just be glad you can talk again.  And what were you wanting to say?”

“If you give….”

Seth put his hands out.  “I don’t give a shit.  Say it to Kenneth.”

He looked at him.  “I’m very sorry for what I did, and if you give me another chance I will make it up to you.”

“And how in the fuck are you going to do that?  Can you bring Roxie back?”

“I will give you a lot of money.  I know where my dad hid some.  It’s all yours if you let me go.  And I won’t say anything.”

“Money?  I don’t give a shit about that.”

“I’ll be your slave.  Anything you want done I will do it.”

Seth laughed.  “Now that’s a new one.  No one has ever offered to be my slave.”

Brad started crying.  “I’m serious.  If you give me a second chance, I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

Kenneth was frustrated.  “Seth pegged you right.  He knew you were going to say this kind of shit.”  He picked up a machete.  “Start cutting open your stomach or I’ll chop your fucking leg into pieces!”

“No, no, no!  Please don’t do it!”

Kenneth swung the blade downwards at an angle, cutting his left thigh to the bone.  “Do it now, asshole!”  He swung again, cutting another angled gash that also went to the bone.  “Do it!”  He swung again, and again.

Seth stopped him.  “Hold up for a moment!”  He tied a tourniquet around Brad’s leg as high as he could get it, connected him to a pump with a tank-full of blood, then injected him with a large dose of clotting agent.  He even gave him an injection of adrenaline to keep him from passing out.  “All right.  Now you’re good to go.”

“What the hell is that for?”  He pointed to the tank.

Brad interrupted.  “My leg is hurting really bad.”

Seth put his finger across his lips.  “Hush!  I’m talking.”  He looked at Kenneth.  “I usually use IV bags full of blood, but in this case, he’s probably going to need this setup.  The tank holds fifty quarts of blood, and the pump maintains a pressure of three PSI, which is a little higher than the normal systolic pressure the heart puts out.  That way his body won’t run out of blood.”

“That’s creative.  Did you learn about that in the vigilante’s handbook?”

“Of course.”

Kenneth started to swing the machete, but paused.  “Does that have his blood type?”

“Duh.  Page seventy-two in the book explicitly talks about the importance of using the correct blood type.”

Kenneth shook his head, then started to swing again, but paused.  “Is there really a book?”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit.  You’re just fucking with me.”

Seth went to his bag and pulled out a book, then handed it to Kenneth.  “Check it out for yourself.”

The title read, The Vigilante’s Handbook: How To Fuck Up Scumbags.  The cover had a picture of a man holding a severed head.  He looked closer and noticed it was Seth in a disguise.  “What the fuck is this?”  He flipped to the first page, noticing Seth Coker was the author.  He flipped through the pages.  They were full of pictures and descriptions on how to torture people.  “This must be a fucking joke.”

“Does it look like a joke?”

Brad spoke up again.  “Please stop ignoring me.”

Seth glared at him.  “If you interrupt our conversation again I’m going to sew your mouth shut.”

“But you’re acting like I’m not here.”

“I said shut the fuck up!”

Brad looked down.

Kenneth was confused as he looked at the book.  “I don’t understand.  Why would you write this?”

“Because people like reading about sick and twisted shit.”

“Who in the hell would publish it?”

“It’s self-published, and anyone can do it.”

“Why would you want to?  You’re setting yourself up to be busted.”

“I only discuss methods of torture, medical procedures, drugs, tools of the trade and how to get away with it.  It’s not like I put my personal information in there.”

“You got your fucking picture on the front cover.  And you used your real name.  I think that qualifies as personal information.  I’m surprised your ass hasn’t been busted yet.”

“The fucking cops already know my name, and I’m wearing a disguise in the picture.”

“I recognized you.”

“That’s because you know what I look like, sort of.”

“What do you mean sort of?  I’m looking right at you.”

“Not everything is what it seems.  Page twenty discusses that and how to master the art of disguises.”

“You tellin’ me you’re wearing one now?”

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.  And that’s why I don’t get busted.  Now get back to what you were doing.”

Kenneth handed him the book.  “Do you actually sell those?”

“Of course.  I already told you people love gore.”

Kenneth shook his head, then started hitting Brad’s leg again with the machete.

Seth laughed as Brad screamed.  “Now we’re paying attention to ya.  How ya like that?”

After about twenty blows, so much of Brad’s flesh and muscles had been cut all the way around his thigh they were hanging like a banana peel over his knee.  With each whack, his femur bone became more and more exposed.  Brad was in so much pain he couldn’t think straight as he screamed at the top of his lungs.  He finally couldn’t take the pain anymore and knew what he had to do.  The pizza cutter was laying on the floor.  He shouted, “Give me the cutter!”.

Seth handed it to him.  “You’re kind of a day late and a dollar short, pal.  Why’d you wait until you’re all fucked up.”

He couldn’t grab it fast enough.  “This ain’t funny!”  He started rolling the pizza cutter back and forth across his abdomen.

Kenneth backed away while holding the blood-covered machete.  “Get them fuckin’ guts out before I start on your other leg.”

Brad had a look of desperation as he ran the cutter across his abdomen.  He was having to push really hard just to get it to leave a mark.  Kenneth pointed the machete at him.  “Stop fucking around and cut yourself open.”

“I’m trying!”

Kenneth raised the blade.  “I’m fixin’ to start whittling on your other leg.”

He was desperately trying to cut himself open.  His entire abdomen was covered in so many red lines it looked like he had a road map on him.  “I’m trying, but it’s not sharp enough!  Please don’t do it!”

Seth held out another pizza cutter.  “This one might work better.”

Brad tossed his and grabbed it.  He ran it across his abdomen with the same intensity he had done with the other one.  His eye opened wide when he noticed some of his intestines were protruding out a gash that ran from one side to the other.  He threw the pizza cutter to the floor and tried to hold in his intestines.  “Oh shit!”  He looked at Seth with a worried expression.  “Please help me put them back in me!”

“Jump up and down a few times.  Maybe that will pop ‘em back in.”

Brad was panicking as he thrust his stomach up and down, but to his horror, his intestines started falling out.  He grabbed at them, but they were slipping through his fingers.  “Oh my God!  Please make them stop!”

Seth laughed.  “Slick move, Ex-lax.”

Brad was horrified as his intestines continued to unravel out of him.  They were piling around his feet.  “Please make them stop!  I beg you!  Please help!”  He jerked at the chain that was securing his other arm above his head.  “Let me loose!  I need to put them back in!”

Kenneth looked at Seth.  “This is fucking nasty.”

“Or fucking beautiful.”

“You need help.”

“Roxie would have thought it was beautiful.”

“Uh…  Okay.  Maybe it’s satisfying.”

“Beautifully satisfying.”

“If you say so.”  He picked up both pizza cutters.  “Why did this one work, but not the other one?”

“I sharpened the wheel and locked it in place so it couldn’t spin.  It acted just like a razor-sharp knife when he slid it across his flesh.”

“Why in the fuck didn’t you give it to him in the first place?”

“It was fun watching him use the other one.”

“You never cease to amaze me.”

Sick Bastard

Brad was staring into the mirror.  “Y’all have to call an ambulance!  I beg you!  Please get me some help!”  He was panic-stricken as he looked at his body.  His left eye had swollen so much that most of it was bulging outside of the socket.  The entire eyeball was black and it was still oozing a dark fluid.  His penis was blue, and had swollen to the point it looked like a small water balloon.  The gash across his abdomen was hanging open and he could see some of his other organs.  All his intestines had fallen out except the ends—they were still attached to his stomach and anus.  His leg bothered him the most.  It almost didn’t seem real.  All the flesh and muscles had been removed between his upper thigh and the top of his knee, exposing his femur bone, which had large nicks from the machete.  Most of the flesh and muscles that had been removed were still hanging down, covering his lower leg.  It was so grotesque he couldn’t stand looking at it.  The electro-larynx taped to his neck only added insult to injury.  Sounding like a robot really pissed him off.  He knew if he wanted to make it out alive, he was going to have to come up with something else besides begging.   He looked at Kenneth with sincerity.  His voice echoed in the room like he was talking into a synthesizer.  “I deserve what you have done to me.  I had no right doing that to Roxie.  And I had no right to mistreat you.  If you let me live, I will make it up to you.”

Kenneth was caught off guard.  “Huh?”

Seth intervened.  “Don’t let him deceive you.  He’s just trying to save his ass.”

“But he sounds like he’s truly sorry.”

“He’s just in another state of mind.  He’s already gone through the denial, pity, anger and begging states.  Now he’s just being deceptive, thinking if he can make you feel sorry for him, you might show mercy.”

Brad looked at Seth as tears ran down his right cheek.  “That’s not true, sir.  I am sorry.”

Seth thought for a moment.  “Then prove it.”

His eye got big.  “Okay!  What do you want me to do?”

“Rip off your dick.”

He lowered his head.  “I can’t.”

“Sure, you can.  It’s already being squeezed tightly at the base, so it should easily twist right off.”

“I meant I don’t want to lose it.”

“Then you really don’t want to live.”

“How can you do this to someone and not have any remorse?”

“That’s like the pot calling the kettle black.”

“Huh?”

“You didn’t have any remorse for what you did to Roxie.”

“That’s different.  I’m a human.”

“That proves my point even more so.”

“How do you figure that?”

“In my book, an animal is superior to a scumbag like yourself.”

He became upset.  “Fuck you!”  He looked at Kenneth.  “And fuck you too, you fucking spook!”

Seth looked at Kenneth.  “He’s back to being angry.  I told you he was just blowing smoke up your ass.”

Kenneth was shaking his head.  “What a fucking prick!”

Seth grabbed Brad’s intestines.  “And by the way…”  He cut them off where they exited his open cavity.  “You’re not going to be needing these anymore.”  He dragged them across the room and threw them into a trashcan.

Brad couldn’t believe what Seth had done.  “Those are mine, you fucking piece of shit!”

Seth looked at Kenneth.  “Make him pull out his fucking eye.”

He held out a pair of pliers.  “You can use these.”

Brad shook his head.  “Fuck you!  I’m not playing your fucking games anymore.”

Seth found some lye in a cabinet.  He mixed it with several other unknown chemicals that were in unlabeled vials, filled a large 60 ml syringe with the mixture, then walked over to Kenneth.  “Hold his arm.”

Brad was staring at the large needle as Kenneth held him.  The needle was the largest he had ever seen.  “What the fuck is that?”

Seth held it up.  “Pain.”

“Please don’t stick me with it!”

“Tell me if this is painful.”  Seth stuck the needle into his swollen penis.

“Oh my God!  Yes!”

“I haven’t even injected the shit into you yet.  Chill out.”

“Fuck!  Fuck!  Fuck!  Get it out!  You’re killing me!  Oh my God!  I think I’m going to die!”

Kenneth looked to see what Seth was doing.  “Why is he acting like you’re killing him?”

“All I’ve done so far is stick him with the needle.”

“Damn thing looks like it’s for a horse or something.”

Seth laughed.  “It’s a needle phobic’s worst fear.  That’s why he’s freakin’ out so much.”  He pumped half of the mixture into his penis, then shoved the needle into his ball sack.

Brad was jumping around.  “Please get it out!  Please get it out!  Oh fuck!  It’s killing me!  Please get it out!”

As Seth pushed in the plunger, his sack was filling up.  He refilled the syringe, then shoved the needle back into his ball sack.

Brad was sweating profusely.  “I can’t take it anymore!  Please stop!  I beg you!”

“If you don’t stop whining, I’m going to stick this in your eye.”

“Please get it out!  I beg you!”

When Seth was done, Brad’s ball sack was as big as a softball.  “You’re welcome.”

Brad was looking at his nuts in the mirror.  “What did you do to me?”  He made a strange facial expression as if he was hurting.  “My balls are starting to burn.  What did you put in them?”

“Liquid agony.”

“Please get it out!  I beg you!”

Seth looked at Kenneth.  “I need you to put him in a full nelson.”

As Kenneth held his head, Seth moved the needle close to his swollen eye.  “I need to drain your eye so it doesn’t get infected.”  His eye had become so swollen that it was now hanging all the way out of the socket.  Only the optic nerve was keeping it from falling to the floor.

Brad started jerking around.  “I don’t care about an infection!  Just leave it alone!”

“Nope.  We need to take care of it now.”  He moved the needle closer.

“Holy shit!  You can’t do this!  You’re going to make me have a heart attack!  Please don’t….”

Seth shoved the needle into his eye, then started pulling back on the plunger.  As his eye went down, a dark fluid filled the syringe.  “There we go.  It’s almost back to normal.”

“Okay, okay!  Please pull the needle out!”  Brad noticed in the mirror Seth kept sucking out the fluid, causing his eye to collapse on itself.  “What the fuck are you doing?  Stop before you ruin my eye!”

Seth laughed.  “Your eye is already ruined, dipshit.  Right along with your leg, intestinal tract, dick and balls.”

He started violently jerking around.  “You sorry motherfucker!  I’m going to kill you for this!”

“If you don’t calm down, I’m going to stick this needle in your heart next.”

He shouted as loud as he could.  “I don’t give a fuck, you psychotic piece of shit!  You’ve ruined my life!”

Kenneth was having to hold him tightly.  “Hurry up!  This fucker is getting hard to hold.”

“Really?  You’re twice his size.”

“Yeah, but he’s hopped up on that shit you gave him.”

When Seth had all the fluid sucked out, he jabbed the syringe in Brad’s shoulder, leaving it in place.  “There you go, pal.  Your eye is all better now.”

Brad was pissed as he stared at his shriveled-up eye.  It looked like a raisin that was dangling in the center of his eye socket.  “You bastard!  Look what you did to my eye!  I look like a freak!”

Kenneth laughed.  “That’s why they make eye patches.”

“Fuck you!  You two are going to pay for this!”

Seth thought for a moment.  “I wanna try something.”  He dug through his bag and found a small bottle of green paint.  He filled the syringe, then stuck the needle back into Brad’s eye and began filling it up.

Kenneth was curious.  “What is that shit?”

“Glow in the dark paint.”

“Why are you carrying that around?”

“I like to fuck with the cops sometimes by writing shit at a crime scene.”

“That makes sense, but why are you putting it in his eye?”

“Duh!  To see if it will make it glow.”

“Stop playing around so I can let go of this fucker.  He stinks.”

“The smell is coming from his open cavity.  It’s filled with shit from my cutting his intestines out.”

He started gagging.  “That’s gross.”

“And it’s also from his organs.”

“Hush!  You’re making me sick!”

When Brad’s eye was filled up with the green paint, Seth pulled out the needle, then stuck his hand inside his open cavity.  When he pulled it out, it was covered with a slimy substance.  He smelled it, then put his hand towards Kenneth’s nose.  “Smell this.  I call it organ juice.”

Kenneth let go of Brad, then vomited.  He wiped his mouth.  “That’s it.  Don’t ask me to hold that shit bag anymore.”

Now that Brad’s arm was free, he started swinging his fist.  “Stay the fuck away from me!”

Seth nodded at Kenneth.  “Get back over here.  I’m not done.”

“Fuck that!”

“Just hold his arm.”

Kenneth grabbed it.  “Okay, but don’t get any of that stinky shit on me.”

Seth smelled his hand again.  “Damn!  It does fuckin’ stink.”

He held his hand under Brad’s nose.  “Smell this shit.”

He turned his head.  “Get the fuck away from me, asshole!”

Kenneth was looking at Seth’s hand.  “You need to go wash your hand so you don’t accidently get some of that shit on me.”

Seth smelled his hand again, then looked at Brad.  “Boy, you’re rotten.”

Kenneth gagged.  “Stop smelling it.  You’re making me sick.”

Seth wiped the substance all over Brad’s face, then walked off.

Brad was glaring at him as he shouted, “You’re a sick bastard!  You have no right to do this to me!”

Seth was washing his hand with bottled water.  “Hush, shit face.”

“You’re gonna get yours!”

Seth motioned to Kenneth.  “Come here.”

He walked over.  “What’s up?”

Seth turned off the lights.  “Check that out!  His eye is glowing.”

Kenneth could see a green eye moving around in the dark.  “That’s actually cool.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Brad heard the sound of a camera.  “I know y’all motherfuckers aren’t taking pictures.”

Seth turned the lights back on, then showed Brad a picture on his cell phone.  “Cool eye, dude.  I’m going to put it in a jar filled with formaldehyde when we’re done with you.  I have a special spot for it in my living room.”

Kenneth shook his head.  “Hold up!  You already got Casey and his friends’ ball sacks.  I want the eye.”

“Wait a second.  You got Amanda’s pussy.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Then where’s it at?”

“Still on the floor where you tossed it.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I’m tellin’ you that I didn’t get it.”

“Sure, pal.”

“Fuck it!  You can have the damn eye!”

“Don’t get your panties in a wad.  I’ll do his other eye later, then we can both have one.”

“Now you’re talkin’.”

Brad was furious.  He couldn’t believe Seth and Kenneth were joking around after the shit they had done to him.  “You motherfuckers are going to Hell for this!”

Frankenstein’s Bitch

Seth motioned to Kenneth.  “Hold his arm.”

He grabbed it.  “Now what are you going to do to him?”

“Following up on a threat.”

“I like how you took over.  I knew you couldn’t resist fucking him up.”

Seth laughed.  “I’ll go sit on the bench if you want me to.”

“No way.  You’re doing things to this piece of shit that I’d never think of.”

Seth took the large 60 ml syringe and stuck just the tip of the needle into Brad’s chest.  “You ready for me to stick your heart?”

Brad’s attitude changed and all the color left his face.  “What?”

“You heard me.”

“You can’t do that!  Please, I beg you!”

“I told you I was going to do it if you didn’t calm down.”

He was panicking.  “I did calm down!”

“Really?  If I remember right, you shouted after I warned you, I don’t give a fuck, you psychotic piece of shit.”

“No I didn’t.”

“I guess I just imagined it then.”  Seth started slowly pushing the needle between his ribs.  “Tell me when your heart starts fluttering.”

Brad was horrified.  “Please stop!  I beg you.”

Kenneth was getting nauseous.  “Dude, that’s fucked up.”

“Then don’t look.”

Suddenly, Brad started freaking out.  “It’s in my heart!  Oh my God!  I can feel it!”

Seth stopped pushing.  “Chill out, asshole!  If you keep moving around, the needle might break off inside it.”

Brad became so stressed out that his eye started rolling around in his head, then his body fell limp.

Seth left the syringe sticking out of his chest and grabbed his automatic injection syringe.  He shot him in the neck, then slapped him in the face.  “Don’t pass out on me, you fucking pussy!”

Within seconds, Brad awakened.  He looked as if he was going to throw up as he stared at the syringe in his chest.  “Please get it out of me.”

Seth started slowly moving the needle in and out.  “Do you like how I’m stroking your heart?”

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!  Please stop!”  He looked at Kenneth.  “Please make him stop, I beg you!”

Kenneth was holding him tightly.  “Shut up!”

“Just let go of my arm!  I’ll pull it out myself!”

Seth shook his head.  “That would be a bad idea.  If you do, your heart will start pumping blood into your chest cavity through the puncture hole.”

Brad started crying.  “Why are you doing this?”

“I wanna see what it does to your heart.  And make sure you tell me if you start to have a heart attack so I can give you some nitro glycerin.”

“Heart attack?  Do you think I will?”

Kenneth was just as grossed out as Brad was and he didn’t believe the needle was really in his heart.  “You’re just fucking with him, right?”

Seth pulled out the plunger, causing blood to squirt out the syringe’s barrel.  “Yep, it’s in there.”

Seth walked off with the plunger, leaving blood squirting out of the syringe.  Brad was staring in horror.  “Put that back in!  You’re going to cause me to bleed to death!”

Seth pointed to the tank with the blood.  “You’ll be all right.  There’s enough blood in there for ten assholes.  And the pump will make sure your body doesn’t run out.”

Kenneth was watching Seth mess with the plunger.  “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Sanding off some of the rubber.”

“Why?”

Seth stuck the plunger back in the syringe, then checked its tightness.  “I fixed it so it’ll be loose.”

“For what?”

Seth pointed at the syringe.  “So it will do that.”

Brad and Kenneth had a look of disgust.  As Brad’s heart pumped, the plunger was sliding back and forth, filling the syringe with blood, then pulling it back out.  It started speeding up as Brad looked at it.  He was so grossed out that he turned his head.

Seth motioned to Kenneth.  “You can let him go.”  He looked at Brad.  “If you try to pull that out, remember what I said about your heart pumping blood into your chest cavity through the puncture hole.”

Seth was getting tired.  He sat in a chair and lit a cigarette.  Kenneth came over and sat next to him on the floor.  “Now what?”

“I’m going to chill for a bit.”  He opened an ice chest and pulled out a Mountain Dew and a sandwich.  “You want something?  I brought plenty to eat.”

“How in the hell do you have an appetite after doing all this?”

“Gotta eat sometime.”

“You didn’t even use soap when you washed your hand.”

Seth shrugged his shoulders.  “So.”

“That’s fucking nasty.  You had Brad’s shit all over it.”

“It adds seasoning.”

“You’re fucking crazy.”

“Do you want a sandwich or not?”

“No, thanks.  I’m good.”  Kenneth noticed Brad was feeling his dick and balls.  He yelled at him.  “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I feel like I’m on fire!  What’s going on?”

Seth answered him.  “That’s the lye that I injected into you.  It’s very caustic.  It’s eating your flesh away from the inside.  And no telling what the old chemicals I mixed with it are doing.” 

Kenneth was confused.  “I thought the burning effect of lye was fast acting.”

“It usually is, but the shoestring around his dick has cut off the circulation and it’s numb.  Same with his nuts.  The extra testicles have caused a lot of swelling and his sack is numb too.  That’s why he’s just noticing the pain.”

Brad started thrusting his hips around as he cupped his dick and balls.  “It’s killing me!  Please make it stop!”

“Stop being so dramatic—it’s not killing you.  But if you want the pain to stop, all you have to do is rip off your package.”

“My ball sack is burning worse than my dick!”

“Then rip it off.”

“Come on, man!  Please help me!”

“I can’t.  I’m on break.”

Even though Brad was in a lot of pain, he was also aggravated as he watched Seth sitting in the chair eating a sandwich and smoking a cigarette.  “You demented piece of shit!  How can you act like this is nothing?”

“Because you are nothing to me.  Now leave me alone and let me chill in peace.”

“You bastard!  You’re not going to get away with this!”

“If you’re going to bitch and moan, at least come up with something new.”

“Fuck you!”

When Seth finished his sandwich, he leaned his chair back and propped his feet up on a box, then closed his eyes.  Kenneth was also lying on the floor with his eyes closed.

Brad became irate.  “What the fuck!  I know you motherfuckers aren’t taking a nap!”

They ignored him.

Around thirty minutes later, Brad started screaming so loud that the electro-larynx was popping.  Seth and Kenneth sat up, noticing the lye had eaten away some of his flesh on his ball sack.  Out of desperation to make the pain stop, he was pulling on his sack so hard he was causing his skin to tear.

Seth became excited.  “That’s it!  Rip that motherfucker off!”

When Brad noticed Seth was awake, he let go and yelled at him.  “Please help me!  My ball sack feels like it’s on fire!”

“Don’t stop!  Rip the fucker off!”

“Come on, man!  Please do something!”

“Like what?”

He thought for a moment.  “Can you cut a hole in my sack to let the fluid out?”

“I’d rather watch you rip it off.”

“You’re a bastard!”  He was in so much pain he didn’t have a choice but to rip open his sack.  He sunk his fingertips into the back of it, then pulled forward as hard as he could.  When his sack tore open, a dark colored liquid spilled out, then the two extra testicles fell to the floor.  He took a deep breath.  “Ohhh!  That’s a little better.”  He looked in the mirror, noticing his testicles were hanging by their spermatic cords.  He tried to put them back in his sack, but they kept falling out.  “Oh my God!  They won’t stay in!”

“Of course, not.  You ripped your shit in half.”

He glared at Seth.  “This is your fault, asshole!”

“How do you figure that?”

“You wouldn’t help me.”

“Sounds like you need to file a complaint with someone who gives a shit.”

He started feeling around his penis.  “I need to get the fluid out before my dick ruptures.”

“I guess you’re going to have to rip it off too.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not losing my fucking dick.”  He figured if he could remove the shoelace it would release the pressure back inside himself.  He was struggling with the shoelace since he only had one hand untied.  “Can you at least help me remove the string?”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Why don’t you give me a hand and stop running your mouth.”

Seth started clapping.

“Fuck you!”

“I’m being serious.  If you remove it, the fluid I pumped in your dick will go into your abdomen.”

“I know.  That’s the point, dipshit!”

“If you think you’re in pain now, wait until that shit is eating your insides.”

“You’ve already fucking removed my intestines.  I doubt the fluid is going to make much of a difference.  And you better hope all this can be fixed.”

Seth looked at Kenneth.  “It’s amazing how much shit someone can go through and still maintain hope.  His fucking intestines are in a trash can and he thinks everything is going to be okay.”

Brad shouted at him.  “You don’t know shit!”

Seth pointed to the mirror.  “Haven’t you seen yourself?”

“Of course, I have.  You made sure of that, you sadistic piece of shit.”

Kenneth was confused.  “I’m surprised he’s being cocky.  Doesn’t the fucker know he’s done for?”

“You have to remember the drugs I gave him are having an influence over him.  Between the pain and trauma to his body he would have passed out a long time ago without them.  And in his current state of mind, he’s not accepted his fate yet.  He’s still grasping at straws, thinking he’ll survive this.”

Brad glared at Seth.  “You don’t know shit!  They can fix me.”

“Who?”

“The hospital.”

“They can’t help you.  You’re way too fucked up.”

Kenneth chuckled.  “Frankenstein could put him back together.”

Seth started laughing.  “He could be Frankenstein’s bitch.”

Brad was panicking as he tried to remove the shoelace.  “I need to get this off!  My dick is hurting really bad!”

“Then I guess you’re going to have to rip it off.”

He started crying.  “I told you I don’t want to lose it.  Please call an ambulance.”

“That’s not going to happen, but I’ll call a hearse when we’re done.”

Brad started bawling like a baby.  “Please don’t say that.  I don’t want to die.  I know what I did was wrong, and I deserve to be punished.  You’ve gotten me back and I accept that.  I’ll do anything you want to make this right.”

Seth looked at Kenneth.  “New frame of mind.  He’s now in the pity mode.”

“I had no idea someone could go through all these emotions when being tortured.”

“That’s what I was trying to explain to you about the psychological part.  Fucking with their mind makes the whole physical part worse.”

Tears were dripping off Brad’s face as he looked at Seth with sincerity.  “Please have mercy!  I’ll do anything you want!”

Seth thought for a moment.  “I’ll make a deal with you.  If you do all the shit that Kenneth and I ask, I won’t kill you.”

A feeling of salvation came over him.  “Oh, thank you.  You won’t regret it.”

“Don’t get too excited.  You might not like what we have you do.”

“I’ll do anything to get out of here and get to a hospital.”  He looked at the trashcan.  “And do I get to take my intestines with me?”

“Sure.”

Brad closed his eye as he psyched himself out.  “Okay.  I can do it.”

Seth looked at Kenneth.  “You wanna go first?”

“I guess.”  He walked up to Brad.  “I want you to punch yourself in the mouth.”

Brad hit himself.

Seth shook his head.  “Really?  That’s the shit you come up with.”

“It’s a start.”

Seth pointed to Brad’s penis.  “I want you to rip it off.”

Kenneth laughed.  “Of course, you’re going for the dick.”

“Dicks, balls, and asses.  We’ve already gone over that.”

Brad’s penis had swelled to the point it looked as if it was going to burst, but he still had hope it could be fixed.  “Please don’t make me do that.  Please pick something else.”

“You have to do it.  That was our deal.”

“I’ll do it later, I promise.  Just pick something else for now.”

“Okay, I’ll start off with an easy one like Kenneth did.”

“Thank you for showing mercy.”

“Shove your arm through your asshole.”

Kenneth shook his head.  “I’m not even going to say anything.”

“You just did.”

Brad had a troubled look.  “That’s not an easy one.”

Kenneth laughed. “For this sadistic bastard, it is.”

Seth motioned with his hand.  “Get after it.”

Brad reached behind himself and started to stick his hand in his ass.

Seth got his attention.  “No!  Go the other way.”

“What?”

“Go through the gash in your abdomen.”

“Uh….”

“Do it, or rip off your dick.”

Brad looked away as he shoved his hand into his open cavity.  He moved it around for a bit.  “I can’t find my rear.”

“You’re going to have to find the end of your colon and go through there.”

He didn’t understand.  “What?”

“When I cut out your intestines, the end of your colon is still inside you.”

He reached in again.  “I found the end of it, I think.”   He worked his arm around.  “Yeah, my hand is going through something like a tunnel.”

“That’s it.  Keep going.”

Kenneth covered his mouth when he noticed Brad’s fingers were coming out of his ass.  “This is fucking disgusting.”

Seth pointed to the chain that was holding Brad’s other arm in the air.  “Add some slack to that so he can bury it deep.”

Kenneth lowered the chain, allowing Brad to hunch over and shove his arm deeper.  Brad was in a lot of pain now that he was having to support part of his weight on his mutilated leg.  “My leg is killing me!”

Seth was watching him from behind.  “We’ll take care of that in a minute.  Just keep pushing your arm through.”

“It feels like I’m ripping my asshole.”

“You’re fine.  Keep going.”

When his hand popped out, Kenneth covered his face with his hands.  “This is some fucked up shit.  And why is he agreeing to this?”

“For a chance at survival.”  Seth grabbed Brad’s hand, then started sewing his wrist to his anus.

Kenneth was looking between his fingers.  “Fuck that.  I’d rather have my throat cut before having to go through all this shit.”

“You’d do the same thing if you were in his position.”

“Bullshit.”

Seth finished sewing his arm, then walked in front of him.  “If you want, I will cut your throat and end this.”

Brad shook his head as he was leaning hunched over.  “Don’t listen to him.  I want to live.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.  They can fix all this.  I’ll keep cooperating.  Just make sure I don’t bleed to death.”

Kenneth couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  He walked in front of Brad and looked at what a monstrosity he had become.  His hand was sticking out of his ass, his intestines were in a trashcan, his testicles were hanging between his legs, his left leg was mutilated, his dick looked like it was going to pop, his left eye was glowing, the plunger in the syringe was still moving in and out, and he sounded like a robot.  “Why don’t you just throw in the towel?”

Brad looked up at him.  “It’s okay.  I’m taking my punishment.”

Kenneth looked at Seth.  “I don’t understand this.”

“Listen.  I’ve been doing this for a long time.  The human mind is very unpredictable.  This is just another state he’s in.  It’s survival mode.”

“It’s barbaric.”

“It’s also revenge for Roxie.”

“I think we’re way past that.  You just turned this into a sadistic game for your pleasure.”

“Wow!  You’re worse than a woman on the rag.  One minute you’re getting off on this shit, the next you’re feeling sorry for him.  Make up your damn mind.”

“Never in my wildest dreams have I ever seen anything like this.  You have to give me a little credit that I’ve stuck around for this long.”

“You’re right about that.  Just keep thinking about what he did and we’ll be done before you know it.  Now, it’s your turn to pick something.”

Kenneth walked off, then came back with a hacksaw.  “I want him to cut off that leg.  It’s fucking disgusting and I’m tired of looking at it.”

“You’re the one that did it.”

“I know, I know.  I’m being a bitch.”

“Naw, I think it’s a splendid idea.”

“Good.  Now cut his arm from his ass so I can give him the hacksaw.”

“Fuck that.”  Seth removed Brad’s other arm from the chain.  When he fell to the floor, a brown colored fluid gushed out of his open cavity.  Kenneth covered his mouth.  “Damn, that stinks!”

“You gonna puke again?”

“I’m fine.”  He handed Brad the saw.

Brad did the unexpected.  He swung the saw at Kenneth, striking him in the leg.  Kenneth stumbled backwards as Seth started stomping Brad in the head.  When he had him dazed, he grabbed the saw, then checked on Kenneth.  “You all right?”

Kenneth had his pant leg up and was holding a rag over his calf.  “The bastard just cut me a little.”

“You better put some peroxide on that.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I’m being serious.”

“After seeing all the shit that’s happened today, I’m sure not worried about a little cut.”

“If you knew where that saw has been, you’d pour gasoline on it.”

His eyes got big.  “Really?”

“Yeah.”  Seth dug through his bag and found some rubbing alcohol.  “Use this.”

As he poured it on his cut he had a worried expression.  “Is there something on the blade that will hurt me?”

“Maybe.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The last guy I used it on might have had AIDS.  He was all drawn up and shit and had those AID sores.  The dude before him probably had hepatitis with all the needle marks on him.  And I definitely know one person had leprosy.  She was….”

He became upset.  “I thought you kept your shit sterile?”

“I do.  The sterile hacksaw is in my other bag.  I used it on Jim so he wouldn’t get an infection.”

“Why in the fuck didn’t you bring it in here?”

“Because I didn’t give a shit if Brad got AIDS or leprosy.”

“Aren’t you scared of accidently cutting yourself with it?”

“No.  I’ve had my AIDs and leprosy vaccinations.”

“Oh.  So, you’re safe.  Just fuck ol’ Kenneth.”

Seth laughed.  “Dude!  There’s no vaccinations for that shit.  And I’m just fucking with you.  The saw is clean.  It’s the same one I used on Jim.  Unless he has something, you’re fine.”

Kenneth took a deep breath.  “Thank God.”

Seth nodded towards Brad.  “Fuckhead is waking up.”

When Brad opened his eye and became alert, he started yelling.  “You motherfuckers are going to pay for this!  You hear me?  Both of you are going to burn in Hell!”

“He’s back in asshole mode.”  Seth walked over to him with the hacksaw.  “You have two choices.  You can cut off your leg like Kenneth requested, or I’m going to cut off your arm and beat you with it, and that’s after I make you do some real fucked up shit.”

“You can go fuck yourself!”

Seth smiled.  “Perfect response.”  He picked up an axe.  “Rip your dick off.”

“Fuck you!”

Seth hit his femur bone, breaking off his leg with one whack.  He picked up the severed limb, then started beating him with it as he repeated, “Why you kicking yourself?”

Kenneth was shaking his head.  “Holy fuck!  Now I’ve seen it all.”

Brad was yelling.  “Okay, okay!  I’ll do it!”

Seth tossed the leg.  “Get to it then.”

He grabbed his penis, then let go.  “Please don’t make me do it!”

“You procrastinating bastard.”  He left the room.

Kenneth sat down on a table, not sure where Seth had gone or when he was coming back.

Eye for an Eye

Brad got Kenneth’s attention.  “Hey, man.  I know you don’t want to be doing this.  If you let me go, I won’t say anything.”

Kenneth glared at him.  “You don’t know shit, boy!”

“Come on.  Don’t be like this.  You don’t want this on your conscience.  It’s going to haunt you for the rest of your life.  And all over a fucking dog.”

Kenneth walked off and started looking through the stuff in the room.  A few minutes later he came back with a box full of syringes.  They were old.  The housings were made of metal with glass windows and there were finger holds on each side.  The plungers were rotted and the needles were rusted.  He dumped them onto the floor.  There were about a hundred of them.  “I hear you’re scared of needles.  Check these out.”

Brad was staring at him in fear.  “What are you going to do with those?”

Kenneth picked one up, then jammed it into his side, leaving it in place.  Brad pulled it out and threw it at him.  “Get the fuck away from me, asshole!”

Kenneth found some rope and tied his arm to a table leg.  He picked up a handful of syringes and started jabbing them into Brad’s body as he repeated, “Why are you stabbing yourself?”  He picked up another handful and kept going while repeating the phrase.

Seth came walking in about the time he was finished.  “Thank God!”

Kenneth stood up and wiped sweat from his forehead.  “What’s wrong?”

“I heard you repeating, ‘why are you stabbing yourself’, and thought you were sticking him with a knife.”

“Would that have been a bad thing?”

“Not as good as what you’ve done.  And besides, we don’t want to kill him just yet.”

“Where did you go?”

Seth held up a chainsaw.  “To get this.”

“Why?”

“Motivation, unless numbnuts is ready to pull off his dick.”

Brad was looking at the floor—the needles that were covering his body grossed him out.

“Well, are you going to do it, or do I need to cut your ass up?”

“Just kill me and get it over with.”

Seth tied a tourniquet around the top of his right leg, then started the saw.  “When you want the pain to stop, you know what to do.”  He cut his foot off, then started cutting through his calf.  The pain was so intense that Brad’s adrenaline allowed him to pull his arm from the rope.  Out of desperation, he reached for the saw.  The chain instantly cut two of his fingers in half.  He reached for it again, but Seth moved it back.  “If you lose the function of your hand, I’ll make you rip off your dick with your mouth.  And that’s a promise.”

He screamed out, “I’ll do it!  Just stop cutting me!”

“Then get after it.”

He grabbed his penis and started pulling on it, then let go.  “My hand is hurting too bad.  Can you let me use my other one?”

“Hell no.  I like it where it’s at.”

He started wiggling his fingers as his hand hung out of his ass.  “Come on, man.  Don’t act like that.  It’s not going to hurt anything to let me use it.”

“I said no.”  Seth started the chainsaw.

Brad grabbed his penis and started pulling on it as he shouted, “Okay, okay!  I’m doing it!”

Kenneth shook his head.  “So much for this being my deal.”

“You monkey fuck around too much.”

“I can do it if you give me a chance.”

“All right.”  Seth handed him the saw.  “If he doesn’t pull off his dick, cut his leg into pieces.”  Seth sat on a table and lit a cigarette.

Kenneth revved the motor to antagonize Brad.  “I hope you don’t, because I’ve never gotten to cut someone’s ass up.”

Seth laughed.  “Do it anyway.”

Brad was panicking as he tugged at his penis. “I’m trying!  Please don’t cut me!”

Seth yelled at him.  “If you twist it, it will tear off at the base!”

Brad was dry heaving as he twisted his penis.  It didn’t take too many turns before the skin started tearing.  He screamed out as he ripped it from his body.  “Look what you made me do!”  He threw the severed organ at Seth.  “You can suck on that, you piece of shit!”

Seth picked it up off the floor, then shoved it into Brad’s mouth.  “No, you can suck on it.”  Brad tried to spit it out, but Seth kicked him under the chin.  His teeth bit down on it, causing the built-up fluids in the penis to gush out.  “How’s that taste, you little prick?”

The mixture of blood, the inflammatory body fluids, lye and the other unknown chemicals, created a very foul odor and taste.  The fluid was running out of his mouth and nose, causing him to gag.  Seth stepped away right before Brad vomited.   

Kenneth started getting sick too.

Seth shook his head as he looked at him.  “What’s the deal with the weak stomach?”

“I can handle the visuals, but foul odors make me nauseous.”

Brad was staring at his penis as it laid in a pile of puke.  “Please put my dick on ice.”

“For what?”

“So it can be sewn back on.”

“We don’t have any ice, but I can put it in some formaldehyde.”

“Is that safe?”

“It’ll preserve it.”

“Okay, okay!  Do it!”

Seth found a jar on a shelf.  It was filled with formaldehyde and contained a heart.  He removed the organ, then tossed Brad’s penis in the jar and screwed on the lid.  He held it out towards Kenneth.  “You want it for your collection.”

“I don’t have a collection.”

“Yeah you do.  You’re going to get his eye, and you already have Amanda’s snatch.  And this will go great sitting next to them on a shelf.”

“I told you I didn’t get the vagina.”

“Do you want it or not?”

“You can have it.”

“Cool.”  Seth put it in his bag.

Brad was pissed.  “That’s mine!”

“Speaking of what belongs to who, we need your green eye, so go ahead and pop it out.”

“Fuck you!”

Seth tossed him a plastic spork.  “Use that.  And make sure you don’t fuck it up.  I want to display it next to your dick.”

“I’m not doing it.”

“The fuck if you’re not.”  He looked at Kenneth.  “Cut his leg into pieces.”

Seth held Brad’s arm down as Kenneth cut his lower leg with the chainsaw.  When he had it severed, he moved up a few inches and started cutting again.  He continued doing this as he worked his way up his leg.  When he got to his thigh, Brad was screaming so loudly that he busted the electro-larynx.

Seth motioned to Kenneth.  “Hold up.  Let’s see if he’ll do it.”  He let go of his arm.  “I want that eye, or Kenneth is going to start cutting your torso into pieces.”

As soon as Brad got the spork, he shoved it under his eye.  He was screaming muffled sounds as he severed the optic nerve.  When it fell out, Seth put it in a baggy, then stuck it in his bag.

Kenneth was standing off to the side looking at Brad, thinking how there wasn’t much left of his body that hadn’t been mutilated.  He was lying on the floor in a pile of his own shit, piss, puke and other body fluids.  Both his legs were missing, he had no dick, his testicles were hanging out of him, his arm was stuck through his ass and his body was covered in needles.  His heart was still moving the plunger in the syringe, and his eye socket and severed tongue were oozing blood.  Kenneth looked at Seth.  “How much longer do you think he’ll last?”

“Not sure, but he’s one hardheaded bastard.  I like dealing with his kind though.  It makes it much more exciting when they’re difficult to deal with because I get to try out new shit on them.”

“He looks like he’s done.”

“Maybe, but there’s one way to find out.”  He knelt next to Brad’s head with an empty syringe and one filled with the green paint.  “Let me drain your eye, then inject this into it.”

He tried to speak, but the electro-larynx was broken.

“Is that a yes or no?”

He tried to spit at Seth, but since his tongue was severed, the spit ran down his chin.

Seth looked at Kenneth.  “Nope, he’s not done.  Come hold his arm.”

“Let me kill his ass and be done with it.”

“I thought you wanted a glow in the dark eye?”

“I do, but I don’t feel like hearing him whine and cry anymore.”

“You won’t.  He fucked up my gadget.”

“Yeah, but he’s still making that whimpering sound.”

“I’ll do it quickly then.”  Seth straddled Brad’s arm so he couldn’t move it, then stuck the needle in his eye.  After he drained the fluid, he stuck the other needle in and filled it up, then popped it out with the spork.  He tossed it to Kenneth.  “There you go.  An eye for an eye.”

He stuck it in his pocket.  “Now what?”

Seth picked up the axe and chopped off Brad’s arm, then cauterized the stub.  He handed the severed limb to Kenneth.  “Now you can kill his ass.”

“I would rather use the axe.”

“Yeah, but I told this piece of shit that he was going to be beat with his arm if he didn’t cooperate, and I always follow through with my threats.”

Seth lay back on a table while smoking a cigarette as Kenneth beat him with his arm.  Brad was frantically trying to pull his arm out of his ass as he screamed muffled sounds.  Both of his empty eye sockets were bleeding, and every time he raised his head off the floor, Kenneth would hit him in the face.  Brad was rolling around on the floor, causing the needles from the syringes to break off inside him.  Blood was squirting out of most of them.  Even the one in his heart had broken off and blood was squirting out of his chest like a water gun.  The pump was making a humming sound as it tried to keep up with his blood loss.

Seth laughed.  “He looks like a fucking lawn sprinkler.” 

After about ten minutes, Kenneth was exhausted.  “I’m worn out.”

Brad was moaning as he lay motionless on the floor.

Seth sat up.  “Damn!  That fucker keeps ticking like a Timex.”

Kenneth tossed the arm onto the floor.  “You can finish him off.”

“I have a better idea.”  Seth rounded up a bunch of lye, then dumped it all over Brad’s body.  He also filled his eye sockets, mouth and dumped a bunch into his open cavity.  Brad started flopping around on the floor as he screamed muffled sounds.  He was in absolute misery as the lye burned his flesh and innards.

A few minutes later he arched his back as he screamed at the top of his lungs, then his body went limp.  Seth checked his pulse.  “Fuckin’ pussy died.”

Kenneth sat on the table.

Seth looked at him as he disconnected the pump.  “What’s wrong with you?”

“Just thinking about Roxie.”

Seth packed up the pump and tank, then picked up his bag.  “I’m going to take this stuff out to my van.  I’ll be back in a minute.”

“All right.”  Kenneth seemed sad.

A few minutes later, Seth came back carrying a box.  “I have something for you.”  He opened it and pulled out a black haired, schnauzer puppy, then handed her to Kenneth.

His eyes got huge.  “Oh my God!  She looks just like Roxie did when she was a puppy.”

“I knew fucking up Brad wouldn’t make the sadness go away, but maybe this little girl will help.”

Kenneth turned his head to hide his tears.  “For such a sadistic bastard, you sure do have a heart.”

“Before it gets too gay in here, let’s go upstairs and get Jim.”

He looked at the puppy, and in baby talk said, “Did you hear that, Mitzi?  There’s the smartass Seth I know.”

Seth smiled.  “Mitzi?  I like that.  Good name.”

When they got back to room 227, Jim was asleep.  Seth yelled at him.  “Hey!  Wake up!”

Jim was startled.  He tried to speak, but his mouth was still covered with tape.

Seth injected him with a sedative, then cut the stitches, freeing him from the baby walker.  He put him inside a large duffle bag, then threw the carry strap over his shoulder.  “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Kenneth looked confused.  “What are you doing with him?”

“Taking him home.”

“Why?”

“He has his trophies, I have mine.”

On the way out, they found Michael in a hallway.  He was scooting along on the floor like an inch worm while leaving a trail of blood and feces behind him.  Seth laughed.  “What do we have here?”

He started yelling.  “Leave me the fuck alone!”

“Fuck it.”  Seth grabbed him by the hair of his head and started dragging him down the hallway as he carried Jim in the bag.

Kenneth looked confused.  “What are you going to do with him?”

“Taking him home too.”

“Are you leaving Kim and Aaron here?”

“Nope.  There’re in my van.”

“What are you going to do with them?”

“Something appropriate.”

Kenneth was too preoccupied with Mitzi to care what it was.  When they got to the parking garage, Seth loaded Michael and Jim in the back of the van next to Aaron, Kim, and Joe’s corpse.   Seth whistled.  A few seconds later, Lola, Scar Face and Kobie came running up.  Seth patted the rear floor of the van.  “Let’s go.”

They jumped in and sat down next to Michael.  Seth laughed as he looked at the dogs.  “If he moves, y’all have my permission to eat his ass.”  He shut the rear doors, then handed Kenneth a business card.  “If you ever need me again, there are some phone numbers and emails on there that are untraceable.  And if the police question you about any of this, which they probably will, just say I forced you to do this.  Also, before they ask, tell them I had hacked into your computer and made those comments about Brad and how you wanted the Angel of Death to help you.  Tell them I did that so I could set you up if needed.”  Seth handed him another card.  “They can call me on that number and I will tell them myself.  And I will let them know you fought me tooth and nail at first, but I made you participate, and even made you act like you were a willing participant.”

He looked worried.  “They’re not going to believe that.”

“Sure, they will.  They know how I operate.  And you’re not the first person that’s worked with me that I’ve gotten off the hook, so don’t worry about it.”

He was relieved.  “Okay.”

“I’m out of here.”

They gave each other a half-hug, then Seth got in the van as Kenneth got in his car.

As Seth was pulling out of the garage, he stopped next to Kenneth and rolled down the window.  “Don’t let that nasty bitch rot your dick.”

“What bitch?”

“Amanda.  Her snatch probably has some funk in it.”

Kenneth laughed.  “I’m sure the bottle rocket decontaminated it, so I’m not worried about it.”

Seth smiled.  “I knew you got her vagina.”

Kenneth waved.  “I owe you, brother.”

“Just take care of Mitzi.”

When they pulled out of the parking garage, Seth went one way and Kenneth the other.

A few miles down the road, Seth reached into a cooler to get a bottled water.  He felt something slimy, then pulled out Amanda’s vagina.  He laughed as he said to himself, “Nice move, Kenneth.”

Trophy

Seth took Arul and Rajat to a drive-through zoo and left them on the side of the road next to a herd of ostriches, then took off.  He knew they would be quickly found and taken to a hospital, but it would be funny when it made the news.  He dropped Aaron and Kim off on the doorsteps of a pornography company.  They were unconscious and had a sign on them that read We are experienced porn actors looking for work.  Please treat us like slaves.  And do not call the cops.

When he got home, he stuck Michael in a cage in his basement, then took Jim into a narrow hallway.  It was dimly lit, dusty, and the walls were covered with old boards.  Jim had been bitching and making threats until he looked around, then he got quiet.  There were numerous bodies suspended from the ceiling by wires.  The wires were connected to leather straps that wrapped around their bodies, and they were hanging between six and eight feet from the floor.  Half of them were men, the other half women.  Their arms and legs had been amputated and their heads were inside holes along one wall.  Each person had an IV bag that was hanging on the wall next to them.  The bags were connected to butterfly needles in their armpits.  They were all catheterized, and the tubes ran to a floor drain.  Wiring ran from a control panel to each person.  They all seemed to be dead, but their chests were moving, indicating they were breathing.

Seth wrapped a leather harness around Jim’s body, then hoisted him up using a sheetrock lift.  He secured some cables to the harness, then shoved his head in a hole that was in the wall.  Seth lowered the lift, then clipped some sensors and electrodes to his body.  Every time Jim moved or spoke, the electrodes would shock him.  It didn’t take him long to figure out he had to be still and quiet if he didn’t want to be shocked.  Seth hooked him to an IV bag and catheterized him, then left the hallway.

Later that evening as Seth sat in his recliner in his living room, he admired all the mounted heads on his wall.  He laughed as he thought about what he told Jim, that his animals were deserving.  His walls were covered with human heads mounted on wooden plaques.  Jim’s head was also hanging on the wall.  It was surrounded by a stained plaque with routed edges.  It had a bronze plate below it that read Big Game Hunter.

Suddenly, Jim sneezed, causing him to get shocked.  Seth laughed.  “Don’t worry, pal.  It’ll take a while before you get the hang of it.”

Jim cut his eyes towards the others’ heads, noticing some of them were looking back at him.

Seth yelled out.  “Hey!  Y’all stop moving your eyes!  Save that shit for when I’m not in here.”  He stood up and stretched.  “I’m going to bed, so keep the conspiring to a low roar.”  He left the room.

A man with a long, grey beard looked at Jim.  He spoke very softly.  “If you don’t move much and speak softly…”  Zap!  He got shocked.  “…we can talk.”

An old black woman rolled her eyes.  “You just ain’t…”  Zap!  “…gonna learn, Craig.”

He snapped back.  “Mind your own…”  zap!  “…business, Laquita.”  He cut his eyes towards Jim.  “What the hell did you do to get put in here?”

A few others were staring at Jim, but the rest were looking straight ahead as if they were in a daze. 

He was hesitant to speak.  “Uh.”

“You’ll get used to the shocks.”

“I…  Uh.”

“It gets boring in here, and talking is all…”  Zap!  “…we have.”

Laquita shook her head.  “Maybe he doesn’t want to get shocked.  Your problem is…”  Zap!  “…you can’t keep your mouth shut.”

“Be quiet, Laquita.”  Craig looked at Jim.  “Ignore her.  She’s just a…”  Zap!  “…grouch.”

A man with red hair and a goatee spoke up.  “I can handle the shocks, but the fucking itching…”  Zap!  “…drives me crazy.”

Laquita laughed.  “Oh Lord.  You’re not lying ‘bout that.” 

Jim was confused.  “Why are…”  Zap!  “Dammit!”  Zap!  “Fuck, that hurts!”  Zap!

Craig got his attention.  “Easy, buddy.  It gets worse the louder you speak.  Take your time.  And try not to move your head.”

Jim took a deep breath, then softly spoke.  “Okay.  I was trying to ask why y’all are so calm?”

“We have no choice.  It might take a while, but you’ll finally…”  Zap!  “…adjust to it.”

“Take a while?  How long have you…”  Zap!  “…been in here?” 

“Around five or six years, I think.  But some of the others have been in here…”  Zap!  “…longer.”

Jim’s eyes opened big.  “What?”  Zap!

“I know.  But it could be worse.”

“You’ve got to be fucking…”  Zap!  “…kidding me! …”  Zap!  “…That sick…”  Zap!  “…son of a…”  Zap!  “…bitch!”  Zap!

“Calm down.”

Jim shouted out, “Seth! …”  Zap!  “…You mother…”  Zap!  “…fucker!  Zap!  “…You’re not going…”  Zap!  “…to get away…”  Zap!  “…with this…”  Zap!

Laquita felt bad for Jim.  “Listen, son, we can’t change…”  Zap!  “…the cards we were dealt.  This is your new life now.  You’ll have to make the best of…”  Zap!  “…it.”

Jim started crying as he looked at some of the others, wondering how he could live like this.  Most of them lacked facial expressions.  Their bodies were alive, but their minds were in a vegetative state, possibly from having to endure years of confinement.  Before this, he had a life of riches and had traveled the world.  He would rather die than be humiliated like this.  Suicide crossed his mind, but he had no way to kill himself.  He remembered the comment Seth made about how he had his trophies too.  Oh my God, he thought, I’m just a fucking trophy to that bastard.  Horror overcame him when he realized he was going to live the rest of his life as a display for some psycho’s amusement.

The next morning as Seth sat at the kitchen table reading the newspaper, he smiled as he read the headline on the front-page Man Brutally Murdered in the Most Gruesome Way.  The article stated a man named Joe Sanchez had been mutilated.  He was found hanging from a streetlight in downtown Dallas with a sign hanging around his neck that simply read I won the dog fight.  The article went into detail about how someone had gruesomely altered his body to resemble a dog.  He was covered in bite marks, indicating he had been in some type of fight with an animal or animals.  The police had no leads at this time, but they were working around the clock to bring Mr. Sanchez’s murderer to justice.

There was a stack of newspapers from around the country.  The story of Joe was on the front page of all of them.  Seth had kept his promise; the winner of the fight would make the headlines in every newspaper across the country.

To be continued...

Book Five – The Reckoning

Hardcore

Richard Durban had been looking forward to this day for a long time as he packed up some of his personal items in his cell.  He had been incarcerated in the TDCJ Coffield Unit in Palestine, Texas for the last nine years.  He was getting out early because the prison system was overcrowded, but he still had to serve seven years on probation.

He looked in a mirror as he stood shirtless, thinking how he was in his mid-fifties and had spent much of his life behind bars.  Being in prison was all he knew.  It felt more like home than being on the outside.  This was his fifth time serving, and he knew he’d probably be back one day, but it was going to be a nice change having his freedom for a while.  He rubbed his bald head, then ran his fingers through his long gray and black goatee to straighten it out.  He admired the way he looked.  His arms, chest and neck were muscular.  He smiled as he looked at his tattoos.  He had a teardrop under his left eye and two lightning bolts on the left side of his head.  His neck, chest and upper arms were covered with flames and tribal artwork.  His stomach had a large swastika and his forearms were littered with white pride symbols.  His hands were covered with spider webs and his fingers spelled HARDCORE when he held his fists next to each other.  He got off on looking like a tough guy and being intimidating.

A man came into his cell.  He was just as rough looking as Richard.  “Hey brother, you ready to fly this coop?”

Richard put on a shirt.  “Hell yeah!”

“You got a ride?”

“Yeah.  Couple of buddies comin’ to pick me up.”

“Where’re you going to be stayin’?”

“Headin’ to Houston.”

“Well, make sure you do some partying for me.”

“You know it.”

A guard came to the cell.  “Time to go.”

Richard fist bumped his friend.  “Take care, brother.”

“You too.”

When Richard got outside, two men were sitting in an older, faded-blue Ford Taurus.  The driver rolled down his window and waved him over.  Richard walked up and opened the passenger door.  There was a man sitting shotgun.  Richard pointed to the rear of the car.  “Get your ass in the back.”

The man was hesitant.  “I was here first, man.”

“I’m not telling you again.”

“This is fucked up!”  He climbed over into the backseat.

When Richard got in, the driver looked at his arms and chest.  “Damn, dude!  You’ve bulked up.”

“You know it, bro.  Gotta stay fit if you’re gonna survive in the pen.”

The driver was Jessie McNamara.  He and Richard went way back.  They had met in juvie many years ago.  He had been in and out of prison most of his life as well, and had just gotten out of prison himself a few months earlier.  He looked like a crack addict.  His blonde hair was long and dingy, he had sores on his face, and he looked as if he hadn’t bathed in months.

Richard noticed how skinny he was.  “You still doin’ that shit?”

“You know me.  I like to have a taste every once in a while.”

“Taste my ass.”

The man in the back laughed.  His name was Steve Alderman.  He met Richard in prison around ten-years ago.  He lit a joint, took a hit, then handed it to Richard.  “Nice to have you back, bro.”

Richard took a long drag.  “Fuckin’ A, Bubba!”  He looked at Jessie.  “Go find a bar.”

“We probably should head back to Houston.”

“Fuck that!  I need a drink…  and some putain.”

“We don’t have any cash.”

Richard held his hands out, palms up.  “What?”

“Well, we have a little.  About thirty bucks between us.  I’m not even sure if we’re gonna have enough gas to get home.”

Richard shook his head.  “Seriously?”

“Sorry, bro.”

“Shit never changes.”  He picked up a pack of cigarettes from the center console.  “You gotta lighter?”

Jessie handed him one.  “What do you want to do?”

He lit a cigarette, then stuck the pack and lighter in his shirt pocket.  “I’ll think of something.”

Steve leaned forward.  “There’s a Walmart back in Palestine.  I’ll go in and grab a few things to sell.”

“I don’t have time to dick around with petty-ass shoplifting.  I need some real cash.” 

Jessie looked over.  “I have a few rocks we can sell.”

“Naw.  I wanna party later.”

Steve pulled out a revolver and held it up.  “What about holding up a store?”

Richard pushed his hand down.  “What the fuck is wrong with you?  Don’t be waving that around.”

“No one saw it.”

“Give it to me.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to hear you cry when you blow off your dick.”

“I know how to use a fuckin’ gun!”

He motioned with his fingers.  “I said give it to me.”

Steve handed it to him, then flopped back in his seat.  “This is bullshit!” 

Richard stuck it in his waistband.  “Chill out.”

Jessie started the car.  “Are we going to hold up a store?”

Richard shook his head.  “Too rural of an area to pull a stunt like that.  We’d get busted before we made it out of town.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.”  Richard thought for a moment.  “Head to Dallas.”

“That’s heading in the wrong direction.  Houston is south of here.”

“I know where in the fuck Houston is.”

“That’s gonna waste gas.”

“Just do what the fuck I tell ya!”

“Alright, dude.  You don’t have to get all upset.”  Jessie pulled out of the parking lot.

Around two hours later they were in Dallas.  Richard pointed.  “Turn here.”

Jessie turned onto a busy street lined with commercial buildings, fast food joints and a large strip center.  “Where’re we goin’?”

“Just drive.”

“People are everywhere.  There’s too many eyes to pull something around here.”

“Don’t worry about it.”  A few blocks down he pointed towards a SUV parked at an ATM.  “Check it out.”

Jessie noticed a female was alone as she was using the machine.  “What are you thinking?”

“She’s got her head up her ass and not paying attention.”

“Are we going to rob her?”

Steve was hyper and moving around as he blurted out.  “Fuck yeah!  The bitch is making a withdrawal for us.  Let’s go fuck her up!”

Richard looked back at him.  “Chill the fuck out, dude!  And stop jumping around like a fuckin’ monkey.”

He slouched in his seat.  “What the fuck is your problem?”

“I don’t want a cop to pull us over ‘cause you’re acting like a strung-out retard.”

“That’s fucked up!”

“Just sit there and shut the fuck up.”

When the SUV pulled away, Richard looked at Jessie.  “Follow her.”

They followed the woman several blocks until she pulled into a shopping center and parked next to Dillard’s Department Store.  Jessie parked a few spaces away.  “Now what?”

“You fuckers hang here.”  Richard got out and stood behind the car.  He lit a cigarette, and as he smoked, he looked around to make sure no one was watching.  There were a few people around, but they weren’t paying attention.  The woman was messing around in her vehicle, and not paying attention either.  As soon as she opened her door, he walked over to her.  Her eyes opened wide when she noticed him.  He could tell she was afraid.  Before she could scream, he hit her in the head with the pistol, knocking her silly.  He shoved her down across the front seats, then climbed on top of her.  He started hitting her with the pistol and didn’t stop until her skull caved in.  As she made weird moaning and gurgling sounds, he shoved her body onto the floorboard.  The inside of the car was covered in blood, but he knew the charcoal gray interior and tinted windows camouflaged it.

He grabbed her purse and started to get out when he heard a whimpering sound.  When he looked over the front seat, he noticed a young girl hiding in the floorboard.  She was staring back at him with a terrified expression.  Richard got out and started to close the door, but paused as he thought about what he was going to do.  The girl had seen his face and would be able to describe him.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Richard noticed Steve was standing behind the vehicle.  “I told your ass to stay in the car!”

“Why are you just standing there?  Let’s go.”

He pointed at him.  “Get your ass back in the car, now!”

Steve shook his head as he walked off.  Richard looked around to make sure no one was watching, then got back inside the SUV.

A few minutes later he locked the doors, then walked back to the car.  When he got in, Jessie noticed he was covered in blood splatter.  “What the fuck, dude!”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Jessie didn’t hesitate as he took off out of the parking lot.

Steve leaned forward.  “What the fuck did you do?”

“Got her purse.”

“Yeah, I know.  But why did you get back in?”

“Had to take care of something.”

Steve was suspicious, thinking Richard had found something valuable and was hiding it from him.  “What the fuck are you up to?  You tryin’ to hold out on us?”

“Fuck you!  I don’t have to explain shit to you!”

Jessie looked over.  “Why you covered in blood?”

“I bashed in her fucking brains.”

“Why?”

“She saw my face.”

“You’re one crazy motherfucker.”

Steve laughed.  “Why didn’t you just shoot the bitch?”

Richard wiped the blood off his face with a rag, then looked back at him.  “Really?  Don’t ya think that would have drawn attention?”

“Oh!  I didn’t think of that.”

“That’s why you’re in the backseat.  So, leave the thinking to me.”  Richard dug through the purse and found some money.  He laughed as he said, “Winner winner chicken dinner.”

Steve reached out to grab it.  “How much is it?”

“Don’t fucking worry about it.”  He stuck the wad in his pocket, then looked at Jessie.

“Let’s head to Lubbock.  I have a friend there that we can hang out with for a while.”

“I thought we were going to get some pussy.”

“I was going to get some pussy.  But with that bitch laying back there oozing brain matter, we need to get out of Dodge.”  Richard reclined his seat, then put his arm behind his head.  “I’m gonna take a nap, so you fuckers stay quiet.”

Fuckin’ Psychic

Three months later, a small airplane seemed to be having mechanical issues as it approached a grass runway at a private airstrip in McKinney, Texas.  The aircraft was rocking side to side and the engine’s RPMs were erratic.  As soon as the wheels touched the ground, it bounced a few times, then went airborne again.  Finally, the plane touched down and slowly came to a stop.

A man jumped out of the plane and started yelling, “Dammit, Seth!  You told me you knew how to fly.”  The man’s name was Bret Harrison.  He was wearing a tan suit, had neatly trimmed hair, wore glasses and was carrying a briefcase.  He looked like an accountant.

Seth got out smoking a cigarette as if he didn’t have a care in the world.  He was wearing blue jeans, a brown leather jacket that was zipped up, western boots and a black cowboy hat.  “What the hell are you complaining about?  You didn’t die.”

“Maybe not.  But you could have wrecked the plane.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t.”  Seth noticed the airstrip was part of a ranch.  There was a private golf course, a tennis course, an Olympic-sized pool and a large house sitting on a hill.

A four-seat Kawasaki Mule pulled up.  The driver motioned to them.  “Y’all stop dicking around and let’s go.  Mr. Townsend is waiting.”  The man was big, baldheaded and was wearing a black suit.  He looked like a bodyguard.  He drove Seth and Bret to the house.  When they got inside, Seth noticed how elaborate it was, something you only see in magazines and on TV.  It was obvious the owner was wealthy.

Seth followed Bret through the house.  They stopped in a large room filled with artifacts and oddities from around the world.  Bret looked at Seth.  “Please wait here while I let Mr. Townsend know you’re here.”  He walked down a corridor as Seth looked around.  The room had large, glass display cases filled with all kinds of antiques.  There was a vast collection of weapons from different time periods: ancient, medieval and modern.  There were skulls, bones and jars filled with strange specimens, old medical tools and devices, and things that Seth didn’t even recognize.  The walls were lined with larger artifacts ranging from Egyptian antiquities to rare carnival displays. 

A few minutes later, Bret and another man came walking up.  The man was in his mid-forties and looked like the actor Bradley Cooper.  He shook Seth’s hand.  “I’m Bill.  Glad you came.”

“Nice room.  I feel right at home.”

“I figured you would appreciate it, considering your background.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He nodded towards Bret.  “Of course, you met my assistant.”

“Yeah.  Great fella.  Kinda on the squeamish side, though.”

“I hope you didn’t mind me sending him to pick you up in a plane.”

“Heck no.  I always wanted to fly a Piper Meridian.”

A look of confusion came over him.  “What?”

“Nice plane, but a little bouncy on the landing.”

Bill glared at Bret.  “Really?  He flew my plane?’

He looked down.  “Yes, sir.”

“That’s a two-million-dollar machine.  We’ll have to discuss that later.”

“Sir, he said he wouldn’t come if I didn’t let him fly it.”

“Well then, if that’s all it took to get him here, then I suppose no harm, no foul.  But if there’s any damage, it’s coming out of your salary.”

Bret was relieved.  “There’s not, sir.”

Bill looked at Seth.  “So, you’re the boogieman of boogiemen?  The most notorious vigilante this country has ever seen.  And I have you standing here in my gallery when the police can’t even catch you.”

Seth smiled.  “I guess you’re just lucky.”  He nodded towards the bald man.  “Maybe the tough guy can snap a photo of us so you can hang it in here with all your other shit.”

“I heard you had a sense of humor.”

The bald man frowned.  “You know what, I need to search you for weapons.”

Bill put his hand out, motioning for him to stop.  “No need for that, Rick.”

“But, sir.  He might have weapons on him.”

Seth unzipped his jacket, then opened the front, revealing he had a bulletproof vest covered with C4 explosives.  He also had a dual-shoulder holster with Springfield XDM 40 caliber pistols, a waistband holster with a Kimber Custom Grand Raptor 1911, a tactical knife in a sheath and several grenades hanging from his belt.  He laughed.  “I don’t have anything to hide.”

Rick started freaking out, then pulled out his sidearm and pointed it a Seth.  “Keep your hands out so I can see them!”

Seth looked at him like he was an idiot.  “I have enough C4 strapped to me that it will level this house, nimrod.”

“I’ll blow out your fucking brains before you have a chance to set it off!  So, who’s the nimrod?”

“You are.”  Seth raised his arm, showing a watch around his wrist.  “This detects my heartbeat.  As soon as it stops, boom!”

“You’re fucking crazy!”

“Yep.  And I don’t give a shit either.  That’s a hell of a combination you’re dealing with, slick.”

Bill motioned to Rick.  “Put away your sidearm.”

“But sir, he’s….”

“I’m not telling you again.”

Rick holstered his weapon.  “I think you’re making a mistake.”

“Concern noted.”  Bill looked at Seth.  “My research indicates you’re always prepared for anything.  And I would have been disappointed if you walked in here otherwise.  That tells me I’m hiring the right man for the job.”  He nodded.  “Follow me.  We have some business to discuss.”

Seth looked at Rick.  “While the grownups are talkin’, why don’t you go polish your head?”  He slapped him in the nuts.

Rick glared at him.  “You better watch your back, asshole!”

“I’m sure you’ll be doing that for me.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Seth laughed as he walked off.  “’Cause Bret said you were a fag.”

Rick glared at Bret.  Bret started to say something, then walked away.

Seth followed Bill into a large office.  It was filled with elaborate and antique furniture, medieval weapons, oddities and other unusual stuff from around the world.  Seth looked at the items.  “Nice office.”

Bill sat at a large desk.  “Thanks.”  He pointed to a chair on the other side of the desk.  “Have a seat.”

Seth sat down, then crossed his legs.  “So why am I here?”

“Straight to the point. I like that.”

“Well, I’m sure you didn’t bring me here to check out your collection.”

“Of course, not.”  He tossed him a picture.  “That was my wife Karen and my seven-year-old daughter Emily.”

Seth looked at it for a moment, noticing it was a family photo.  “They must have been murdered.”  He looked up.  “So, who do you want me to fuck up?”

Bill looked surprised.  “How do you know they were murdered?”

“You said, was, when referring to them.”

“How do you know she didn’t leave me and took Emily with her, and I want you to kill her so I can get Emily back?”

“If you did your research on me like you said you did, then you know I don’t harm innocent people.  And you wouldn’t have brought me here unless you want vengeance, meaning their lives were taken by the hands of another.”

“I’m impressed.”  Bill tossed him a folder.  “Everything you need is in there.”

Seth noticed the folder contained numerous files about people.  Each file had a person’s name, pictures, address, hangouts, medical records, background check and criminal record.  “Someone did their homework.”  He flipped through the pages.  “There are about seventy files in here.”

“Seventy-five to be exact.”

“I doubt all these scumbags participated in the murder of your family, so this must be some sort of retaliation against our judicial system?”

“You’re right.  Karen and Emily were murdered several months ago in Dallas by a piece of shit named Richard Durban.  He was with two accomplices, Jessie McNamara and Steve Alderman.  My wife and daughter were going to the mall when these men chose to rob them.”  He wiped a tear from his cheek.  “Richard beat Karen to death and strangled Emily.”  He looked at Seth with a saddened expression.  “What kind of person could do that to a child?”

“An evil bastard.  And how did you know they did it?”

“I have my connections.”

“I see that.  And having the police on your side must be nice.  I don’t blame you for not wanting them sitting in a cozy prison cell.” 

“Fuck prison.  I want this matter handled in a more personal manner.”

Seth flipped through the folder, stopping on Richard’s file.  “This guy just looks like he’s begging to be fucked up.”

“And the worst part is, the piece of shit had just gotten out of prison.”

Seth looked through some of the other files.  “So, what’s the deal with the others in here?”

Bill walked over to a window and looked out.  “Karen and Emily would still be here if our judicial system did its job.  Richard should have never been allowed out of prison early.  He was given a twenty-five-year sentence for robbing a convenience store and shooting the clerk, but only served nine years.  They released him because our prison system was overcrowded.  A handful of pricks on some parole board decided he was rehabilitated.”  He looked at Seth.  “Our system is a fucking joke.  And it’s sure in hell not a deterrent.”

Seth laughed.  “You’re preaching to the choir, pal.”

“I know.  That’s why you’re here.”  He sat at his desk, then pointed to the folder.  “Every one of those scumbags in there has committed a heinous crime against someone and were let out of prison early.  I want you to fuck them up.  You can do whatever the fuck you want to them as long as they suffer.”

“Let me guess.  You want to make an example out of all these assholes while avenging your wife’s and daughter’s murder?”

He leaned forward and glared at Seth.  “I don’t want just revenge.  I want a fucking reckoning!”

Seth’s eyes got big.  “That’s what I’m talking about!”

“Are you interested in taking this on?”

“What do you think?”

“And I don’t expect you to take out all of them since things change.  Just get the ones you can.”

“I know what you mean.  Some of these assholes will be back in jail, or moved, by the time I get my team together.”

“Team?  I didn’t know you worked with others.”

“I do occasionally.  And with this size project, I’ll be requiring several of them to help out.”

“Are they trustworthy?”

“Do you think I’d be hanging out with backstabbers?”

“Of course, not.  And Richard and his two accomplices are priority.  Unfortunately, I haven’t located them yet.  When I do, I’ll have Bret send you the address.”  Bill set a briefcase on the desk, then opened it.  It was filled with money.  “Will this cover your cost?”

Seth held his hand out, indicating no.  “I don’t need your money.”  He held up the folder.  “You’ve already done the hard part.  Everything I need to know about each of these fuckers is in here.  Now I get to fuck up a whole bunch of scumbags without having to waste time researching them.  But I am curious how you were able to get this info.”

“I have a lot of connections in this state, which allowed me to get a list of violent criminals that were released from prison early.  Then I hired some private investigators to research and locate them.”

“I know.  You hired Bobby Smith, Joe Rutherford, Henry Athey, Mike Worley and Tom Shillings.”

Bill looked surprised.  “How did you know that?”

“I know everything.”

“I doubt that.”

“You’re the CEO of a software company in Dallas with a net worth of two-hundred million.  You married Karen in 1991, have four kids: Darla, Nikki, Michael and Emily.  Emily was the youngest and was an unplanned child, but she was the best thing that happened to you and your wife.  Darla is the second youngest and is a freshman at the University of Texas.  Nikki is in her third year of medical school at Yale and Michael has earned his Master’s in Business at Harvard.”

“I’m glad you can do some basic research.”

“When you were three, you had a stuffed bear named Fuzzy.  He wound up getting torn up by the family dog, Hanna, and your mom, Elizabeth, sewed it back together.  You still have the bear.  It’s locked in a briefcase in your safe-deposit box, number 325, at Bank of America in Dallas.  The combination to that brief case is 4970.”

Bill had a strange expression.  He had never told anyone about Fuzzy, or that he had it in his safe-deposit box.  His mom had died when he was twelve and his dad died when he was seventeen.  There was no one else that knew about his bear.  “How do you know that?”

Seth smiled.  “Just did some basic research.”

“You must be fucking psychic?”

“Maybe fuckin’ psycho.”

Bill was a little concerned.  “How much do you know about me?”

Seth shrugged his shoulders.  “That’s it.”

He looked at him for a moment.  “I doubt that.”

“It doesn’t matter.  You should have known I was going to check into you when you requested to meet with me.  By the time Bret landed in Temple to pick me up, I already knew everything about you, your family, business partners, friends, and why you were bringing me here.”

Bill looked troubled.

“Anything wrong?”

He stood up.  “You kind of caught me off guard.”

“I can sense you’re worried.”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re not.  You feel you’ve made a mistake getting me involved.  Perhaps it’s because I might drag your ass into my hellish world.”

“You’re just a lot more perceptive than I would have ever expected.”

“I haven’t gotten away with this shit because I’m insane or careless.”

“Do I have anything to worry about?”

“Nope.  You’re a decent man and your wife was a good person.”

It looked as if a heavy weight had been lifted off him.  “Okay.”

Seth stood up.  “If it’s a reckoning you want, it’s a reckoning you’ll get.”  He held the folder up.  “I’m going to take this and make these assholes wish they were never born.”

Bill tossed Seth a piece of paper.  “Here’s a list of hired hands that will assist you.”

Seth shook his head.  “Thanks, but I don’t need them.”

“This is a huge task, even for you and your team.  You’re going to need all the help you can get.”

Seth smiled.  “My crew will be plenty sufficient.”

“Okay.  But these men have been trained to handle the worst-case scenario.”

“And mine have been trained to pull intestines out someone’s ass and jump rope with them.  And that’s after they’ve done some real fucked up and sadistic shit to them.  I’m talking so sadistic that it would make Satan jealous.”

Bill had a strange expression.

“That’s what you wanted, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then that’s what you’ll get.”

Bill walked around the desk and shook Seth’s hand.  “I appreciate what you’re doing.  If you need any resources, just let me know.”

“Will do.”

Bill walked Seth out.  Bret was in the plane ready to take him back to Temple.  When Seth got in, Bill noticed Bret moved out of the pilot’s seat and Seth sat down.  He shook his head as his Piper Meridian took off down the runway.  Its wings were swaying side to side while the wheels slightly bounced on and off the grass until it was airborne.

The Crew

When Seth got home, he bought a 37-foot, motorized toy hauler off Craigslist.  He took it to a warehouse he owned to make some modifications.  He gutted the back of it, only leaving the bathroom, lined the walls and ceiling with soundproofing material, then covered it with three-quarter-inch plywood.  He installed shackles along one wall and mounted pegboard and cabinets on the other.  Next to the bathroom he installed a large upright freezer to keep bodies in during the trip.  He cut escape hatches in the top and bottom of the RV, then mounted gas and smoke canisters underneath the frame.  Towards the front of the cargo area he mounted two stainless steel, autopsy tables side by side.  He installed a large mirror above one of them and an X-ray machine above the other.

Seth was in the process of loading the cabinets with tools and supplies when his phone rang.  He noticed it was Barry Muller.  He answered, “Brown’s auto shop.”

“Uh…  I think I have the wrong number.”

“Who you lookin’ for, pal?”

“Seth.”

“What are you trying to pull?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know this is Barry.  Why you calling me?” 

“Just seeing what you’re up to.”

“Do you have the cops listening in or something?”

“I wouldn’t rat on you…  I mean, I wouldn’t do it again.  I was just wondering what you’ve been up to.”

“You know, same ol’ shit.  So, what’s up?  You have your freedom now.  Why you calling me?”

“I’m bored.  I wanna come hang out.”

Seth didn’t respond.

“You still there?”

“Yeah.”

“So, what do you think about me coming back?”

“Coming back because you miss hanging out with the most awesome dude on the planet, or is it because you miss fucking up scumbags?”

“Both.”

Seth was skeptical.  “All you did was bitch and moan the entire time.  What’s the deal?”

“I’ve learned a lot from you and want to continue to be a part of it.  I think what you do is important.  Society needs someone that’s willing to make these lowlifes pay for what they do.”

“Sounds like you’re blowing smoke up my ass.”

“I’m not fucking around, and this isn’t a scam.”

“You know what will happen if you try to fuck me over.”

“I wouldn’t do that.  And yes, I know what the consequences will be.”

“If I agree to this, you’re going to have to wear an explosive collar around your neck for peace of mind.”

“I don’t have a problem with that.  I’ll prove to you that you can trust me.”

“Alright.  I’ll give you a chance.  And actually, your call couldn’t have come at a better time.  I was just given an assignment that I could use your help on.”

“What is it?”

“I can’t go into detail over the phone, but this high-profile client wants to get some payback against a whole shit load of scumbags.  In fact, his exact words were, I don’t want revenge, I want a fucking reckoning.”

“Wow!  That sounds fucking awesome!”

“Sure, in the fuck is.  I’ll contact you in a few days with the details.”

Barry was excited.  “Fucking A!  I can’t wait.”

Seth hung up, then went back to loading the RV.  He filled the cabinets with medical supplies and drugs, and hung larger tools and weapons on the pegboard.  When he was done, the back of the RV looked like a small torture chamber.  There was still enough room in the cargo area that he could haul a small vehicle, or several motorcycles.   

A week later, he drove the RV to Corsicana, Texas and parked at an RV park.  Around 3 AM, he unloaded a black, 1985 Toyota 4x4 with a camper shell from the back of the RV, then drove several miles to a residential neighborhood where Barry lived.  He parked down an alleyway, unloaded a two-wheeled dolly from the truck, then walked to Barry’s house.  Seth shook his head when he noticed the backdoor was unlocked, thinking how the idiot was still clueless.  He found Barry sleeping on the couch snoring like a bear.  He injected him with a tranquilizer, loaded him on the dolly, then took him to his truck.

The next morning, Barry sat up on one of the autopsy tables with a steel collar around his neck.  His face was sore and swollen and his head was throbbing.  His vision was blurry as he tried to focus.  When he noticed all the torture devices, he jumped to his feet.  His equilibrium was off, causing him to stumble around.  He was running into things as he looked for an exit in a panic.  When he found a door, he quickly opened it and started to run, but the sun blinded him.  He wound up losing his footing on the steps, causing him to fall on his face.  He started crawling across the ground like a wild animal trying to escape.

Seth was sitting on a picnic table drinking coffee.  “What the fuck are you doin’?”

Barry paused as he looked at Seth.  He was sitting next to a woman and two men.  The woman looked like Stevie Nicks around the age of forty.  She was wearing black leggings and a black wool trench coat.  There was a large black man in his mid-forties.  He had a bald head and thick mustache.  He was wearing black sweatpants and a gray hoodie.  He reminded him of the actor Ving Rhames.

The other man looked to be in his late thirties and was average in size.  He wore blue jeans, a long sleeve denim shirt that was untucked and a ballcap with the Tony Lama logo on the front.  His hair was brown with some gray, and it was cut short.  Seth was wearing blue jeans, a black western shirt tucked in, brown boots and a black cowboy hat.

Barry looked around, noticing he was at an RV park, and there were some people staring at him.  Seth motioned to him.  “You’re making an ass out of yourself.  Get over here before someone calls the damn cops.”

He stood up and brushed himself off, then walked over to the table and sat down.  “What’s going on?”

“You said you wanted to help me with this assignment, so here you are.”

He looked at the others.  “Who…  Uh…”

Seth nodded towards the woman.  “This is Missy.  My better half.”

Seth nodded towards the man wearing the ballcap.  “This is Wyatt.”

Wyatt reached out and shook his hand.  “I’ve heard a lot about you.  It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

“I hope it was all good stuff.”

Seth nodded towards a black man.  “This is Kenneth.”

Kenneth laughed.  “I’ve heard of you too, John Bobbitt.”

Barry looked at Seth with a strange expression.  “What?”

“Yes, they know I cut off your dick.  But don’t worry—they know it got sewn back on and it works…  sort of.”

“That’s kind of personal.”  Barry looked around.  “And where in the fuck am I?”

“A few miles from your house.”

“Why does my head hurt?”

“We all went to a bar last night and you got fucked up.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“I’m sure.  You were wasted.”

He felt of his face, noticing his left eye and lips were swollen.  “What happened to my face?”

“You went fucking crazy and started grabbing everyone’s crotch and saying you wanted to suck them off.  You got your ass kicked a few times.”

“No way!  I don’t believe that!”

“We got grossed out and left your ass there after you sucked some dude’s dick, but early this morning, a truck load of homos dropped you off here.  They said you were an awesome bottom.”

His eyes got big.  “What?”

“Apparently, they pounded your ass all night.”

He looked nauseous.  “Oh my God!  I hope you’re just fucking with me.”

Seth laughed.  “I am.”

Relief overcame him.  “Thank God!  You had me worried for a moment.  So how did I get here?”

“I drugged you while you were asleep and brought you here.”

“Why in the hell did you do that?”

“I didn’t want to risk you tellin’ the cops I was coming.”

“I told you I wasn’t going to rat you out anymore.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

“So, what happened to my face?”

“Uh…  You got dropped when you were unconscious.”

“Dropped?”

“Shit happens.”

“That’s fucked up.”  He grabbed his collar.  “And what the hell is this?”

“The explosive collar I said you would have to wear if you wanted to come back.”

“I see you didn’t waste any time putting it on me.”

“Like I said, better safe than sorry.”  Seth lit a cigarette.  “And what the fuck was that all about when you came out of the trailer?”

Barry shrugged his shoulders.  “I kind of had a flashback and thought all that shit in there was for me.”

“You should have known better than that.”

“Why?”

“For starters, you weren’t tied up.”

Kenneth laughed.  “And your ass wasn’t naked.”

Barry glared at Seth.  “True.  I forgot you like to strip dudes down.”

Seth smiled, sensing some hostility from Barry.  “That’s the sarcasm I’ve been missing.”

Barry looked at Kenneth.  “And how do you know Seth?”

“He helped me fuck up an animal murdering prick.”

“Oh.”  He looked at Wyatt.  “And how do you know him?”

“About a year ago, we took a road trip together.”

“Road trip?  For what?”

“Just did some stuff.”  Wyatt didn’t trust Barry and didn’t want him to know anything about him.

“So, are y’all just hanging out or something?”

Seth stood up.  “They’re helping out with this assignment.”

Barry started feeling uncomfortable.  He thought he would be the only one working with Seth.  “You haven’t even told me what the assignment is.”

“I’ll explain it once we’re on the road.”  Seth looked at his watch.”  It’s 8 AM.  We need to get rollin’.”

Wyatt walked to the RV and started getting it ready to move.  Kenneth grabbed a duffle bag and tossed it in the back of a black, 80s model Silverado with a camper shell, then opened the door.  “I’ll be back in a few minutes.  I need to run to the store.”

Seth tossed him a roll of money.  “Get me two cartons of smokes and some Mountain Dew.”

As Kenneth drove off, Missy gave Seth a hug.  “I’ll catch up with you in El Paso.”

He handed her a phone.  “Use this when calling me.  It’s untraceable.”

Barry watched her drive off in a Maroon, Ford F250 4X4, then looked at Seth.  “I thought you and I were the only ones doing this mission.”

“Mission?  Are you twelve?”

“You know what I meant.”

“Don’t get jealous.  I need all the help I can get.”

“I ain’t fucking jealous.  It just caught me off guard having your other pals coming with us.”

Seth laughed, knowing Barry’s feelings were hurt.  “When you get done pouting, I have your disguise in the trailer.  You need to put it on before we leave.”

“Disguise?”

“Yeah.  It’s so we won’t look suspicious.”

“Is it something cool?”

“It’s hanging in the bathroom.  Go put it on while I help Wyatt.”

Barry went into the RV.  A few minutes later, he came back out and walked up to Seth as he was rolling up an electrical cord.  “I didn’t see it.  All that’s in there is a dress and a woman’s wig.”

“That’s it.”

He frowned.  “You’re fucking joking.”

“No.  That’s your disguise.  And there’s also a bag in there that has some makeup, hose, shoes, a bra with fake tits, and a scarf to hide your collar.”

“What the fuck?  Why do I have to wear that shit?”

“A man and woman traveling in an RV is less suspicious than two dudes.”

“I understand that, but why don’t you wear it?”

“I already have on my disguise.”

“No, you don’t.  You’re just wearing a cowboy hat.”

“My face is disguised.”

“Bullshit!  You look just like you did the last time I saw you.”

Seth pointed to his own nose.  “It’s a prosthetic.”  He opened his eyes wide.  “Colored contacts.”  He rubbed a scar on his cheek.  “This is fake.”  He turned his head to the side.  “I injected Botox into the masseter muscle on each side to contour my jawline.”  He smiled.  “My teeth have temporary caps.”  He touched his right ear.  “And I have prosthetic attachments that change the shape and size of my ears.  And my skin tone has been slightly changed with a special dye.”

Barry looked confused.  “Are you serious?”

“Yep.”

He looked at Wyatt as he was raising a leveler.  “He’s not wearing a disguise.”

“That’s because he’ll be in the back, and when I’m not driving, he will be.”

“Then let me drive and let that fucker wear the damn dress.”

“It’s too small for him.  Missy specifically bought it in your size.”

“What the fuck?  You must have planned this from the beginning.  Is this payback for turning you in?”

“No.  I made you torture those assholes and cut your dick off for that.”

“Why do you keep bringing that shit up?  It’s embarrassing.”

“Listen, everyone has a specific role, so stop whining and do your part.”

“I still don’t want to wear that shit.  I’ll look stupid.”

“Fine.  I’ll call a cab and you can go back home.”

“Okay, okay!  I’ll put the shit on.  But how long do I have to wear it?”

“Probably the whole time.”

He shook his head as he opened the door to the RV.  “And you could have at least picked a better-looking dress.”

As he closed the door, Seth yelled out, “Make sure you shave your face!  And don’t forget to wax your arms and legs!”

A few minutes later, Kenneth came driving up.  Seth was sitting in the RV’s driver seat with the door open.  Kenneth walked up and handed him a bag with his cigarettes and sodas.  “Are we ready to roll?”

Seth set the bag beside his seat.  “Yep.  Just waiting on Barry.”  Seth yelled towards the back of the RV.  “Barry, hurry up!  We have to get movin’!”

Wyatt came up to the front.  “He’s done, but refuses to come out of the bathroom.”

“Tell that fucker to get his ass up here.  We don’t have time to fuck around.”

Wyatt went back to the cargo area and started beating on the bathroom door.  “Hey!  Seth said get your ass up front!  It’s time to go.”

Barry had a hateful expression when he opened the door.  “This shit ain’t right.”

Wyatt wanted to laugh as he looked at Barry.  He was wearing a blonde wig, knee-length floral-print dress, a red scarf around his neck, fake boobs, tan hose, large clip-on hoop earrings and flashy-silver sandals.  His face was caked with foundation, cheeks covered with blush, and he was wearing so much eyeliner it looked as if he had used a Sharpie.  He had gotten candy apple red lipstick outside his lip lines, causing him to look like a clown.

Seth shook his head when Barry sat in the passenger seat.  “What the fuck?  Who in the hell did your makeup?”

“It doesn’t look that bad.”

“You look like a fucking prostitute.  Get back there and redo it.”

“Who gives a shit?”

“I do.  I don’t want a damn cop pulling me over because he thinks I picked up a skank.”

Kenneth laughed.  “Dude looks like a transvestite that got beat with the ugly stick.”

Barry glared at Seth.  “This is fucked up!  Why can’t Wyatt sit up here?”

“I’ve already told you that a man and woman look less suspicious.”

“I know.  The dress might not fit him, but he can wear the wig and makeup.”

“I need him in the back.”

“Fuck him.  Whatever he’s doing I can do it.  His ass can be your flunky.”

Wyatt walked to the front.  “Hold up!  Don’t drag me into this shit!”

Barry glared at him.  “I wasn’t talkin’ to you, prick!”

“Prick?  What did I do to you?”

“You’re breathing.”

“Whatever, dude.”  Wyatt walked away.

Barry yelled at him.  “That’s right!  Tuck your tail, boy!”

Seth started to get aggravated.  “Calm down.”

“Then do what’s right.”  Barry pointed at Kenneth.  “He can sit up here.”

“He’s going to be driving his truck ahead of us to keep an eye out.”

“I want to do that.  His black ass can be your slave.”

Kenneth walked around the front of the RV and tried to open the door.  “Hey!  Get your ass out here!”

Barry slightly rolled down the window.  “What the fuck do you want?”

“Come out here and you’ll find out.”

“You can kiss my ass.”

“You’re a fucking punk!”

“Screw you!”

Seth popped Barry in the arm with the back of his hand.  “You need to chill the fuck out.  You’re pissing everyone off!”

“You know he can sit here just like I can.”

“He’d draw too much attention.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“Stop trying to worm your way out of it.  And go fix your damn makeup.”

“This is fucked up!”  Barry shook his head as he went to the bathroom.

Kenneth came to the driver side.  “I’m going to knock that fucker’s teeth out.”

“Don’t mind him.  He’s an idiot.”

“Why is he coming on this trip anyway?”

“He has his purpose, so just try to ignore him.”

“You must have a good reason, but next time I’m going to punch out his fucking lights.”

Seth laughed.  “I doubt that would do any good.  He’s a hardheaded bastard.”

“Just make sure he stays away from me.”

He looked at his watch.  “Fuck.  We need to get goin’.”

“Alright.”  Kenneth got in his truck and drove off.  Seth followed him out of the park and onto Highway 45, heading north to Dallas.

The Village Idiot

A few miles down the road, Barry came back to the front.  Seth noticed his makeup was toned down quite a bit.  “Much better, but you’re still not going to win any beauty contests.”

Barry flopped in his seat, then threw his feet on the dash.  “Where in the fuck are we goin’?”

Seth laughed.  “You gonna act up the whole trip?”

“As long as I have to wear this shit, I am.  And it’s not fair how you’re treating me.”

“You should have thought about that before you agreed to set me up.”

Barry’s eyes got big.  “What?”

“I didn’t stutter.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Seth put a USB flash drive into the stereo.  A few seconds later, a conversation between Barry and two other men started playing.  Barry quickly pulled out the flash drive.  He could feel the skin on his face heat up and turning red.  “Oh shit!  Where did you get this?”

Seth glared at him.  “I have eyes and ears everywhere.  You should know that better than anyone.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“So, that wasn’t you telling two detectives how you could set me up because I’m your bitch?”

Barry tried to open his door, but it was locked.  Horror overwhelmed him when he noticed the unlock button had been removed.  He started getting upset as he looked at Seth.  “Please don’t hurt me!  They came to me.  I…  I wasn’t really going to turn you in!  I was just bluffing.”

“You’re such a dumbass.  You just don’t know when to keep your mouth shut.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Nothing.”  Seth looked at Barry’s outfit.  “Except for making you dress like a bitch since you act like one.”

Barry looked worried.  “Is this it?”

“I can cut your dick off again.”

“Please don’t.  I won’t gripe about wearing the dress anymore.  Please just give me another chance.”

“Just do your job.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Nope.  I would have been disappointed if you weren’t the same assclown that I’m used to.  And besides, you complete the group.”

“What does that mean?”

“Missy is smart and rational, Wyatt is the good guy, Kenneth is the badass, and you’re the village idiot.  Which isn’t a bad thing since you keep me entertained.”

Barry wanted to smart off, but he knew better.  “You’re right.  I deserve this.  But I really wasn’t going to set you up.  I swear.”

“I know.  If I thought you were, I would have skinned you alive.”

“Then why are you punishing me?”

“For simply making the statement that you would.”

“Oh.  How long have you known?”

“Before you called me.”

“Then why did you let me come on this trip?”

“Like I said, you keep me entertained.”

“So, are we good?”

“As long as you don’t try to pull something.”

Relief overcame him.  “I won’t.  I’ll be the best sidekick you’ve ever had.”

Laugher broke out from the back of the RV.  Barry looked at Seth.  “What the fuck is he laughing about?”

“Probably you.”

“Why?”  Did I say something funny?”

“I don’t fucking know.  Ask him.”

Barry yelled out, “Wyatt!  Get your ass up here!”

He was smiling as he walked up.  “What do you want, narc?”

Barry looked at him with an aggravated expression.  “What the fuck did you just call me?”

“A tattle tale.”

“You don’t know shit!”

“Whatever, dude.  So, what the fuck do you want?”

“Were you laughing at me?”

“I wasn’t laughing at you, I was laughing with you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Wyatt spoke like a kid.  “I’ll be the best sidekick you’ve ever had.”

Barry glared at him.  “You need to mind your own business.”

“Then don’t be talkin’ so loud where everyone can hear your fantasies.”

“Screw you!  You’re just jealous.”

Wyatt laughed.  “That’s funny, comin’ from a dude in a dress.”

Barry was so mad he started stuttering. “Fuck you, asshole!  I’ll beat your ass!”

“Don’t get your panties in a wad.  Seth will still let you suck his dick.”

Barry stood up.  “You motherfucker!  I’m going to….”

Seth hit the brakes, causing Barry to fall into the dash, and Wyatt into him.  “Y’all chill out!  We’re not in fuckin’ kindergarten!”

Wyatt started to walk off, but paused as he looked at Seth.  “I can see why you called him the village idiot.”

Seth nodded towards the rear of the RV.  “Get on back there before someone sees y’all acting like retards and we get pulled over.”

As Wyatt walked off, Barry yelled at him.  “That’s right, boy!  Take your ass to the back of the bus.”

Seth pointed to the passenger seat.  “Sit your ass down before you get your ass kicked.”

Barry plopped in his seat.  “That bitch couldn’t kick my ass if he tried.”

“When this trip is over, you two can beat the shit out of each other.  But for now, everyone needs to do their job.”

“Speaking of jobs, what’s my part in all this?  And don’t say wearing a fucking dress.”

“Wearing a fucking dress so we don’t look suspicious.”

“Dammit!  I wish you would be serious for once.”

“I’ll let you know when the time comes.”

“So, you’re keeping everyone in the dark?”

“No, they know their parts.”

“That’s not fair.”

“You’re just too unpredictable.  What else am I supposed to do?”

“That’s bullshit!”  He pointed towards the back.  “So, that fucker is predictable and I’m not?”

“Yep.”

“What the fuck is his job besides siting back there eavesdropping?”

“Outside of helping with the scumbags, to drive the RV when I’m not.”

“What about the black fucker?”

“You mean Kenneth?”

“What other black fucker are you working with?”

“You’re just asking for a beatin’.”

“I’m not scared of his ass.  And what makes him so special?”

“Right now, he’s staying ahead of us to keep an eye out for cops and traffic jams.  If we get pulled over, he’ll come back and get the cop off our ass.  He’ll also be rounding up scumbags since he likes the hunt more than the kill.”

“What do you mean he likes the hunt more than the kill?”

“Kenneth likes the adrenaline rush of hunting them, but not the torture end of it.”

“I’m not scared to do either one.  And how in the fuck is he going to get a cop off our ass if we get pulled over?”

“Whatever it takes.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I don’t know.  Maybe he’ll wave his dick out the window.”

“Yeah, right.  So, what about Missy?”

“What about her?”

“What’s her job?”

“She’s going to meet up with us later.”

“For what?”

“She wants to help fuck up the sex offenders we’re rounding up between Lubbock and El Paso.  Then after that, I’m not sure.”

“Really?  She’s actually going to be a part of this?”

“Of course.”

“You never cease to amaze me.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“How you talk people into doing your dirty work.”

Seth knew Barry was just trying to push his buttons.  “I didn’t talk anyone into shit.  They volunteered to help since there’re so many scumbags.”

“And how many would that be?”

“I have files for seventy-five of them.”

“How in the fuck are we going to round up that many?”

“We’re not.  We’re only going after the easier ones.  And some of them will be locked up again before we have a chance to get them.”

“That’s still a lot.  So, who is this person we’re working for?”

“We’re not working for anyone.”  Seth explained the situation to him, leaving out Bill’s name and some of the sensitive details.

“So where are we going first?”

“The Dallas Fort Worth area to pick up Andrew Hall and Gus Morgan.”

“Then where are we going?”

“Down the road.”

“I know that, but where?”

“You’ll see when we get there.”

“Did you not plan this out?”

“Naw.  Too stupid.  Just gonna drive around ‘til I find one or two of ‘em.”

“I know better than that.”

“Of course, I’ve planned everything out.”  Seth held up a map of Texas.  “I’ve also marked our route on here.  It has all the locations where we’re picking up scumbags.”  He folded it up and stuck it in his shirt pocket.

“Can I see it?”

“You just did.”

“Not very good.”

“Good enough.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“Not at all.”

“Has Wyatt and Kenneth seen the map?”

“They both have a copy.”

“Of course, they do!”

Beavis and Butt-Head

An hour later, Seth exited the highway about twenty minutes from Dallas and headed down a rural road.  “Wyatt!”  He yelled.

Wyatt walked up and stood between the seats.  “What’s up?”

“You ready?”

“Yep.”

Barry looked confused.  “Ready for what?”

Seth looked at him.  “We’re meeting Kenneth a few miles down the road.   I’m going with him to get Andrew and Gus while you and Wyatt drive to Denton.  We’ll catch up with y’all later at Lucky’s RV Park.”

“When did you decide to do this?”

“About a month ago.”

“Oh.”

“I’ve already told you, I’ve laid out our trip.”

Barry looked at Wyatt.  “I guess you already knew about this?”

“Yep.”

“That’s fucked up.  Everyone knows what’s going on but me.”

Wyatt laughed.  “That’s what ya get for being a snitch.”

“Fuck you, prick!”

Seth intervened before they got into it.  “Hey!  You two better get your shit together and not fuck this up.”

Wyatt nodded.  “You can trust me.  And don’t worry about Barry.  I’ll keep him in line.”

Barry glared at Wyatt.  “You’re not my fuckin’ daddy!”

“Y’all chill out!”  Seth pulled over.  Kenneth was parked on the side of the road.  “You two better act right.”  He went to the back and grabbed a duffle bag, then ran to the truck.  As Kenneth drove off, Wyatt turned the RV around and took off back towards the highway.  Barry was upset, feeling like he was being mistreated.  “If I knew this was how y’all were going to treat me, I wouldn’t have volunteered to come on the trip.”

Wyatt wanted to laugh.  “Dude, stop acting like a bitch.”

“I’m not a fucking bitch!  And you better stop insulting me if you know what’s good for you.”

“Seth told me how you like to whine and moan.  I just hope you don’t do that shit the entire time.”

“Just keep your eyes on the road and shut up!”

“You shut up.”

“Make me, asshole!”

“Screw you, fuckhut!”

“Fuckhut?”

“Yeah.  Because you like takin’ it in the ass.”

Barry started punching Wyatt in the side of the head.  When he fought back, the RV swerved.  He tried to get the vehicle stable, but he over corrected, causing it to go off the road to the right.  Grass was being thrown on the windshield as he drove through the median.  He was pressing the brakes as hard as he could, but the heavy vehicle wasn’t slowing down as the tires slid across the slick vegetation.  It seemed like it was never going to stop as it crossed the median.  When the tires hit the asphalt on the access road, the RV violently bounced, then spun around 180 degrees before coming to a stop.  Wyatt’s eyes were huge as he tightly gripped the steering wheel.

Barry looked scared.  “Oh my God!  Seth is going to kill you for this!”

Wyatt glared at him.  “This is your fault, asshole!”

“Don’t blame me for this shit!  You’re the one driving!”

“You were hitting me, you fucking prick!”

“You started it!”

“Bullshit!  You’ve been acting like a spoiled brat since you got here.”

“Keep running your mouth and see what happens!”

“I don’t have time for your shit.”  He turned the RV around and took off.  As he drove, he noticed everything seemed to be okay.  “You better be glad nothing got broke.”

“You’re the one that better be glad.”

“You’re such a prick.  I’m surprised Seth even lets you be his bitch.”

“Fuck you!”  Barry stood up.  “I’m going to the back.”

“Seth said you have to stay up here.”

“Fuck him too.”  He walked off.

About an hour later, Wyatt pulled into Lucky’s RV Park.  While he was in the office signing in, he noticed through a window that Barry had come back to the front of the RV.  His wig was crooked and his makeup was smeared.  Wyatt was worried someone might see him, so he quickly finished, then walked up to Barry’s door and opened it.  “Dude!  You’re fucking wig is jacked and your makeup is fucked up.  Get in the back before someone sees your ass.”

Barry leaned back in his seat and tossed his feet on the dash.  “I don’t give a fuck.”

“You’re a fucking idiot!”  Wyatt slammed the door shut and got in on the driver side.  “Your attitude is going to get us busted.”

Barry was looking out his window.  “Don’t talk to me, asshole.”

Wyatt drove to the RV site and parked.  “What’s your problem?”

“Fuck off!”

He noticed Barry’s mascara had run.  “Are you crying?”

“No.”

“Then why is your makeup running?”

“’Cause I was doin’ pushups in the back.”

“Yeah, right.  You were probably jacking off and got jizz all over your face.”

“Screw you, golden boy!”

“Golden boy?  What the fuck does that mean?”

“Means you’re Seth’s bitch.”

Wyatt laughed.  “How do you figure that?  You’re the one wearing a fucking dress and explosive collar around your neck.”

Barry came out of his seat and jumped on Wyatt like a rabid monkey.  They both went at it, wrestling and punching each other like crazed maniacs.

Around 3 PM, Seth and Kenneth pulled up.  When they walked into the RV, they noticed the cargo area was a mess.  Barry was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall.  His dress was torn in numerous places and his wig was lying next to him.  His makeup was smeared all over his head and neck, and his face was covered in dried blood.  He had pieces of bloody tissue paper sticking out of his nostrils, his bottom lip was busted open and his right eye was almost swollen shut.  He looked like a prostitute that had been beaten with a club.  Wyatt was sitting on one of the autopsy tables.  He wasn’t wearing his shirt or ballcap.  His torso, arms, neck and face were covered in scratches and he had patches of hair missing from his head.

Seth was shocked as he looked at them.  “What the fuck have y’all done?”

Kenneth started laughing.  “Looks like they had been on fire, and someone tried to put it out with a bicycle chain.”

Seth was aggravated as he glared at Wyatt.  “I expect this kind of shit from Elmer over there, but not from you.”

He stood up.  “I know, but the fucker knows how to push my buttons.  I’ve never been around such a fucking asshole in my entire life.”

Barry became pissed.  “Fuck you!  You’re the one who wrecked the RV!”

Seth’s eyes got big.  “What?”

Wyatt shook his head.  “It’s not what you think.  I just ran off the road.  Everything is fine.”

Barry laughed sarcastically.  “Ran off the road, my ass.  He fuckin’ plowed across a grass median doin’ seventy, then the RV spun around several times like a fuckin’ merry-go-round.”

Wyatt glared at him.  “It only did a 180, you fucking asshole!  And you’re the one who was punching me in the head and caused me to run off the road!”

“That’s a lie!  I didn’t touch you!”

“Don’t call me a liar!”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“Beat your ass again!”

Barry stood up.  “Beat my ass again?  You got your ass kicked!”

“All you did was pull my hair and scratch like a girl, you fucking cunt!”

“I got your fucking cunt!”  He started walking towards Wyatt.

Seth intervened.  “Y’all fucking chill out!  Enough is enough!”

Barry paused and pointed at Wyatt.  “But that motherfucker there is pissing me off!”

“I said that’s enough!  Go sit back down before I give you a reason to be pissed.”

Barry sat on the floor and crossed his arms.  “This ain’t fair.”

Kenneth was smiling.  “This is some funny shit.  Maybe you need to get Beavis and Butt-Head a babysitter.”

Seth looked at Barry and Wyatt.  “You two need to get your shit together.”  He looked at all the stuff they had knocked off the walls.  “And get my tools picked up.  This isn’t a daycare.”  He looked at Kenneth.  “Let’s go get the scumbags out of the truck before I wring their necks.”  He and Kenneth walked out of the RV.

Wyatt glared at Barry.  “Thanks, Elmer.  Now he’s mad at me.”

“Don’t call me Elmer.”

“You didn’t get mad when Seth said it.”

“That’s Seth.  Not some asshat.”

“I got your asshat, Elmerrrr.”

Barry stood up.  “Say it again!  I dare you!”

“Elmer, Elmer, Elmer!”

“You son of a bitch!”  He charged Wyatt.

A few minutes later, Seth and Kenneth came into the RV dragging two large bags.  Seth noticed Wyatt had put on a shirt and was picking up the mess, but Barry was sitting on the floor with his head down.  Seth pointed at Barry as he looked at Wyatt.  “Why isn’t he helping you?”

He shrugged his shoulders.  “I don’t know.  I guess he’s asleep.”

Seth walked over to Barry and nudged him with his foot.  “Hey!” 

He didn’t move.

He nudged him again.  “Hey!  Get your ass up!  We have shit to do!”

Barry slowly raised his head, revealing his face was covered in fresh blood.  He seemed incoherent as snot ran out of his nose.  “Where am I?  What’s going on?”

Seth glared at Wyatt.  “Something you want to tell me?”

He shook his head.  “Not really.”

Seth was aggravated.  “What the fuck is wrong with you two?  I can’t believe y’all are behaving this way.”

Wyatt was embarrassed.  “I’m sorry.  I don’t know what came over me.”

Seth knew how Barry’s attitude could be provoking at times.  “I know Elmer can be a prick sometimes, but don’t let him get the best of you.”

Barry was mad.  “That’s fucked up!”

“What’s fucked up is your disguise.  Go fix yourself up.”

Barry stomped his feet as he walked towards the bathroom.

“And make sure you put on plenty of base to hide your fucking bruises.”

He slammed the door shut.

Drag Queen

Seth and Kenneth laid the bags on the autopsy tables.  Wyatt watched as they opened them, revealing two men.  One was redheaded, looked to be in his late-twenties and slightly overweight.  He was wearing a black, Metallica t-shirt and dirty blue jeans.  His arms and neck were riddled with poor quality tattoos.  The other man looked to be in his early thirties.  His head was shaved and he had a thick, black goatee.  He was wearing dark gray shorts and a white, Gold’s Gym muscle shirt.  It was obvious he worked out, but only his upper body.  He was apparently one of those guys that was too lazy to work his lower body, allowing himself to have a big upper body with bird legs.

A few minutes later, Barry came out of the bathroom.  His blonde wig was crooked on his head and he was wearing so much makeup he looked like a hooker.  He walked up and looked at the men.  “Who are these fucking assholes?”

Seth looked at him.  “Really?  You look like a fuckin’ drag queen that got beat with an ugly stick.”

“Who gives a shit?”

Seth shook his head.  He knew it was pointless to argue with him.  He pointed to Gus.  “Mr. Muscles is Gus Morgan.  He raped and killed his girlfriend when she tried to leave him for cheating on her.  The redheaded fuck is Andrew Hall.  He raped and murdered a woman during a home burglary.”

“Where did you find them at?”

“Andrew was at his house, and Gus was hanging out in his favorite bar.”

Barry noticed they weren’t moving and their eyes were open.  “Are they dead?”

“Nope.  I injected them with pentobarbital.”

Wyatt had a confused look.  “Hold up.  Isn’t that the same shit used in lethal injection?”

“Sometimes.”

“Are you trying to kill them?”

“It’s only deadly in high dosages.”

“So, they’re going to be okay?”

“Yeah, unless the pentobarbital caused brain damage.”

Barry popped off with a sarcastic tone.  “I’m surprised you risked it.  I know how you like fucking with people.  You won’t be able to humiliate them if they’re brain dead.”

Seth tossed him a razor knife.  “I need you to cut their clothes off.” 

“Why do I have to do it?”

“Because your mouth has no filter.”

“This is bullshit!”

Wyatt reached out.  “Give me the knife.  I’ll do it.”

“Fuck that.”  Barry started cutting off Andrew’s shirt.

Seth smiled.  “See.  It’s not that hard to play nice.”

“It has nothing to do with that.  I’m just not going to let the golden boy show me up anymore.  Do you have a problem with that?”

“Nope.  I don’t care how you need to justify it, as long as you do your job.”

“Whatever, dude.  If you want to give me the shit work, that’s fine.  I can handle it.”

“That’s the spirit, ol’ chap.”

Wyatt laughed as he watched Barry cut off Andrew’s pants.  “You seem to be enjoying that.”

“You can go get fucked in the ass!”

“I’m sure you’d like to watch that.”

“I’m not fucking gay, you prick!”

Seth intervened before they got into it again.  “Y’all chill out.”

Barry moved over to Gus and started cutting off his clothes.  “It’s all good.”

“If you’re going to dish it out, you need to learn to take it.”

“Screw Wyatt.  He can kiss my ass.  And all I care about is getting to fuck someone up.”

Kenneth looked at his watch.  “Speaking of fucking someone up, we need to get movin’.”

Seth looked at the clock on the wall.  “You’re right.  We need to head to Denton.  We’ll follow you.”

Kenneth walked to the door, then paused as he looked at Barry.  “Don’t be fondling their junk.”

Barry sang out without looking up, “Fuck youuuuu!  Fuck youuuuu!  You can kiss my fucking ass, toooooo!”

Kenneth laughed.  “You’re a fucking idiot.”  He walked out the door.

Seth looked at Wyatt.  “You drive.  I’m going to stay back here with the rhyme master.”

“Thank God!”  Wyatt walked to the front of the RV, then followed Kenneth out of the park.  He was happy that he didn’t have to be around Barry.

Seth noticed Gus was starting to wake up.  “We need Gus secured on the wall.”  He dragged him over to the wall.  “Help me hang him up.”

Barry held Gus against the wall as Seth secured his arms and legs with shackles.  “What are we going to do to him?”

“Nothing right now.”

“What about Andrew?”

“We’re not doing anything to him either.”

“I don’t understand.  Are we not going to torture them?”

“Of course, we are.  I’m just saving some of the murderers for something special I have planned at the end of the trip.”

Barry looked aggravated as he held Gus against the wall.  “I can’t believe we’re not going to do shit until we have everyone picked up.”

“That’s not what I said.  I said we’re only going to hold onto some of the murderers.”

“Okay.  So, when do we get to fuck someone up?”

“That’s where we’re heading now.  To get Patrick Ramsey in Denton.”

As soon as Gus was restrained, Barry ran up front and thumped Wyatt on the back of the head.  “Hurry your ass up, grandma!  You’re driving like a bitch!”

Wyatt elbowed him in the nuts.  “Get the fuck away from me, moron!”

Seth felt the RV swerve a little.  “Hey!  What the fuck are y’all doing up there?”

Barry came back holding his balls.  “Fuckin’ prick racked me.”

“That’s what you get for fucking with him.”

“I just told him to speed it up a little so we can get to Denton.”

“You’re sure excited about getting to fuck someone up.”

“I’m freakin’ bored.”

“I hope you’re wanting to do this for the right reason.”

Barry had an arrogant look.  “What the fuck does it matter as long as the scumbags get what’s coming to them?”

“You better not go Bundy on me.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Turn into a fucking serial killer.”

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

“I only fuck up scumbags.  Bundy murdered innocent people.”

“Who said I wanted to be like that fucker?”

“No one.  But if I find out you’re slipping into that kind of shit, your ass is going to be hanging on the wall.”

“That’s fucked up!”  Barry’s feelings were hurt.  “I can’t believe you think I would do something like that.”

“You just seem to have a few screws loose…  More than usual.”

“You have a lot of room to talk.”

Seth laughed.  “I know, right?  But seriously.  I’m keeping an eye on your ass.”

Sick Bastards

Seth noticed Andrew was starting to wake up.  He handed Barry some ratchet straps.  “Secure Andrew to the table before he has a chance to go nuts.”

Andrew looked at Barry as he strapped him down.  He was still dazed.  “What’s going on?”  He raised his head, noticing he was nude.  “What the fuck?  Why am I naked?”  He looked at Barry.  “Who in the hell are you?”

“Your worst nightmare.”

“Are you fucking queer or something?”

“Don’t call me that!  I’m not fucking gay!”

“Then why do you look like a transvestite.”

He thumped him on the forehead.  “I told you I’m not fucking gay!”

“This must be a joke.”

Barry laughed.  “If it was, would it be funny?”

Andrew was becoming more alert, and as he looked around, he noticed all the tools and torture devices on the wall.  “What is this place?”  He noticed Seth was leaning against a wall, then he saw Gus hanging nude.  “What the fuck?”  He became upset and started jerking at his restraints.  “You sick bastards!  If you touch me, I’ll fuckin’ kill you!”

Barry started poking him in the chest with his finger.

Andrew had a confused look.  “What the hell are you doing?”

“Waiting for you to kill me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You said if I touched you, you would kill me.  So, when are you going to do it?”

He just glared at him.

Barry laughed.  “That’s what I thought.  All bark and no bite.”

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this.  Where am I?  Why am I here?”

Seth was smoking a cigarette as he remained leaning against the wall.  “To suffer immensely before you die.”

He looked at him, then at Barry with a troubled expression.  “Why are y’all doing this?  I don’t even know who y’all are.  Did someone pay y’all to do this?”

“They wanted to, but we took the job pro bono.”

“Job?  Who hired you to….”

Seth interrupted.  “Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it?  Who in the fuck do you think you are?”

Seth nodded towards Barry.  “Like he said; your worst nightmare.”

“If you fucking touch me, I have some friends that will fuck you up.”

Seth walked over.  “You talking about Jason and Charles?”

“That’s right!  They’ll hunt your ass down!”

“You mean haunt.”

“Haunt?  No, you fucking idiot!  I said hunt!”

“Sorry, but ghosts don’t hunt.  They haunt.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?  Are you fucking crazy or something?”

Barry looked equally confused.  “I’m lost.”

“Oh yeah.  I forgot to mention that when Kenneth and I snuck into this fucker’s house, we found his two buddies there.  I let Kenneth freestyle on them.”

Barry was angry.  “Hold up!  Kenneth got to do some freestyling?  I thought he didn’t like fucking people up?”

“He will if they hurt animals.  He despises animal abusers.”

“What does this have to do with that?”

“Jason and Charles were dog fighters.”

“And?”

“He wanted to fuck them up, so I let him.”

“I wanna fuck someone up too, but you won’t let me.”

“You will.  Just be patient.”

“I don’t want to wait.  I want to freestyle on this motherfucker.”

Andrew was confused.  “What the fuck are y’all talking about?”

Barry was aggravated.  “Means my so-called friend here let this black asshole fuck up your friends any way he wanted to.”

He looked worried.  “What are you saying?  What happened to Jason and Charles?”

“It’s not that difficult to figure out, pal.  Seth said your buddies are ghosts.”

“What?”

“You know, they’re pushing up daisies.”

Seth interrupted.  “Not exactly.  We didn’t feel like digging a hole.”

“Okay.  They’re at peace.”

Seth interrupted again.  “I doubt that.  They’re in Hell.”

“They kicked the bucket.”

Seth laughed.  “Wrong again.  They didn’t have any legs when Kenneth got done with them.”

Barry was pissed.  “That’s bullshit!  He’s getting to have all the fun while I’m forced to wear this fuckin dress!”

“Don’t start.”

“This shit ain’t right!”

Andrew couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  “What’s wrong with you motherfuckers?”

Barry looked down at him.  “I get treated differently than his other little buddies.”

“I’m not talking about that stupid shit!  I want to know why I’m here and what happened to my friends?”

Seth lit another cigarette.  “They’re fucking dead.  Did you comprehend that?”

“Yeah, right!  You’re too much of a pussy to kill anyone.”

Barry was looking at Seth.  “You going to take that from this asshole?”

“I told you I have something planned for him.”

“I just think you’ve gone soft.”

“You’re not going to coax me into torturing him.”

Andrew laughed sarcastically.  “You don’t scare me!  And I don’t think you did shit to Jason or Charles.  You two are just a couple of fairies trying to have your way with some dudes.”

Seth blew smoke at him.  “Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness, asswad.”

“Kindness?  You have some fucking screws loose.  And don’t blow that shit at me, you fucking prick!”

Seth looked at his cigarette, then at Andrew.  “Really?  You’re worried about secondhand smoke instead of being naked in front of two homos?”

“Fuck you, faggot!  And if you try to touch me, I’ll fucking kill you!  And by the way, that shit you’re smoking, it smells like someone’s ass!”

“You wanna smoke someone’s ass?”

“You heard what I said, asshole!”

Seth looked at Barry.  “Andrew said he wants to smoke someone’s ass.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means it’s time for you to have some fun.”

“Seriously?  I get to fuck him up?”

“Just a little.  But I don’t want to kill him, or Gus.”

“Fucking A!  What do you want me to do?”

“Flip Gus to where he’s facing the wall while I’m rounding up some shit.”

Andrew was glaring at Seth with hate-filled eyes.  “Fuck you, dude!  If you touch me, I’ll rip out your fucking heart!”

Seth ignored him as he walked off.

“Hey!  Don’t walk away!  I’m talking to you!”

He continued ignoring him.

“You fucking asshole!  You better let me go!  Do you hear me?”

Gus was panicking as Barry forced him to face the wall.  “Come on, man!  Don’t punish me because he’s running his mouth!  I don’t even know him!”

Barry removed the shackles from Gus’ ankles.  “Spread your legs apart.”

“You don’t have to do this.  I’ve been cooperating.”

“Like you have a choice.”  Barry kicked him in the foot.  “I said spread your legs apart!”

Gus started jerking at the shackles that were securing his wrists.  The muscles in his arms and back were flexing.  “Fuck you, dude!  You better stop touching me before I get pissed.”

Barry shoved him against the wall.  “Don’t threaten me, you piece of shit!”

“Fuck you!  You don’t know who you’re messin’ with!”

Barry grabbed his ear and started twisting it.  “Spread your fucking legs!”

“Okay!  Okay!”

Barry tied ropes around each of his ankles to some anchors in the floor.  Gus was now standing with his legs spread apart, preventing him from turning around.  He was angry.  “This isn’t right!  I haven’t done shit to you!”

Seth walked up with some parts.  “Shut the fuck up and take your medicine, asshole!”

“Medicine?  What the fuck are you talking about?  I didn’t do shit to you either!”

“I said shut up!”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I don’t have time to play the ‘I didn’t do shit game’ so be quiet.”

“I didn’t….”

“I said hush!”  Seth handed Barry a soldering iron.  “Plug that in, then shove it up his ass.”

“Why?”

“We need to preheat it like an oven.”

“The iron, or his ass?”

“His ass.”

“And why would we want to do that?”

“So Andrew can smoke it.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It will later.”

Gus was looking over his shoulder as he jerked at his restraints.  “If either one of you motherfuckers comes near my ass, I’ll shit on you!”

Seth laughed.  “You win.”  He handed Barry a copper pipe that was about the size of a pencil.  “Untie Andrew, then give him the pipe and soldering iron.  Gus can shit on him.”

Barry started to release Andrew’s straps, but paused.  “You sure you want me to do this?  You know he’s going to go nuts.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“If he freaks out and knocks you in the mouth, I don’t want to hear you fuckin’ cry.”

“I got it under control.”

“I think this is a mistake.”

“Concern noted.”

“I still think it’s a bad idea, but you’re the boss.”  As Barry removed Andrew’s straps, Seth opened a large case and pulled out something that looked like a modified harpoon gun.  It had three power-tool batteries plugged into the bottom of it, and there were buttons, switches, knobs and gauges mounted down the left side.  A three-fingered claw about the size of a hand was mounted on the end of the barrel.  Seth walked up as Barry was removing the last strap.  He looked at Andrew as he held up the gun.  “I haven’t tried this on anyone yet and can’t wait to see what it does, so please do something stupid.  I beg you.”

Andrew had all kind of thoughts running through his head, knowing this might be his only chance to escape.  The device Seth was holding appeared to be some homemade gadget.  He wasn’t convinced it worked and figured it was just for scare tactics.

Barry stepped back as soon as the strap was loose.  “Now what?”

“Hand him the soldering iron and pipe.”

Andrew remained quiet as he sat up with wild eyes.

Seth pointed the gun at him.  “Get stupid, I dare you.”

He didn’t say anything as he glared at him.

“Stop eye fucking me.”

He looked down, contemplating on what he should do.

“Take the soldering iron and plug it in, then shove it in your buddy’s ass.”

Andrew looked at Seth for a moment, then lunged from the table and punched Barry in the throat.  When Barry fell to his knees, Andrew grabbed his head with both hands and kneed him in the face.  Then he ran for the door, so Seth aimed the gun at Andrew’s torso and pulled the trigger.  A loud boom echoed out as the three-fingered claw shot across the room, striking him on the right side of his abdomen.  He fell to his knees and screamed as the claws dug into his flesh.  He tried to crawl away, but there was a cable running between the claw and gun.  He grabbed the cable and started jerking it as he sat on the floor.  “Let me go, you fucking psycho!”

Seth pressed one of the buttons on the gun, causing the fingers to dig in deeper.  Even though Andrew was in a lot of pain, he stood up and shouted, “I’m going to fucking kill you!”

Seth made the fingers dig in deeper, causing Andrew to fall to his knees screaming.  He grasped the claw and tried to remove it, but the fingers were burrowed deep inside of him.  “You’re fucking ripping me open!”

“Then stop fighting!”

“You can go fuck yourself, faggot!”

Seth flipped a switch, electrifying the fingers.  Andrew fell to his back and started flopping around on the floor.  His eyes were huge and he was foaming at the mouth.  It looked as if he was having convulsions.

A few seconds later, Seth shut off the current flow.  “Are you ready to cooperate, or do you need some more motivation?”

Andrew was dazed and couldn’t speak.  His side had been severely burned by the electrical current.  The skin around the claw’s fingers had been charred, filling the air with the rancid odor of burnt flesh.  He raised his hands signaling submission, then passed out.

Infuriated, Barry sat up on one knee and held his bloody nose.  His wig had fallen off and his makeup was smeared.  He glared at Seth.  “You asshole!  Look what you did to me!”

“I didn’t do shit.”

“It’s your fault this happened.  I told you it was a bad idea to let him go!  Now my nose is broken.”

“That’s what you get for letting the redheaded punk kick your ass.”

“He didn’t kick my ass!  He threw a cheap shot!”

Seth laughed.  “If you say so.”

“It’s not funny!”  Barry stood up and noticed Andrew lying motionless.  “You dumbass!  You fucking killed him!  Now I don’t get to fuck him up!”

“He’s not dead.”

“Bullshit!  Everyone knows electricity fucks your heart up.”

“That’s if it crosses it.  The current was centralized on his side between the steel fingers.  They were creating an arc the same as a welding rod does.”

Barry kicked Andrew in the legs.  “Wake up, asshole!”

He opened his eyes.  “What happened?”

He looked down at him.  “You fucked up.  That’s what happened.”

Andrew grabbed Barry’s leg and shouted, “You’re fucking dead!”

Barry stumbled backwards while screaming like a girl.

Seth laughed.  “That showed him.”

“It’s not funny!”

“You jumped like you had seen a snake.”

“Whatever, dude!”  He picked up the soldering iron and copper pipe from the floor and tossed them next to Andrew.  “You’re fixin’ to get yours, you fucking prick.  Especially for sucker punching me.”

Andrew grabbed the items, then stood up.  “You think so, you cross-dressing faggot?”

Barry glared at Seth.  “It’s bullshit that I have to dress like this!  These fuckers aren’t taking me serious.”

Seth ignored him.  He could tell Andrew was contemplating on using the soldering iron as a weapon by the way he was gripping it.  “Just to let you know, I only had this thing set on fifty percent, so unless you want your guts cooked, I would suggest you rethink what you’re planning.”

Andrew looked at the device, then at Seth.  “Fuck you!”

“The pain will stop when you start smoking Gus’ ass.”  Seth started shocking Andrew, causing him to fall to the floor.  He had set the device at a low enough current where he could still move, but painful enough to motivate him.

Andrew’s eyes were huge as he lay on the floor twitching.  “I’m not fucking doing it!”

Barry kicked him in the head.  “Do what you’re told, asshole!”

He glared at Barry.  “Kick me again, you fucking bitch, and see what happens!”

“Don’t call me a fucking bitch!”

Andrew laughed sarcastically.  “Truth hurts, don’t it?  And when I get loose, I’m going to treat you like one!”

Barry became angry.  “If you don’t shut your fucking mouth and do what you’re told, I’ll make you stick your dick in his ass instead of that iron.”

“Fuck you, motherfucker!  You can’t make me do shit!”

Seth looked at Gus.  “I hope you’re ready to get fucked square in the ass.”

Gus started yelling as he looked over his shoulder.  “Hold up!  Don’t punish me!  Punish him!  He’s the one causing problems!  Not me!”

Seth tossed a bottle on the floor next to Andrew.  “You’re gonna need that.”

Andrew grabbed it and threw it at Seth, barely missing his head.  “Fuck you!”

Barry picked up the bottle.  He looked confused as he read the name Gun Oil.  What the fuck is this for?”

“To oil his gun.”

“What gun?”

“The one between his legs.  Or he can spit on it if he likes.  I really don’t give a shit.”

“Hold up!  I know you’re not going to make him fuck another dude.”

“You know my rule.  We follow through on our threats no matter what.  And you told the fucker what would happen if he didn’t cooperate.”

“That’s fucking nasty.”

“You should have thought of that before you opened your mouth.”

“I just blurted that out.  I wasn’t thinking.  I take it back.”

“Too late.  You’ve made the threat.  And once you make one, you have to follow through or these fuckers won’t believe you the next time.”

“Fuck that.  You know you can make an exception.”

“I’ve never not followed through on a threat, and I’m not startin’ now.”

“You know if you make him do that, everyone is going to think we’re gay.”

“It’s only gay if you get a boner.”

“That’s some fucked up logic.”

Andrew had been listening to them.  “I got news for you motherfuckers.  You ain’t making me do shit.”

Seth handed Barry a syringe.  “Inject that into him.”

“What is it?”

“A home-brewed concoction.  It’s like Viagra on steroids.”

“I’m not even going to ask why you’re carrying this shit around.”

“Good.  I’m tired of hearing your lips flap.”  Seth turned up the current to immobilize Andrew.  “Inject that shit in his dick.”

Barry looked at Seth like he was crazy.  “What?”

“I’m joking.  You can stick him anywhere.”

Barry jammed the needle in his neck and pushed in the fluid.  Within seconds, Andrew’s penis started getting hard.  His eyes were filled with hate as he glared at Seth.  “I’m going to fucking kill you for this!”

“All you’re gonna be killin’ is that ass over there.  Now get moving.”  Seth pressed a button on the device, causing the fingers to vibrate.

Andrew flopped around on the floor as the steel fingers violently shook.  Soreness had set into his wounds, making it even more painful.  “Oh fuck!  You’re killing me!  Please turn if off!”

“I’m not stopping until you start moving.”

Andrew couldn’t take the pain any longer.  He started crawling across the floor towards Gus as he shouted, “Okay!  Okay!  I’ll do it!  Please stop hurting me!”

Seth turned off the vibration function.  “Next time I’ll make it rip your guts apart.”

He stood up while holding his side.  “Just go easy, dude!  I’ll do whatever you want!”

“Barry wants you to fuck Gus in the ass, so get after it.”  He looked at Barry while reaching out.  “Give me that shit.”

Barry looked confused.  “What shit?”

“The fucking lube, asshole!  Give it to me.”

He tossed it to him, then looked at Seth with disgust.  “I can’t believe you’re really going to make him fuck another dude.”

“Don’t blame me.  This is your fault.”

“Bullshit!  I told you I wasn’t thinking when I said that.”

“Maybe next time you’ll watch what you say.  And besides, it’s actually an appropriate punishment for the both of them.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Do you know how Gus killed his girlfriend?”

“No.”

“He strangled her as he was raping her.”

“Okay.  But there are….”

Gus was panicking as he blurted out, “Hey, man!  You don’t know the whole story!  I was framed!”

Seth glared at him.  “Lying will only cause you more torment.”

“But you….”

“Shut the fuck up before I sew your mouth shut!”

His eyes were filled with hate as he remained quiet.

“Good.  You’re smarter than you look.”  Seth looked at Barry.  “Finish what you were saying.”

“There are other ways to make him pay than this sick shit.”

“I think getting ass raped by a big dick is perfect payback.”

Barry had noticed Andrew’s large cock, but hadn’t said anything.  “That makes it even more disgusting.”

“A murdering rapist ass raping another murdering rapist is poetic justice.”

Andrew became upset.  “Hold up!  You’re making me do this because of that mishap?”

“No.  I’m making you do this because you refused to do what Barry asked.  And I wouldn’t call raping, then cutting a woman’s throat, a mishap, you fucking scumbag!”

“Y’all are making a big mistake!  I was blamed for something I didn’t do.”

“If you’re lying, I’m going to cut off your dick.”

“I’m not.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Seth held up his folder.  “Let me check to see if I made a mistake.”

His eyes got big.  “What is that?”

“Your criminal record.”

“Hold up!  I might be wrong.  I was thinking about another time I went to the pen.”

Seth lowered the folder, knowing he was full of shit.  “Oh.  So, now you did rape and murder that woman.”

“Uh…  I might of.”

“Either you did or you didn’t.”

“I did, but I served my time for that.”

“And now you’re going to be serving Gus some tube steak.”

Buck Dich

Andrew was irate.  “What gives you the right to do this?”

“The same right you used to murder someone.”

“Fuck you, smart-ass!  You wanna see a murder?  Drop that fuckin’ gun and fight like a man!”

“Speaking of murder, get over there and murder that ass before I give you something to really bitch about.”

“Fuck you!  You can’t make me do shit!”

Seth looked at Barry.  “Give Gus a shot of that magical cock juice.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My Viagra concoction.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s going to pound Andrew’s ass since he wants to be difficult.”

“Okay, okay!  I’ll do it!”  Andrew changed his attitude and walked up behind Gus.

Seth laughed.  “That got your attention, didn’t it?”

Gus was looking over his shoulder at Andrew with a grimace of terror.  “No, no, no!  Please don’t do this!”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Come on, man!  I’m not fucking gay!”

“Hey!  I’m not fucking gay either!  You know I don’t have a choice, so shut the fuck up!”

Gus was horrified as he watched Andrew squirt a large amount of lube on his cock.  He was even more horrified by the size of it, which reminded him of a large cucumber.  Being fucked by a man was the worst thing he could imagine, but being fucked by a man with a big dick was way beyond words.  He looked at Seth with panic-stricken eyes.  “Please don’t do this!  I will do whatever you ask!”

Seth pulled out a knife.  “If you cut off your dick with this, we’ll skip the rogering.”

He looked at the knife for a moment.  “Uh…  I…  I can’t.  There has to be something else I can do.”

Seth looked at Andrew as he pointed at Gus’ ass.  “Get after it!”

Andrew tried to stick his penis in, but Gus was jerking his hips around.  He finally gave up.  “I can’t do this.”

“Sure, you can.  Just treat him like you did that woman you raped.”

“Come on, man!  Please don’t make me!”

“Stop stalling.  Grab that motherfucker around the neck and choke the shit out of him until he cooperates.”

He turned so Seth could see the claw.  “I can’t.  This thing is killing me.”

Seth looked at Gus.  “Get your cock ready.  You’re fixin’ to corn-hole the shit out of Andrew.”

Gus’ eyes opened wide, knowing he had a chance to turn the tables on Andrew.  “Okay!  I’ll do it!  I’ll even kill that motherfucker for you!”

Seth started to press a button on the gun, but Andrew grabbed Gus around the neck and started choking him.  “Fuck you, dude!  Don’t you ever threaten me!”

Gus couldn’t fight back since he was being restrained.  In less than a minute, his knees buckled as his eyes rolled back into his head.

Seth yelled out, “He’s fucking out.  Now get to poundin’ that asshole!”

Andrew released Gus’ neck and grabbed his own penis.  He started to stick it in, but as soon as his head touched his skin, he pulled back.  “I can’t do it.”

“Sure, you can.”

“But I’m not gay.”

“Gay has nothing to do with it.  This is about humiliation.  I want you and Gus to feel the same way as your victims did, so get after it.  And I’m not tellin’ you again.”

Andrew took a deep breath, then started working his penis between Gus’ ass cheeks.  As he slid his head up and down his ass crack, searching for his anus, he was looking the other way.  “This isn’t right what you’re making me do!”

“Stop fucking around and shove your dick in him.”

“What the fuck do you think I’m….”  Suddenly, Andrew’s penis penetrated Gus.  He just stood motionless as he looked away.

“Don’t just stand there.  Treat him like you did that woman.”

Andrew was sweating profusely as he stood dumbfounded.

“Get to strokin’ that fuckin’ ass before I zap you some more.”  Seth reached for a switch.

“Oh my God!  You’re gonna pay for this!”  He started thrusting his hips back and forth as he rammed Gus in the ass.

Gus was starting to come around.  When he realized Andrew was inside him, he became violent and started trying to throw him off.  “Get the fuck off me, you motherfucker!”

Andrew shoved him into the wall as he continued to stroke him.  “Fuck you!”

Gus was fighting with everything he had.  His large muscles were flexing as he pulled at the shackles.  “I’m going to fucking kill all of you motherfuckers!  Do you hear me?  Y’all are fucking dead!”

Seth yelled out to Andrew, “Start choking him again!”

Andrew grabbed Gus’ neck with both hands.  Gus was freaking out as Andrew manhandled him.  “Oh my god!  Please stop!  I’m begging you!”

Andrew looked at Seth.  “Can I stop now?”

“Not until you cum.”

His eyes got big.  “You can’t be serious.”

“Fuck if I’m not.  And I’m also going to have Barry check, so no faking.”

“You’re a sick fuck!  You must be getting off on this shit.”

“I’m getting off watching two fuckers get what they deserve.”

Barry was grossed out.  “This is too much.”

Seth laughed.  “You’ve seen sicker shit than this.”

“Yeah.  But this is fucking gay.”

“I told you it’s only gay if you get a hard-on.”  Seth thought for a moment.  “Well, shit!  Andrew has one, so he must be gay.”

Andrew was furious.  “I’m not fucking gay!  You’re making me do this!”

“That’s incorrect.  You chose to do it.”

“Fuck if I did!”

“You could have said no, but you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Not once did you say no.  And everyone knows, no means no.  So, that means you really wanted to do it.  I guess you’re queer after all.”

Andrew knew Seth was messing with him.  He became so angry that he grabbed Gus’ hips, then started ramming his dick into him very violently as he shouted, “Is this want you want?  I’ll tear this motherfucker apart!”

Seth ran over to a stereo and cranked up the song Buck Dich by Rammstein.  The music was so loud it was drowning out Gus’ screaming.  He was in pain.  A kind of pain he had never experienced before.  It felt like his insides were being ripped apart.  Blood was running down his legs as Andrew acted like a savage, ramming him in the ass with everything he had.  The wound in Andrew’s side was causing him extreme pain, but he ignored it as he took his anger out on Gus.  To make it even more disgusting, Andrew was pumping him to the fast beat of the music.

A few minutes later, Andrew screamed out in anger as he pulled out.  “You sick motherfuckers!  Y’all are going to pay for this!”

Gus was hanging limp by his arms as blood, feces and cum oozed out of his anus and ran down his legs.  His face was covered in snot and tears, and his body was sweaty.  The skin on his hips was bright red and already showing signs of bruising from where Andrew had held onto him.  He never knew he could feel so violated.  He wanted to die as he sobbed.

Seth turned down the stereo, then leaned against the wall as he stared at Gus.  “How’d you like that, pal?”

Gus was so exhausted he could barely talk.  “You had no right to do this!”

“It sucks being violated against your will.  Now you know how it feels.”

“You’re going to die a slow and painful death for this, you sorry piece of shit!”

Seth noticed Barry was fidgeting with his crotch.  Then he noticed a bulge in his pants.  “What the fuck, dude?  Why do you have a boner?”

Barry turned sideways so Seth couldn’t see it.  “I don’t!

“I saw you playing with it.”

“I was just scratching.”

“Bullshit!  You got turned on watching Andrew fuck Gus in the ass.”

“No I didn’t!”

“Dude!  You’re fucking gay.”

Barry turned red.  “No, I’m not!”

“And you were lecturing me about being gay.”

“What are we going to do to them next?”

Seth laughed.  “I’d change the subject too if I was you.”

“Just drop it.”

“Seriously, if you’re gay, just come out of the closet.  No one is going to care.”

“I’m not fucking gay.”

“It’s okay.  I don’t give a shit what other people are into.”

“I said I’m not fucking gay!”

“If you say so.”  Seth looked at Andrew.  “You ready to smoke Gus’ ass?”

He glared at Seth as he stood naked with a hard-on.  “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Haven’t you done enough?”

“Not by my standards.”

Barry agreed.  “He’s right.  You’re getting off easy.”

Seth laughed.  “Getting off is all he’s done so far.”

Andrew was furious.  “I’m glad y’all fuckers find this funny!”  He picked up the soldering iron and copper pipe.  “Just tell me what the fuck you want me to do so I can get it over with.”

Seth pointed to a receptacle next to Gus.  “Plug the soldering iron in there.  Then shove it up his ass.”

Gus looked at Andrew as he plugged it in.  “Come on, man!  Don’t let them make you do this!  Fight back!”

He looked at him.  “Haven’t you seen this thing in my side?  I don’t have a fucking choice.”

Gus was panicking as he looked at Seth.  “Why are you doing this?  You’ve already gotten me back!”

“That was just partial payment for what you did.”

He nodded towards Andrew.  “What about him?”

“What about him?”

“When do I get to fuck him up?”

“If Andrew doesn’t get his ass in gear, maybe pretty soon.”

Andrew became angry, knowing Gus was trying to turn the tables on him.  He grabbed Gus’ hair and pulled his head back.  “You’re not touching me, you fucking two-faced bitch!”  He shoved the end of the iron between Gus’ ass cheeks.  The hot metal made a sizzling sound as it scorched his flesh.  Gus started frantically moving his rear-end around as he screamed.  Andrew was poking his ass cheeks with the iron, burning marks into his skin as he tried to stick it inside him.  “Stop moving, asshole!”

Barry and Seth started laughing.  It was funny watching Gus jumping around as Andrew poked him with the hot iron.

Andrew glared at them.  “I’m glad I can amuse you fuckers.”

Barry smiled.  “That’s what you get for being a piece of shit.”

He jabbed the iron into Gus’ back, leaving it in place, then stepped towards Barry.  “I’ll break your fucking neck!”

Barry stumbled backwards.  “You better not touch me, asshole!”

“Hey!”  Seth jerked on Andrew’s cable.  “Get your ass back over here.  Gus’ ass ain’t gonna smoke itself.”

Gus was screaming as smoke bellowed from his back.  Andrew pulled out the iron, then shoved him against the wall.  He tried to stick the iron into his anus, but every time the hot tip burned his ass cheeks he would jerk around.  Andrew got frustrated and looked at Seth.  “This is fucking stupid.”

“I don’t give a shit.  Just do what you’re told.”

Andrew tried again with the same results.  He became frustrated.  “I can’t do it.  He’s moving around too much.”

“Can’t couldn’t do shit.”  Seth pointed to the floor next to Gus.  “Sit your ass down.”

“For what?”

“Because you’re in time out.”

He glared at Seth as he sat on the floor.  “Maybe not today.  Or even tomorrow.  But one day you’re going to pay for this!”

“And while you’re down there, suck your thumb so I don’t have to hear your lips flap.”

“Fuck you!”

“I’m not telling you again.”

Andrew stuck his thumb in his mouth, but wasn’t sucking it.

“You’re worse than a rebellious teenager.  I said suck the motherfucker.”

Andrew looked the other way as he started sucking his thumb.

Smokin’ Ass

Seth tossed Barry a box of nails and a hammer.  “Nail Gus’ dick to the wall so he can’t move around so much.”

Gus looked at Seth with a horrified expression.  “No, no, no!  Please don’t do that!”

“Hush!  I wasn’t talking to you!”

“Come on, man!  I’m begging you not to do it!  I’ll stand still!  I promise!”

“I told you to be quiet.”

“Why are you doing this?  I haven’t done anything to….”

Seth grabbed his head and shoved it against the wall.  “Stick out your fucking tongue!”

Gus held his mouth tightly closed as he mumbled, “Please don’t do this!”

He grabbed his ear with a pair of pliers and started twisting it.  “Stick it out!”

“Okay okay!  I’ll be quiet!”

He twisted harder, causing his skin to start tearing.  “I said stick it out!”

Gus finally couldn’t take the pain and stuck out his tongue.  Seth grabbed it with the pliers, then smashed it as hard as he could, causing the sides of his tongue to rupture.  Seth let it go and pushed his head away.  Gus didn’t say a word as blood ran out of his mouth.

Seth looked at Barry.  “Get to nailin’ his dick.”

“How?  He’s up against the wall.”

“I’m fucking surrounded by idiots.”

“I’m not trying to be difficult.”

“Kneel down behind his ass and grab his wiener.  Pull down on it, then nail the fucker to the wall.  How hard is that?”

“His ass is covered in bloody shit and jizz.  I don’t want to get it on me.”

“I didn’t tell you to fondle his ass.  Just reach between his legs.”

“I’m not touching his dick either.”

“You want to be a vigilante, but don’t want to get your hands dirty.”

“I don’t see you doing it.”

“I’ve done my share of shit like that.  Just like when I cut off your dick.”

“That’s fucking sorry.  I didn’t deserve that.  And why do you keep bringing it up?  Does it make you happy or something?”

“Don’t start whining.  I was just trying to make a point.  Now stop being difficult and nail his dick to the wall.”

“If you want it done, do it yourself, asshole!”

“If you don’t do it, I’ll tell Wyatt you got a boner watching two dudes fuck.”

“You would make up some shit like that.”

“I don’t have to make up anything.”  Seth pointed at the ceiling.

Barry noticed he was pointing to a camera.  “I don’t know why I even came on this trip.”  He kneeled behind Gus.  “All you want to do is fuck with me.”

“Get out of the way!  I’d rather do it than hear you whine.”

“Fuck that.  I’m not going to give you another reason to talk shit.”  When Barry reached between Gus’ legs, Gus shoved his hips backwards, bumping his ass into Barry’s face.  Barry jumped to his feet and felt his face, noticing it was covered in dark-colored blood.  He glared at Seth.  “This is your fault!  I told you I didn’t want to do it!”

“It’s just blood.  Chill out.”

“Blood my ass!  It fuckin’ stinks.”

“Stop whining.”

Barry wiped his face with a rag, then got back on the floor.  He reached between Gus’ legs and grabbed his penis, then pulled down on it.  Without any notice, Gus’ bowels emptied, covering Barry’s head.  He lunged backwards, falling onto his back.  His eyes were huge as he lay in disbelief.  “Oh my God!  He fucking shit on me!”

Seth started laughing.

“Stop fucking laughing!  It’s not funny!”  Barry became irate and crawled between Gus’ legs.  He showed no mercy as he pulled down on his penis as hard as he could.  “How do you like this, you nasty bastard?”

Gus lowered his waist to reduce the pain, but the shackles secured to his wrists only allowed him to drop a few inches.  As he hung by his arms he was yelling, “Oh my God!  You’re going to rip it off!  Please stop pulling on my dick!  I’m begging you!  Oh God!  You’re killing me!”

Barry drove a nail through the head of his penis, securing it to the wall.  He took another nail and drove into the center of his penis.  He drove in another, then another.  Gus was screaming at the top of his lungs as Barry drove nails into his penis.  Seth had only told him to drive in one, but knew he was just taking out his frustrations on Gus.  “Make sure you get enough in there so it doesn’t come loose.”

Barry didn’t look up as he drove in another nail.  “Fuck you!”

“When you get done playing with his dick, cut a hole in his urethra at the base so he can piss.”

Barry stood up with feces covering his head and shoulders.  “I don’t give a fuck if he can piss.”

“I do.  He’ll die from urinary retention.”

“So.”

“I have plans for him later and need him alive.”

“Whatever.  I’m going to the bathroom to clean this nasty shit off me.”

Seth laughed.  “Literally.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“No, I got it, you smart-ass.  I think you like it when shit like this happens.”

“That’s not true.”

“Fuck off!”  Barry slammed the bathroom door.

Gus could barely speak as he looked at Seth.  “Please don’t hurt me anymore, I beg you!”

“Don’t you start whining too.”

Seth kicked Andrew in the foot as he sat on the floor sucking his thumb.  “Time to take a smoke break.”

“Come on, man!  You’ve already done enough to the both of us.”

“I’m not telling you again.”

Andrew slowly got up as he glared at Seth.  He balled his fists, contemplating if he should fight since Barry was indisposed.

Seth shouted, “Jump!”

Andrew’s eyes opened wide as he flinched.  “What?”

“You wanna get froggy, so jump!”

He picked up the iron.  “I just want to get this over with so I can go home.”

“I didn’t know you lived in a cemetery.”

He looked confused.  “What?”

“Nothing.  Just thinking out loud.”

The cemetery comment bothered Andrew.  It hadn’t crossed his mind that he might die.  He just assumed Seth was going to let him go when he was done with him.  He looked worried.  “Are you planning on killing me?”

Seth knew the importance of hope.  “I won’t if you cooperate.”

“That’s all I have to do?”

“Yep.  It’s that simple.”

Gus was looking back.  “What about me?”

“Same goes for you if you cooperate.”

Andrew kneeled behind Gus.  “Why do I have to do this?  Can’t you just beat the shit out of me or something?”

Seth looked at his watch as he shook his head.  “Damn!  It only took you ten seconds to lose your chance to live.  I think that’s a new record.”

“Okay, okay!  I’ll do it.”  He picked up the soldering iron.  It was glowing red-hot from being plugged in for such a long duration.

Gus was terrified and wanted to beg for mercy, but he didn’t want to ruin his chance to live.  “Just do it and get it over with.”

Andrew shoved the iron into his ass.  Gus screamed with everything he had.  The pain was excruciating.  Almost unbearable.  He couldn’t move since his penis was nailed to the wall.  Rancid-smelling smoke was bellowing out between his butt cheeks as his ass juices boiled.

Seth pointed to the copper pipe.  “Andrew!  Pick that up and stick it in his ass.”

He shoved it in next to the iron.  Smoke began to puff out the end of the pipe as it hung out of Gus’ ass.  Seth motioned to it.  “It’s not going to smoke itself.”

Andrew looked confused.  “What?”

“Smoke that fucker like it’s a peace pipe.”

“I…  I don’t understand.”

“Put your fuckin’ lips around it and inhale.  What’s hard to understand about that?”

“That’s nasty.”

“Am I detecting a lack of cooperation?”

“No, sir!”  He started sucking on the end of the pipe, which caused him to gag.  “Oh my God!  This fucking tastes bad!”

“If you have to throw up, do it on Gus.”

He vomited on the floor.

“You stupid fuck!  I told you if you had to throw up, to do it on Gus.  Now suck that shit up off my floor.”

“I can’t do it!  Please don’t make me!”

“I’m starting to lose my patience.  And when I do, there will be no more warnings.”

“Okay, okay!”  Andrew started sucking up his puke.  He was gagging and making a weird moaning sound as he fought the urge to vomit again.

Barry came walking up.  He was dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, and he wasn’t wearing his wig or makeup.  When he noticed what Andrew was doing, he covered his mouth and started dry heaving.  “What the fuck?”

Seth laughed.  “I got a new wet vac.”

“That’s fuckin’ nasty.”  He noticed Gus hanging by his arms and moaning as the soldering iron and pipe were sticking out of his ass.  “What are you….”

Andrew quickly jumped to his feet and projected his stomach contents all over Gus.  In the process, some of the vomit splashed Barry in the face.  He became irate.  “I’ll be damned!”  He glared at Seth.  “What the fuck is wrong with you?  I just cleaned up, now I have fucking puke on me!”

“Where’s your fucking dress?”

“You serious?  You’re worried about that?”

“Yes.  Get your ass back in there and put on your disguise.”

“It’s not a fucking disguise.  It’s a way for you to humiliate me.  And besides, the dress and wig are covered in shit.”

“Wash ‘em off.”

“This is bullshit!”  He stomped his feet as he walked off.

Seth nodded towards Gus’ ass as he looked at Andrew.  “Get back at it.”

“I’ve done it already.”

“You Clintoned it.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“You didn’t inhale like Bill Clinton.”

He looked at the pipe.  It still had a steady flow of smoke coming out of it.  “I’m worried it could hurt my lungs.”

“I’ll hurt you if you don’t.”

Andrew sat on his knees behind Gus, then started sucking on the pipe.  Smoke was puffing out of his mouth as he toked on it.  Within seconds, he turned his head and started gagging.  “It fucking tastes horrible.”  He wiped his mouth with his hand, leaving a brown smear mark on his skin.  “Oh my God!  What is this shit?”

“Exactly what you said; shit.”

He started spitting on the floor as he gagged.

“Don’t stop, asshole!”

“This is fucking nasty!”

“I don’t care.”

He took a deep breath, then started sucking on the pipe again.

“Inhale that shit!”

“I am.”

“Bullshit!  I want to see you blow some smoke out your nose.”

Andrew took in a lungful, then began to violently cough as the brown liquid ran out the corners of his mouth.  When he gathered his composure, he glared at Seth.  “That fuckin’ tastes bad.”  He spit.  “Real bad!”

“Describe it.”

“What?”

“I want to know what smoking someone’s ass tastes like.”

“Then you do it.”

“I’ll just get Gus to smoke yours, then I’ll ask him.”

He shook his head.  “You’re one relentless son-of-a-bitch.”

“You know it.  So, what flavor is it?”

“It fucking tastes like burnt shit.”

“That’s it?”

“What the fuck else do you want me to say?”

“I figured ‘tangy’ would have been included in your description.”

Andrew looked frustrated.  “The fucking iron is burning his insides.  Why in the fuck would it be tangy?”

“Because you blew your load in his ass.”

Andrew hadn’t thought about how he had also inhaled his own sperm.  He immediately started gagging, then lunged towards Gus and vomited on him again.

“I’ll let you lick that up later.”

He wiped his mouth.  “I hope you die a slow and painful death.”

“That might happen, but before it does, you’re gonna smoke that ass until your lungs give out, or until Gus’ anal juices run out.”

Andrew had a hateful expression as he got on his knees.  He had all kinds of thoughts running through his mind.  He knew if he bid his time, Seth would eventually slip up and he would be able to take him out.  He wasn’t worried about Barry.  He was just a pussy.  But he knew there was at least one more person he’d have to deal with; the driver.  Once he took everyone out, he’d make them pay for what they’ve done.  He was smiling as he thought about what he’d do to them.  He was actually drooling.

Seth tossed him a pair of handcuffs.  “Handcuff yourself to one of Gus’ ankles while you’re plotting your revenge.”

He looked startled.  “What?”

“Handcuff yourself.  That way you can concentrate on your task instead of worrying about how you’re going to take us out.”

Andrew couldn’t believe that Seth knew what he had been thinking.  “You’re not a fuckin’ mind reader.  You don’t know what I was thinking.” 

“I know.  That’s why you can’t believe I knew what you were thinking.”

“Wrong again.”

“Either way, you’re still going to put on those cuffs.”

He was hesitant, knowing once he did it, he’d be at Seth’s mercy even more so.  And it would also spoil any chance of him taking out Seth.  “There’s no need in that.  I’m not going to try anything.”

Seth hit him in the head with a club, knocking him out.

Andrew awoke abruptly when ice-cold water drenched his head.  He had a throbbing headache and his eyesight was blurry.  Within seconds, he felt a sharp pain between his legs.  He started to reach down, but his hands wouldn’t move.  He tried to stand up, but he was stuck to the floor.  Something wasn’t right.  Am I paralyzed, he thought?

Seth was standing next to him.  “This should rid you of making any more plots to take me out.”

His eyesight was starting to clear up.  The first thing he noticed was his hands.  They were sewn to Gus’ ass cheeks.  He tried to pull them loose, but it was too painful.  He then tried to sit up again, but a piercing pain shot up through his abdomen.  He was worried.  “What’s wrong with me?”

“I nailed your nuts to the floor.”

Andrew tried to look, but he was sitting on the floor with his legs straight in front of him, and Gus’ ass was right in his face.  “Oh my God!  Why have you done this to me?”

“Like you said, I’m relentless.”

He couldn’t believe what Seth had done to him.  “You sorry motherfucker!  You have no right to do this to me!  I’m a human being!  I have rights!”

Seth laughed.  “You have the right to smoke that ass.  Anything you say can and will be used to make you smoke more ass.  You have the right to smoke as much as you want.  If that one runs out, another one will be provided for you.”

“You’re an evil bastard!  You know that?  You’re gonna burn for this!”

“If you say another word, or don’t do what I say, I’ll cut off your fucking dick.”

He just glared at him.

Seth pulled out a knife.  “Try me, asshole!”

Andrew was at his limit mentally.  He knew he was dealing with a demented person that he couldn’t reason with.  His only chance at survival was to do what Seth asked.  He took a deep breath, then started sucking on the pipe.  The foul-smelling smoke had a nasty taste and burned his throat as he inhaled.  Every time he exhaled, he would cough.

Seth looked at his watch, noticing Barry had been gone awhile.  “You hang out here and enjoy that ass while I go find out what the fuck Barry is doing.”  Seth started to walk off, but paused.  “Oh yeah.  I have a camera in here.  If you stop, I’ll sew your fucking lips to his asshole.  And if you think I’m bluffing, try me.”

Andrew was so angry he didn’t even look at Seth as he sucked on the pipe.  His face had the pallor of the dead as he endured the horrific taste and odor of Gus’ burning innards.

Fuccboi

Seth found Barry sitting up front with Wyatt.  They were laughing and joking around.  “I’m glad you two are getting along.”

Barry glared at him.  “Better than being treated like shit by you.”

Wyatt had a disturbed expression.  “Barry was tellin’ me that you made Andrew fuck Gus in the ass.  That’s fuckin’ sick.  I didn’t know you were into that kind of shit.”

“I’m sure the little bastard left out why I did it.”

“Just said you were adamant about it.  Almost like you enjoyed it.”

“Really?  Did he tell you he got a….”

Barry quickly blurted out, “I was just fixing to tell him it was Andrew’s fault right when you walked up.”

“Sure pal.”

Wyatt laughed.  “Whatever is going on back there fuckin’ stinks.  Smells like a Mexican space shuttle in Texas during August.”

“That’s Andrew.  He’s smoking.”

“Smoking?  Why would you let him do that?”

“He’s addicted to ass.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

Barry looked confused.  “What the hell is a Mexican space shuttle?”

“A porta potty.”

He laughed.

Wyatt looked at Seth.  “I thought you weren’t going to do anything with them until later.”

“You can blame that on Barry.”  Seth picked a handheld, two-way radio and keyed up.  “K-Dog, you there?”

“Sup?”

“What’s your twenty?”

“Just arrived at the location.”

“We’ll be there in ten.”

Barry looked at Seth.  “Who was that?”

“Kenneth.”

“What the fuck is a K-Dog?”

“It’s his handle.”

He looked at Wyatt.  “You have one?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“What the fuck is it?”

“Swamp Fox.”

“That’s dumb.”  He looked at Seth.  “Does Missy have one?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because it seemed important that everyone had a handle but me.”

“Don’t get all upset and start pouting.  I’ve already thought of one for you.”

His eyes got big.  “Oh cool!  What is it?”

“Spanky.”

“That’s fuckin’ lame.”

“I think it’s fitting since you like spanking the monkey so much.”

“I do not.”

“Fuck if you don’t.”

“You better come up with something else.”

“Then what about Twig?”

“Why?”

“You have a thin dick.  Like a piece of spaghetti.”

“How in the fuck would you….”  Barry glared at Seth.  “Don’t you fuckin’ say anything.”

Wyatt laughed.  “Because he cut the little fucker off.”

“I said not to bring that shit up, asshole!”

“You said for Seth not to.  And don’t call me an asshole, you fucking retard.”

“I ain’t fucking retarded!”  He stood up.  “I’ll beat your ass, you fucking punk!”

“Like you did earlier?”

Seth pushed Barry back in his seat.  “Chill out!  We’re just joking around.”

“You need to keep your boy on a tighter leash before he gets fucked up.”

“I said chill out.  Play time is over.”  Seth pointed to a road sign.  “We’re in Denton.  Take the next exit.  Kenneth will be at the rest stop a little way down.”

Barry looked at Seth.  “What the fuck is going on?”

“We’re meeting Kenneth.”

“For what?”

“We’re dropping off Wyatt so he and Kenneth can go round up Patrick.”

“Can I go with Kenneth?”

“Hell no.  You’ll botch something up.”

“I promise I won’t.  Please let me prove that I can be trusted.”

“I’m more worried about how Kenneth will react.”

“I haven’t done anything to him.”

Seth keyed up on the radio.  “K-Dog?”

“Yo?”

“Do you care if Twig goes with you?”

“Who?”

“Spanky.”

The radio was silent.

“Did you copy that?”

“Yeah.”

“Well?”

“Why?”

“He wants to prove himself.”

“I don’t have the patience to put up with his mouth.  And you know he’ll fuck shit up.”

Barry grabbed the radio and keyed up.  “This isn’t my first rodeo.  And I’m just as good as Seth.  Razor out.”

Seth jerked the radio from him.  “Razor?”

“Yeah.  That’s my handle.”

“Bullshit.”  He keyed up.  “It’s up to you.”

“Uh, I guess you can send Spanky my way.  But if he fucks up, it’s his ass.”

“Ten-four.”  Seth pointed down the road.  “There’s the rest stop.”

Wyatt parked behind Kenneth.  “So, you really going to let Barry go?”

“Why not.  Maybe he’ll learn something since he doesn’t listen to me.”

Barry got out.  “Maybe that fucker will learn something from me.”  He slammed the door shut and walked off.

Wyatt watched the taillights on Kenneth’s truck disappear into the dark.  “I think you’re making a mistake.”

Seth sat in the passenger seat.  “It’ll be nice not having to put up with his shit for a while.”

“That’s true.”

Seth leaned back in his seat.  “I’m going to take a nap.  You better rest up while they’re gone.”

Wyatt stood up.  “Sounds good, but I have to go take a dump first.”  He walked off, but quickly came back with a disturbed look.  “What the fuck is Andrew doin’ back there to Gus?”

“He better be smokin’ his ass.”

“Damn, Seth!  What the hell?”

“That was Andrew’s idea.  He said he wanted to smoke someone’s ass.”

“I’m sure.  And did he also want to fuck him?”

“Yep.”

“I doubt that.”

“He knew what the consequences were if he didn’t cooperate.”

“I hope you’re not going to do any more gay shit on this trip.”

“I thought you had to go clean out your ass.”

“I do.”

“Then get to it.  I need to rest up for the up and coming gay festivities that I have planned for later.”

Wyatt shook his head as he walked off.

Around midnight, Seth and Wyatt were awoken by some noise coming from the back.  When they went to the cargo area, they started laughing.  Barry was wearing a blue and pink baby bonnet while sucking on a pacifier.  He was standing off to the side with his arms crossed as Kenneth dragged in a large bag.

Seth shook his head.  “I take it he acted up?”

“Of course, he fuckin’ did.”  Kenneth pointed to the bag.  “Grab the end.”

Seth helped Kenneth lay the bag on a table.  “Did everything else go okay?”

Kenneth was so pissed he really didn’t want to talk.  “Not really.  Patrick fell out of the fuckin’ truck when we were driving down the highway.  He’s probably busted up pretty bad.”

“Fell out of the truck?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.  And I told you that little fucker would be trouble.”

“Did anyone see it happen?”

“I don’t think so….”  Kenneth lost his train of thought when he noticed Andrew smoking Gus’ ass.  Andrew’s skin was pale and his eyes were blood shot.  Gus was hanging motionless as if he was dead.  The backside of Gus was covered in vomit, blood and feces.  The air was filled with a stench that burned Kenneth’s nose.  He looked at Seth.  “Damn, dude!  What the fuck have y’all been doin’ in here?”

“Don’t ask.”

He was disgusted as he looked at them.  “I’m not hanging around with that nasty shit.  I’m going to head on to Abilene to find Darren.”

“That’s fine.”

He shook his head as he walked to the door, pausing before he walked out.  He pointed at Barry.  “And don’t ever ask me to babysit that fucker again.”  He slammed the door shut.

Seth glared at Barry.  “I should have known better.”

He started to remove the pacifier so he could speak.

“Keep sucking on it.  I don’t want to hear your fucking excuses.”  He pointed across the room.  “In fact, I want you to go stand in the corner.”

Barry spit the pacifier on the floor.  “I’m not doing shit!”

“Then get the fuck out of the RV.”

“How am I supposed to get home?”

“I don’t give a shit.  You can suck on a truck driver’s dick if that’s what it takes.”

He shook his head as he walked towards the corner.  “You’re sorry.”

“Don’t forget your fucking binky.”  Seth kicked it over to him.

“This is bullshit!  You never listen to what I have to say.”

“Face the corner.”

He picked up the pacifier and stuck it in his mouth as he faced the corner.  Seth shook his head as he looked at Wyatt.  “This is turning into a fuckin’ circus.”

“I wonder what Elmer did to piss off Kenneth.”

Barry spun around and shouted, “Don’t fucking call me Elmer, you piece of shit!  And I didn’t do shit to that black motherfucker!  He’s just a fucking dick!”

Seth glanced at his watch.  “You could only keep your mouth shut for ten seconds.  What the fuck am I going to do with your ass?”

“I didn’t do a damn thing to deserve this!”

“I don’t have time for your shit.  Just stand over there and be quiet.”

Barry stood with his back to the corner and crossed his arms.

“I see you rebelling.”

“You don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”

“Hush!”  Seth unzipped the bag that Kenneth had brought in, revealing a man in his mid-twenties.  “Check out this dipshit.”

Wyatt noticed he was dressed like a hipster.  He was wearing khaki joggers, a black Diamond Supply hoodie and gray Yeezy Boost shoes.  “Is this Patrick Ramsey?”

“Yeah.”

“What did he do?”

“He stabbed an elderly man twenty-three times during a home burglary.”

Wyatt noticed Patrick had a medallion hanging from his neck that read FUCCBOI.  “What is a fuccboi?”

“Not sure.”

Wyatt looked it up on his phone.  “It’s pronounced fuck boy.  Urban Dictionary says it’s a pussy ass nigga with no common sense that lacks good judgement.”

“I doubt that’s the meaning.  He wouldn’t be wearing it if it did, unless he’s fuckin’ retarded.”

“Let me look some more.”  He read another article.  “Here we go.  A manipulating dick who does whatever it takes to benefit himself, regardless of who he screws over.”

“I doubt that it’s either.”

Wyatt kept searching the internet.  “I keep getting conflicting information.  It seems like everyone knows what a fuccboi is, but at the same time, no one knows.  Here’s another definition.  A fuccboi is a man who is lame, who sucks, who ain’t shit.  Here’s another one.  A dude that knows fashion and is good with women.  This one says a fuccboi is a male who is constantly seeking romance and/or sexual congress with women.  This one says it’s a boy that plays with girls’ hearts and is only looking to get in their pants.”  Wyatt looked at Seth.  “I don’t really know.  Perhaps, a fuccboi perceives themselves as a player while everyone else thinks of them as being a fucking idiot.”

“I think you’re right.”  Seth started moving Patrick’s limbs.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking for broken bones.  His right arm and left leg are broken.”  He pressed on his chest.  “Ribs seem fine though.”  He moved his head around.  “No apparent neck injury.”

Barry popped off.  “If that’s all the fucker has wrong with him, then he’s lucky.”

Seth ignored him.

Wyatt noticed he had a lot of road rash and his head was bleeding.  “He got scraped up pretty good.  I wonder if he has brain damage.”

“For his sake, he better hope so.”

“What are you going to do to him if he doesn’t?”

“Not sure.  Never ran across a fuccboi before.”

“Whatever you do, keep the gay shit to a minimum.”

“Ha ha, fucker.  I think you need to worry about getting us to Abilene on time and leave the torture chamber to me.”

Wyatt started walking towards the front.

Seth laughed.  “And remember, what happens back here, stays back here.”

Can Pricks Fly?

Barry was sitting on a table as he watched Seth strap Patrick’s torso and legs down.  “Are you not going to strip him of his clothes?”

“No.”

“I thought you always like to do that to dudes.”

Seth knew Barry was fucking with him.  “What I really like doing is cutting dicks off assholes.”

“Fuck you!”

Seth slid some extensions out from the table.  They were perpendicular to Patrick’s body.  He laid his arms on them, then strapped them down. 

“Why are you doing that?”

“He has some broken bones that I need to fix.”

“Why in the fuck do you care if they’re broken?”

“Why in the fuck aren’t you standing in the corner sucking your passy like you were told?”

“Because I’m not going to let you mistreat me anymore.”

Seth lowered a piece of equipment from the ceiling.  It was mounted on an articulating arm.  He positioned it over Patrick’s right arm.

“What the fuck is that?”

Seth pointed to a sign on the box that read WARNING: X-RAY RADIATION.

Barry laughed.  “Haven’t we moved up in the world.”

“Keep it up and you’ll be using this to help remove your foot out of your ass.”

“Whatever, dude.”

Seth injected Patrick with adrenaline.  A few seconds later, his eyes opened.  He raised his head off the table and started looking around.  “Where am I?”

Barry yelled out, “In the house of assholes!”

Seth glared at him.  “What the fuck is your problem?”

He shrugged his shoulders.  “You tell me.  You have all the answers.”

“Keep acting up and see where it gets you.”

Patrick was in pain.  He was also still dazed.  “What’s wrong with me?”

“Your arm and leg are broken and you have a lot of bumps and scrapes.”

“What happened?”

“Apparently, you fell out of a moving vehicle.”

“I don’t remember that.  How did that happen?”

Seth pointed towards Barry.  “Ask that idiot.”

Barry shook his genitals.  “I got your idiot hanging right here.”

Patrick looked worried.  “Am I in the hospital?”

Seth shook his head.  “As close as you’re going to get to one.”

He was confused.  “What does that mean?”  He tried to move.  “And why am I tied down?”  He was becoming more alert, and as he looked around, he noticed Gus hanging on the wall.  Then he noticed Andrew was resting his head against his ass while sucking on the pipe.  “Oh my God!”  He looked at Seth with disbelief.  “What the fuck is going on?”

“Don’t pay any attention to those sick fuckers.”

He looked around, noticing the tools hanging on the wall.  He started panicking.  “This isn’t a hospital.  Where in the fuck am I?”

Seth turned on the X-ray machine, causing it to make a humming noise.  Barry had a hateful expression.  “Is that fucker safe to be around?”

“Sure.”

“That doesn’t sound too convincing.”

“Then leave.”

“I hope it makes your dick fall off.”

“Like yours did?”

“Screw you!”

“Hey, if you’re gonna dish it out, you better learn to take it.”

“Whatever, dude.”

Patrick was scared.  “I don’t know what’s going on, but please help me.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.”  Seth looked at a monitor that was mounted to the X-ray machine.  “Your humerus has a compound fracture.”

“That’s not good!  Are you going to take me to the hospital?”

“No.  I’m going to fix it myself.”

“Are you a doctor or something?”

Barry laughed.  “Yeah, doctor of death.”

Patrick’s eyes opened big.  “What the hell is going on?  Why are y’all saying weird shit?”

Seth picked up a rubber mallet.  “This might sting a little.”  He struck his arm.

Patrick screamed.  “What the fuck are you doing?  That fucking hurts!”

Seth hit his arm a few more times as he watched the monitor, then tossed the mallet on Patrick’s chest.  “I got your humerus put back together, but now I need to install a pin to keep it in place.”

Patrick was breathing heavily and his face was covered in sweat.  “Oh my God!  Please don’t do anything else to me!”

“If I don’t pin it, your bones will move.”

“There’s no way you’re a fucking doctor!  Please just take me to a hospital before you make it worse!”

Seth held up a cordless drill that had a four-foot long drill bit that was three-eighths in diameter.  “This might also sting.”

His eyes opened wide.  “No, no, no!  Please don’t do that!  I beg you!”

Barry walked over.  “Damn!  Where did ya find that thing?”

“Electricians use them.”

“Can I watch?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not really.”

Seth stood at the end of Patrick’s arm.  He was making a fist.  “Open your hand so I can drill into your palm.”

“I don’t understand.  You want to do what?”

“I’m going to drill through your palm, up through your forearm between your ulna and radius bones, through your elbow, then through the center of your humerus.  After that, I’m going to drive in a long pin.”  Seth held up a four-foot long aluminum rod.

Patrick started panicking.  “You’re fucking crazy!  You can’t do this!”

“Sure, I can.  I’ll use the X-ray machine to guide the bit.”

“Please take me to the hospital!”

“They’re going to do the same thing.”

“Not like that!”  He looked at Barry.  “Come on, man!  Please talk some sense into your friend!”

Barry shrugged his shoulders.  “I kind of wanna see if he can do it.”

He looked back at Seth.  “Listen!  I will pay you whatever you want if you don’t do it!”

He stuck the end of the drill to the back of his hand.  “If you don’t open up, I’ll just drill through your fist.”

“Please don’t do this!  I’ll do whatever….”

Seth drilled between his knuckles, through the center of his hand and into his wrist.  Patrick was screaming at the top of his lungs and jerking around as Seth drilled through the center of his forearm.  After about halfway, he pulled the bit out and tapped it on the edge of the table to dislodge some tissue.  He started to stick the bit back in the hole, but paused.  “Try to hold still when I get to your elbow.  If you flop around too much, I might not be able to stay in the center of your humerus.”

Patrick was in so much pain that his eyes were rolling around in his head.  “Oh God!  You’re killing me!  Please stop!  I’m begging you!”

Seth shoved the bit back into the hole and started drilling.  When he got to his elbow he shouted, “Be still, asshole!  You’re going to make me mess up!”

Barry walked next to Seth and looked at the monitor.  He noticed the drill bit wasn’t in the center of the humerus.  He yelled over Patrick’s screaming.  “Looks like you’re off course.”

“No shit, Sherlock!”

“I thought you didn’t make mistakes.”

“Hush!”

About that time, the bit came out the side of the bone right before the break.  “Nice job.  Now whatcha gonna do?”

Seth glared at Barry.  “Toss you on your fucking head if you don’t stop running your mouth.”

“Whatever, dude.”

Seth pulled out the bit, then started hammering in the rod.  Patrick had damaged his voice box and was hollering out muffled screams.  Snot was running out of his nose and he was foaming at the mouth like a rabid animal.  His eyes were blood shot and all the muscles in his neck were bulging out as he endured the pain.

Barry noticed the rod wasn’t moving past his elbow.  “Looks like it’s stuck.”

“Fuck yes.  The rod can’t find the hole in the epicondyle.”

“In the what?”

“The large part in the end of his humerus.”  Seth started hitting the rod harder.

Barry laughed.  “That’s it.  Just force the bitch in.”

Suddenly, the end of the rod came piercing though Patrick’s bicep.  Seth shook his head as he looked at the X-ray.  Patrick’s elbow had broken apart, causing the rod to go off course.

Barry laughed.  “Good job.”

Seth glared at him.  “Keep it up, asshole!”

Barry sat on the other stainless-steel table.  “How ya gonna fix that shit?”

“I’m not.”

Patrick was on the verge of passing out.  Seth injected him with more adrenaline.  Within seconds, he was fully alert and looking at his arm in horror.  It was swollen and turning blue from internal bleeding.  One end of the aluminum rod was sticking out of his bicep, and the other end was sticking out of his fist.  His elbow was grotesquely deformed from the shattered bones.  He didn’t know what to say as he looked at Seth with disbelief.

“I know.  I fucked up.”  Seth walked next to his feet with the drill.  “But maybe I’ll do better on your leg.”

Patrick’s voice was raspy.  “Please don’t hurt me anymore!  I beg you!”

“Your femur is broken.  But fortunately, it’s just a simple fracture.”

Patrick had no idea where he was, or why this man was hurting him.  The only thing that made any sense was he had to be crazy.  He knew begging wasn’t going to stop him, so he thought he’d try reverse psychology.  “That’s good.  That means it doesn’t need a pin.  But I do appreciate you trying to fix my arm.”

Seth started drilling into the bottom of his foot.  When the bit entered his ankle, the drill bogged down as it drilled through bones.  Seth showed no mercy as he ran the bit in deeper and deeper.  As he drilled between his tibia and fibula, tendons started binding up the bit.  The cordless drill finally stopped due to a lack of torque.  He reversed it to dislodge the bit, but it wouldn’t budge.  He tried to pull it out, but it was stuck.  He looked at Barry.  “Help me get this out.”

“Say please.”

Seth gritted his teeth.  “Please.”

“Say that you’re sorry for being an asshole.”

Seth removed the drill, laid it on the floor, then walked off.

“Where ya goin’, pal?”

Seth ignored him as he dug through a cabinet.

“Come on.  Don’t be such a cry baby.”

Barry walked over to Patrick.  “Are you pouting too?”

Patrick was breathing heavily and foaming at the mouth.  He was in so much pain that he could hardly think straight.  “Please make him stop!”

“He doesn’t listen to me.  He’s a know-it-all.”  Barry nodded towards Andrew.  He was passed out with his head laying against Gus’ bloody ass crack.  “Look at that fuckin’ mess he made.  I think the fucker needs help.”

Seth glared at Barry as he plugged in a heavy duty, electric drill.  “What the fuck is wrong with you?  Have you gone full-blown on me?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Retarded.  Have you gone full-retard on me?”

“Ha ha, asshole!  I have your retard hanging right here.”  He grabbed his penis and shook it.

“Keep it up.  You’re cruisin’ for a bruisin’.”

“I ain’t fuckin’ cruisin’ for shit.”

Seth tightened the drill’s chuck around the bit.  “I’m about tired of your shit.”

“I’ve been tired of yours for a while.”

Patrick was panicking as he looked at Seth.  He could barely speak.  “No, no, no!  Please don’t start the drill!  I beg you!  I will do whatever you want if you won’t hurt me anymore!”

Barry laughed.  “Will you suck his dick?  He would like that.”

Seth ignored Barry as he pulled the trigger.  At first, there was a lot of resistance as the tendons stretched, causing him to hold onto the handles of the drill with all his strength.  As the tendons started tearing apart, it became easier for the bit to spin.  Seth watched the monitor as he drilled through the center of his femur.  Patrick was throwing his head around and trying to scream, but his voice was completely gone.  All he could do was moan.  The pain became so intense he started having convulsions, but Seth didn’t stop.

Barry was watching the monitor.  He noticed the bit had come out the side of the Patrick’s femur.  “Ha!  You did it again.  What a tool.”

Seth stopped the drill and glared at him.  “Why are you acting like a prick?”

“Because I can.”

“Keep pushing my buttons and see where it gets you.”

“Yeah, yeah.  Whatever.”

Seth jerked the bit out of Patrick’s leg and tossed it on the floor.  He removed the straps, then shoved him onto the floor.

Barry laughed.  “I take it you’re done playing pin the bone?”

Seth ignored him as he started cutting Patrick with a knife.  He was cutting him from head to toe as Patrick rolled around on the floor hollering out muffled screams.

Confusion overcame Barry.  “What the fuck are ya doin’?”

Seth continued to ignore him.  He holstered his knife, then started ripping Patrick’s skin off.  He was showing no mercy as he violently ripped him apart.  He looked like a madman skinning an animal alive.

Barry looked worried.  “Dude!  What the hell is wrong with you?”

Within a few minutes, Seth had completely skinned Patrick.  Barry was horrified as he looked at him.  He was covered from head to toe in blood standing in a pile of ravaged flesh.  Patrick was laying at his feet.  He looked like one of those human anatomy models that show the muscles.  Barry thought he was dead until he noticed his eyes were moving around in their sockets.

Seth grabbed Patrick by the foot and dragged him to the door.  When he opened it, the nighttime air came rushing in.  It smelled like freshly-plowed farmland.  The wind was making a howling sound as Seth stood in the doorway looking at Barry.  “I wonder if pricks can fly.”

Barry shrugged his shoulders.  “I don’t know what that means.”

Seth threw Patrick out into the dark.

“Oh shit!  I can’t believe you did that.”  Barry ran up to the door and looked out.  He laughed.  “Well, I guess they can’t fly.”

“I wasn’t talkin’ about him, dumbass.”  Seth kicked Barry in the back as he was looking out the door.  The wind instantly sucked him out like he was jumping out of an airplane.  He screamed as he disappeared into the darkness.  Seth shut the door, then lit a cigarette.

The Big-Dick Clown

Seth went up front and sat down in the passenger seat.  Wyatt noticed he was covered in blood.  “Damn, dude!  What the hell have y’all been doin’ back there?”

“Takin’ care of Patrick.”

“Is he alive?”

Seth shrugged his shoulders.  “Who knows?”

Wyatt looked towards the back of the RV.  “Where’s numbnuts?”

“Probably laying in the bar ditch.”

His eyes got big.  “What the hell did you do?”

“I got tired of his shit and tossed his ass out the door.”

Wyatt started slowing down.  “We can’t just leave him there.”

“Fuck him.  Keep goin’.”

“What if he tells the cops what we’re doing?”

“I’m sure he will if he didn’t break his fucking neck.”

“We have to go back.  He knows too much.”

Seth took a deep breath.  “Fuck!”  He keyed up on the two-way radio.  “K-Dog.”

A few seconds later he answered.  “Go ahead.”

“What’s your twenty?”

“Just picked up our next package on the west side of Abilene and waiting for y’all on 495.”

“Listen up.  Leave the package in the trees.  We’ll deal with it when we get there.  I need you to double back and find Spanky.  He should be around….”  Seth looked at Wyatt.  “It was fucking dark.  I’m not sure where he would be.”

“When did you throw him out?”

“Right before I came up here.”

Wyatt grabbed the mic.  “There’s a place called Southwest Truck and Trailer off Highway 20 coming into Abilene.  You can’t miss it.  The parking lot is full of big-rigs.  He should be about a mile after it.”

Seth grabbed the mic.  “If the fucker is alive, feel free to cut his throat.”

Wyatt took it back.  “Ignore that.  Just pick his ass up regardless if he’s dead or alive and meet up with us later.”

“I’m not even going to ask what the hell y’all crazy white fuckers are doin’.”

Seth motioned to Wyatt.  “Tell him to send me the coordinates where he leaves Darren.”

He keyed up.  “Seth said send the coordinates where you leave the package.”

“Will do.”

Wyatt looked at Seth.  “Wow!  Barry must have really pissed you off.”

“The fucker just doesn’t know when to shut up.”

“I can’t believe you actually threw him out of the RV.”

Seth laughed.  “You should have heard him as he flew through the air.  He was screaming like a girl.”

Wyatt was looking at all the blood on Seth.  “What did you do to Patrick?”

“Made a fuckin’ mess out of him.  Then threw his ass out too.”

“Damn, dude!  What’s going on?”

“Not sure.  It’s been a real odd day.  Shit just ain’t going right.”  Seth looked out the window and quietly said as he gritted his teeth, “Fuckin’ little bastard.”

“What was that?”

“Just thinking of Barry.”

Wyatt thought he needed to get Seth’s mind off Barry.  “So, what’s the story on this Darren dude that we’re picking up?”

“He a real fuckbag.  He’s out on parole for molesting a seven-year-old boy.  He kidnapped the kid from a park while disguised like a clown.”  Seth opened a folder and flipped to a picture of a man.  He handed it to Wyatt.  “That’s Darren Cook.”

He noticed he looked like a freak.  He was short and fat with pink hair.  He had piercings in his eyebrows, nose and bottom lip, and he was wearing black eyeliner and mascara.  “This dude gives me the creeps.”

“I know.”  Seth stood up.  “I’m going to go clean this blood off.”

“We’re not too far from 495.”

He sat back down.  “Fuck it!  I’m probably just going to get covered in more shit anyway.”

A few miles down the road, Wyatt turned onto 495.  It was a rural road out in the middle of nowhere.  “Where did Kenneth leave Darren?”

Seth typed the coordinates that Kenneth had sent him into his GPS.  “There’s a dirt road at the corner coming up.  Follow it.  I’ll tell you when we’re getting close.”

“How are we going to hide this big ass RV?”

“I’m looking at Google Maps on my phone.  There’s a wooded area next to a pond.  It looks like we can park there.”

Wyatt started driving down a road that was grown up with vegetation.  “Are you sure this is right?  It looks like a dirt path.”

“Yep.”

“Why in the fuck was Darren way out here?”

“He wasn’t.  Kenneth picked him up at his sister’s house.  She lives a few miles back down the highway.  He was just waiting for us on 495.”  Seth pointed.  “Pull in right here.”

Wyatt drove through an opening in some trees and parked.  “This is definitely off the beaten path.”

Seth got out.  “Let’s go grab Darren.  He’s not far from here.”

They took off walking through some brush.  They walked out a hundred feet, then Seth stopped.  “He should be right around here.”

Wyatt’s light struck a man under a cedar tree.  His arms were tied behind his back and his legs were tied together.  He had a chain around his neck that was secured to the tree and his mouth was duct taped.  His eyes were huge as he stared back.  “Found him.”

Seth noticed Darren’s black eyeliner and mascara had smeared all over his face and his hair was green instead of pink.  He laughed.  “He looks like a fat version of the joker.”

“This dude looks like he’s in his mid-thirties.”

“Yep, thirty-four.”

“Isn’t he too old to be doing the emo thing?”

“What do you expect from a fucking child molester?”

Darren jerked at his restraints as he yelled curse words and threats through the tape.

“Cool.  I like it when they’re spunky.”  Seth unhooked the chain from the tree, then started dragging Darren by the neck as Wyatt followed.  When they got in the RV, they laid him on one of the stainless-steel tables and strapped him down.

Seth pulled out a knife and started cutting off his clothes.

“Are we doin’ this now?”

“Why not?  We’re already in a secluded area where no one can hear him scream.”

“What kind of shit are you going to do to him?”

“For starters, make sure he never will be able to stick his dick in another kid.”

Darren’s eyes opened wide after that comment.  He was desperately trying to talk as Seth cut off his boxers.  Wyatt started to remove the tape across his mouth, but Seth motioned for him to stop.  “Leave it on.”

“Do you not want to hear what he has to say?”

“Not really.  We already know he’s a fucking molester, and anything that comes out of his mouth will be a lie.”

“I thought you always gave these fuckers a chance to prove their innocence?”

“No need in doing that with him, or rest of the scumbags, we’re going after.  The files Bill gave me are all I need.  And before you ask, I confirmed it was all accurate before we started this trip.”

“That’s good.  It’ll save us time.”

“Sure, in the fuck will.  That’s the best part about this trip.  We get to fuck up these assholes as fast as we can pick ‘em up.”  Seth held up a can of expanding foam so Darren could see it.  “Would you like to have a big dick?  This stuff will make your shit as big as an elephant’s trunk.”

He mumbled through the tape.

“I can’t tell what you’re saying.  Just blink for yes.”

His eyes were filled with horror as he fought to keep them open.  Seth lit a cigarette, then blew smoke in his face.  His eyes instantly began to burn as they filled with tears.  He was fighting with everything he had to keep them open.  Suddenly, he blinked.

“Excellent choice.”  Seth grabbed his penis and shoved the long nozzle on the can into his urethra as far as it would go.  The end stopped in his lower abdomen where the urethra makes a sharp turn upwards towards the prostate.

Darren was holding his head up and yelling at Seth through the tape.

“Okay, okay.  I know you can’t wait.  I’m trying to hurry.”  He pressed the trigger and started pumping in foam.  At first, there was some resistance, then a pop could be heard.

Darren threw his head back and started screaming as much as he could through the tape.

Wyatt looked confused.  “What was that popping sound?”

“The foam busted through his urethra.”

“Where’s it going now?”

“It’s pumping into his abdomen.”

“Did you do that on purpose?”

“Yeah.”

“For what?”

“I’m just curious how many cans I can get in him.”  Seth set the empty can down and stuck in a new one.

“Won’t that kill him?”

“Not anytime soon, unless the foam causes too much pressure on his heart.”

All the muscles in Darren’s body were flexing as he endured the pain.  His blood pressure was so high that his eyes were bloodshot as he screamed and begged Seth to stop.  Seth set the empty can down next to the other one.  He looked at Darren.  “Don’t worry.  I’ll have enough foam left for your dick.”  He started pumping in another can.

Wyatt could see Darren’s abdomen swelling.  “Is he going to pop?”

“I’m not sure.  Never done this much before.”

“I don’t want to be around if he does.”  He stepped back.

“It’ll take an hour or so for the foam to expand to its full potential, so it’ll be fine for now.”

“Oh.  Just don’t fuck around too long so we don’t have to find out.”

The pain from the foam filling his abdomen became so intense that Darren was throwing his head around as he screamed at the top of his lungs.

Seth slammed the empty can down next to the other ones.  “Alright, you impatient bastard!  I’ll do your dick next.”  He picked up a new can.  He stuck the nozzle in him to where the tip was at the base of Darren’s penis, then started pumping in foam.  He looked at Wyatt.  “Go grab the stapler.  It’s the kind for paper.”  He pointed to a cabinet.  “It’s in there.”

He brought it over.  “What do you want me to do?”

“When I pull out the nozzle, staple the end of his dick.”

“Uh…  I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Don’t worry about it.  I’ll do it.”  Seth pulled out the nozzle and grabbed the stapler.  He quickly stapled Darren’s urethra closed, then he started punching in one staple after another until the head of his penis was flat.

Wyatt felt bad.  “I’m sorry I froze.  It’s just been a while since I’ve been around this kind of stuff.”

“Don’t sweat it.”

“When Missy called me and asked if I wanted to help with this assignment, I couldn’t wait.  I really do want to help.  Just don’t get upset with me like you do with Barry.”

“Barry is an idiot.  He gets off on this shit for the wrong reason.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think he wants to be a serial killer.  And I’m not talking about the kind of shit I do, but Jeffrey Dahmer kind of shit.”

“You think so?”

“Maybe.  That’s why I let him come on this trip.  I need to determine if he’s lost it.”

“Wow!  I didn’t know that.”

“If the fucker didn’t break his neck, keep an eye on him.  I still don’t trust the fucker.”

“Good to know.”  Wyatt noticed Darren’s penis was doing something strange.  It had stretched about twice its length, but it was grotesquely curving upwards and back onto itself, making a U-shape.  He nodded towards it.  “Check that out.  Why’s it doing that?”

“The foam is only expanding in his urethra along the bottom of his penis.  That’s why it’s curving like that.”

“It looks like it’s going to burst.”

Seth looked at Darren.  His face was covered in a mixture of tears and mascara, and snot bubbles were blowing out of his nose as he lay crying like a baby.  “Check out your dick.”

He didn’t move.

Seth noticed he was on the verge of passing out, so he injected him with adrenaline.  Within seconds, he became alert.  Seth grabbed his hair and pulled his head up so he could see it.  “Check out what your dick got you into.”

His eyes opened wide as he stared in horror.

Seth laughed.  “It looks like one of those balloons that clowns use to make animals and shit.”

He mumbled through the tape as he stared at Seth with sadness.

“I’m glad you like it.”

He shook his head as he continued to mumble.

“Oh.  And you want a hat to go along with your clown dick.  An asshat you say?  I’ll see what I can do.”

Darren was shaking his head as he mumbled, “No, no, no!”

Wyatt knew Seth was just messing with Darren.  “What the hell is an asshat?”

“Help me flip him over and I’ll show you.”

After they laid him on his stomach, Seth took a specially-designed tool and shoved it in his ass.  He pulled a lever, extending some steel teeth, then ripped out his rectum.

The tape covering Darren’s mouth came loose.  He was finally able to plea with Seth.  “Oh my God!  I beg you to….”

Seth covered his mouth with a new piece of tape.  “Be patient.  I’m working on your damn hat as fast as I can.”  He pulled out about four feet of his colon, then started sewing it up his back.

Darren was throwing his head around as the tape muffled his screams.

Wyatt was confused.  “I don’t get what this has to do with a hat.”

“You’re as impatient as Barry is.”  When he was done stitching Darren’s colon up his back, he stretched the end of it over his head and started stitching it in place.

Wyatt shook his head.  “Asshat.  I should have figured that one out.”

Seth laughed.  “That’s alright.  You’re just a little rusty.”

Wyatt noticed Darren’s abdomen was getting larger.  “You need to wrap this up before he fucking explodes and makes a mess.”

“It’s fine.  If it was going to happen, he would have done it already.”  Seth forced Darren’s hands to his ass cheeks and sewed them in place, then he flipped him over to his back.

Wyatt pushed on Darren’s abdomen.  “Damn!  His skin is tight as shit.  He looks like he’s pregnant.” 

Seth looked at Darren as he stared back in horror.  “What else would you like done?”

Darren’s eyes were huge as he looked at Seth, but he remained quiet.  He knew pleading would only cause him more pain.  Every time he had tried to speak, Seth did something horrible to him.

“You don’t have to say anything.  Your eyes say it all.”

Darren started shaking his head as he mumbled pleas of mercy through the tape.

Seth took a knife and cut holes in his chest under his nipples, filled the space between his pectoralis muscles and skin with expanding foam, then sealed the gashes closed with superglue.

Wyatt was confused.  “Why’d you do that?”

“You’ll see.”

He shook his head as the foam expanded.  “Fucking tits.”

“Yep.  He wanted them to go along with his big dick and baby bump.”

“That’s disturbing.”

Seth looked at Darren.  “Now what do you want?”

He didn’t make a sound as he closed his eyes.

“Great idea!”  He cut holes in Darren’s feet and started filling them with foam.

Wyatt looked at Seth.  “I didn’t hear him say anything.”

Seth laughed.  “I read his mind.”

“I’m sure.  And what did he tell you?”

“That he wanted some red clown shoes to complete his look.”

“And what kind of look is that?”

“A potbelly clown with a fat dick, big tits and asshat.”

“It looks like he’s getting his wish.  But why are you filling up his feet with foam.”

“I don’t have any red clown shoes, so I’m having to improvise.”  He handed Wyatt a can of red spray paint.  “When I get done, paint his feet for me.”

Wyatt shook his head as he watched Darren’s feet swell up.  “You’re turning his damn feet into clown shoes.”

“Yep.”  Seth removed the tape from Darren’s mouth, then sewed it closed.  “Only thing left is his makeup.”  He opened a toolbox and pulled out a tattoo machine.

“I take it Missy don’t have any makeup laying around?”

“She does, But Darren wants it to be permanent.”

An hour later, Seth was done tattooing Darren’s face.  He looked like he was wearing traditional clown makeup.  Darren was in complete agony.  The foam inside his abdomen was creating a lot of pressure on his innards, feeling like they were being crushed in a vise.  He could feel his heartbeat in his penis as it throbbed.  His rear-end felt as if it was on fire and his feet were burning.

Seth held up a mirror so Darren could see himself.  “Whatcha think?”

The image of the freak in the mirror couldn’t be him, he thought.  He moved his head to see if the image would follow, and it did.  This has to be a trick, he thought.  There was no way a human could go through so much trauma and still be alive.

Seth turned the mirror so he could see the back of it.  “It’s real.”  He held it where he could see himself again.  “Yep, that handsome devil staring back is really you.”

Darren started shaking his head as he mumbled through his stitching.

“You look fine.  And if for some miraculous reason you survive, you’ll get to work in a circus.  How cool would that be?”

He raised his head off the table and hollered muffled curse words.

“But the downside is, the foam has caused irreversible damage, meaning your cock and feet must be amputated before gangrene sets in.  And you’ll probably have to sport around a colostomy bag after the doctors scrape you out.  But the good news is, you’ll get to keep your clown makeup.”

Déjà vu

Darren was desperately trying to speak as Seth tattooed Child Molester across his swollen abdomen.

Wyatt couldn’t tell what he was saying.  “What’s he whining about?”

“He’s just so excited about his new look, and he wants the whole world to see his transformation.”

“What are you planning on doing….”  Wyatt heard a door shut.  He ran to a window and looked out.  “Oh shit!  Someone’s here!”

“It’s Kenneth.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve been tracking his GPS.  Just like he’s tracking ours.  That’s how he knows where we’re at.”

“Someone is with him…  It’s fucking Barry.  I can’t believe he’s walking.”

“I can’t believe he had the balls to come back.”

Kenneth opened the door and walked in, then Barry came in holding a bloody rag over his right eye.  He was covered in grass and his clothes were torn.  His face and arms had cuts and bruises and he was limping.

Seth nodded at him.  “Hey!  How was your flight?”

Barry didn’t say a word or look at anyone as he went into the bathroom and slammed the door.

Kenneth laughed.  “He’s pretty fuckin’ mad.  His eye got ripped out.  I doubt he’ll say anything to you again.”

“If I knew that was all it took, I’d ripped out his fuckin’ eye a long time ago.”

Kenneth noticed the man on the table.  “What the fuck is that?”

“It’s Darren.”

“Bullshit.”  He looked closer, noticing some green hair sticking out of the colon sewn to his head.  “Damn, dude!  What the fuck?”

“That’s your new partner.”

“Fuck that.”

“You’re gonna need to watch your back.  It’s either him or Lefty.”

“I wouldn’t trust fuckin’ Spanky with a bag of dicks, much less watch my back.”

Wyatt laughed.  “Barry with a bag of dicks.  That’s funny as shit.”

Barry came out of the bathroom with a bandage wrapped around his head, covering his right eye.  “Ha ha, motherfuckers!  I’m glad y’all think this shit is funny!”

Wyatt felt bad.  “Hey, man.  We were just joking around.”

He removed the bandage, showing his empty eye socket that was oozing blood.  “Does this look like a fucking joke?”

“Dude.  I’m sure Seth didn’t mean for that to happen.  It was just an accident.”

He pulled out a gun.  “Just like it’s gonna be an accident when everyone gets capped in the head!”

Kenneth raised his hands as he stepped back.  “Hold up!  You need to chill the….”

Barry pointed it at him.  “You don’t tell me what to do, you fucking porch monkey!”

Kenneth became angry.  “What did you fucking call me, you fucking peckerwood?”

“You heard me, boy!”

“I got your fucking boy!”

Barry cocked the gun as he pointed at his head.  “Say another word!  I dare you!”

Kenneth eased backwards, remaining quiet.

Wyatt was scared.  He looked at Seth sitting on the edge of a table.  “Blow his head off!”

Barry pointed the gun at Wyatt.  “You stupid fucker!”  He grabbed the collar around his neck.  “He knows if he does, the explosion will kill all of us.  And I’m ready to fuckin’ die.  What about you?”

Wyatt knelt.  “Okay, okay.  Go easy, man.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“Please don’t do this.  I’ll do whatever you want if you’ll just calm down.”

Barry stuck the end of the barrel to his head.  “Can you give me back my eye?”

“You know I can’t.”

“Then I guess your ass is grass.  And speaking of my eye.”  Barry smiled and pointed the gun at Seth.  “You…  You’re gonna pay for what you did to me, you fucking piece of shit.  You think you’re so smart, but now look at ya.”

Seth lit a cigarette.  “Did you at least find it?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your fucking eye.  Did you find it?”

“Fuck you, asshole!”

“I was hoping you did.  I already have a jar for it.  I was going to put it on my mantel above the fireplace.”

Kenneth glared at Seth.  “Don’t antagonize him.”

Barry laughed.  “That’s right.  You need to listen to your boy.”  He shook the gun at Seth.  “I’m in control now, dumbass.”

“You’re about an ignorant fucker, aren’t you?”

“Keep talking!  I dare you!”

“I guess you don’t remember what happened the last time you pointed a gun at me.”

Barry’s heart felt like it stopped.  The last time he pointed a gun at Seth, it didn’t have a firing pin.  And then Seth punished him by cutting off his penis.  “Bullshit!  I’ve had this gun with me the whole time.  There’s no way you removed the firing pin.”

“Déjà vu, nimrod.”

Barry’s facial expression became blank as he turned the gun sideways to look at it.  Before he knew what happened, Kenneth had snuck up behind him and knocked him out with a club.

Wyatt was relieved as he picked up the gun from the floor.  “Thank God this damn thing didn’t have a firing pin.”

Seth took the gun from him.  “I didn’t say that.”

His eyes got big.  “What?”

“I didn’t even know he was carrying.”

“Then what was that all about?”

“I was just reminding the dipshit what had happened last time.  He’s the one who assumed the gun wouldn’t work.”

“You crazy motherfucker!  He could have shot all of us.”

Kenneth kicked Barry in the stomach.  “Fuck this little bastard!  Let’s bury his ass.”  He pulled out a knife.

Wyatt interrupted.  “Hold up.  I know he can be a prick, but killing him isn’t the answer.”

Kenneth was mad.  “This motherfucker was going to kill us.”

“I just think he was upset and trying to get some attention.  If he wanted to kill us, he would have.”

Kenneth looked at Seth.  “What do you think?”

“The fucker makes me laugh, but y’all can do whatever you want.”

“I vote to cut his throat.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “I disagree.”

Seth looked at his watch.  It was 4:30 AM.  “We have to get rollin’ if we’re going to stay on schedule.”

Wyatt pointed at Barry.  “What are we going to do with him?”

“He’s your problem now.”

“Oh.  So, what’s the game plan?”

“You need to take the RV to Horizon City.  I’ve already reserved a spot at Bucky’s RV Park.  Kenneth and I will meet you there.”

“Are you going with Kenneth?”

“No.  I’m taking the Toyota.  I need to drop Darren off in Abilene, then head to Lubbock to pick up Jerry.  I’ll also have to pick up Robert in Midland.  Kenneth has to pick up Brandon from Fort Stockton and Brian in El Paso.”

Kenneth walked to the door.  “I’m out of here.”

Seth nodded.  “Alright.  Just remember, Brian lives in a trailer park full of hillbillies.  Don’t wind up like Marsellus Wallace in Pulp Fiction with your pants around your ankles.”   

“I can handle myself just fine.”  He walked out the door.

Wyatt pointed towards Gus and Andrew.  “What do you want to do with them?”

“Nothing.  They’re not going anywhere.”

Wyatt noticed Gus’ rear-end was charred, and there were cracks oozing fluid.  “Gus looks dead.”

Seth checked his pulse.  “Nope.  He’s alive.”

“How?  His guts must be cooked.”

He unplugged the soldering iron, leaving it in his anus.  “It’s surprising sometimes how much trauma humans can endure.  On the other hand, I’ve seen people fall dead from the simplest things.”

“What about Andrew?”

“He’s just playing possum.”

“Do you want to leave him sewn to Gus, or hang him on the wall?”

“He’s fine where he’s at.”

“I just want to make sure he doesn’t get loose while I’m driving.”

“He’s not going anywhere with his nuts nailed to the floor.”  Seth removed a tarp that was covering the Toyota 4x4.  “Help me load up Darren.”

After they put Darren in the bed, Seth backed the truck out of the RV, then started to drive off, but stopped and got out.

Wyatt was closing the rear door.  “Did you forget something?”

“Let’s put Barry on a table.”

“Why?”

“I got this idea running through my head, and if I don’t do it, it will drive me fucking crazy.”

Idle Hands are the Devil’s Playground

Barry awoke on one of the stainless-steel tables with a bad headache.  He looked around, noticing he was alone, and realized the RV was moving.  Horror engulfed him when he remembered what had happened earlier, fearing that Seth had done something bad to him.  When he tried to move his arms, his right hand was stuck in his waistband by his crotch, and his other hand was numb.  He tried to move the fingers on his left hand, but they were paralyzed.  He looked closer, and was horrified to note fresh stitching on his wrist.  The last time he had pulled a gun on Seth, he paid a hefty price.

He rolled to his side and sat up, then tried to pull his right hand loose again, but it wouldn’t budge.  Oh my God!  What has he done to me, he thought?  He ran to the bathroom to look in the mirror.  His heart felt like it stopped when he saw his reflection.  A spring was coming out of his empty eye socket and had a plastic eyeball on the end.  He was grossed out and wanted to remove it.  He pushed on the spring with his left hand, but it wouldn’t come off.  He looked closer in the mirror and noticed it was stitched in place.  There was no way he was going to get it out unless he could get his right hand free, so he started rubbing against the vanity to pull down his pants.  As they started sliding off, he saw that his hand was gripping the handle of a revolver.  His hand and fingers appeared to be glued to the gun, and the gun glued to his lower abdomen.  Only his index finger was free to move around, but unfortunately, it was next to the trigger.  He could feel the end of the barrel poking him in the penis.  He was horrified; knowing if he pulled at his hand, the gun could go off.

He was in a hell of a predicament and wasn’t sure what to do.  Should he go see who was up front?  What if Seth was in the RV, he thought?  He might have further plans for him.  Plans that involve doing something a lot worse than what he’d already done to him.  Should he take his chances and jump out of the RV?  He eased towards the front to see who was up there, observing that Wyatt was driving and the passenger seat was empty.  He thought about taking out Wyatt so he could escape, but how?  Both of his hands were useless.  He was racking his brain, trying to think of a way to get out of this horrible situation.

Barry went to the back and started looking for things that he could use against Wyatt.  Since he wouldn’t be able to use his hands, he started looking for items he could pick up with his teeth.  A screwdriver might work, he thought.  He picked one up off the workbench with his mouth, then pretended to stab with it.  He spit it out and picked up a hammer.  He tried to swing it, but it went flying across the room—his mouth wasn’t strong enough to hold onto the handle.  He was almost ready to give up when he noticed a syringe in a trashcan.  He could hold the barrel with his teeth while pushing the plunger with his tongue.  How perfect, he thought.  It would be easy to sneak up on Wyatt and inject air into the back of his neck.  The syringe was at the bottom of the trashcan, so he kicked it over and crawled inside.  He was about to grab it with his teeth when the RV came to an abrupt stop, causing Barry and the trashcan to slide across the floor and crash into a wall.

“Stop fucking around and get your ass up here!”

Barry stumbled to his feet and looked around to see who was yelling at him.

“I said get your ass up here!”

He eased to the front.  “I…  Uh….”

Wyatt pointed.  “Sit down.  You’re freaking me out.”

He sat in the passenger seat.  “What do you mean?  I was just hanging out in the back.”

“You know there are cameras back there and I can see everything?”

Barry was embarrassed, but also scared.  “I know that.  So, where’s everyone else?”

“Seth just dropped Darren off in Abilene.  He’s now on his way to Lubbock.  And Kenneth is heading to Fort Stockton.”

“Why did he take Darren to Abilene?”

“He hung him on a building downtown as an example to the other molesters.”

“Oh.  So where are we going?”

“Horizon City.”

“For what?”

Wyatt looked at him.  “You know you want to ask, so stop beating around the bush.”

Barry looked out the window.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?  You have a fucking spring sticking out of your eye socket and your hand is glued to a gun that is pointed at your dick.”

He had a serious expression as he looked at Wyatt.  “Did you have anything to do with this?”

“Not really.”

“Not really?  Either you did or you didn’t.”

“It’s kind of hard to explain.”

“You sorry motherfucker!  I bet you think this shit is funny?”

“Hold up!  You’re lucky this is all that happened.  Seth and Kenneth wanted to cut your fucking throat, but I talked them out of it.”

His eye opened wide.  “What?”

“You heard me.”

“That’s fucked up!  What did I do to y’all?”

“Do you not remember pointing a gun at us?”

“I remember you telling Seth to blow my head off.”

“That’s because I thought you were going to start shooting.”

“If I wanted to, you’d be dead right now.”

Barry’s aggressiveness was starting to piss off Wyatt.  “How was I supposed to know you were just wanting attention like a spoiled brat?”

Barry became upset too and started yelling.  “I wasn’t wanting attention like some fag.  I was just pissed about my eye, you asshole!” 

“Dude, you just need to chill out and count your blessings.”

“Blessings?  Look what he did to me.”  He shook his head, causing the eye to bounce around.  “I look like a fucking idiot with this thing hanging off my face.  He did this just to humiliate me.”

“He did it because you wanted your eye back and caused a hell of a commotion over it.”

“Yeah, my eye.  Not this stupid toy.”

“I don’t want to rub salt in your wounds, but that’s not a toy.”

“Huh?”  He turned the rearview mirror so he could look in it.  “What the fuck?  I know this isn’t what I think it is?”

“Yep, it’s your eye.”

“You’re just fucking with me.  He wouldn’t go all the way back and look for it.”

“You apparently don’t know Seth very well.  He’d fuckin’ climb Mount Everest just to fuck with someone.  But in this case, you’re right.  Kenneth found it when he picked you up.  It was laying right next to you.”

He was so mad his face was red.  “That sneaky fucker!  He’ll get his!”

“I think you need to calm down before something else bad happens to you.”

“Speaking of bad.”  He held up his left hand.  “What the fuck did y’all do to my hand?”

“I didn’t do shit to it.”

“Then Seth.  What the fuck did he do?”

“Not sure, but he said idle hands are the devil’s playground.  That’s why he paralyzed it.  And he also said, since you like pointing guns at people’s heads, he thought you would like pointing one at yours.  That’s why you have one pointed at your dick.”

He shook his hand in front of Wyatt’s face.  “You better hope this shit isn’t permanent, or someone’s going to die.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to make threats.”

“Y’all better grow some fucking eyes in the back of your heads.”

“Are you threatening me?”

He smiled as he leaned back in his chair.  “Not at all.  It’s all good.”

Wyatt was furious.  “Seth told me to remove the gun when you woke up.”

“How in the fuck are you going to do that?  It’s fucking glued to me.”

“Just come here.”

Barry stood next to him.  “Be careful!  It’s pointed at my fucking dick!”

“I know.  Is your finger away from the trigger?

“Hell yes!  I’m not stupid.”

“And you better keep it that way unless you want your dick blown off.”  Wyatt cocked the hammer back.

Barry’s eye got big.  “What the fuck are you doing?”

“What Seth told me to do, now get the hell away from me.”

“Hold up!  You said you were going to remove it!”

“That’s what you get for fucking threatening me.”

“You fucking asshole!  I’m going to kill your ass!”

Wyatt grabbed Barry’s right arm and started jerking on it, causing his hand to tug on the gun.  “Get back before I make that motherfucker go off!”

Barry stepped back.  “This ain’t right!  You fucking lied to me!”

“I’d be more worried about not touching that trigger.  It’s super sensitive.”

“Screw you, asshole!  You’re gonna get yours!”

“I’m being serious.  Now that it’s cocked, if you just think about pulling the trigger it’ll fire.”

Barry looked scared.  “Oh shit!”

“Oh shit, is right.  That’s a .44 magnum Ruger Blackhawk.  If you get too jumpy, it’ll give you a sex change.”

Barry eased down in his seat.  “Oh my God!  I can’t believe y’all are treating me this way.  What did I do to deserve this?”

“Don’t play stupid.  You know why.” 

His eye teared up.  “I was just upset.  Y’all were making fun of me.”  He started crying.  “Now everyone hates me.”

Wyatt was shocked at Barry’s behavior.  He went from being aggressive to crying like a baby.  It kind of freaked him out, worrying that he was mentally unbalanced.  “Dude, it’s fine.  No one hates you.”

Barry rolled over on his side and cried himself to sleep.

Fuckin’ Retard Hopped up on Ritalin

Around 2 PM, Wyatt pulled into an RV park in Horizon City, which was just outside of El Paso.  He drove to the back where Seth had reserved a spot in a secluded area.  Kenneth and Missy were already there, but Wyatt didn’t see Seth’s truck.  He parked, then tapped Barry on the shoulder.  “Wake up.  We’re here.”

Barry sat up.  “Where’re we at?”

“At a campground where we’re meeting the others.”

He felt uneasy.  “Maybe I should stay in here.”

“Why?”

“Look at me.  I can’t let them see me like this.  I’m a fucking joke.”

“You know what, if you start acting right, I bet Seth will give you another chance.”

“No, he won’t.  He’s been picking on me since I got here.”

“You know you’re not innocent, so stop acting like you are.  And he’s already given you a second chance after you ratted on him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Here you go lyin’ again.  And you’re lucky the only thing he did to you was make you wear a damn dress.”

“You’re right.  I brought that on myself.  Now everyone is mad at me.  I wish I could start over.”

“Just start doing your part and I’m sure everything will be fine.”

He looked down at his crotch.  “How am I supposed to do my part with this gun pointed at my dick?”

“If you promise not to act up anymore, I’ll lower the hammer.”

“I will.  I swear.”

He eased the hammer down.  “Don’t make me regret it.”

“I won’t.  And thank you for trusting me.”

Someone knocked on the door.  Wyatt opened it and saw Kenneth standing there.  “What’s up?”

He walked in.  “Seth will be here in about thirty minutes, so we need to move the supplies to my truck.”  He handed him a list.  “You round up that stuff and I’ll get the rest.”

“Will do.”

Kenneth noticed the spring hanging from Barry’s face, then he observed his hand inside his pants.  “What the fuck are you doing?  I hope you’re not playing with yourself.”

“I’m not playing with myself.  Seth did this to....”

He interrupted.  “Never mind.  I don’t give a shit.”

Missy walked in.  She looked at Andrew and Gus.  “I see y’all have been busy.”

Barry popped off.  “That’s your boyfriend’s mess.”

She noticed the spring and his hand snaking down his pants.  “What the hell?”

Kenneth looked at her.  “Don’t ask.”

“Okaaay, I won’t!  So, is there anything I can do?”

“We got it.”

“Just make sure you bring plenty of superglue with us.  I have something special planned for them.”

“It’s already on the list.”

Wyatt looked confused.  “What do you mean you have something planned?  I thought we were going to make them play the spin-wheel torture game.”

Kenneth shook his head.  “Nope.  Change of plans.  The assholes we picked up are all sex offenders and Missy wants to fuck them up.”

Wyatt was curious as he looked at her.  “What are you going to do to them?”

“Something you boys aren’t going to have the stomach for.”

“Uh, you know I’ve seen some pretty sick stuff being around Seth.”

She laughed.  “I’m sure you have.  But you’ve never seen what a pissed off woman can do to some perverts.”

“This is going to be interesting.”

Wyatt and Kenneth started rounding up supplies as Barry stood off to the side baring a sad expression.  He looked at Missy.  “I’m not playing with myself.”

She was caught off-guard by his comment.  “Uh, I didn’t say you were.”

“And I didn’t do this to my eye.”

“Okaaay.”

“Do you know what happened?”

“I know y’all need to stop playing grab ass before something worse happens.”

“But I was the one thrown out of the RV.”

“I’m not going to get in the middle of y’all’s damn shenanigans, but that’s what happens when y’all keep fucking with each other and shit gets out of hand.”

“But I didn’t do anything.”

“I’m sure you’re not innocent.”

“You don’t understand.  Everyone picks on me.”

She shook her head.  “Are we in fuckin’ kindergarten?”

She walked to the other side of the cargo area, but Barry followed her.  “I think they conspire against me.”

“Don’t you having something you can be doing?”

He held up his left hand.  “I would, but these pricks fucked up my hand, and my other one is glued to a fuckin’ gun in my pants.”

Kenneth yelled at him.  “Don’t start your shit!”

Barry became mad.  “Mind your own fucking business!”

Kenneth started walking towards him, but Wyatt intervened.  “Hold up!  Just ignore him.”

“He just keeps talking and talking and never shuts the fuck up.”

“I know, but we have a job to do, so don’t let him get in your head.”

“If I’d have known how much of a pain in the ass this guy was going to be, I wouldn’t have come on this trip.”

Barry laughed.  “If I had my way, your black ass wouldn’t have.”

To everyone’s surprise, Missy pushed Barry against the wall and shoved a large knife against his neck.  “And if I had my way, I would cut your fucking throat for rattin’ on Seth!”

“Get the fuck off me, you crazy bitch!”

She shoved the blade harder, cutting his skin.  “You don’t know crazy, motherfucker!”

“Okay, okay!  Go easy!”

Wyatt tried to calm her down.  “It’s okay.  You just have to learn to ignore him.”

She whispered something into Barry’s ear.  His eye got big.  “I won’t anymore.  I promise.”

She stepped back and holstered her knife.  “Your promise is as trustworthy as Bill Cosby with a bag of Quaaludes.”

“That’s not….”

Wyatt punched Barry in the mouth as hard as he could, knocking him to his knees.  When he caught his composure, he sat up and leaned his back against the wall.  Blood was running out of his mouth as he looked at Wyatt.  “Why did you do that?”

“You swore to me that you wouldn’t make me regret helping you, but you couldn’t keep your mouth shut for five minutes.”

“You’re fucking sorry.”

“You’re the one who’s going to be sorry when Seth finds out how you acted around Missy.”

He hadn’t thought of that.  “Oh shit!”  He looked at her with a terrified expression.  “Please don’t tell him.  He’ll kill me.”  He heard a vehicle pull up.  “Oh shit!  Is that him?”

Kenneth was looking out the window.  “Yep.  And he’s got an axe.”

Barry stumbled to his feet.  “Oh fuck!  What am I going to do?”

“Probably be squirtin’ blood out of your neck after he chops off your head.”

He ran and hid in the bathroom as Seth walked in.  Seth noticed everyone’s strange expressions.  “What’s up?  Looks like y’all have seen a ghost.”

Wyatt spoke first.  “Everything is fine.”

“Now what the fuck has Spanky done?”

Kenneth laughed.  “You know your boy.”

“The little bastard has turned this into a fuckin’ circus.  I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do with his ass.”

Kenneth shook his head.  “He’s like babysitting a fuckin’ retard hopped up on Ritalin.”

“Where’s he at?”

“He hid in the bathroom when I told him you had an axe.”

Missy walked up and kissed Seth on the cheek.  “Did everything go okay?”

“Sure did.  Jerry and Robert are in the back of the truck.”

“Good.  I can’t wait to meet them.”

Kenneth picked up a bag of supplies.  “I’m going to go ahead and move Brandon and Brian to your truck.”

“Alright.  I’ll be out there in a minute.”

Wyatt and Missy followed Kenneth out of the RV.

Seth walked over to the bathroom and tried to open the door, but Barry was leaning against it.  He banged on it.  “Hey!  We’re leaving!  Let’s go!”

“I’m staying here.”

“Fuck if you are.  Get your ass in the truck.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“I’m not telling you again.”  He pushed the door open.

Barry had a hateful expression.  “I said I don’t want to go.”

Seth was shocked.  “What the fuck is hanging off your face?  And why is your hand in your pants?  I know you’re not playing with yourself.”

“Ha ha, real funny.  It was sorry enough to push me out of a moving vehicle, then you go and do this to me.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Whatever, dude.  Keep playing dumb.  I don’t give a shit anymore.”

“I didn’t do that to you, but it’s funny.”

Barry started getting angry.  “To you, maybe.  And I’m sure you would laugh if this gun went off.”

“What are you talking about?”

He shook his hand that was in his pants.  “The one I’m packing, asshole!”

Seth thought he was talking about his dick.  “Hell no, I don’t want it to go off, you sick fuck.”

Barry started thrusting his hips forward as he yelled, “I bet you’d like that, motherfucker!”

Seth stepped back.  “What the hell are you doing?”

He walked towards Seth as he continued thrusting his hips.  “Come here!  Let’s see if you can get blasted also.”

“You nasty bastard!  What the fuck is wrong with you?”  As Barry moved his hips around, his pants started sliding down.  Seth noticed the gun.  He also noticed Barry’s hand was glued to it.  “Hold up, fucker!  I thought you were talking about your dick.  I didn’t know you had a gun down there.”

“Yeah you did—you’re the one that did it!”

“I didn’t do that shit to you.”

“Then who did?”

“I don’t know.  All I did was tattoo the dick on your arm.”

“What dick?”

Seth pulled up Barry’s right sleeve.  “This one.”

He looked in the mirror.  There was a new tattoo on his upper arm depicting a dick squirting cum and a caption that read Knob Goblin.  He was pissed about the tattoo, but more concerned with who had done the other stuff to him.  “That’s real fucking cute, but who did this other shit to me?”

“It wasn’t me.”

He gritted his teeth.  “That fucking bastard!  I’m going to kill his ass for this!”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Wyatt.”

“I don’t think he would do something like that.”

“Then it was that black motherfucker.”

“I don’t know who it was, but I’ll definitely check into it.”

“Are you serious?”

“Not really.”

“That’s fine.  I’ll find out myself.”

“You do that.”  Seth held up a pair of surgical scissors.  “But for now, I can’t have you running around looking like a fucking idiot.”

“What the hell are those for?”

“To remove the spring.”

He stepped back.  “Uh, while I’m awake?”

“Stop being a pussy and come here.”

“You better not hurt me.”

Seth clipped the stitches, then jerked the spring loose.

Barry screamed as he held his hand over his socket.  “You asshole!  That fucking hurt!”

“Better than having a slinky bouncing around your face.  Now we need to remove the gun.”

“How you going to do that?”

“With some glue remover.”  Seth opened a can of acetone.

“Is that shit going to burn me?”

“Probably.”

“Fuck that.  You need to try something else.”

“We don’t have time for that.”  Seth sloshed the solvent all over his hand and crotch, instantaneously burning Barry’s nut sack.

He ran to the bathroom, but the door was shut.  He looked at Seth in a panic.  “Open the door!  I need to get in the shower!  This shit is burning the fuck out of me!”

“You need to wait until the glue dissolves.”

Barry was jumping up and down.  “I can’t!  I can’t!  It feels like my balls are on fire!"

“You’ll be alright.”

It became so painful that he fell to the floor and started rolling around while howling.  Kenneth and Wyatt came rushing into the RV to see what the commotion was.  Upon witnessing Barry scooting across the floor on his ass with his pants down around his ankles, they turned around and left without saying anything. 

When the gun came loose, Barry ran to the shower and started rinsing off his crotch.  He looked relieved.  “Holy shit!  I thought my balls were going to be burned off.”

Seth was standing at the door smoking a cigarette.  “Hurry up.  We need to get goin’.”

“What about my left hand?”

“What about it?”

“It’s numb and I can’t move it.  Can you fix it?”

“Not sure.  We’ll have to look at it later when we have time.”

“You know I’m going to fuck up whoever did this shit to me.”

“I’m sure you will.”  He handed him an eyepatch.

“What’s this for?”

“So you don’t have to wear a bandage around your head anymore.”

Barry went into the bathroom and put it on.  He was looking in the mirror.  “This don’t look bad at all.”  He walked out.  “Kind of makes me look tough, like a pirate.”

“Yep.  Now all you need is a damn parrot.”

Burning Man

When Seth and Barry got outside, Seth pointed towards Kenneth’s truck.  “You can ride with them.”

He noticed Wyatt was sitting on the passenger side.  “Good.  I need to spend some time with my pals.”

“Don’t start any shit.”

“I’m not, but I am going to find out which one of those motherfuckers did this to me.”

Kenneth followed Seth and Missy to the east, heading out into the desert.  After about an hour, Seth stopped at a secluded area that was surrounded by sand dunes.  It was around 5 PM and hot.

Kenneth came walking up with a pissed off expression as Seth and Missy got out of the Toyota.  “I’m going to kill that little bastard!”

Seth laughed.  “Sounds like it was a fun drive.”

“The fucker bitched and moaned the entire way.”

‘That’s why I didn’t want him riding with us.”

“Oh, that’s thoughtful.”

Wyatt walked up laughing.  “I guess I need to get my affairs in order.”

“I can’t believe you did that shit to him.”

“I tried to blame it on you and hoped he’d just let it go.”

“You should know better than that.  He’s going to go on and on until he gets his answer.”

Barry walked up with his chest puffed out.  “Are y’all talking about me?”

Seth laughed.  “How’d you guess?”

“That’s fine.  I’ll be laughing later when fuckhead there is squealing like a stuck pig.”  He pulled out a knife and pointed it at Wyatt.

Wyatt glared at him.  “I’ll shove that in your ass, you little prick!”

“Fuck you!  You had no right doing that to me when I was unconscious.”

“You’re lucky that’s all I did.”

Barry swung the knife at him.  “I’m going to kill your ass!”

Seth held out his hand.  “Give me the fuckin’ knife before you get stabbed with it.”

He put it back in his sheath.  “I don’t need it anyway.  I’ll just beat that pussy the old-fashioned way.”  He raised his fists.

Wyatt raised his.  “Like you did the last time, asshole?  I’ll knock out your other eye.”

Seth got between them.  “Hey, chill out.  We don’t have time to be playing grab ass right now.”

Barry was postured like a rooster as he paced back and forth.  “We’re going to make time.”

“Let it go.  It was just a joke.”

“Joke?  I could have blown off my fucking dick.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “The gun wasn’t loaded, nimrod.  In fact, it wasn’t even real, but you were too stupid to notice.”

“Okay, fucker.”  He held up his hand.  “But you’re still going to pay for this shit.”

“I implanted a capsule with a nerve blocking agent.  It’ll wear off in a few days.”

“You better hope it does.  But you’re still going to pay for hanging my eye from the spring.”

“Wasn’t yours.”

“Bullshit!  I could tell it was real.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t real.  I said it wasn’t yours.”

“Then where in the fuck did you get it?”

“Andrew donated it.”

Seth opened the camper shell.  “See, you don’t have to kill Wyatt, so let’s get on with our business.”

“Hold up!  You and I still have a beef.”

Seth faced him.  “Okay.”

Barry just looked at him.

“I’m waiting.”

Barry looked at Missy. 

She ran her thumb across her neck.

Barry shrugged his shoulders.  “It’s water under the bridge.”

“Peachy.”  Seth dragged one of the men out of the truck bed.  Kenneth, Wyatt and Barry dragged out the other three men.  They were tied up with rope and their mouths were covered with tape.  Their eyes were huge as they looked around and tried to talk.

Missy went to each one and removed the tape from their mouths.  She tried to ask them a question, but they were all yelling at her.  She looked at Seth.  “Shut these fuckers up.”

He pulled out a knife.  “The next person that speaks without being spoken to first will have an eye gouged out.”

They became quiet.

Missy opened a folder.  “Which one of you perverts is called the Candy Man?”  Robert King was a child molester.  He picked up the nickname Candy Man because he lured kids with candy. 

No one answered.

Seth kicked one of the men.  “I said you can speak when spoken to!”

Missy started pacing back and forth in front of them.  “Candy Man better speak up if he knows what’s good for him.”

They lay in silence.

“Let me put it this way.  If I don’t get some fucking cooperation, I’ll cut off your dicks.”

They all started jerking at their restraints while yelling curse words and threats.

She looked at Seth.  “Can I get them stripped down?”

Seth was leaning against the truck smoking a cigarette.  “Your wish is Barry’s command.”  He looked at Barry.  “Don’t just stand there.  Get to it.”

He pulled out his knife and started cutting off their clothes.

Seth grabbed some braided cable, cable clamps and some tools from the truck and gave them to Kenneth and Wyatt.  “Cut the cable in four, ten-foot pieces and secure one to each of their right ankle.”

Seth drove a tie-out-stake into the sand, then secured an end from each of the four cables to it.  Missy gave each of the men an adrenaline injection, then cut their ropes.  The men stood up covering their privates.  It was an awkward situation as they stood nude and vulnerable in front of strangers, and they were hesitant to speak.

Seth laughed.  “I’ve always said you can calm a motherfucker down by simply stripping them down to their birthday suit.”

Missy opened the folder again.  She already knew who was who, but wanted them to admit to what they had done.  “I still want to know who stuck their dick in a four-year-old child.”

One of the older men got the courage to speak.  “What’s going on?  Why am I here?”

Missy glared at him.  “I’m the one asking questions, so shut the fuck up.”

“Who are y’all?  I haven’t done anything to you.”

They all became unruly and started yelling at her.  She looked at Seth.  “I need something to get their attention.”

He went to the front of the Toyota and pulled out a homemade flamethrower.  He turned on a CO2 cylinder that pressurized a tank full of diesel.  He lit a propane torch that was mounted next to the nozzle, then handed it to her.

She pointed the flamethrower off to the side of the men and pulled the trigger.  A stream of burning fuel shot about sixty feet.  She smiled.  “That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”  She pointed it at the men.  They wore horrified expressions and stood quiet.  “You fuckers can do what I say, or we can have a weenie roast.  I don’t care either way.”

They didn’t say a word as they looked at her like she was crazy.

“Now back to my question.  Who did it?”

No one spoke.

She pulled the trigger, engulfing the group in burning fuel.  They were running around in all directions screaming at the top of their lungs.  They were knocking into each other and tripping over the cables as they frantically tried to get away.

Kenneth was laughing.  “Damn!  This is better than Burning Man.”

Wyatt walked over to Seth.  “She’s going to kill them before we ever get a chance to fuck them up.”

He lit a cigarette.  “It’s her gig.  She can burn them to a crisp if she wants.”

She shut off the flamethrower, then looked at Wyatt.  “Pay attention, you might learn something.”

He looked at the men as they lay on the ground smoking.  “Oookaaay.”

She handed Seth the flamethrower, then opened the folder.  “Who’s the Candy Man?”

A heavy-set man lying on his stomach raised his hand.  She looked at Wyatt and laughed.  “See, pussyfooting around only wastes time.”

“Yeah, but now they’re too fucked up to move.”

“Bullshit.”  She yelled at the fat man.  “Candy Man!  Get your ass over here before I burn off your fucking cock!”

The man slowly stood up.  He was short, round and had a baby face.  It was painful for him to move.  Sections of his skin were red and most of the hair on his body had been singed.  He didn’t say anything as he stood in front of her covering his privates.

“Tell me about yourself.”

“I don’t want to die.  Please….”

“I didn’t ask you if you wanted to live or die, asshole.”  She looked at Seth.  “Give me the flamethrower.”

The man raised one of his hands.  “Okay, okay!  I’m Robert King.  I’m forty-nine and live in Midland.  I was born in Dallas and graduated high school in….”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about that shit.  I wanna know why you like to touch kids.”

“I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“Are you fucking retarded?”

“No.”

“Then answer my question before I do something really fucked up to you.”

“I…  I don’t know why I did it, but I served my time.”

Kenneth was sitting on his truck’s tailgate next to Wyatt.  “I knew that was coming.”

Wyatt laughed.  “These fuckers will give you the runaround no matter what you do to them.”

“We’ll see about that.”  She aimed the flamethrower at Robert and pulled the trigger.  As the burning fuel engulfed his body, he rolled around on the ground, screaming at the top of his lungs.  When she shut it off, most his body was bright red and blisters were starting to form.  “You wanna tell me that you served your time again?”

He was in so much pain he could barely speak.  “No ma’am!  I’m sorry!  Please don’t burn me anymore.  I’ll do whatever you ask!”

“Then tell me why you like to touch kids.”

“I’m sick.”

“That’s a copout.”

“I ...  I…  I, uh….”

“Say it, you fat pig!”

“I find them arousing.”  He started crying.  “Please just kill me.”

She looked at Seth.  “I wanna save this one for later.”

Seth was sitting on his tailgate.  He motioned to Barry.  “Go hogtie the fat fuck.”

As Barry restrained Robert, Missy looked at the folder.  “Who’s the college prick that raped the woman behind a dumpster?”

A skinny man in his mid-twenties raised his hand as he sat on the sand.  The flames had burned majority of the hair on his head, leaving just a few blonde patches.

“Get your ass over here.”

He stood up, then slowly walked over to her.

She pointed the flamethrower at him.

“No need in that.”  He looked at Robert as he lay on the ground crying.  “I’ll tell you whatever you want.”

“Then get to it.”

“I’m Brian Chandler from El Paso.  I was accused of rape, but we were both drunk.”

She started to pull the trigger.

He held his hands out.  “Okay, okay!  I did it!  I drugged her!”

She tossed him a syringe with a long needle.  “Go have a seat.”

He held it up, noticing it was filled with a yellow substance.  “What is this for?”

“I said sit your ass down!”

As he walked away, she looked at the folder.  “Who’s Jerry, the internet predator?”

A tall slender man stood up.  He had dark, brown hair and a neatly trimmed goatee.  “I am.”

“I see that you like to use the internet to pick up underage girls.”

“I did, but that was in the past.  I paid my debt to society.  And you have no right doing this to me.  You’re going to be in serious trouble if you don’t let me go.”

“Thanks for the legal advice.”

“This is cruel what you’re doing.  You have no right to do this.”

She tossed him a syringe.  “Go sit your ass down before I make you think cruel.”

He sat on the ground next to Brian and Robert.  “You’re gonna pay for this.”

“Keep talking and see where it gets you.”

He glared at her.

“Don’t fucking look at me, asshole!”

He turned around, putting his back towards her.

She walked up to the last man.  He was fifty-eight years old, had wrinkled skin, and his hair and beard were long and unkempt.  She was holding a machete in case he, or one of the other men, tried to attack her.  “You must be Brandon.  The asshole who raped homeless women.”

“I’m glad you can read.”

“Oh, a smart-ass.  I’m going to have fun with you.”

“You don’t know shit, lady!”

“I know that you’re a fuckin’ rapist, and that’s enough.”  She tossed him a syringe, then stood in front of the three men.  “I’m fixin’ to make y’all’s fantasies come true.”

They just glared at her.

“Such an enthusiastic bunch.”  She held up one of the syringes.  It had an eight-inch long needle.  “This is industrial strength polyurethane resin.  When it comes into contact with water, or in this case, body fluids, it triggers a chemical reaction that causes the resin to form into an expanding gel.  I want you fuckers to poke that needle in the end of your dicks, slightly above your urethra, and shove it all the way down the center until you get to the base.  Then I want you to inject the resin evenly as you pull it back out.”

Jerry was glaring at her like she was crazy.  “What the fuck?  Why would you want us to do such a thing?”

“I told you, to make your fantasy come true.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Every man dreams of having a big dick.  I’m going to make yours a fucking python.”

Brian was scared.  “Please don’t do this!  I beg you!”

Brandon was shaking his head.  “There ain’t no fuckin’ way I’m going to do this.”

“It’s not that difficult of a task.”  She sat on Robert’s stomach, facing his crotch.  “Candy Man said I could demonstrate how it’s done on his dick.”  She grabbed his penis and shoved the needle all the way through the center.  “See, it goes right the fuck in.”

Robert’s hands were tied behind his back and his legs were tied together.  He tried to throw her off, but she had her legs tightly against his sides.  She started injecting the resin as she slowly pulled out the needle.  When she was done, she stood up and stepped away from him.  “See how easy that was?”

Kenneth grabbed his crotch.  “Damn, woman!  What the hell?”

Wyatt laughed.  “You know you’re going to have to almost kill them to get them to do that.”

Robert was staring at his penis in horror as the resin began to swell.  Within seconds, his penis had grown to its normal erection size.  Shortly after that, it had grown so much the skin was starting to stretch to the point it looked as if it was going to tear.

Seth started laughing.  “Damn!  I should have been using that shit instead of expanding foam.”

Missy looked at him.  “See, you need to bring me along more often.”

“No shit.”

Wyatt had a serious expression.  “You have any more of that stuff left?”

She nodded.  “Yeah.”

“Good.  Barry needs some since his dick don’t work.”

Barry was sitting on the ground next to Seth’s truck.  “Screw you, asshole!  My cock works just fine.”

“Before or after Seth cut it off?”

He stood up.  “That’s it!  I’m going to beat your ass!”

Wyatt raised his hands.  “Sorry, dude.  Didn’t mean to piss you off.”

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“I was just messin’ with you.”

Missy snapped her fingers.  “Y’all stop bickering.”

Barry sat back on the ground.  “I didn’t do anything.”

She looked at the three men.  “Now that I’ve shown you fuckers how to do it, get to it.”

They just looked at her.

“We can do this the painful way, or less painful way.  It’s y’all’s choice.”

Brandon stood up, then tossed the syringe on the ground.  “You can go fuck yourself, bitch!”

She pulled out a knife, then cut off Robert’s balls.  She tossed the sack on the ground at Brandon’s feet.  “Yours is next?”

He stepped back.  “Oh fuck!  You’re…  You’re fucking crazy!”

She glared at him.  “I bet that got your fuckin’ attention.”

The other two men stood up, staring at Robert’s crotch as blood squirted all over the place.  They didn’t say anything, but the expressions on their faces stated they knew she was serious.

She held up the machete.  “And I’m not going to be as gentle with y’all as I was with Candy Man.”

Kenneth was shaking his head.  “Shit just got real.”

Seth tapped Barry on the shoulder, then pointed at Robert as he lay on the ground screaming.  “Go stop his bleeding before the fucker dies.”

Brian fell to his knees.  “Oh my God!  I don’t want to die!”

Missy knew the importance of hope when it came to making people hurt themselves.  It was something she had picked up from Seth.  She also knew she could force them to do it, but it would be more psychologically painful if they voluntarily did it.  She approached Brian.  “I would be lying if I said you weren’t going to be punished for what you’ve done, but, if you do what you’re told, you will live.”

Tears were running down his cheeks.  “Please let me go!  You’ve already taught me a lesson!”

“I can’t do that.  You owe that girl you raped some justice.  Just pick up the needle and get it over with.”

“But…  But I don’t want to lose my penis.”

“Who said you’re going to lose it?”

He looked towards Robert, then back at her.  “I saw what it did to his.  There is no way it would be normal after that.”

“It’s just expanding gel.  There is no reason why the hospital wouldn’t be able to remove it.”

“But I don’t….”

She put her finger across her lips.  “Shhh!  I don’t want to cut off your penis or have to burn you anymore, so please don’t make me.”

He picked up the syringe.

Brandon had been listening to their conversation.  “Fuck this crazy bitch.  She’s fucking lying.  They’re going to kill us regardless of what we do.”

Jerry agreed.  “Yeah, they can go fuck themselves.  I’m not going to stick shit in my dick.  They might as well go ahead and kill me and get it over with.”

Brian dropped the syringe.  “I can’t do it.”

“You fuckers are going to wish y’all were dead.”  Missy was a little aggravated as she picked up the flamethrower.

Seth approached her.  “The mind-rape shit doesn’t always work for me either.  Don’t let it get to you.”

“It’s all good.  I’m going to burn these motherfuckers into submission.”  She pointed the nozzle at the men.  “The pain will stop when everyone’s dick is as big as a cucumber.”  She pulled the trigger.

Ass Vandals

The men screamed and begged for her to stop as she burned them.  They were chaotically running in circles as far as their cables would allow.  They were tripping and falling, running into each other, and rolling around on the ground.

Brandon finally fell to his knees and shoved the needle into his penis.  The pain of injecting himself was overshadowed by the excruciating burning sensation that was radiating throughout his body.  Missy stopped burning him and concentrated on the other two.  Brian and Jerry finally fell to their knees and shoved the needles into themselves.  Brian’s hands were shaking so much that he could barely hold onto the syringe.  Missy released the trigger.  “See, it’s not that hard.”

When the men were done, they fell to their backs, breathing heavily while their bodies shook.  They had been burned so badly that they had patches of skin that were black and leathery in texture.  The air was lingering with the strong odor of diesel mixed with the putrid smell of cooked flesh and burnt hair.

Seth laughed.  “I bet y’all wish y’all had chosen the less painful way.”

Wyatt, Kenneth and Barry were standing next to Seth, watching the men as they lay on the ground crying.  With each passing second, their penises were getting bigger and bigger.  Brandon’s penis was swelling mostly in the center.  Missy stood over him holding the machete.  “Hey, dumbass, that’s going to be a problem.”  She poked his penis with the tip of the machete.

He raised his head, noticing it was shaped like a small football.  “Oh shit!  That’s bad!”

“That’s what you get for not listening and injecting the resin unevenly.”

He had a worried look.  “Please do something.  I don’t want to lose my dick.”

Jerry’s penis had grown to the size of a banana.  “It fucking hurts!  I think the skin is going to tear.  Please call an ambulance!”

Brian was crying as he held his.  He had injected the resin unevenly like Brandon had done, but his penis looked like an hourglass.  “Please get me some help too!”

Missy shook her head.  “You motherfuckers are all burned to shit and all y’all are worried about is your fucking dicks.”

Kenneth yelled out, “My God, woman!  Look what you did to them.  I’d be crying too.”

Wyatt laughed.  “I’m sure they are upset.  Fucking up a pervert’s dick is like cutting off a pianist’s fingers.”

Seth had a twinkle in his eye.  “I think it’s a freakin’ work of art.”

Brandon glared at Seth and his friends.  “This isn’t funny!  Y’all will get the needle right along with her!”

Missy tossed each of them a bottle of superglue.  “Before we get the needle, I want y’all to coat your dicks with that, then cover them with sand.”

They didn’t resist, knowing she would only hurt them more if they didn’t do what she said.  They had suffered enough and just wanted to get it over with.

She pointed the flamethrower at them.

Jerry raised his hands.  “Wait!  There’s no need in that!  We’re doing what you want!” 

“Yeah, until I tell y’all what’s going to happen next.”

Brian started crying.  “Please don’t do anything else to me!”  I’m sorry for what I’ve done!”  He grabbed his hourglass-shaped penis.  “Look at it!  This is bad!  Real bad!  There’s no way the doctors can fix this!  You have destroyed my life!  You had no right to do this to me!”

“And now you know how the girl that you raped feels.”

Jerry knew begging wouldn’t do any good, so he thought he’d try another approach.  “I understand we needed to be punished, and I accept that.  Now that you have made sure none of us can sexually assault anyone again, I beg you to let us go so we can become productive members of society.  And I swear to God that we won’t tell anyone what happened here.”

Missy laughed.  “That’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

He became angry.  “You’re gonna pay for this shit!”

“And you’re fixin’ to vandalize some ass.”

“I’m not doing a fucking thing!”

She pointed the flamethrower at him.  “Shove your cock inside Brandon’s ass before I burn out your fucking eyes!”

He was caught off guard.  “Huh?”

Brandon was looking down.  He jerked his head up and glared at Missy.  “What did you just say?”

“Jerry is going to fuck you in the ass.”

“Wait!  No way!  You’re joking, right?”

“Nope.  I told you I was going to have fun with you for being a smart-ass.  Now get on your knees.”

“I….”

She engulfed him in flames for a few seconds.  “I said get on your fucking knees!”

His body was trembling as he got on all fours.  “Please don’t do this!  I beg you!  I will do whatever you want!”

“What I want is, for Jerry to pump your ass with his long, hard, banana-shaped cock.”

He noticed how big Jerry’s penis was.  It made him sick to think about having another man’s penis inside him.  “I’m not gay!”

“I know.  You’re a fucking child molester.”

“Please don’t do this!  Is there anything else that I can do?”

“Yeah, rip off your dick.”

His eyes got big.  “What?  No…  I can’t do that.”

“That’s what I thought.”  She pointed the flamethrower at Jerry.  “Get to it, or do you need some motivation too?”

“Please have mercy!  I beg you not to do this!  I’ll do whatever….”

She lit him up.

He shouted as he rolled around on the ground.  “Okay, okay!  I’ll do it!”

She released the trigger.  “Get after it!”

Jerry was crying as he got on his knees behind Brandon.  Then he just sat there, not being able to bring himself to do it.  “I…  I don’t think I can….”

Missy engulfed him in flames again.

He screamed as he took off running.  When his cable jerked him to the ground, he shouted as he rolled around, “I’ll do it!  I’ll do it!  Please stop burning me!”

She started pressing the trigger intermittently, spraying bursts of burning fuel close to him so he could feel the heat.  “I’m not stopping until you do it.”

He ran over to Brandon and fell to his knees.  He tried to put his penis inside him, but there was too much friction.  “It won’t go in!  The sand has made my dick rough like sandpaper!”

She looked back at Barry.  “I need some lube.”

He was sitting on the ground next to Seth.  “Why you asking me?”

“Because all you do is jackoff.”

He turned red.  “Who told you that?”

Seth nudged him in the arm.  “Just give her the shit.”

He pulled out a bottle from his pocket and tossed it to her.

Kenneth started laughing.

He glared at him.  “Don’t you fucking say a word!”

She tossed the bottle to Jerry.  “No more excuses.  Time for fuckey fuckey, or I will burney burney.”

He didn’t say anything as he squirted lube on his penis.  Brandon had all kinds of thoughts running through his head as he waited to be penetrated.  He knew pleading wouldn’t do any good.  If he resisted, she would only cause him more pain.  He wanted to live, so his only option was to let Jerry do it.  Only thing he could think about now was getting revenge.  They were going to pay for this, even if he had to dedicate his life to hunting them down.  Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his lower abdomen and his anus felt like it ripped when Jerry shoved his penis inside him.

Jerry exhibited a look of disgust as he sat on his knees motionless.

Missy shot him in the buttocks with a burst of burning fuel.  “Get to poundin’.”

Brandon gritted his teeth as Jerry started stroking him.  At first, he just felt an overwhelming amount of pressure in his lower abdomen and a dull pain like his ass was ripping.  A minute later, sharp pains started shooting though his rear-end as the sand rubbed against his anus and walls of his colon like sandpaper.  He started to crawl forward as he yelled, “I can’t do this!”

Missy yelled at Jerry.  “Don’t let that fucker get away!”

Jerry grabbed his hips, sinking his fingers into his flesh.  “Okay!  But how long do I have to do this?”

“Until his rectum falls out or your dick falls off.”

They both looked at her with a grimace of terror.

“That’s right.  And if either of you stop, I swear I will burn you to death.”

All the muscles in Brandon’s body were flexing as he took the pain.  “Please don’t do this!  He’s tearing my insides apart!”

Jerry was also in a lot of pain.  Not only was the outer skin on his penis stretched to the point it was tearing, but something felt horribly wrong.  The polyurethane resin had created a hardened shaft inside his penis, kind of like the wiener inside a corndog, and his flesh in place of the batter.  It felt like his penis was tearing loose from the resin due to the friction the sand was causing.  He wanted to stop, but he couldn’t take the pain of being burned anymore.  He had surrender in his eyes as he looked at Missy.  “Please let me stop!  Something is wrong with my penis.  I think it’s coming apart!”

“Stop whining.  And don’t be selfish.  Give your buddy a reach around.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Jerry looked as if he was going to throw up as he stroked Brandon’s penis with his hand.  “Come on!  Please don’t make me do this!”

Kenneth stood up.  “That’s my cue to leave.”

Wyatt looked at him.  “Where’re you goin’?”

“For a walk.”  He took off.

Wyatt looked at Seth.  “What’s the deal with all the gay shit on this trip?”

He shrugged his shoulders.  “This is her thing.  I don’t have anything to do with it.”

“Maybe, but you made Andrew fuck Gus in the ass.”

“That was Barry’s doin’.”

Barry shook his head.  “Bullshit!  You made him do it.”

“You and I both know what happened, so you can blame me all you want.”

He noticed Missy was glaring at him.  “Uh, you’re right.”  He looked at Wyatt.  “It was my fault.”

“I knew you were a fucking homo.”

“I’m not fucking gay!”

“I bet you got a hard-on too.”

Barry turned his head and glared at Seth.

“I didn’t say shit.”

Wyatt laughed.  “Holy fuck!  You got a boner?”

Barry could feel heat coming off his face from embarrassment.  “No I didn’t!”

“Now I know why Seth tattooed knob goblin on your arm.”

“I’ll beat your ass!”

“A one-eyed knob goblin.”

Barry was so mad his face was red.  “You’re fucking dead!”

Seth intervened before they got into it.  “Hey!  Andrew and Gus got what they deserved, so ease up on him.”

Barry had a cocky expression as he looked at Wyatt.  “Did you hear that?  Maybe you ain’t the golden boy after all.”

Wyatt shrugged his shoulders.  “Whatever, dude.  And don’t cop an attitude.  You’re the one wearing an explosive collar like some jackass.”

Barry looked at Seth.  “Will you please take it off?”

“No.”

Wyatt laughed.  “Ha!  And you’re still gay.”

Brandon was in agony and doing everything in his power to hold still as Jerry fucked him.  Not only was his burned flesh causing pain, but his rectum had prolapsed to the point that it was moving in and out of his rear-end with Jerry’s penis.  It looked like the boot on a shock absorber, completely covering Jerry’s penis even when he was pulled back.

Jerry was also in a lot of pain.  His penis was throbbing, and as he pushed himself in and out of Brandon, he could feel the hardened resin moving around under his flesh, tearing him from the inside.

Brian was being quiet as he sat on the ground facing the other way.  He was hoping he had been forgotten about, but to his horror, Missy yelled at him, “Hey, why don’t you come join the fun!”

He didn’t move or make a sound.

She engulfed his back with fire.  “Get your ass over there!”

He ran over to them, then stood there and stared in disbelief at the barbaric act.  “Oh my God!”

“Don’t just stand there.  Join in.”

“I…  I don’t think….”

She lit him up again.

“Okay, okay!”  He knelt beside them, then just sat dumbfounded.

“Jump in there!”

It was a very awkward situation as he watched Jerry pounding Brandon’s prolapsed ass with his banana-shaped dick.  “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

Seth whistled at him to get his attention.  “Hey!”

Brian’s eyes opened wide—it was the first-time Seth had spoken to him.  “Yes, sir.”

“I take it you’ve never been in a three-way with dudes?”

He felt a little relieved, thinking Seth was going to help him.  “No, sir.  And I don’t want to either.  Is there something you can do to stop this?”

Seth laughed.  “Yeah, I can rip out your intestines and strangle you with them.”

He looked as if he wanted to cry.  “What?  Why would you say that?  I haven’t done anything to you!”

Missy pointed the flamethrower at him.  “Stop whining and get to fuckin’.”

He looked at Brandon and Jerry.  They were making painful grunting noises as they humped.  “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“You can give it or take it, I don’t care.  Just pick one and get after it.”

He looked confused.

“Either fuck Jerry in the ass, or crawl under Brandon so he can pound you.”

“But….”

She engulfed him in flames.  He screamed as he got on his knees behind Jerry.  “Okay, okay!  I’m doing it!”  He tried to stick his dick in, but Jerry quickly turned around and punched him in the face as he yelled, “Don’t fucking touch me!”

Brian started to hit back, but paused when he noticed Jerry’s penis.  “Oh my God!  What’s wrong with your dick?”

Jerry looked down, noticing a section of Brandon’s rectum had torn loose and was hanging from it.  When he pulled it off, the outer skin of his penis came with it, exposing the inner layer.  He became nauseated as he looked at his bloody shaft.  It looked like a skinned animal.  As he felt of it, some of his skin started falling off the hardened resin.  He started panicking.  “Oh my God!  Please call an ambulance!”

Missy laughed.  “I’ll call you a hearse.”

“This shit ain’t funny!  I need some help!”  Suddenly, his resin shaft fell to the ground, leaving the skin of his penis in shreds.  It looked like bloody banana peels hanging from his crotch.  He glared at Missy.  “You’re going to Hell for this!”

“I got your Hell.”  She covered him in flames, causing him to run until his cable jerked his legs out from under him.  She kept burning him as he rolled around on the ground screaming at the top of his lungs.  A few minutes later, she released the trigger.  Jerry was laying on his side twitching as a smoke cloud lingered above him.  His eyeballs had ruptured and steam was coming out of both sockets.

Doggy-Style

Missy pointed the flamethrower at Brian.  “Get on your fucking knees so Brandon can pound your ass.”

He was terrified after witnessing what happened to Jerry, but he also didn’t want to be sodomized.  “I’ll do whatever you want, but I choose to do the fucking.”

“First off, Jerry is dead, and Brandon’s ass is hanging out of him, so you’re the only one left with a working asshole.”

“But…”

“Butt is right.  Now bend over before I cook your ass too.”

“Okay, I’m doing it!”  He got on all fours.

She motioned to Brandon.  “Your turn.”

Brandon was in agony from having his insides torn, and the inflammation had caused his abdomen to swell to the size of a volleyball.  His rear-end and the back of his legs were covered in blood and feces, and part of his colon was hanging out about two feet.  The outer skin on his penis had torn in several places and a pinkish fluid was dripping out of it.

Seth took a picture of him as he slowly walked over to Brian.

Wyatt grinned.  “Is that for your porn collection?”

“Of course.  You know I’m into pregnant monkeys.”  The intestine hanging from Brandon’s rear-end looked like a tail and his swollen belly mimicked the look of impregnation.

Barry started laughing.  “Holy shit!  Dude does look like a fucking monkey.”  He yelled at Brandon.  “Hey, monkey boy!  I bet you liked that banana Jerry gave you.”

Brandon ignored him.  He was at his limit physically and mentally as he got behind Brian.  He just wanted to get it over with.  Soreness had set in his penis, causing it to be extremely painful as he tried to work it into Brian’s ass.  The head and base of his penis were normal size, but the center of his shaft was about four inches in diameter.  Between the sand and the football shape his penis had undertaken, it wasn’t going in.  He looked at Missy with a sad expression.  “Please don’t burn me.  I’m going to do it.  I just need some lube.”

“Jerry had it last.”

“That one is empty.”

“Then I guess you’re shit out of luck.”

Seth threw him a bottle of motor oil.  “Use that, captain.”

He poured the oil on his penis, then started pushing it into Brian’s ass.  The head went in easily, but the large center portion of his shaft wouldn’t penetrate.  Brian was closing his eyes tightly and gritting his teeth.  “You’re fucking killing me!”

“I don’t have a fucking choice!”

“Stop!  I can’t take it anymore!”

Suddenly, his penis slid in.

Brian screamed as he clawed at the ground.  “I think you ripped me, you motherfucker!  Get your fucking dick out of me!”

Missy yelled at Brandon.  “Get to fuckin’ his ass!”

When he tried to pull back, it wouldn’t budge.  He looked at Missy.  “It’s stuck.”

“You better get it unstuck.”

He tried to pull back again.  “Oh my God!  It’s not coming out!  What am I going to do?”

“I guess you’re fucked.”

He hit Brian in the back.  “Let go of my fucking dick!”

He looked over his shoulder.  “You stupid fuck!  It’s not me!”

“You’re tensed up.  Try to relax.”

“Dude!  How in the fuck can I relax considering the circumstances?”

Out of desperation, he started punching him in the head.  “Loosen up, asshole!”

Brian started crawling forward, dragging Brandon behind him.  Brandon was trying to keep up as he scooted on his knees across the sand.  “Stop moving!  You’re going to tear off my dick!”

He stopped and looked back at him.  “Then don’t hit me anymore!”

“Okay, okay!  Just try to relax so I can get my dick out.”

Seth laughed.  “You two fuckers remind me of dogs that got stuck while mating.”

Brian glared at him.  “Y’all are some sorry motherfuckers!  Each of you will pay for this!”

“I didn’t know you were charging a fee.”

“Fuck you, smart-ass!”

Missy picked up a stick.

Brandon looked worried.  “Hold up!  What are you going to do with that?”

“My grandmother would beat the strays in the head when they were in a breeding tie with her female dog.  She would always yell, get out of her, you little bastard, as she whacked them.  She thought the male dogs were just being aggressive and didn’t know it was a normal part of their breeding process.”  She raised the stick.

“Wait!  Don’t hit me!  He’s the one causing me to be stuck!  Hit him!”

“Actually, it’s because your dick is shaped like an oversized butt plug.”

“Then what good is it going to do hit….”

She wacked him in the head.  “Get out of her, you little bastard!”

“Hold up!”

She struck him again.  “I said get out of her, you little bastard!”

“Stop fucking hitting….”

She hit him again.  “I said get the fuck out of her, you little bastard!”

Brian was getting agitated about how Missy was making fun of their situation.  He glared at her.  “This shit isn’t funny!”

She struck him.

“Why did you hit me?”

“Because you opened your mouth.”  She started beating them both with the stick.

Kenneth walked up, noticing what Missy was doing.  By now, Brian was crawling across the ground to get away from her, and Brandon was screaming as he was dragged by his penis.  “What the fuck is that shit?”  He looked closer, noticing they were stuck together and Brandon had a piece of intestine hanging out of his ass.  “Fuck this!”  He turned around and started walking off.

Seth laughed.  “What’s wrong, pal?”

“Dude!  This is fucked up!  If I’d known there was going to be all this gay shit going on, I wouldn’t have come on this trip.”

“What gay shit?”  Seth was just messing with him.

“For starters, you got two motherfuckers over there doin’ it doggy style.  And then you had that dude back in the RV sucking on someone’s ass through a straw.”

“Hey, it’s not gay unless you get a hard-on.  Just ask Barry.  He knows what I’m talking about.”

“That psychological bullshit ain’t going to work on me.”

Barry glared at Seth.  “Me either.”

About that time, Brandon yelled out, “Oh fuck!  Look what you did to my dick!  Oh my god!  I can’t believe this is happening!”

Kenneth noticed Brandon’s penis was missing.  “What the hell happened to his dick?”

Seth laughed.  “It broke off inside Brian’s ass.”

“See.  That’s the shit I’m talking about.”

Missy came walking up.  “I guess we’re done now that no one has a dick left.”

Seth looked confused.  “What happened to Brian’s?”

“The damn thing just fell off when Brandon was fucking him.”

He looked at Brian, who sat on the ground crying.  “Well, didn’t he get lucky.”  He nodded towards Robert, who was rolled up in the fetal position being quiet as a mouse.  “What about him?”

“Candy Man?  We’re taking him back to the RV so I can do something really fucked up to him.”

Robert hadn’t said a word during the whole ordeal, hoping he would somehow be saved from this hellish nightmare.  He had been extremely distressed about having his balls cut off and his penis filled with the resin, but after witnessing what happened to the others, he was actually thankful to have played such a small role in the nightmare.  Up to this point, he had fantasized about how he was going to get even with Seth and his friends, but after hearing Missy’s announcement about doing something really fucked up to him, he started crying.  “Please don’t hurt me anymore!  You’ve already gotten me back!  I’ll do whatever you want if you don’t take me to the RV!”

Missy pointed towards the three men.  “You can join them if you like.”

“What would happen if I do?”

“I’ll show you.”  She reached out towards Seth.  “I need your .45.”

He handed her a custom Kimber 1911.  “Mercy killin’?”

“Sort of.”  She walked up to Brian and Brandon as they lay on the ground crying.  “Whoever wants to live, rip off your balls.”

Brandon glared at her.  “Haven’t you done a….”

She shot him in the head, blowing brain matter all over the sand.  Brian was horrified as she pointed the gun at him.  He looked at Jerry’s burned corpse and the hole in Brandon’s head.  “I guess you’re going to kill me next.”

“Not if you do what I asked.”

He got on his knees and started pleading with her.  “Please don’t do this.  I beg you to have mercy.”

She fired a round at him, grazing his face.

“Oh my God!”  He screamed as he dug his fingers into his ball sack.  The tender skin was easy to tear, but it stretched quite a bit, making it a grotesque sight.  When he got his sack ripped apart, he tried to pull his testicles off, but his spermatic cords were too tough to tear.  The cords were also tugging on his prostate as he pulled on them, causing a very sharp pain in his lower abdomen.  He finally gave up.  “I can’t do it!”

“Bullshit!”  She fired another round, blowing off his testicles.

He screamed as he covered his crotch.  “Oh my God!  What’s wrong with you?”

“See, it wasn’t that hard.”

He wore a grimace of terror as blood ran between his fingers.  “I can’t believe you’ve done this!  You’ve taken everything from me!  How am I supposed to function as a man now?”

“You should have thought about that before raping that girl.”  She shot him between the eyes.

Kenneth shook his head.  “Damn, woman!  I hope I never get on your bad side.”

Candy Man

Missy walked up to Robert while holding the gun.  “Do you still wanna join them?”

His body was trembling with fear.  “Please don’t kill me!”

“That’s not what I asked you.”

“I don’t want to die like them.”

“Good.”  She looked at Wyatt and Kenneth.  “Please load Candy Man in the truck.”

He screamed and begged as they dragged him away. 

Seth handed Barry some body bags.  “Let’s bag up the other assholes.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to dispose of them so there will be no evidence this happened.”

“Can’t we just bury them in the sand?”

“Stop being lazy.”

After they loaded them up, they picked up the severed body parts, then poured gas on the blood and burned it.  Once the sand was raked, there was no visual evidence they had been there except for their tire tracks.

When they got back to the RV, they loaded the Toyota in the cargo area, put the bodies in the freezer and strapped Robert to a table.

Seth got everyone together.  “From here we’re heading south.”  He handed Kenneth a folder.  “Here’s the info on Alayna.  She’s living in a trailer park in a small town called Terlingua.”

He looked at her picture.  “Is this the bitch that threw her baby in the dumpster?”

“Yep.  And be careful.  She’ll cut your ass if she gets a chance.”

“I ain’t fuckin’ scared.”

Seth looked at his watch.  “It’s almost 9 PM.  It’s a five-hour drive, so you’ll have the cover of dark when you get there.  We’ll meet up with you in the Big Bend National Park around 3 AM.  The GPS coordinates are in the folder.”

Seth tossed Barry some keys.  “You’re going to take Missy’s truck.”

“Where is she goin’?”

“She’s riding with me in the back of the RV.”

“Can I stay with y’all?”

“No.  Someone has to drive her truck.”

“What about Kenneth?”

“Were you not listening?  He’s picking up Alayna.”

“Oh yeah.  What about Wyatt?”

“He’s driving the RV.”

“Of course, he is.  So why can’t he drive her truck?”

Wyatt was standing off to the side.  “Because we can’t risk you wrecking the RV.”

“Look who’s talking.  You’ve already wrecked it, asshole.”

“Why do you always have to act like a dick?”

He grabbed his crotch.  “I got your dick hanging right here, motherfucker.”

“What is your problem?  All you want to do is start shit.”

“When I start it, you’ll know.  And you’re the one with the fucking problem.”

Missy glared at Barry.  “Your ice is starting to crack.”

“I’m sorry!  I’ll drive your truck.”  He quickly walked out of the RV.

Seth looked confused.  “What the hell was that about?  Did I miss something?”

Kenneth laughed.  “Yeah.  He’s more scared of Missy than you.”

“I’m glad someone can make him mind.  The fucker doesn’t listen to me.”

She grinned.  “He knows I’ll fuck his ass up.”

“Like I won’t?”

Wyatt added, “Damn!  Seth has already cut off his fucking dick.  I’d sure like to know what you threatened him with.”

“Let’s just say we have an understanding.”

Kenneth walked to the door.  “Whatever it is, hopefully it will keep Spanky in line.”  He tapped his watch.  “Gotta go if we’re going to stay on schedule.”

Seth nodded at him.  “Alright.  See you in about six hours.”

Wyatt was looking at Robert, who was bound and gagged on a table.  “This fucker looks familiar.”

Seth laughed.  “Yeah.  He kind of looks like Kyle Gass.”

“Who?”

Seth showed him a Wikipedia page.  “Kyle Gass the actor.”

“That’s who I was thinking of.  How funny.  So, what are y’all going to do to him?”

Missy smiled.  “Since Candy Man likes to lure kids with sweets, I thought we’d bake some goodies.”

“Baking?  Uh, okay.”

Seth looked at Wyatt.  “I seriously doubt it’s what you’re thinking.”

Wyatt noticed the resin had caused Robert’s penis to swell enormously.  It was about eleven-inches in length with a diameter of around four-inches.  The outer skin was so tight that it torn in numerous places.  “She’s already turned him into a three-legged freak.”

Seth laughed.  “Shit is a lot better than Viagra.  Not only does it keep you hard, but turns you into an instant porn star.”

“Maybe for a torture porn.”  He glanced at his watch.  “I guess I need to get this rig rollin’.  Y’all have fun fuckin’ him up.”  He walked to the front of the RV.

Missy looked down at Robert.  “Hey, Candy Man?  Or should I say, baker's man.  You ready to play pat-a-cake?”

His eyes were filled with anger as he glared back.  Now that he had time to think about what Missy had done to his dick and balls, he was furious.  Tape was covering his mouth, causing his words to be muffled as he yelled at her. 

She looked at Seth.  “I need him restrained only by his legs so he can help with the baking.”

Seth ran some ratchet straps from his thighs down to his ankles, making sure the latches were under the table so he couldn’t reach them.  When he released his arms and torso, Robert sat up and ripped the tape from his mouth.  “You motherfuckers!  You’re going to pay for what y’all have done to me!”  He started jerking at the straps.  “When I get loose, I’m going to fucking kill y’all!”

Missy struck him in the face with a baseball bat.  He screamed as he held his bloody nose.  “You broke my nose, you fucking bitch!”

She started slamming the bat across his legs, and as he tried to block it, his arms were being severely beaten.  “Oh my God!  Please stop!  You’re fucking killing me!”

She pointed the bat at him.  “I will beat your ass into a pile of tenderized meat if you don’t cooperate.”

“Okay, okay!  I’ll do whatever you want!”

She handed him a chef hat.  “Put that shit on.”

“Why?”

She cracked him across the jaw with the bat.

“Stop fucking hitting me!”

She struck him again.

“Okay, okay!”  He put the hat on.

“You wanna start with some chocolate covered nuts?”

He was so angry he wanted to kill her, but he knew if he tried anything or argued she would hit him again.  “Sure.  Whatever you want.”

“Great.”  She went to a cabinet and gathered up some supplies, putting them on a cart.  She pushed it over next to him, then handed him a bowl and a bottle of Hershey’s Syrup.  “Alrighty, Uncle Touchy, get to it.”

He looked in the bowl, noticing two oblong-shaped items.  “And what do you want me to do?”

“Pour some of that fuckin’ syrup on those nuts and get to munchin’.”

“This is fucking stupid.”

You didn’t think it was stupid using sweets to lure kids.”  She raised the bat.

“Alright, alright!”  He poured syrup on the nuts, outside the bowl and all over his hand.  “Satisfied?”

“I don’t give a fuck how much of a mess you make as long as you eat those nuts.”

“I ain’t eatin’ shit.”

She struck his right knee with the bat.

He let out a wail.  “Okay!  I’ll do it!”  He shoved one in his mouth, but spit it out.  “What the fuck is that?”

“It’s a cream filled nut.”

“Bullshit!  I know what nuts taste like.”

“It’s interesting to know you’ve eaten human testicles before.”

His eyes got big.  “What?”

“Yeah, those are your nuts.  The ones I cut off you.”

He threw the bowl at her.  “You fucking bitch!  I will fucking kill you!”

She slammed the bat into his right shin.  When he leaned forward to grab his leg, she struck him in the face, knocking his hat off.  He was holding his mouth with one hand as he raised the other.  “Please don’t hit me anymore!  I’ll cooperate.”

“Put your hat back on.”

“What?”

“I said put your fucking hat back on.”

He looked aggravated.  “Really?  You’re worried about that after all the shit you’ve done to me?”

“Yes.  And I’m not telling you again.”

He picked it up from his lap and put it on.  “You’re fucking deranged.  You know that?”

“Whatever.  Now hold your foot still.”  She lowered the bat until it touched the ends of his toes on his right foot.  She raised the bat, then took a practice swing, aiming downwards where the impact would shove his toes back into his foot. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to see how many toes I can crush with a downward swing.  Now hold your foot still.”

He started moving it around.  “Please don’t!  I beg you!  I said I was going to cooperate!”

She struck him in the same shin.

He grabbed his leg.  “Oh my God!  You’re gonna break….”

She hit him in the face, knocking his hat off again.  “I can do this all day.”

Tears were running down his cheeks.  “Please stop!  I beg you!”

She made eye contact with him, then looked at his hat that was laying in his lap.  He snatched it up and put it on without having to be told.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.”  She started making practice swings again.  “Hold still.”

“I can’t let you do this!”

“If you move your foot, I will break your fucking leg.”

His body was trembling as he watched her raise and lower the bat, lining her swing up.  “I’ll eat my nuts!  I’ll do it!”

She swung the bat as hard as she could, but he jerked his foot out of the way at the last moment, causing it to strike the top of the table.  Before he could speak, she swung again, shattering his tibia bone.  She kept hitting his lower leg over and over, shattering his bones.  His skin began to rupture, allowing blood and bone fragments to flow out of his leg.  He was screaming at the top of his lungs as he tried to stop her, but every time he reached out, she’d jab him in the face with the end of the bat.  She finally stopped when the portion of his leg right above his ankle was flat.

She grabbed his foot and moved it side to side.  “Kind of wobbly.  Bet you can’t move it now?”

He didn’t respond as he lay on his back.  Seth checked his vitals.  “He’s out.”

“Don’t let his ass die.  We have a lot to do.”

Seth checked his blood type, then connected him to some IV bags.  One filled with nutrients and the other blood.  He held up a syringe.  “This should keep him kicking and screaming for a while.”

“What is it?”

“A concoction I came up with a long time ago to keep assholes awake.  It’s a mixture of adrenaline, clotting agents, amphetamine, Metoprolol, Provigil and Methyldopa.”

“Won’t that cause a drug intoxication?”

“Sure, if I kept injecting him with it.  But by the time a lethal CDI could happen, he’ll be dead.”

“Cool.  So, let’s wake his ass up.”

Seth injected the concoction into his neck.  Within seconds, Robert sat up.  He noticed his leg right away since it was throbbing.  “You fucking bitch!  Look what you did to my leg!”

She pointed the bat at him.  “I told you if you moved your foot I was going to break it.”

“You’ve done more than break it!  You’re fucking crazy!  I’m going to….”  His heart started acting strange.  He grabbed his chest.  “Oh shit!  I think I’m having a heart attack!  Please call an ambulance.”

Seth laughed.  “You’re fine.”

“No, I’m not!  My heart feels weird!  Like it’s not working right!”

“It’s from the shot I gave you.  It will cause your heart to pump a slow, steady rhythm.”

His eyes got big.  “Why would you do that?”

“For a whole list of reasons, such as to keep you awake, increase alertness, slow down bleeding, to reduce aneurysms, to keep your blood pressure from skyrocketing, but mainly, to keep you from passing out too soon.”

He was worried.  “Is it safe?”

“I doubt it.”

“What do you mean you doubt it?”

“How in the fuck would I know if it’s safe or not.  I’m not a fucking doctor.”

His hands were shaking with fear.  “Will you check the internet for side effects?”

“I can’t.  I mixed the shit up in my bathtub.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.  And as far as I know, it might make your heart explode.  Or it could cause your aorta to pop off.  It might even cause your blood to thicken up and turn your heart into one big gloopy mess.”

“Oh my God!  Why would you do that to me?”

Missy became a little aggravated.  “I think you need to be more worried about the predicament you’re in.”  She looked at Seth.  “Can I move on with the more painful shit?”

He motioned for her step away.  “He has cardio phobia.  It’s a fear of having heart related issues.  When I find out what someone’s phobia is, I use it to my advantage.  Emotional pain is just as important as the physical stuff.  In fact, it enhances physical pain tenfold if it’s done right.”

“Oh.”  She walked back over to Robert.  “I have some bad news.”

He looked as if he was going to cry.  “What is it?”

“That shit Seth injected you with can cause your heart to start fluttering.  And it can get out of hand, causing severe cardio destruction.”

“Cardio destruction?  What is that?  It sounds bad.”

“It is.  It’s where your heart will beat so fast that it will come apart.  Just like how a car engine will throw rods when it’s pushed past its limit.”

Tears were running down his cheeks.  “What can I do to prevent that?”

“You have to keep calm.”

“Okay.  I can do that.”  He started taking slow breaths.  He didn’t know Missy had made up cardio destruction.

Missy propped his foot up where his toes were sticking up, then started making practice swings with the bat.  “Don’t move.”

His eyes opened wide.  “What are you doing?”

“Finishing what I started.”

“Wait!  I thought you had already gotten me back by breaking my leg?”

“Nope.  That was just to get you to hold still.”

“Please don’t do this!  I beg you?”

“Your heart, Robert.  Watch your heart.  You don’t want to get too worked up and make it run amuck.”

He started taking slow, deep breaths again.  “Okay, okay.  Please just don’t….”

She slammed the bat on top of his toes as hard as she could.  He screamed as he stared in horror.  His big toe was hanging sideways with a bone sticking out the side, his index toe was dangling by some tendons, his middle toe got ripped off, and his two smaller toes were crushed.  Pieces of broken bones were laying on the table around his foot and blood was oozing out of the open wounds.  When he caught his composure, he glared at her.  “Look what you’ve done to me!  You’re going to pay for this!”

“Maybe you’ll start minding.”

“Mind?  You destroyed my leg because I wouldn’t eat my fucking testicles?  You’re fucking crazy!”

“No, I fucked your shit up so you’ll know what will happen if you don’t do what I say.  And you haven’t seen crazy yet.”  She picked up his testicles and laid them in his lap.  “Now get to munching before I break your other leg.”

He noticed they were covered in debris and hair from rolling around on the floor.  “Will you wash them off first?”

“No.  Now get to it.”

He took a few deep breaths to calm his heart, then put both of his testicles in his mouth.  When his teeth busted through their fibrous coating, sperm filled his mouth, causing him to gag.

“If you puke, I’m going to rip out one of your eyes.”

He continued to gag as he quickly chewed them.  Sperm and syrup was running out the corners of his mouth and down his chin.

Missy laughed.  “How did that creamy filling taste?”

After he swallowed them, he leaned over the table and spit a few times, then glared at Missy.  “Did that make you happy?  Are you satisfied, you sick bitch?”

Seth was staring at him.  “Just to let you know, I’m keeping track of all the times you call her a bitch.  When she’s done with you, I’m coming to collect.”

“Yeah, well, fuck you too!”

Roasted Corpus Cavernosum

Missy tossed Robert a knife.  “Now you’re gonna whip up a new treat since you liked those tasty, chocolate covered nuts so much.”

He grasped the knife.  “Fuck you, bitch!  I ain’t doin’ shit!”

She slammed the bat down on top of his broken leg.  “Hell, if you’re not!”

He swung the knife at her as he screamed from the pain.

She started hitting his leg over and over, and with each blow, his foot flopped around like a fish out of water since there was no bone structure left.  He dropped the knife and tried to grab the bat, but she started hitting him in the hands and arms.  He finally fell back.  “Okay, okay!  I give up!  You win!”

“Pull that shit again and I’ll break your fucking arms!”

“I won’t!  I give you my word!”

“That means a lot coming from a child molester.”

He started getting teary eyed.  “Please just let me go!  You’ve already gotten me back!  And I won’t tell anyone what happened here!”

Missy remembered what Seth had said about giving hope.  “I’ll make a deal with you.  If you do what I ask, I’ll let you live.  But, you’re gonna have to man up and take your punishment.”

“Like what?  Eating nasty stuff?”

“That’s part of it.”

He felt relieved.  “Okay!  I can do that!”

“Great.  Now I need you to fillet your dick.”

He looked confused.  “What?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never filleted a fish.”

“Sorry, I never went fishing.”

“I’m sure you were too busy hunting kids.”

He didn’t realize Missy was patronizing him.  “I deserve that.”

“But don’t worry.  I’ll walk you through it.  First, take the knife and cut the head off your dick.”

His eyes opened wide.  “What?  Hold up!  I thought I was….”

She interrupted him.  “Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be, Robert.  I really don’t want to hurt you anymore.  Just accept your punishment so you can go home.”

“I… I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Look.  Your dick is already messed up because of the resin, so it’s not like you’re doing any more damage to it.”

“But the doctors can fix it.”

“They can’t.  The resin has penetrated too much of your flesh.  And if you haven’t noticed, it’s already become infected, so they would amputate it anyway.”

His swollen penis had turned blue and pus was oozing out his urethra.  “Please don’t make me do this!”

She picked up the bat.  “Dammit!  I thought we were going to do this the easy way?”

“Wait a minute!  I’ll do whatever you want as long as I don’t have to cut up my penis.”

She started to hit him, but Seth stopped her.  “Hold up.  I don’t think the bat is going to be enough motivation now that you’re going after his most sacred item.”

She lowered the bat.  “Seriously?”

“Yep.  He’ll let you beat him to death before he does it.”

“Men and their fucking dicks.”

“I know, babe.  It’s just the way it is.  But I have a solution.”  Seth took the knife from Robert and handed it to Missy.  “Hold that for him until I’m done.”  He took a chain and secured it between his neck and the end of the table by his feet, forcing him to sit up.  He then secured two more chains between his wrists and his upper legs, leaving just enough slack so he could reach his penis.  He handed Missy a cordless drill with a small bit.  “If he doesn’t do what you ask, start drilling into the ribs in his back.  Just make sure you don’t puncture any organs in the process.”

Her eyes lit up.  “Wow!  I like this idea.”  She tossed the knife to Robert.  “Let’s get that penis filleted, starting by cutting off your head.”

He was panicking.  “Oh my God!  Please don’t do this!”

She walked behind him.  “I gave you a chance to do it the easy way, so suck it up, sweetheart.”  She nodded for Seth to come over.  “I can’t see any of his ribs.  He’s too fat.”

Seth took a knife and cut him along his spine, ripped the skin open, then took a scraper and started removing the fat.  Robert was begging and screaming at the same time.  When Seth was done, Robert was on the verge of passing out.  The pain had been so excruciating that he had vomited and defecated all over himself.

Missy shook her head as she pointed to the mess Robert made.  “Uh, this shit ain’t gonna work.”

Seth laughed.  “Don’t worry.  This is an embalming table.  It has a drain.”  He took a hose and washed all the body fluids way.”

Robert was speechless as he stared in a daze.  He was now at his breaking point, mentally and physically.  He was ready to die.

Seth could sense his state of mind and took the knife from him.  Missy was confused.  “He needs that.”

“He’s lost the will to live and he’ll kill himself with it.”  He adjusted the chains at his wrists to ensure he couldn’t reach his chest or neck, then he gave him an injection of dopamine.  “But this should fix him right up.”

A few minutes later, Robert started crying.  “Please call an ambulance!  I don’t want to die!”

Missy smiled, then gave Seth a hug.  “Thanks, babe.  I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“I’d do anything for love, but I won’t do that.”

She laughed.  “Now I’m curious.”

“I’d do anything but suck a dick, or take it in the ass.”

“I doubt that’s what Jim Steinman had in mind when he wrote the song for Meatloaf.”

“No one knows what the fuck they meant.”

She looked at Robert.  “What would you not do for love?  Oh yeah, screw someone of legal age.”

He glared at her.  “Ha, ha, bitch!  Real funny!  You’re gonna get the needle for this shit!”

She looked at Seth.  “Damn!  He sure flip-flopped personalities.”

“That’s why I love using drugs on these assholes.”

She looked at Robert as she held the drill.  “Before I get the needle, I need you to enjoy some roasted corpus cavernosum.  I might even be nice and let you add a topping.”

Seth opened the internet on his phone and looked up corpus cavernosum.  “Oh shit!  This should be interesting.”

Robert glared at him.  “What the fuck are you flapping about, prick?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

Missy walked behind Robert and started drilling into one of his ribs.  He screamed as he jerked at his restraints.  “Stop fucking hurting me, you fucking bitch!”

When she drilled through the rib, she started on another hole.  “Keep flapping your mouth, asshole, I can go all day.”

“So can I, bitch!”

Seth handed her a three-inch hole saw.  “Try this.”

“Ah, an attitude adjuster.”

“Yep.”

She drilled into the center of a rib with the pilot bit, and when the saw started cutting into him, he shouted, “Okay okay!  I’ll do what you want!”

When the bit broke through, she pulled out a three-inch plug.  It had a piece of rib running across the center surrounded by cartilage and muscle.  She tossed it in his lap.  “Kind of looks like a round baby-back rib.”

His eyes got big as he stared at it.  “Oh fuck?  What is that?”

“Part of your back.”  She looked in the hole it made.  “I can see your organs.”

He started panicking.  “Oh my God!  I can’t believe you would do such a thing!  Please put it back!”

She took a stick and started poking his lung.  “Can you feel that?”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Poking your lung.”  She poked it harder, causing him to start coughing.

“Oh my God!  I can feel that!  Please stop before you puncture it!”

She moved the drill over.  “I’m going to drill a hole closer to your spine.  That way I can poke your heart.”

“Okay!  I’ll cut up my dick!  Where’s the knife?”

She handed it to him.  “If you’re bluffing, I’m going to poke your heart with a syringe.  I might even suck some blood out of it.”

He took a deep breath, then in one motion, cut off his head.  He was white as a ghost and sweat was dripping from his face as he looked at his headless penis.  “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“I’m sure the kids you molested thought the same thing.  Now, cut the flesh off your dick by running the knife from the base to the end.  And make sure you go all the way to the resin so the pieces will be nice and thick.  Once you get done with that section, you’ll do another, and another, going all the way around until the only thing left is the resin shaft.”

He didn’t say anything as he started cutting into his penis.  The pain was so intense that his hands were shaking as he moaned deeply.  Missy watched with satisfaction as he carved his penis into pieces.  When he was done, he sat staring at the resin shaft.  It was yellow in color and had a rough texture like a corncob.  It grossed him out.  He tried to pull it off, but it was stuck.

Seth was grossed out too.  “That’s fucking disturbing.  Pull that shit off.”

Robert felt violated and had an overwhelming sense of humiliation.  “I just want to die.”

“Later.  But for now, you need to remove that damn shaft.”

“It’s stuck.”

Seth took the knife from him, then grabbed the shaft and started pulling on it.  Robert was screaming as he held Seth’s arms.  “You’re fucking killin’ me!  Please stop!”

Missy was laughing.  “What the hell are you doing?”

“I want to rip this damn thing off, but the resin must have gone inside his abdomen.”

“Why do you care?”

“It’s bugging the fuck out of me.”  He started bending the shaft back and forth, causing Robert’s groin to bend with it.

“It’s not going to come off.”

Seth stood on the top of the table, then started pulling at it with all his strength.  Robert was screaming as his hips were pulled upwards.

“You’re wasting your time.”

“Bullshit!  I’m going to rip this fucker off if it’s the last thing I do.”

“This is some funny shit.”

“I’m glad I can entertain….”  The shaft came loose, causing Seth to fall off the table and onto his back.

Missy ran over to him.  “You okay?”

He stood up with the shaft.  “I am now.”

“You’re fucking crazy.”

Robert was crying as he stared at the large hole in his groin.  The shaft had ripped out a lot of tissue.  Seth noticed the end of the shaft had a large, yellow bulb made of resin, and blood vessels and part of Robert’s urethra were hanging out of it.  “This is fucking nasty.  I’ll be right back.”  He took off running to the front.  A few seconds later, the RV swerved as yelling echoed out.

Missy shook her head.  “Seth!  What the hell are you doing?”

He came back laughing.  “Just showing Wyatt his new bong.”

Robert was gritting his teeth.  “What is wrong with you people?  You think this shit is funny!  You destroyed my life as if I was nothing!”

Missy glared at him.  “You are nothing.”

“I have fucking rights!”

“Not in here.”

“Fuck you, bitch!”

She walked behind him with the drill.

Robert tried to look over his shoulder.  “What are you doing?”

“Gonna drill out another hole so I can poke your heart.”

“I’m sorry for running my mouth!  Please don’t do it!  I’ll do whatever you want!”

He screamed as she drilled into his back with the three-inch hole saw.  When she was done, she looked in the hole.  “Oh fuck!  I can see your heart.  It’s kind of gross how it’s flopping around.”  She walked in front of him and tossed the plug in his lap.  “If we keep this up, you’ll have yourself a nice little appetizer.”

Tears were running down his cheeks.  “I can’t do this anymore.”

She held up a syringe with a long needle.  “Sure, you can.”

He knew what the syringe was for.  “Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

“Remove the outer skin from the pieces of your dick, leaving just the corpus cavernosum.”

“Leaving what?  I don’t understand.”

“The corpus cavernosum are the sponge-like parts of your dick.  It’s the tissue that fills up with blood during an erection.  In your case, it filled up only when you were around kids, so I thought it was appropriate it will fill up your belly.”

He didn’t say anything as he ripped the skin off the pieces of long flesh.

When he was done, she handed him a piece of wire, a propane torch and some brown cinnamon.  “Once you sprinkle some cinnamon on them, use the torch to roast them.”

He had a hateful expression as he heated the pieces of flesh hanging from the wire.  They were roughly half-an-inch thick and almost six-inches long.  They looked like thick banana peels as they hung from the wire.  He was furious how Seth and Missy were holding him against his will and mutilating his body.  And the fact they thought it was funny made him even angrier.  He was looking at Missy with a dead stare.  “Can I ask you a question without you getting mad?”

“Sure.”

“What gives you the right to do this to another human being?”

“Uh, because you’re a piece of shit.”

“That’s not what I….”

Seth interrupted.  “The best response to his question is, I use the same one you use when you’re molesting kids.”

Robert glared at him.  “That doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

“Sure, it does.  Whatever right you used that made it okay to do such atrocious acts is the same one I use to fuck up scumbags like you.”

Missy looked confused.  “I’m lost.”

“Exactly.  If you ask him what gave him the right to molest children, he won’t be able to give you a legitimate response.  So why should I have to give him one.  I just throw the burden of rights back on them.”

She nodded.  “I get it.”  She looked at Robert.  “Out of curiosity, I wanna know how you’d answer that.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb.”  She held up the syringe.

“Okay, okay!  I have a psychiatric disorder that causes me to have a sexual attraction to someone younger.”

“You fucking idiot.  That sounds like what some quack told you.  And someone younger is an understatement.  What you should have said is, you like fucking little kids because you’re a sick fuck.”

“You don’t understand!”

“And you still didn’t give me the reason why you think you had a right to do that.”

“I…  I didn’t.  I admit that.”

She looked at Seth.  “I see what you mean.  It is easier just to put it back on them.”

“Yep.”

Missy noticed the pieces of flesh were getting crispy.  “I think your treats are about ready.”

“You know you’re a sick person, right?”

“We’re not going to get into semantics.”

“I hope this is giving you plenty of satisfaction.”

“Not really.  But the next part might.”

He looked confused.  “What?  I thought this was it.”

“You thought wrong.  Now get to chewin’.”

“I will if this will be the last thing I have to do.”

“You’re in no position to negotiate, so do it.  And I’m not telling you again.”

He knew he didn’t have a choice.  When Robert bit into one of the pieces, a yellowish fluid gushed out, filling his mouth and running down his chin.  He started dry heaving and spitting up some bile.  “Oh my God!  This tastes fucking horrible!”

Seth took a picture of Robert.

He glared at him.  “What the fuck are you doing?”

“It’s for our scrap book.”

“You got to be fucking kidding me?  What is wrong with you two?  I might have done some bad things, but what y’all have done is pure evilness.  You’ve taken everything from me, but that isn’t enough.  You have to humiliate me too and make this into some twisted game that apparently gets y’all off in some sick way.”

Seth took another picture.  “We haven’t taken everything from you…  Yet.”

“Fuck you!”  He looked at Missy.  “And fuck you too, bitch!”

Heart Worm

Missy walked behind Robert with a piece of wire and a roll of wax nylon string.  She tied the string to the end of the wire and stuck the wire into the hole in his back, pushing it into his heart.

Robert was panicking.  He could feel a dull pain coming from inside his chest.  “Oh shit!  What are you doing?”

She ignored him as she pushed the wire in deeper.

“Please stop!  I promise I will do whatever you want!”  He bit off a piece of the flesh and started chewing it.  “See, I’m eating my dick skin!  You can stop now!”  He felt a sharp pain in his chest.  Horror overcame him when he noticed the skin just to the left of his sternum was poking out.  He could see something moving around under it.  “What the fuck is that?”  He started touching the raised area.  “There’s something in my chest!  Oh, fuck me!  What the hell are you doing?”  Suddenly, the end of the wire came poking through his skin.  He started to grab it, but realized he couldn’t because it grossed him out.  “What the hell?  This is bad!  Please get it out!”

She walked to the front of him.  “If you want it out, do it yourself.”

He looked scared.  “What have you done?”

“I pushed the wire through your heart and out of your chest.”

He had a grimace of terror.  “No, no, no!  You wouldn’t do something like that.”

Seth laughed.  “Really?  Have you not looked at the shit she’s already done to you?”

He started panicking.  “Please get it out!  I’ll do whatever you want!”

Missy rolled her eyes.  “Whatever, dude.  You’ve been singing that same tune until it’s gotten old.”

“I’m being serious!  Watch.”  He started eating the pieces of his penis.

“There you go.  Keep going, and if you eat all of them, I’ll pull out the wire.”

He was chewing and swallowing as fast as he could, ignoring the foul taste.  The pieces of flesh were burned on the outside, but raw and slimy on the inside.  The yellowish fluid was running out of his mouth and had dripped all over the front of his body.  When he was done, he motioned for her to come closer.  “I’m done!  Please get this out!”

She grabbed the wire where it was sticking out of his chest and started pulling it.  When the other end came out, a string stained with blood was tied to it.  She cut it from the wire, leaving several inches of slack hanging.

He looked confused as he stared at the string.  “What the fuck it that?”

“I think it’s a heart worm.  The wire must have pulled it out or something.”

“I don’t understand.  Why is it in me?”

“How in the fuck would I know?  Maybe you live like a pig or something.”

His eyes got big when the end didn’t come out.  “Oh fuck!  It’s long!  Please get it out!”

“Fuck that.  I’m not touching it.  And you better hurry up.  It could be balled up inside your heart, which will most likely cause a blockage.”

“Balled up?  Blockage?  What do you mean?”

“Heart worms can get long.  Very long.  And if you bother them, they’ll start twisting around.”

“Fuck!”  He grabbed the string and started pulling on it again.  His eyes were huge as it kept coming.  He started panicking as he pulled it with both hands.  It was stained red, and as it exited the tiny hole, blood was running down his chest in a steady stream.  “Where is all this blood coming from?”

“It’s probably being wrung out of the worm as it’s being forced through the small hole in your chest.”

“Oh my God!  This can’t be happening!”  He had pulled out so much that he had a pile of string in his lap.  “Oh shit!  How long can it be?  Please make it stop!”

Missy had set up the roll of string on the table behind him.  It was fifty-feet long.  She had fibbed about the string being a worm just to terrify him since he had cardio phobia.  But it was still running through the center of his heart, which was just as disturbing.  “I’m worried the worm might be so long it could be in your circulatory system.”

He started pulling the string as fast as he could.  He was panicking so much he was hyperventilating.

“You need to calm down before you give yourself a heart attack.”

“I have to get it out!”

“You better hope it doesn’t knot up with you pulling on it that fast.  It might rip something.”

He slowed down.  “Okay!”  A few minutes later, the end came out.  He had a look of relief.  “Oh, thank God!”  He rubbed the hole in his chest, noticing it was still bleeding.  “Oh shit!  Do you think blood is leaking out of my heart?”

“I’m sure.  It has holes in it.”

“Is there something you can do to make it stop?”

“I can give you a shot of clotting agent.”

“Please do.”

Missy motioned for Seth to step to the side with her.  “I can’t believe this fucker is so worried about his heart instead of all the other shit that’s been done to him.”

“That’s why I like it when these assholes have phobias.  It opens up a whole new level of horror for them.”

Missy looked at Robert.  “You have one more task to do, then I’ll stop your heart from bleeding.”

He was scared.  “Will you do it now?  I don’t want to bleed to death.”

“No.  But since they’re small holes, I’m sure they’re just leaking a small amount.”

“Okay!  Tell me what you want me to do so I can get it over with.”

“Rip out your prostate and eat it.”

He looked at her like she was crazy.  “Wait!  No, you can’t be serious?”

“It’s getting late and I’m tired of jacking with you, so just do it and get it over with.”

“Come, on!  Please don’t do this!  You’ve already done enough!”

She looked at Seth.  “Do you have something that I can shock his heart with?  I wanna see if I can make it stop.”

Before Seth could answer, Robert started freaking out.  “Wait!  There’s no need in that!  I know what I did was bad, but unfortunately, I can’t take it back!”

Seth handed her a TENS unit.  “It might not look like it would do much, but it can bring a man to his knees.”

“This will work, but I was hoping for something powerful enough that will make his heart smoke.”

Robert was started to panic.  “Listen!  I said there’s no need in doing that.”

Seth opened a cabinet and pulled out a handheld device that had two probes running parallel to each other.  “This converts 120 volts to 500,000 volts.”

“Will this cook flesh?”

“It sure will.”

She became excited.  “Fuckin’ A!  I can stick it in the hole in his back and shock the fuck out of his heart directly.”

“Yep.”

Robert had a look of horror as he eavesdropped.  “Please don’t do this!  I’m begging you!”

Seth plugged the device into an extension cord before handing it to Missy.  “The red button activates it.  And make sure you don’t touch the probes.”

Robert was freaking out as Missy walked behind him.  “Why are you ignoring me?  Please wait a minute so we can talk about this!  Hey, I’m trying to work with you!  Please don’t shock me!  I beg you!”

She stuck the probes against his heart and pushed the button.  The shock caused his heart to stop beating.  When she released the button, it started back.  When she shocked it again, it started violently flopping around.  Every time she shocked it, it would either stop or get out of rhythm and bounce around chaotically.

Robert was jerking at his chains and screaming at the top of his lungs for her to stop, but she ignored him.  Around the eighth time she shocked him, she kept the current flowing until smoke started coming out of the hole.  Robert was horrified.  “What the fuck is that smell?  Is that my heart?”

She shocked his heart several more times, and when she pulled out the probe, it continued to bounce around higgledy-piggledy. 

Robert was now holding his head down and crying.

Missy walked in front of him.  “What am I going to have to do to you to get you to rip out your fucking prostate?”

He looked at her and Seth with confusion before glancing over his shoulder.  “Is someone back there?”

“No.”

“Something is wrong with my heart!”

“Oh, yeah.  Unfortunately, I fucked it up, and now it has an abnormal rhythm.” 

The color left his face and he looked as if he was going to cry.

“Don’t get all emotional on me.  You still have to rip out your fucking prostate.”

“You might as well go ahead and kill me.”

“I’m done fucking with you.  I’m giving you two choices.  Either you rip out your prostate, or I’m going to rip your fucking heart out of the hole in your back.”

“Please just kill me and get it over with.”

She walked behind him.

“Hold up!  Give me a second!  I need time to think!”

She shoved her hand into the hole in his back.

He started freaking out.  “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m squeezing the shit out of your heart.”

He felt like he was going to faint.  “Oh my God!  You’re killing me!  Please stop!”

“Rip out your fucking prostate before I squeeze all the blood out of this motherfucker!”

“You’re stopping my blood flow!  I’m going to die!”

“I thought you wanted to die?”

“I was just running my mouth!  I’m sorry!”

She was becoming irritated.  “If you would spend as much time doing what you’re told as you do running your mouth, we would have been done hours ago.”

“You don’t have to do this!  You can have mercy if you want!”

She got so mad that she climbed on the table and sat behind him.  She put her knees in his back for leverage, then started pulling on his heart as hard as she could.

Seth was laughing.  “Damn, woman!  I like your determination.”

“I’m sick of this motherfucker!”

Robert was in excruciating pain.  Since the heart, lungs and bronchial tubes are tied together by the circulatory system, they were all being pulled on.  He finally couldn’t take the pain and reached into the hole where his penis had been torn out.  He was screaming as he dug around in his lower abdomen.  He wasn’t sure exactly where the prostate was located.  He only knew it was somewhere between a man’s testicles and penis.  He yelled at Missy so she would stop hurting him.  “I’m doing it!  I’m doing it!  But I don’t know where it’s at!”

She had his heart pulled against his rear ribcage and was trying to force it through the hole.  “I don’t give a shit!”

Robert was mentally and physically exhausted.  He just wanted it to be over with and for the pain to end, so he started pulling out anything he could grasp.  He had a pile of small intestines laying between his legs and his bladder was protruding out the hole.  When he started pulling on his bladder, he could feel there was a lot of resistance.  He didn’t know his bladder had its own supporting ligaments that were attached to his pelvic area.  He screamed as he pulled on it, but he wound up tearing a large hole in the bottom, causing urine to gush out all over the table.  He grabbed his deflated organ with both hands and jerked on it as hard as he could.  When it tore loose, sharp pains shot up his back as he tore the ureters from his kidneys.  Without delay, he started sifting through the blood-covered pile of organs searching for his prostate.

Seth nodded at Missy.  “He’s got it out.”

She climbed off the table.  “About damn time!”  Even though she had been pulling on his heart, and even had part of it hanging out the hole in his back, she had also made sure not to squeeze it too tightly.  The whole point was to make him torture himself.  Killing him by cutting off his blood flow would have been the easy way out.  She stood next to him.  “What a fucking mess.  I can’t believe your ass is still alive.”

Seth was shaking his head as he looked at Robert.  He was an unbelievable sight.  His right leg was grotesquely swollen and blue, and his foot looked as if he had stepped on a landmine.  The skin on his back was laid open, revealing his muscles that were covered in dried blood.  His heart was hanging halfway out the three-inch hole, and it was still beating with an abnormal rhythm.  His face was black and blue, swollen and covered in dried blood, and his hands and arms had large bruises and welts.  His intestines were slowly sliding out the hole in his lower abdomen.  Blood and other unspeakable body fluids were running out of him, creating a mess on the top of the table.

Seth looked at Missy.  “It’s amazing how a human can go through so much trauma and remain alive—of course, the drugs do make a difference—but, in some cases, I’ve lost assholes during the simplest of procedures.  I can say one thing, you sure gave this fucker a workout, and I’m impressed he’s made it through all that.  Hell, he didn’t even pass out once.  That seldom happens to me.”

“He’s not done yet.  If he doesn’t finish what he started, he might still have a chance to pass out.”

Robert was still holding his ruptured bladder as if he didn’t know what to do with it.  He could barely speak.  “Please show me where my prostate is at so this will be over.”

Missy pointed to a walnut shaped organ that was attached to the bladder.  He didn’t say anything as he ripped it off and swallowed it without chewing.

Seth looked at Missy.  “Are you done?”

“I think so.”

Robert looked relieved.  “Please call an ambulance.”

Seth pulled out a knife and approached him.  “You owe me ten body parts.”

His eyes opened hide.  “What?  What are you talking about?”

“You called her a bitch ten times, and I told you I was going to collect when she was done.”

“Wait!  She said I was going to live.”

“She said she was going to let you live, which she did.  Now that she kept her word, I’m going to end you.”

“Hold up!  She said I was going to go home after this.”

“You are.  In a body bag.”

“Please don’t….”

Seth started cutting his face into pieces.  He cut off his ears, nose, lips, then proceeded to cut off his bottom jaw.  Robert was howling out his throat as Seth cut out his eyes.   He needed two more parts, and that’s counting his lips as two, so he sliced off his face and cut out his Adam’s apple.  Robert was choking on his blood as Seth stuffed him in a body bag.  He dragged him to the freezer and tossed him on top of the other bags.  Robert was still moving around and moaning as Seth closed the door.

Hide the Snake

Seth looked at his watch.  “It’s almost 2 AM.  I’m going to check in with Wyatt.

Missy was covered in blood.  “I’m going to take a shower.”

Seth went up front and sat in the passenger seat.  “How far are we from Big Bend?”

“We’re about an hour away.”

“Good.”

“When we get there, you think I can get a few hours of rest?  I’m getting tired and don’t want to put us in jeopardy by falling asleep while driving.”

“Sure.  There’s no reason to risk it.”

“Will that throw us off schedule?”

“We have plenty of leeway.”

“I thought we were on a tight schedule since you’re always looking at your watch.”

“Not really.  I’m just trying to make the most of our time.”

“That’s good to know.  So, what were y’all doing to Robert?  I was getting tired of his screaming.”

Seth told him everything that happened.

“Wow!  I didn’t know Missy could be so brutal.”

Seth smiled.  “I definitely found my soulmate.”

“You sure did.  But I sure in the hell wouldn’t fuck her over.”

“No shit.”

“Have you talked to Kenneth?”

“Yeah, about an hour ago.”

“Was he able to pick up Alayna?”

Wyatt laughed.  “The dumb bitch was hanging out at the front of the trailer park trying to sell her ass.  He played along, so she got in his truck.”

“Fucking A.  Outside of Barry’s BS, this trip has been going smoothly.  No one’s got hurt and no cops.”

Wyatt looked worried.  “Are you not going to knock on wood?”

“I’m not superstitious.”

“Oh.  I figured you would be.”

“Nope, not at all.  Have you checked on Barry?”

“I tried, but he won’t answer the radio.”

Seth picked up the mic and keyed up.  “Spanky, you there?”

Loud music blared over the speaker.

“Turn down the damn stereo!”

“What do you want?”

“What’s your twenty?”

“Why do you need money?”

“That’s not what I asked, you dumbass.  I want to know where you’re at.”

“Uh, somewhere behind you, I think.”

“You better not be lost.”

“I’m not, so chill out.  I’m almost to Big Spring.”

“Big Spring?  You fucking idiot!  We’re going to Big Bend National Park.  You’re going the wrong way.”

The radio stayed silent.

“Hey!”

“Yeah?”

“Just go ahead and head to…  Shit.  Hold up.”  Seth looked at his map.  “Head to San Angelo.  We’ll be heading that way after we make our pick up.”

“Whatever.”

“Don’t get an attitude with me.  I’ll tell Missy.”

“Sorry.  I’ll catch up with y’all in San Angelo.”

Seth looked at Wyatt.  “What a fucking idiot.”

He laughed.  “Yeah, and it’s funny as shit he’s scared of Missy.”

“I know.”  Seth stood up.  “Speaking of Missy, I’m going to take a shower.”

“Okeydokey.”

Around 3 AM, Wyatt pulled into an area next to Big Bend where truckers park.  Seth had picked this place because they wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb and they would be less suspicious parking here than anywhere else.  Wyatt maneuvered the RV into a spot, then went to the back.  Seth wasn’t around, but the bathroom door was shut.  He knocked.  “Hey!  We’re here.”

“Alright.  Be out in a minute.”

“What are you doing?”

“Taking a fucking shower.”

“Have you been in there this whole time?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s a waste of water.”

“Okay, water monitor.”

He looked around the cargo area.  “Where’s Missy?”

“She’s taking a shower too.”

“That’s fucked up!  I’m driving my ass off while you’re playing hide the snake?”

Missy opened the door with a towel wrapped around her.  “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

Seth was lying in a tub filled with bubbles.  “Yeah, pervert.”

Wyatt walked off shaking his head.

A few minutes later, Seth came out of the bathroom and headed to his duffle bag to get some clean clothes when Kenneth came into the RV.  He noticed Seth was butt naked.  “I’m not even going to ask what the fuck you’re doing.”

He pulled out some clothes.  “Dude, I’m fixing to get dressed.  Chill out.”  

“I swear, this trip is getting more fucked up by the minute.”

“Like you don’t get nude.”

“At home.  Not in the back of a rolling torture chamber that’s covered in blood and ass.”

“Well, this feels like home to me.”

“I’m sure it does.”

Seth got dressed, then followed Kenneth out of the RV.  A few minutes later, they returned carrying a roll of carpet.  When they unrolled it, Alayna lay nude in the center of it.  About that time, Wyatt come walking up, noticing the woman looked like a crackhead.  She was so thin her pelvis bones were showing and her skin looked unhealthy.  Though her body was covered with sores and bruises, her poor-quality tattoos were still relatively visible.  She had rotted teeth and her blonde hair was greasy and appeared as if it hadn’t been washed in months.  “What a gross looking bitch.  I hope she doesn’t have AIDS.”

Seth laughed.  “I think Kenneth needs to be worried about that.”

Kenneth glared at him.  “What does that mean?”

“You tell me?”

“If you’re referring to her being naked, she ripped off her clothes before I had a chance to knock her out.”

“Okay.”

“No, seriously.  The bitch was tryin’ to sell me her snatch.  She was only wearing a short skirt and tank top and had that shit peeled off in an instant like they were covered in fucking ants.”

“That’s because she wanted your python.”

“What are you tryin’ to say?   I’m black, so I must have a big dick?”

“No, Barry said you had a big dick.”

“Ha, ha, fucker.”

Missy came walking out of the bathroom wearing a black dress and her makeup and hair were done up.  “Who is this skank?”

Seth handed her a folder.  “Alayna Patel.”

She looked at the woman’s criminal record, noting she had thrown her two-month-old baby girl in a dumpster alive.  The autopsy showed the child had died of suffocation after she was buried in the landfill.  The baby had been in the dumpster for two days suffering from the elements and hunger before she was hauled to the dump like garbage.  “What a fucking piece of shit.”

“Sure in the fuck is.”  Seth noticed how nice Missy looked.  “You’re sure dolled up.”

“I thought I was going to head home, but after reading what this bitch did, I think I’m going to stay.”

“That’s probably a good thing since your truck isn’t here.”

“Don’t tell me that little prick wrecked it.”

“No.  The dumbass drove to Big Spring instead of here.  But don’t worry.  We’ll be catching up with him in San Angelo.”  Seth looked at his watch.  “He should be there anytime.”

“Are we heading that way?”

“In a few hours.  Wyatt needs to get some shut-eye.”  He turned to Kenneth.  “And it’s probably a good idea if you do too.”

Wyatt knew it was a bad idea leaving Barry alone for too long.  “I think I can drive to San Angelo.”

Seth shook his head.  “I’ve already told you there’s no need to rush.”

“I know.  But I’m worried Spanky might do something stupid.  You know he gets antsy waiting around.  I think the fucker has ADHD.”

Kenneth had an idea.  “I’ll go ahead and proceed that way.”

Seth looked at him.  “You need to rest up.  It might be a while before you have another chance.”

“I’ll get plenty of rest once I’m dead.”

Seth knew Kenneth liked the adrenaline rush of kidnapping more than the torture part.  He opened a map and laid it on a table.  “Alright.  Go ahead and pick up Humberto Gonzalez in Rocksprings.  When you get to San Angelo, you and Barry can pick up Jimmy.  From there, head to Killeen and pick up Maggie.  We’ll meet up with y’all at White Flint Park.  It’s west of Temple off Highway 36.”

Kenneth looked at his watch.  “It’s a little after 3:30.  I probably won’t arrive at the park until the afternoon since I have to make several stops.  And you know Spanky will slow me down.”

“Don’t worry about the time frame.  Just do what you need to do so you don’t get busted.  I don’t know how long it’ll be before we pull out.  It’s about a six-hour drive to Temple from here, so if you beat us to the park, go ahead and rest up.”

“Sounds good.  I’m outta here.”  Kenneth walked out of the RV.

Seth laid Alayna on top of the autopsy table.  A mirror was mounted on the ceiling above it.

Missy was looking at her file.  “Did you read that she did it because she didn’t want to deal with taking care of another child?”

Seth was strapping down Alayna’s arms and legs.  “Yep.  And her other four kids had already been taken from her for neglect.”

“The fucking cunt could have given the child up.  There are a lot of people wanting to adopt.”

“What do you expect from a scumbag?”  He wrote Death due to suffocation on a toe tag before hanging it on her.

“I hope you have something special planned for her.”

“I do.  It’s something I wanted to do for a long time.”

“And what is that?”

He strapped her head down.  “I’m going to autopsy her, then prepare her for burial while she’s still alive.  And then I’m going to bury her ass in a coffin so she can feel what it’s like to be all alone in the pitch-dark until she suffocates.”

Missy’s eyes got big.  “This is going to be interesting.  Do you know how to do an autopsy?”

“I’ve done some reading.”  He gathered up all the tools and drugs he’d need, laying them out on a rolling cart.  “You ready for this?”

Missy nodded.  “What do you think?”

“You wanna be my diener?”

“What is that?”

“It’s what the assistant to an autopsy technician is called.”

“Heck yeah!”

Autopsy

Seth got some lab jackets from a cabinet, then handed one to Missy.  “This will keep you from getting covered in blood.”  He put his jacket on.  “And when she wakes up, let’s completely ignore her.  I want her to believe we think she’s dead.”

“Damn!  That’s some really fucked up mind-rape.”

Seth sewed Alayna’s eyelids open before he injected her with adrenaline.  A few minutes later, she came to.  The first thing she noticed was a naked woman staring back at her.  Horror overwhelmed her when she realized she was looking in a mirror.  She tried to move, but her limbs and head were bound.  She cut her eyes and saw Seth and Missy standing by the other table.  “Hey!  What’s going on?  Am I in the hospital?”

They didn’t respond.

“Can you hear me?”

Seth handed Missy a clipboard with a form attached to it.  “We need to document the body.”

“Okay.”

He walked around the table.  “Name: Alayna Patel.  White female.  Around age 35.  Medium length, blonde hair.  Unkempt.  A possible victim of vigilante justice for the murder of her two-month old daughter.”

Alayna was cutting her eyes towards Seth.  “What are you talking about?  Why are you bringing up my daughter?  What do you mean vigilante justice?  Hey!  I’m talking to you!  What’s going on?”  She tried to blink.  “What’s wrong with my eyes?  They won’t close!  Please talk to me!”

Seth looked down at her.  “Eyes are brown.”

“Why are you ignoring me?”

He pulled her lips apart.  “Tooth decay.  Possibly due to being a crackhead.”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Seth looked her up and down.  “Extremely thin.  Almost malnourished.  Most likely from crack usage.  Poor hygiene.  Bruising and sores on her legs and arms.  Tattoos of poor quality randomly scattered all over her body.”

“I demand you tell me what the fuck is going on!”

“No visual cause of death.”

“Hold up!  I’m not dead!  Please talk to me!”

Seth handed Missy a camera.  “Take pictures of the corpse.”

Alayna was becoming frustrated.  “Corpse?  I’m not dead!  Hey!  Can you hear me?  What’s wrong with you fuckers?  Why are y’all ignoring me?”

Seth started cutting off Alayna’s hair with electric trimmers.  She was becoming even angrier as she watched the events unfold in the mirror above.  “What the fuck, man?  Stop cutting my hair!  Do you hear me, motherfucker?”

When he was done, Seth grabbed a scalpel and started cutting into her scalp.  She was screaming at the top of her lungs as he cut across the crown of the head, from the bony bump behind one ear to the bump behind the other.  She had no choice but to watch since she couldn’t close her eyes or turn her head. 

When he was done, he pulled her skin back, exposing the top of her skull.  Not only was she in a tremendous amount of pain, she was now horrified, realizing the horror that laid ahead if she was truly going to be autopsied.  “I’m alive!  I’m alive!  Please stop hurting me!  I beg you!”

Seth picked up a special bone saw that wouldn’t damage soft tissue.  When he started cutting into the front of her skull, she shrieked from the sheer agony of the procedure.  The vibrations from the blade were effecting her screams, adding some vibrato to their sound.  Her eyes were rolling around in their sockets as he sawed around the entire circumference of her head.  When he was done, he removed the top of her skull, laying it on her chest.  It looked like a bowl covered in blood.  Considering the object, she was consumed by terror as it slowly dawned on her what the item was that had been placed on her chest.  “Oh my God!  Is that…  Is that the top of my head?”  She looked at Seth.  “Please stop!  I can’t take the pain!  I’m alive!”

Missy was looking at the top of her brain.  “That’s fucking cool.”  She poked it with her finger.  “Think she can feel that?”

“Probably, if she was alive.”

Missy realized what she had said.  “That’s what I meant.”

Alayna started crying.  “I am alive!  I don’t understand why y’all can’t hear me!”

Seth lit a cigarette before pulling a probe out of a box.

Missy was looking at it.  “What is that?”

“I’m gonna zap the shit out of her brain to see what it does.”

She got excited.  “Can I do it?”

He handed it to her.  “Be careful.  It’s already on.”

Alayna was terror-stricken as she watched Missy in the mirror, bringing the probe close to her head.  “Hold up!  Please don’t do that!”

Missy touched part of her brain with the device, which caused Alayna’s eyes to roll around and her face to tense up.  A tingly sensation ran throughout her body, frightening her.  “Oh my God!  Please stop!  You’re going to kill me!”

Seth was standing next to Alayna’s side as he flicked his ashes into the top of her skull that remained in place upon her chest.  “That’s fuckin’ cool.  Try another area.”

Missy moved the probe over and Alayna’s hips suddenly began thrusting up and down.

Seth laughed.  “She looks like a remote-controlled whore.”  He flicked more ashes into the skull.  “Think Radio Shack would be interested in something like this?”

Missy smiled.  “Maybe some online pervert store where Spanky shops.”  She moved the probe again, which caused Alayna to make a screeching sound.

“That sounds weird.  Keep doing that.”

She did it again.  “She sounds like a fox yelping.”

Alayna was crying.  “Please stop!  It feels like fire is shooting through my body.”

“That was fucking awesome.  Now try another spot.”

When Missy moved the probe over, Alayna farted.

“Stay away from that part of the brain.”

Missy laughed as she did it again, making her piss all over the table.

Seth picked up the top of the skull and stepped back.  “What a nasty bitch.”

Missy started running the probe around and around her brain, producing erratic jerking of Alayna’s body that gave it the appearance of drug-induced convulsions as she randomly yelped, farted and pissed everywhere.

“I think that’s enough brain play.”  He put his cigarette out in the skull.

Alayna noticed what he was doing.  “Hey, motherfucker!  That’s not a fucking ashtray!”

He poured superglue around the cut edge of the skull before sticking it back on her head.

Alayna was horrified watching the replacement of her skullcap in the mirror.  “What the fuck are you doing?  That’s going to cause an infection!”  She screamed as he pulled her skin back over her skull.  She was almost on the verge of passing out as he stitched it back in place.

Wyatt sat up on the floor where he was napping.  “Fuck!”  He stood up.

Seth looked at him.  “What’s wrong with you?”

“Just too noisy to get any sleep.”

“Go outside.”

“Fuck that.  I’m going to head on to White Flint Park.”

“Don’t fall asleep and wreck.”

“If I do, at least I can get some rest in the hospital.  Or coffin for that matter.”

“Now you’re actin’ like Spanky.”

He walked off bitching.

Seth was glad they were taking off.  He had been worried someone might call the cops due to all the screaming.  He had done as much soundproofing as he could in the cargo area, but it wasn’t perfect.  When the vehicle started moving, he picked up a scalpel.  “Now we’re going to do the chest and abdomen.”  He started cutting into Alayna’s chest.  She produced a blood-curdling scream as he started making the Y-shaped incision.  The two arms of the Y ran from each shoulder joint and met at mid-chest, from there, the incision ran down to her pubic region.  Alayna was succumbing to a state of shock from the agony, so Seth injected her with a mixture of drugs to keep her conscious.

Once she regained full alertness, he pulled her skin outwards, then took the bone saw and started cutting the sides of her ribcage, leaving the ribs attached to the breastbone.  When he was done, he removed the entire frontal ribcage as one chest plate and threw it in a trashcan.

Alayna was breathing heavily and crying uncontrollably.  She had just experienced a horrific amount of pain, and now she was staring at her organs in the mirror.  She couldn’t believe she was still alive and watching as her heart flopped around in her chest as it continued to beat.  She had screamed so much that she could barely speak.  “I can’t believe you’ve done this to me!  Please stop!  I can’t take the pain anymore!  Please show mercy!  I beg you!”

Seth ignored her as he began cutting the attachment tissue holding her intestines in place.  As they loosened, he let them slide out of her and into a trashcan next to the table.

Missy was feeling nauseous.  “That’s fucking gross.”

“They’re slimy too.”

“My God!  How long are they?”

“Around twenty-five feet.”

Alayna was appalled as she watched her intestines being thrown away like trash.  “Oh my God!  I can’t believe you’re doing this to me!  Please stop!  I beg you!”

When all the intestines but the ends had exited the abdominal cavity, Seth took his knife and cut around her anus, freeing the rectum and colon from her body; then he cut out her stomach, freeing the other end of her intestines.  He threw the organs in the trash before moving on to cut out her gallbladder, one of her kidneys, appendix and bladder, all the while cauterizing blood vessels as he proceeded.  He knew she could live for hours, maybe even days, without the organs he had removed.  Her remaining kidney would filter out waste from her bloodstream and dump it into her body cavity.  Removing her digestive system would only deny her body nourishment, but he had plans to rectify that issue.

Alayna was begging, crying and screaming at the same time as she was enduring the torment of having her organs cut out.

Seth took his knife and cut around her vagina, severing it from her body, then proceeded to cut out her female organs.  Missy was covering her mouth.  “This is fucking barbaric, but the bitch deserves it for murdering her baby.”

Even though Alayna was in excruciating pain, she cut her eyes towards Missy and shouted in a raspy voice, “Fuck you, bitch!”  She glared at Seth, now realizing he was ignoring her on purpose.  “You have no right to do this to me!  Hey!  I know you can hear me, you fucking bastard!”

Seth continued ignoring her as he laid a hatchet inside her open cavity.  Missy noticed what he had done.  “Why did you do that?”

“You ever heard of people coming back to life after they’re buried?”

“I’ve read it’s happened a few times, but don’t know if any of the stories were true.”

“Just in case this cunt somehow miraculously comes back to life, I’ve given her a way to get out.  All she has to do is rip herself open and retrieve the hatchet.  Then she can chop her ass out of the casket.”

Alayna knew he was doing this to her because of what she had done to her baby.  “You have no right to do this to me!  You’re going to pay for this!”

Seth put several I.V. bags in her open abdominal cavity and connected the lines to some internal veins.  The bags were filled with fluids and nutrients to keep her body nourished for a few days.  When he was done, he opened the top of a five-gallon bucket, then dumped thousands of maggots into her empty cavity. 

Alayna squealed from repulsiveness of Seth’s torment as she stared in the mirror, watching the fly larvae moving around inside her.  “No, no, no!  Get them out of me!  Please!  I beg you to get them out!  I’ll do whatever you want!  Please have mercy!”

Missy was covering her mouth.  “That’s fucking disgusting.”

Seth pulled her skin closed, then started stitching it back together.

Alayna was freaking out, ignoring the pain of being sewn.  “Oh my God!  You can’t leave them in me!  Please stop!  I beg you!”

Seth had to sew her up quickly to keep the maggots from escaping.  There were so many inside her that they were coming out between the stitches and the holes where her vagina and anus had been cut out.  Some had found their way into her severed esophagus, sending her into spasms as she coughed them up.  She was horror-stricken by the maggots crawling out of her mouth and nose.

When Seth was done, he looked at Missy.  “That wraps up the autopsy.  Now we need to embalm her.”  He inserted two large catheters into her neck.  One in her right carotid artery, and another in her internal jugular.  He connected the hoses to a pump running through a set of coils that were submerged in ice water hidden under the table.  He did this to cool her blood to make her think she was being embalmed.

When he started the pump, Alayna could feel her body get cold.  She thought this was the end and that these monsters were going to finish her off finally.  “I’ll see you motherfuckers in Hell!”

Seth injected a neuromuscular blocking agent into the return hose going to her neck, paralyzing her body, but leaving her conscious.  She was relieved, thinking her body was shutting down, ending her suffering.  But to her extreme dismay, she felt the skin on her throat being cut as Seth performed a tracheotomy on her.  She tried to scream, but only a faint moan escaped from her.  An overwhelming amount of fear overcame her as she lay trapped within the vegetative state, worrying her suffering might not end.

When Seth was done, he wired her jaw shut and filled her nostrils with glue.  Panic set in as she tried to breathe through her mouth and nose.  It felt very strange that she wasn’t breathing normally.  It was as if she was drowning, but she wasn’t dying.

Suddenly, a terrifying thought came into her head; maybe she was dead, and what she was experiencing was what happens when you die.  That made sense, considering what her body had gone through and she wasn’t dying, not to mention no one was hearing her pleas.  If she were dead, how long would she have to suffer?  Eternity popped into her mind, creating an enormous amount of anxiety.  She wasn’t a religious person, or believed in an afterlife, but knew about Heaven and Hell from watching TV and hearing others talk about it.  She always thought it was something people made up to keep society in line.  Now she was second guessing her beliefs.  Feelings of guilt and dread gripped her as she thought about it.  What she was enduring wasn’t wonderful or peaceful, meaning she wasn’t in Heaven, but in Hell.  That thought was very disquieting.

She had been in a daze, not paying attention.  When she looked in the mirror above, her face was now painted like a Mexican sugar skull.  She didn’t understand why.  Morticians wouldn’t do something like that.  Then the thought of the afterlife popped back in her mind.  She must have been in Hell the whole time.  The mutilation of her body and the pain she endured must be part of her punishment, and the two people doing it weren’t humans, but demons or something.  A petrifying sensation of terror completely overtook her mind.

Seth unlatched Alayna from the table and requested Missy’s help to transfer and lay her in a wooden coffin.  Attached to the underside of the coffin lid was a full-length mirror lined with LED lights.  Seth knelt and looked Alayna in the eyes.  “You just thought you were in Hell.  But don’t worry.  What you did to your child, you’ll be heading there very soon.”  He shut and locked the lid.

FUCKIN’ CUNT

Seth went up front and sat in the passenger seat.  The sun was just starting to rise.  “What a nice morning.”

Wyatt glanced at his watch.  “Yep.  And we’re making good time.  We’ll beat Kenneth to the park.  And then maybe I can get some fucking sleep.”

“You’re the man.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Did you come up here just to fuck with me?”

“No.  We need to find a secluded area to bury Alayna.”

“Okay.  So, what did y’all do to that bitch?  All she did was scream.”

Seth handed Wyatt his Android.  “I took some pictures.”

Wyatt was shaking his head as he went through them.  “That’s fucking disturbing.  And you never cease to amaze me with the shit that you come up with.”  The last picture was of Alayna laying in the casket.  “Why did you put a mirror with lights in there?”

“So the bitch can see herself.”

“Wait!  She’s still alive?”

“Yep.  And when the paralyzing agent wears off, she’ll go fucking nuts.  I left a hatchet inside her, making sure she knew it was there.  She’ll tear herself apart to get it so she can have a way to dig out.”

“The bitch deserves that, but she’ll probably run out of air before then.”

“Nope.  I’m going to connect some oxygen bottles to the casket.  She also has several I.V. bags that will keep her body nourished.  I’m hoping she will live for a few days.  That way the bitch can stare at herself in the mirror and think about what she’s done.”

He laughed.  “You’re one twisted fucker.”

Seth pointed out the window.  “There’s a rest stop.  Pull in.  We’ll bury the bitch here.”

Wyatt noticed the area was just a place to get off the highway temporarily.  It didn’t have a restroom or any other kind of facilities, but it was next to a wooded area.  There was no one else there, so it was a good place to get rid of Alayna.  Missy stayed in the RV as a lookout while Seth and Wyatt dug a hole in the woods.  When they were done, they lowered the coffin into the hole, which was around five-feet deep.  Seth connected three oxygen tanks to her coffin, and he ran a rubber hose to the surface to discharge carbon monoxide.  He also ran a cat. 5 cable from the coffin to the surface.  After they filled in the hole, Seth connected the end of the cat. 5 cable to a cell phone, then hid it and the end of the rubber hose under some branches.

Missy came walking up with a stone.  She laid it on the grave, then walked back to the RV.  Seth laughed when he noticed Missy had carved FUCKIN’ CUNT in the stone.

When they got back on the road, Seth opened his laptop.  “Check this shit out.”

Wyatt noticed it was a video of Alayna laying in her coffin.  “Did you film that before we buried her?”

“Hell no.  It’s live.  It’s being fed straight to the internet.”

“So, we’re going to get to watch how she reacts once the paralyzing agent has worn off?”

“Yep.”

“That’s fucking awesome.”

Missy came up front.  “How long do we have before we get to White Flint Park?”

Seth looked at his watch.  “About two hours.”

“I’m going to go take a nap.  Wake me when we get there.”

“There’s a blow-up mattress with an air pump in the bathroom cabinet.”

“Okay, good to know.”  She walked off.

Wyatt looked aggravated.  “Why didn’t you tell me about the mattress?”

“Because I didn’t want your cooties on it.”

“That’s fucking….”

“Chill out!  I’m just messing with you.”  He set the laptop on the dash and stood up.  “Change places with me so you can get some rest.”

Wyatt looked at Seth, then Alayna, then back at Seth.  “I don’t want to miss what happens to her.”

“The video is being streamed to the internet.  There’ll be thousands of copies floating around that you can watch later.”

“I don’t want to watch it after everyone else got to see it first.”

Seth sat back down.  “Fine.  But don’t bitch about being sleepy.”

“I won’t.”

Seth leaned back in his seat to get comfortable and lit a cigarette.  “How’s everything been going at home?”

“No complaints.  My daughter is growing like a weed.  And I’m seeing someone.”

“Does she know you’re a serial killer?”

“I’m not a fucking serial killer.”

Seth laughed.  “I know.  That would be like a few notches down for us.  There’s not even a name for the shit we do.”

“I would call you a sadistic fuck.  And no, I haven’t said anything to her about this.  It’s not really who I am.  Don’t get me wrong though.  I enjoy these trips, but I wouldn’t do this on my own.”

“So, if someone raped and murdered me, you wouldn’t avenge my death?”

“Of course, I would.”

“See, you are a sadistic fuck just like me.”

“Only around you, pal.  And why in the hell would someone want to rape you.”

“I was just using that as an example.”

“Oh, and I love the Camaro.  I got three tickets in the first month.”

“That’s good.”

“Tell that to my insurance company.”

Seth was getting sleepy.  He stood up.  “I’m gonna take a nap with Missy.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to be doing the nasty again.”

“Dude, I said I was going to take a nap.  Get your head out of the gutter.”

“Don’t you want to see what happens to Alayna?”

“Not really.”

“Okay, but you’ll be missing out.”

“You can tell me later about what happens.”  Seth walked off.

Wyatt was excited as he drove down the highway, keeping an eye on the laptop.  Mile after mile went by with no movement from Alayna, creating frustration.  Maybe Seth was full of shit, he thought.  That’s why he didn’t want to stay up front—he knew the bitch wasn’t going to wake up.  He became mad as he thought about how Seth had fucked with him.  He started to yell for him to come up front, but detected movement of Alayna’s arm.  His mood instantly improved and he underwent a transformation from being pissed to extreme excitement.  His eyes were big as he watched to see how the bitch was going to react.  The LEDs were bright, illuminating her.  The camera was installed above her feet, so he could see her entire body.  He could even see the maggots that were crawling all over her.  Within a few minutes, she had regained control of her body.  The first thing she did was try to open her mouth.  When she realized it was stuck, she started pulling on it.  Wyatt could hear her moaning in agony as she tore the wires loose from her jaws.  Though she was able to breathe through the tracheotomy in her neck, it must have been so restrictive that she was willing to endure severe pain just so she could open her mouth.

Wyatt lit a cigarette as he watched with anticipation.  Alayna was now freaking out as she slapped the maggots off her face and body.  As fast as she could knock them away, new ones would crawl out of her mouth, nose and Y-incision.  The ones coming out of the holes between her legs were crawling all over her legs and lower torso.  She finally gave up and went after the lid, pushing on it to see if she could get it open.  When it didn’t budge, she started hitting it with her fists and screaming for help.  She was breaking the mirror, which resulted in her hands getting cut up.  She began to panic and started hitting, clawing and kneeing at it with all her strength in a frenzied attempt to get out.  The broken glass was cutting her into pieces as she fought the lid.  She finally became exhausted and gave up, and as she lay motionless, maggots continued crawling all over her body.

Over the next few minutes, she cried as she considered her predicament.  She knew the only way to get out was the hatchet, but the pain wasn’t going to be worth it.  She wanted to live, but she also knew what Seth had done to her ensured death was inevitable.  There was no way her body would be able to function without a digestive system and urinary tract.  That angered her, knowing the man that had done this to her was still living his life.  Her mindset had changed.  The only thing she was focusing on now was revenge.  Having a chance to alert the authorities to what he did allowed her to overcome her fear and pain.  She grabbed the bottom portion of her Y-incision with both hands and tore it open, causing maggots to pour out.  She screamed as she shoved her hand inside herself, digging through the maggots in search of the hatchet.  When she found it, she pulled it out and started hitting the lid.  Suddenly, the tool broke in her hand.

Wyatt looked closer at the screen, noticing the handle was hollow.  Alayna became furious when she realized the hatchet was made of plastic.  She started punching and kicking the inside of the coffin like a mad woman as she screamed for Seth to die.  During her fit, she kicked the camera and the feed went dark.  Wyatt shook his head as he thought about how Seth had put a toy inside her.  He laughed, knowing she was going to spend the rest of her short life cursing him.

The Return of the Living Dead 

Around lunchtime, Wyatt pulled into White Flint Park, which was west of Temple off Highway 36.  He went to the back and found Seth snoring like a bear as he laid next to Missy.  He nudged him in the shoulder with his foot.  “Hey!  We’re here.”

He rolled over.  “Okay.”

“Are you getting up?”

“Is Kenneth here?”

“Not yet.”

“Have you talked to him to see if everything is okay?”

“Yeah.  He’s about three hours away.”

“Was he able to get the scumbags?”

“He said he did.”

“Did he find Barry?”

“Yeah, but he got his ass kicked when they were picking up Jimmy.”

“Good.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Take a nap and leave me alone.”

A few hours later, Wyatt awoke to someone bitching and cursing.  He was in the back of the Toyota, and when he got out, he found Kenneth and Barry standing over a black man, a Mexican man and a white woman.  They were tied up with ratchet straps and gagged with ropes.  Wyatt looked at Kenneth.  “What’s going on?”

Barry glared at him.  “While you were getting your beauty rest, we’ve been busting our ass.”

Wyatt noticed Barry’s face was bruised and bloody.  “More like getting your ass kicked.”

“You wouldn’t know anything about that with your cushy job.”

“Don’t blame me because Seth doesn’t trust your ass to drive the RV.”  He looked around.  “Speaking of Seth, where is he?”

Kenneth laughed.  “He and Missy went to the movies.”

Barry popped off.  “And he said we can do whatever we want to these fuckwads.”

Kenneth interrupted.  “We can’t touch the Mexican.  Seth wants to save Humberto for later.”

Wyatt observed that Humberto was short and stocky and dressed like a gangbanger.  He had a bald head, goatee and covered in tattoos.  “Has Seth told you why he’s saving some of them?”

“He’s going to make them fill out their death certificate and choose the way they’re going to die.”

Barry was excited.  “That’s a cool fucking idea!  I’m going to do that to some motherfuckers one day.”

Kenneth grabbed Humberto by the shirt.  “Y’all help me hang his ass up.”

Barry and Wyatt grabbed ahold of him and shoved him against the wall next to Gus.  Humberto was very strong and fought back as he shouted muffled threats and curse words through his gag.  When they had him secured, Wyatt noticed Gus wasn’t moving.  “Gus doesn’t look too good.”

Kenneth shrugged his shoulders.  “Of course, not.  He’s dead.”

Barry looked at Gus closer.  “Are you sure?”

“The motherfucker is purple.  Unless he’s fuckin’ Barney, his ass is dead.”

Wyatt noticed Andrew’s skin was pale and his breathing was labored.  “I don’t think Andrew is going to make it much longer either.”

Kenneth looked disgusted.  “That’s what happens when you make these fuckers do nasty shit to each other.”

Wyatt raised his hands.  “Hold up!  I didn’t have anything to do with that.”

“Yeah, but this freak next to me did.”  He motioned towards Barry.

“Hey!  That was all Seth’s doin’.  He’s the one who made him smoke Gus’ ass.”

“See, that’s the shit I’m talking about.  Y’all white motherfuckers have some issues.”

Wyatt walked over to the woman and man that were laying on the floor.  “Who are these scumbags?”

Kenneth stood next to him.  “The white bitch is Maggie Rose.  She stuck her baby in the heart with an ice pick.

Maggie was shaking her head as she mumbled through her gag, denying what she had done.

Kenneth pointed to the black man.  “This fucker is Jimmy Campbell.  He’s a homeless man that stabbed a teenager to death because he only gave him two dollars when he asked for ten.”

Jimmy started flopping around on the floor, yelling muffled threats.  Wyatt noticed he was tall, stocky and had very dark skin.  He had dreadlocks, an unkempt beard and wild eyes.  “He’s a mean looking fucker.  I can see why Barry got his ass kicked.”

“Fuck you!”  Barry threw him the finger.

“He probably kicked your ass because you were trying to finger him with that.”

“Keep running your mouth and see where it gets you.”

Kenneth intervened.  “Y’all fucking chill out!  I’m not here to babysit.”

Barry crossed his arms.  “I didn’t get my ass kicked.  The bastard blindsided me.”

Kenneth shook his head.  “Fuck if he did.”  He looked at Wyatt.  “We found Jimmy at a shelter.  I wanted to wait until he came outside before we moved on him, but fucking Spanky was impatient.  The dumbass came up with a way to lure him out, but he refused to tell me what it was.  He said he wanted to surprise me.”  Kenneth looked at Barry.  “You wanna tell him what your bright idea was?”

He shook his head.  “Not really.”

Wyatt responded with eagerness.  “Just say it.”

“No.  But I’m sure Kenneth can’t wait to tell you.”

Kenneth laughed.  “Fuckin’ Spanky got a chain out of the truck, then walked up to Jimmy and asked him if he lost it since he looked like Kunta Kinte.  Jimmy snatched the chain from him and beat his ass with it.”

Barry was pissed.  “He was supposed to chase me outside where you could take him out.  And it would have worked if the bastard wouldn’t have freaked out before I could run.”

Wyatt was laughing hysterically.  “What a fucking idiot!”

Barry bulked up as if he wanted to fight.  “Fuck you!  At least I have the balls to go after these bastards.  All you do is drive Seth around like his bitch.”

“At least I didn’t get tossed out the door like a piece of trash.”

Barry went nuts and charged Wyatt.  Kenneth clotheslined him, knocking him to his back.  He looked up with a startled expression.  “Why did you do that?”

“I told you I’m not here to babysit your ass.”

“Yeah, but Wyatt was making fun of me for getting beat up by Jimmy.”

“I don’t care.  And you deserved that shit—your white ass should have known better than to call a black man Kunta Kinte.  Especially Jimmy.  That motherfucker is blacker than black.  Almost purple.”  Kenneth laughed.  “He’s so black, he leaves fingerprints on charcoal.”

Wyatt looked shocked.  “What?”

“He’s so black, he has a PhD in hide-and-seek.”

Barry stood up and brushed himself off.  “Why do you get to make fun of him and I can’t?”

“Because I’m black, you asshole.”

“Sounds like you’re just a racist.”

“How in the fuck can I be racist towards another black man?”

“Because he’s darker than you, so that makes you a hater for making fun of him.”

“Shut the fuck up and go stand over there.”  He pointed across the cargo area.

Wyatt was shaking his head.  “This trip definitely isn’t boring.”

Kenneth looked frustrated.  “Dude’s a fucking retard.”

Barry was leaning against the wall.  He grabbed his dick and shook it.  “I got your retard hanging right here, you racist prick!”

Kenneth pointed at him.  “Go stand in the corner.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

“You wanna bet?”  He started walking towards him.

“Okay, okay!  You don’t have to be so aggressive.”  Barry stood in the corner for a few seconds, then walked over to a dartboard hanging on the wall.

Kenneth shook his head as he looked at Wyatt.  “The idiot is going to get one of us busted, or killed.”  He looked at Barry.  “Why aren’t you standing in the corner like I told you?”

“Because you’re not my fucking boss.”

“I don’t know why Seth even puts up with your ass.  I just met you and I’m already sick of you.”

“That’s because you’re a fuckin’ punk.”

“What the fuck did you say?”

“I said I smell a fuckin’ skunk.”

“That’s what I thought, asshole!”

Kenneth dragged Maggie across the floor and shoved her against the wall.  He motioned to Wyatt.  “Shackle her wrists.”

Wyatt noticed she was in her early twenties.  She reminded him of the actress Mary Elizabeth Winstead when she was younger.  She was crying as he secured the shackles, making him feel bad.  “What did she do?”

“Stabbed her baby in the chest with an ice pick.”

“She doesn’t look like she would do something like that.”

“Crazy bitches come in all shapes and sizes.”

“I’ve never understood how a mother could do something like that to her child.”

“Just plain old evilness.”

“What are you going to do to her?”

“I’m not doing shit.  You’re gonna do it.”

“I wasn’t planning on doing anything like this.  I’m just here to help Seth round them up.”

“You know I’m not into the torture thing either.”

Barry had a cocky expression.  “I’ll do it since y’all don’t have the balls.”

Wyatt glared at him.  “It has nothing to do with that.  And you’re not going to do shit.”

“I knew you were too much of a pussy to get your hands dirty.”

“I’m not a fucking pussy!”

“Tell that to Seth when he comes back.”

Kenneth looked at Wyatt.  “Fuck it!  I’ll do it.”

“Don’t pay any attention to him.”

“Fuck Spanky.”

Barry laughed.  “I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

Wyatt got an idea.  He told Kenneth about what Seth had done to Alayna.

“I don’t want to be a copycat.”

Barry laughed.  “Can’t you think of something original?  That’s why you’ll never be as good as Seth.”

Wyatt flipped him the bird.  “At least I don’t get a hard-on watching two dudes fuck.”

Barry threw a dart at him, missing his head by a few inches.  “Piss off!”

Wyatt pulled the dart from the wall and threw it back at him, striking him in the forehead.  Barry pulled it out, then stood staring in disbelief as he rubbed the puncture wound.  “You fucking asshole!”

“If you can’t take it, don’t dish it out.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t put out my eye!”

“And you’re lucky I’m not good at throwing darts.”

“I know you weren’t trying to hit me in the only eye I have left.”

“I sure in the fuck wasn’t aiming for your patch.”

“You’re a sorry motherfucker!”

Kenneth had been thinking as Wyatt and Barry argued.  “Y’all fucking chill out!  I got an idea.”

Wyatt looked at him.  “What is it?”

“I’m going to make Jimmy and Maggie play Blind Killers.”

“What is that?”

“It’s my favorite dart game.”

Barry laughed.  “You only thought of that because I’m playing darts.”

“Fuck you!”

“Don’t be mad at me because you can’t come up with something more creative.”

“Mind your own fucking business.”  Kenneth dragged Jimmy to the wall, then he and Wyatt secured him with shackles.

Wyatt was confused.  “Throwing darts at them is kind of lame.”

“Not the way we’re going to play.”

“And how is that?”

“We’re going to be throwing them at their organs.”  He pulled out a knife.  “The pictures you showed me of Alayna with her ribs removed gave me the idea.”  He started cutting into Jimmy’s chest, going all the way around the front of his torso.  Jimmy was screaming and violently jerking at his restraints as he was forced to endure the pain.

When Kenneth was done, he ripped the skin off him, exposing all the muscles on the front of his chest and abdomen.  Drool was running out of Jimmy’s mouth as his head hung downwards.  Kenneth grabbed his hair and pulled his face up.  “Dammit!  He fuckin’ passed out.”

Barry laughed as he sat on a table.  “What did you expect?”

“They don’t pass out with Seth.”

“Of course, not, you dumbass.  He uses drugs and shit to keep them awake.”

“Call me a dumbass again and you’ll be passing out.”

“Whatever, dude.”

Wyatt started looking through a cabinet.  “I think Seth keeps some of his concoctions in here.”  He found several vials with handwritten labels.  “I found some, but I don’t know which one to use.”  He handed them to Kenneth.

Kenneth read the labels: Liquid Agony, The Reaper and Party Time.  “I don’t know which one to use either.”

“Party Time seems like it would get them high.  The Reaper probably refers to death.  Liquid Agony might be the one that keeps them awake.”

Kenneth filled a syringe with the Liquid Agony.  “I guess I’ll try this one.”  He started to stick Jimmy in the neck.

Wyatt stopped him.  “Hold up!  Maybe you should try that on Andrew first.”

“What if it kills him?”

“He’s almost dead anyway.”

“Seth will get pissed if it does since he’s wanting to save him for later.”

“Look at him.  He’s about to die anyway, so if he does, we just won’t say anything.”

“But that fucking rat over there will.”

Barry jumped off the table.  “Fuck you, asshole!”  He walked over and snatched the syringe from him.

Kenneth pulled out a knife and positioned himself in a self-defense stance.  “Step back, motherfucker!”

“Stop being a pussy.  I’m not going to use this on you.”  He injected the fluid into Andrew.

They stood back and watched with excited anticipation to see what it was going to do.  Within seconds, Andrew went from being on the verge of death to full of life.  Then to their horror, he started screaming at the top of his lungs as the whites of his eyes turned red.  The veins in his face and neck swelled up to the point they looked as if they were going to rupture, and blood started running out of his mouth, nose and ears.  He ripped the stitches from between his hands and Gus’ ass cheeks, then tried to get up, stretching his ball sack grotesquely from where it was nailed to the floor.

Wyatt was freaking out.  “Oh my God!  He’s getting loose!” 

Kenneth was scared.  To him, Andrew looked like he had been possessed by a demon.  “Oh shit!  We need to do something!”

Barry grabbed a baseball bat for self-defense.  “What the fuck did y’all do to him?  Seth is going to kill y’all for this!”

Kenneth glared at him.  “Don’t just stand there!  Hit the bastard!”

The veins throughout Andrew’s body felt like they were on fire.  The pain was so intense that the lesser pain of his ball sack tearing apart went completely unnoticed.  When he stood up, he looked like a psychopath with an infectious disease.  He had blood running out of all his orifices and his body was covered in a hemorrhaging rash.

Jimmy was hanging on the wall next to him.  Awakened by the screaming, he stared at Andrew in horror.  Even though he was in a lot of pain from having his skin ripped off, he was yelling through his gag for someone to free him.

Kenneth, terrified as Andrew started walking towards him, stumbled backwards.  He was scared he could become infected.  “Oh fuck!  He’s coming after me!”  In a panic, he grabbed Barry and threw him into Andrew and they both fell to the floor.

Barry was screaming as Andrew held him down on the floor.  He was fighting back with everything he had to get free, and as they wrestled around, Andrew’s rash was leaking fluids everywhere and he was defecating and urinating uncontrollably. 

Barry was freaking out as he became covered in feces and body fluids.  “Oh my God!  Get this fucker off me!  He’s getting his disease all over me!”

Wyatt hit Andrew on the head with a club, knocking him unconscious.  Barry was breathing heavily as he jumped to his feet.  “Look what you motherfuckers did!”  He was covered from head to toe with Andrew’s body fluids.  “Y’all better hope I don’t get his fucking disease!”  He started walking towards them.

Kenneth pointed his knife at him.  “Stay the fuck back!  I don’t want that fucking shit on me!”

Wyatt looked worried.  “You better go wash that off.”

Barry was irate.  “It’s too late, you fucking asshole!  I got the shit in my fucking mouth!  If I get sick, I’m going to kill the fuck out of both of you before I die!”

Kenneth was holding his knife in a reverse grip.  “If he turns, I’m going to stab him in the brain.”

Wyatt looked at Kenneth with a confused expression.  “Turns?  What are you talking about?”

“That shit we injected Andrew with must have turned him into a fucking zombie or something.  And if Barry was bitten, he’s going to turn into one too.”

“You think Andrew was a zombie?  You got to be joking?”

“Hey, man.  The dude had blood pouring out of his skin and his eyes were red.”

“First off, there’s no such thing as zombies.”

“How do you know Seth didn’t find a way to do it?  You know that motherfucker comes up with some crazy concoctions.”

“He’s not a mad scientist.”

“Okay, but he might have gotten the shit from some military base where they do secret experiments.”

Wyatt looked at him like he was crazy.  “What’s gotten into you?”

“Did you not see what I saw?  The fucker looked like one of those zombies from The Return of the Living Dead movie.  And it all started when those dumbasses opened one of those drums filled with that gas.  Seth might have gotten a hold of some of that shit.”

“That was a fucking movie.  It’s fake.”

“You know they base stories like that on real shit.  How else can you explain how Andrew was alive with his fucking skin melting off?”

Barry looked frightened.  “Oh my God!  This can’t be happening!”  He ran to the bathroom and got in the shower.

Wyatt was shaking his head.  “Dude, I hope you don’t really believe he was a zombie?”

Kenneth laughed.  “Then you explain what happened to him.”

“I can’t, but I know who can.”

Fucking Creep

Wyatt pulled out his cell phone and dialed Seth.  He put it on speaker so Kenneth could hear.

Seth answered, “What did Barry do now?”

“Nothing.  I found some of your vials and wanted to know which one we can use on Jimmy and Maggie to keep them conscious.”

“Party Time.”

“That’s what I thought.  So, out of curiosity, what’s The Reaper?”

“It’s for euthanasia.  But instead of being painless, it causes the victim’s innards to melt at a very slow rate so they will suffer a miserable death.”

“Oh.  Glad we didn’t try that one.  So, what is Liquid Agony?”

“Sounds like you already know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Who in the fuck was turned into a zombie?”

Kenneth’s eyes got big as he looked at Wyatt.  “I fucking told you!”

Seth was aggravated.  “You idiots!”

Wyatt didn’t want Seth pissed at him.  “It was all Barry’s idea.  He injected Andrew with it.”

“I knew that little fucker had done something.  Wait until I get back.”

Kenneth was worried.  “Hey, man.  Barry got covered in the dude’s blood.  Is he going to turn into a zombie now?  Should I go ahead and stab him in the brain?”

Seth laughed.  “Seriously?”

“Well, yeah.  I don’t want him attacking me.”

“The drug just caused his blood vessels to deteriorate.”

“So, Andrew wasn’t a zombie?”

Seth hung up.

Wyatt was embarrassed.  “How in the fuck does he know so much?”  He looked around the cargo area.  “You think he’s watching us on the cameras?”

“I don’t know, man, but sometimes he freaks me out.  It’s like the bastard is telekinetic.”

“You mean telepathic.”

“Yeah, that shit.”

“I just think he’s savvy at surveillance and good at reading people.”

Jimmy was in a lot of pain and trying to get their attention.

Kenneth pulled the rope out of his mouth.  “What is so damn important that it can’t wait until we’re done talking?”

Jimmy was freaking out.  “Oh my God!  Why are y’all doing this to me?  I didn’t stab anyone.  Please….”

Kenneth put his gag back in, then looked at Wyatt.  “I need a saw or something to cut his ribs out.  Like Seth did to Alayna.”

“I don’t know what he used, but let me look around.”  Wyatt dug through a cabinet and found a handsaw.  “What about this?”

“Fuck that.  I’m lazy.”

He held up a jigsaw.  “Will this work?”

“I think that shit will puncture his organs.”

He found a circular saw.  “You can adjust the blade depth on this one.”

“Perfect.  Plug it in.”  Kenneth filled a syringe with Seth’s Party Time concoction.

Wyatt walked up to Kenneth.  “You really want to try another one after what happened?”

“You heard what Seth said.  This is what keeps them awake.”

Barry arrived from the bathroom and noticed that Kenneth was injecting Jimmy in the neck.  “I know you assholes aren’t fucking around with that shit again.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “No.  This is a different vial.”

“You motherfuckers are never goin’ to learn.”

Kenneth ignored him as he showed Jimmy the saw.  “Let me know if this hurts.”  He sank the blade into his chest.  Bone fragments and blood were shooting out the front of the saw as he cut him from his right shoulder to this left shoulder, down his left side, across his lower abdomen, then back up his right side.

When he was done, he stuck a crowbar into the cuts and started prying on his ribcage.  Abruptly, the front of his torso fell to the floor, exposing his organs.  Jimmy was horrified to see some of his intestines began to unravel from inside himself and splatter out onto his feet. 

Wyatt handed Kenneth a propane torch.  “You better cauterize the edges of his torso so he doesn’t bleed out.”

Barry walked up, spotting Jimmy’s heart bouncing around in the gaping cavity as it beat.  “That’s fucking gross.”  He poked it with a stick.  “Hey, asshole.  Can you feel that?”

Jimmy, experiencing more agony than he ever imagined possible, didn’t respond.

He poked at it harder.  “What about that?”

Jimmy looked up and spoke in a raspy voice.  “Please kill me!  I beg you!”

He started to poke it again, but Kenneth took the stick from Barry.  “Stop!  You’re gonna poke a hole in the damn thing!”

“Who cares?”

“I do.  And why in the fuck are you over here bothering me?”

“I’m bored.”

“Then go play with your dick.”  Kenneth started cauterizing Jimmy’s wounds.  When he was done, he went over to Maggie with the saw.  She was terrified after seeing what happened to Jimmy.  She started mumbling through her gag.  “No, no, no!  Please don’t hurt me!  I haven’t done anything to deserve this!”

“Really?  What about Sarah?”

She knew he was referring to her baby.  “Who’s Sarah?  I don’t know what you’re talking about!  You have me confused with someone else!”

He injected her with Seth’s concoction, then took his knife and cut a square around both of her tits.  She shrieked piercingly from the mutilation Kenneth inflicted upon her as he cut the connective tissue and peeled off her flesh.  When he had her tits removed, he pinned the square piece of flesh to the wall next to her.  He looked at Barry.  “I better not catch you playing with this.”

Barry was sitting on a table.  “Dude!  What the fuck?  Why are you startin’ shit when I’m minding my own business?”

“’Cause I know how your creepy ass is.  You’ll be tryin’ to titty fuck it.”

“Screw you!  And I’m not fucking creepy!”

Maggie was bawling like a baby.  “Please call an ambulance!  I don’t want to die!”

Kenneth sunk the blade of the circular saw into her.  He showed no mercy as he cut all the way around her torso, going through skin, muscles and bones.  After he pried her ribcage loose, the front of her torso splatted onto the floor, followed by her intestines.  She was in so much pain that her body started convulsing and she collapsed to the floor unconscious.

Kenneth noticed her heart had stopped beating.  “Fuck me!  She’s in cardiac arrest.”  He looked at Wyatt, panicking.  “Do something before the bitch dies!”

Wyatt was frantically digging through some cabinets.  “I can’t find the shocker paddles!”

“Shocker what?”

“You know?  To shock her heart.”

“Fucking hurry up!”

He was looking as fast as he could.  “I’m not finding it!”

“Shit!  What are we going to do?”

Barry walked over.  “Your ass is going to get reamed for this.”

Kenneth glared at him.  “I don’t have time for your shit!”

“Seth gets really pissed when a perfectly good scumbag is wasted.  No telling what he’s going to do to you if she dies.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“I can save her.”

Kenneth motioned towards Maggie.  “Don’t just stand there, do it!”

“Say you’re sorry for being an asshole.  And for calling me creepy.”

“Fuck that!  I’ll let the bitch die.”

Wyatt laughed.  “I’ll tell Seth if you don’t, you fucking creep.”

“Screw you!  And you’ll be in just as much trouble, so don’t threaten me.”

“Seriously.  I’ll tell him you let her die, and you know he’s already had enough of your shit.”

Kenneth was getting pissed.  “We’re running out of time, you fucking prick!  Do it or I swear to God I’ll hit you so fucking hard that by the time you stop spinning your clothes will be out of style.”

“Whatever, dude.  I’ll help you, but not because I’m scared of you or Seth.”

“Tell me.”

“All you have to do is massage her heart to get the blood flowing again.”

“Then do it.”

“I’m not doing shit.  You’re the one who fucked her up.”

“You little prick!”  Kenneth grabbed her heart and started squeezing it.

“See, that wasn’t so hard.”

“And you better not be fucking with me.”

“I’m not.  I’ve watched videos on YouTube.”

“Why in the hell do you watch shit like that?  You’re even fucking weird at home.”

“Don’t be a hypocrite.  You’re the one with your hand in someone’s chest.”

Wyatt laughed.  “I figured you’d be watching videos of buttholes.”

“Ha ha, smart-ass!”  He pointed towards the back of the RV.  “Instead of running your mouth, go grab Seth’s arc welder.  It’s in the corner by the Toyota.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Look here, dick breath.  I’m trying to fix y’all’s fuck up, so go get it so we can shock the bitch’s heart.”

Wyatt grumbled as he brought it over.  “You better hope this doesn’t make it worse.”

“It won’t.”  Barry turned the welder to sixty amps and handed the ground clamp to Kenneth.  “Stop massaging her and hold that to the side of her heart.”

He was worried as he held the clamp in place.  “Is this going to shock me too?”

“No.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I do.”  Barry stuck a rod in the electrode holder and touched the end of it to her heart, which made it contract slightly.  When he pulled the rod back, it relaxed.

Her heart wasn’t beating.  Kenneth was frustrated.  “It didn’t work!”

“Chill out.  I’ll get it started.”  He turned the welder up to seventy-five amps and shocked it again.  Still nothing.  He went to one-hundred twenty amps.  “This should do it.”  When he touched the rod to her heart, it forcefully contracted.  “Now we’re getting somewhere.”  He started touching her heart with the rod intermittently, causing it to compress violently and then immediately relax when the rod was removed.  After about ten times, he stopped to see if it would beat on its own, but it remained motionless.

“Dammit!  It’s not working!”

“Stop worrying.  I got it under control.”  Barry cranked the welder up to two-hundred twenty-five amps.  “This will fix it.”

Kenneth was seriously beginning to freak out.  “She’s going to have brain damage!  I need to massage her heart to get blood circulating.”

“Shocking it is doing the same thing.”  Barry started erratically sticking the rod to her heart.  The high current was causing it to savagely collapse on itself each time he touched it.

Kenneth smelled a strange odor.  “I know you’re not burning it.”

“Nope.  Everything is good.”

Wyatt noticed part of her heart had turned black.  “You stupid fuck!  You did burn it.”

Kenneth’s eyes got big.  “You fucking asshole!  You said you knew what you were doing!”

Barry started rolling up the cables to the welder.  “You shouldn’t have trusted me.”

“You little bastard!  I should knock out all your fucking teeth!”

“I’d stop making threats and start pumping her heart before she dies.”

Kenneth didn’t know what to do.  If he let her die, Seth would be disappointed in him.  He started massaging her heart.  “I’ll get your ass for this!”

“Whatever, dude.  You just make sure you keep that blood flowing so your girlfriend doesn’t die.”

Wyatt detected that Jimmy was passed out with labored breathing.  “Shit!  Now something is wrong with Jimmy.”  He ran over to him and tried to wake him up.  “He’s out cold.  I think he’s having trouble breathing.”

Barry laughed.  “Seth is going to be real pissed if you fuckers kill both of them.”

Kenneth was still squeezing Maggie’s heart as he regarded Wyatt.  “Do something.”

“Like what?”

Barry walked over to him.  “Give the fucker mouth to mouth.”

“You’re really starting to get on my nerves.”

“Likewise, pal.”

Wyatt remembered seeing a CPR ventilator mask in one of the cabinets.  He quickly found it and started pumping air into Jimmy, but it didn’t help.  “Fuck!  I think his lungs are full of fluid or something.”

Kenneth could hear Maggie wheezing.  “She’s starting to have breathing issues too.  Dammit!  How does Seth keep these fuckers alive so long?”

Wyatt pulled out his pocketknife.  “I’m going to drain the fluid.”  He poked a hole in the bottom of Jimmy’s right lung allowing fluid to run out, but it collapsed at the same time.  “Oh shit!  I think I made it worse.”  Jimmy was now making a whistling sound as he breathed.  He roared at Barry.  “Find something to fix this hole I made!  Tape, glue, whatever you can find!”

Barry was sitting on a table.  “Man, you two sure have….”  He heard a car door shut and ran over to Jimmy so he could cover the hole in his lung with his hand.

Wyatt looked confused.  “What are you doing?”

“You need my help.”

“What are you up to?  You wouldn’t just change your attitude for no reason.”

Jerry-Rig

About that time, Seth and Missy came in.  Wyatt gritted his teeth.  “You little bastard, I knew there was a reason why you changed your attitude.”

Barry was scared.  “Please don’t say anything.”

Seth instantly noticed Jimmy’s and Maggie’s gaping torsos.  Kenneth and Wyatt bore worried expressions as they worked feverishly to keep them alive.  They were both covered in sweat and blood.  Seth shook his head.  “What the fuck is going on in here?”

Missy laughed.  “Looks like amateur hour in a trauma center.”

Kenneth spoke first.  “Spanky fucked up her heart.  I told him not to….”

Barry shouted, “This is their fucking mess.  I just tried to help.”

Seth walked over to Maggie observing her heart.  “What idiot burned the fuck out of her heart?”

Kenneth was looking at him.  “Spanky used your welder on it.”

Barry became angry.  “Stop calling me Spanky, asshole!  And don’t blame me!  You’re the one who cut her up with a fucking circular saw!  I was just trying to help!”

Seth walked over to Wyatt perceiving Jimmy’s condition.  “I might be able to save him.  You and Spanky get him on one of the tables.  He looked at Kenneth.  “Get Maggie on the other table.  She’s probably brain dead, but continue pumping her heart just in case she’s not.  I’ll be with you when I’m done taking care of Jimmy.”  Seth noticed Humberto was hanging on the wall with his head down.  He walked over to him.  “I’d be quiet too.”  He then noticed Andrew was laying on the floor dead in a pool of blood, feces and piss.  “Y’all sure made a mess out of this fucker.”

Wyatt and Barry placed Jimmy on a table.  Seth took a scalpel and started cutting into his neck below his Adam’s apple.

Wyatt was worried.  “Are you mad?”

“No.  Why would I be?”  After he made a half-inch incision, he inserted a tracheotomy tube in his windpipe. 

“Spanky said you get mad when scumbags are wasted.”

“First off, you should know better than to listen to that instigator.”  Barry started to speak, but Seth pointed across the cargo area.  “Go stand in your corner.”  He looked down as he walked off.  Seth aired up the cuff before strapping the obturator to Jimmy’s neck.  “It took me years to learn how to keep people alive during torture, so I don’t expect you or Kenneth to be perfect.”

Wyatt was relieved.  “So, what’s wrong with him?”

He connected an oxygen tank to the tube.  “The shock to his body has probably triggered the infiltration of white blood cells into his lungs.  It’s what you call acute respiratory distress syndrome.  The oxygen will help rid his lungs of fluid.”  He injected Jimmy with a syringe.  “This is Furosemide.  It’ll help increase urination to get rid of excess fluid in the body.”

“How do you know all this?”

“From the internet.  I learned as I went along.”  Seth used superglue to close the hole in Jimmy’s lung.

“Do you think he’ll make it?”

“Fifty-fifty chance.”  Seth went over to Kenneth.  “Now this is going to be a problem.  Not even sure how to fix this mess.”

“Can you replace her heart with a pump?”

“I don’t have the equipment or supplies here to try something like that.”

“It can’t be that complicated.  It just pumps blood.”

“If it had just one inlet and one outlet, it wouldn’t be, but the heart has too many arteries and veins.  Eleven to be exact.”

“Just tie them together.”

It’s more complicated than that.  Not only do they come and go from different parts of the body, but also six of them come and go from the lungs.  I’d have to make a manifold type device that they would all connect to, and I don’t have that kind of material here.  And she probably wouldn’t live through it anyway.  But, I might be able to add a pump to her heart.”

“Then hurry up.  My hands are getting tired.”

Seth cut her intestines loose from her stomach and anus, tossed them in a trashcan, and then set an oxygen tank in her empty abdominal cavity.  After he secured it in place with some bailing wire, he took a scalpel and cut a small hole in her trachea at the Y between her lungs, then glued a plastic hose in place.

Kenneth was confused.  “Why are you doing that?”

“To increase the oxygen in her blood.  It will make up for her heart not being as productive.”  He connected the other end of the hose to the oxygen tank.

“Why didn’t you just put an oxygen mask on her?”

“Because I like doing shit the hard way.”

“I think you just like doing sick and twisted shit.”

Seth injected her with Morphine and adrenaline before he slapped her face.  “Wake up!”

“Why are you waking her up now?  I thought you were going to add a pump?”

“I’m not wasting my time if she’s brain dead.”  He slapped her again.  “Rise and shine, bitch!”

A few seconds later, she opened her eyes.  Seth held out his middle finger, giving her the bird.  “How many fingers am I holding up?”

She could barely talk and her voice was raspy.  “What’s…  What’s wrong with me?  I feel strange.”  Her vision was blurry and her mind was dazed.  “I can’t see.  What’s going on?”

Kenneth was surprised.  “I can’t believe she’s awake.”

She started having convulsions then passed out.  Seth yelled at Barry.  “Get your ass over here.”

He walked up.  “What?”

“Don’t ‘watt’ me, you’re not a fucking lightbulb.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.  Take over for Kenneth and pump her heart.”

“Why do I have to do that?”

“This is your fault, so I don’t want to hear it.”

“I was just trying to help.”

Wyatt laughed as he looked at Maggie’s burnt heart.  “Please don’t ever try to help me.”

“Fuck you, dude!”

Wyatt slapped him in the back of the head.  “Shut the fuck up!”

“Don’t fucking hit me, asshole!”

Missy was sitting in a chair trying to relax.  “Y’all don’t start.”

Wyatt looked at her.  “Sorry.”

Seth had rounded up tools and parts, laying them out on the table next to Maggie.  Kenneth peered at them: A drill operated water pump, cordless drill, some clear hose, plastic hose barbs, an empty three-liter soda bottle, a roll of Gorilla tape and some super glue.  “This looks high-tech.”

“It’s all I have to fucking work with.”

“It looks like something a redneck would throw together.”

“Then you make something.”

“Instead of wasting time trying to jerry-rig something, we should just toss her ass in the lake.”

“If I can keep the bitch alive, I’ve thought of something I’d like to try.”  Seth cut a hole in the bottom of the soda bottle and glued a hose barb in place.  He connected a short piece of tubing to the barb, inserted a longer piece into the top of the bottle and then ran it all the way to the bottom.  He wrapped tape around the top to keep the tubing in place then set the bottle in her open cavity next to the oxygen tank.

Kenneth was confused.  “What’s the soda bottle for?”

“It’s for storing extra blood to keep the pump primed.”  He connected the short hose from the bottle to the input of the pump and attached another hose to the output.  He secured the pump to her liver with zip-ties so it wouldn’t flop around.  Next, he severed her vena cava vein a few inches below her heart, coupled the ends to a T adapter, then joined the adapter to the hose running to the top of the bottle.  The bottle started filling with blood as Barry pumped her heart.  Seth motioned for him to move out of the way, then quickly cut a hole in her right ventricle, forced a barbed fitting through the chamber and into her pulmonary valve, making sure it was seated into her pulmonary artery.  He united the hose from the output of the pump to the barb then wrapped tape around both her heart and the hose to seal it.  Without hesitating, he inserted the impeller shaft of the pump into the cordless drill and pulled the trigger.

Missy noticed the pump was circulating Maggie’s blood in a continuous flow.  “The pump doesn’t have an intermittent flow like a heart.  Is that going to be okay?”

“Yep.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve read about continuous-flow LVADs on the internet.  The human body does fine with these devices.”

“You lost me.  What’s a LVAD?”

“Left ventricular assist device.  It’s new technology that’s going to replace the traditional mechanical hearts.”

“I thought you told Kenneth you couldn’t replace her heart?”

“I didn’t.  I’m using it as a manifold.  The LVADs are designed to work in conjunction with a failing or damaged heart to supplement blood flow, so this setup will not be as efficient, but it doesn’t matter—the bitch was going to die anyway.”

“I don’t understand how this contraption works.”

“The pump is forcing blood into her pulmonary artery that branches off to both of her lungs.  It comes back to her heart through the pulmonary veins, into her left ventricle.  From there, the pressure from the pump pushes the blood through her aortic valve, to her aorta, then out to her body.  When it returns from the body, it drains into the bottle.”

Maggie awakened with confusion.  Her vision was blurry and her body was numb.  She tried to focus on the person that was laying on a table, but she couldn’t make out any details.  She blinked a few times, reducing some of the blurriness.  She could now see that it was a woman on the table, and she had been mutilated.  The front of her torso was missing, exposing all her organs, except for the intestines—they were gone.  The woman couldn’t be alive, she thought.  Maybe the corpse was being used for medical research.  There were several men.  One looked to be drilling something inside the woman’s open torso while the other two stood watching.  Who are these people, she wondered?  Who is this woman and what has happened to her?  And why am I being forced to see this?  It felt surreal, as if she was looking through someone else’s eyes.

A few minutes later, Maggie was starting to get feeling back in her body.  When she moved her arm, terror overwhelmed her when she realized it was her laying on the stainless-steel table.  She could barely speak.  “Oh my God!  What have you done to me?”

Seth looked down at her.  “Your heart got fucked up by a retard, so we’re trying to bypass it.”

She grimaced with trepidation.  “What happened?  Was I in an accident?”

“Kind of.”  Seth nodded towards Barry.  “He’s an accident waiting to happen.”

She looked at Barry for a moment, then Kenneth.  She now remembered she’d been hanging on the wall.  “Oh my God!  Y’all did this to me!”  She started crying.  “Look what y’all have done to me!”

Seth was still holding the cordless drill, pumping blood through her circulatory system.  “I have shitty news and shittier news.  Which do you want first?”

“Am I going to die?”

“Not sure.  Unfortunately, your heart no longer functions, but I have connected a pump to you. That’s the shitty news.  And since I’m such a nice guy, I injected you with adrenaline to keep you awake and morphine to reduce the pain.”  He grabbed her right hand and held it against the drill.  “Hold this.”  He grabbed her other hand and held it next to the trigger.  “Don’t let the drill stop or you’ll die.  That’s the shittier news.”

She started freaking out as she held the drill.  “No, no, no!  I can’t do this!”

“If you wanna live, you will.”

“Please get me to a hospital!”

“I have some other shit I need to do first.  When I’m done, I’ll make a call for you.”

Her eyes got big.  “What?  You can’t leave me like this!”

“Just make sure to yell at me if the battery starts to go dead so I can replace it.”

She started crying.  “Oh my God!  Please don’t do this!  I beg you!”

Seth went over to Jimmy.  He noticed his breathing had recovered.  “Good.  This fucker has some life left in him too.”  He looked at Kenneth.  “He’s ready to go if you want to continue with him.”

He looked at his watch, realizing it was 9 PM.  “I’d rather head on to Austin and pick up some more lowlifes since it’s dark now.”

Seth smiled.  “You like the hunt, don’t you?”

He looked at Maggie and Jimmy, then at Gus’ and Andrew’s corpses, then at all the body parts and disgusting fluids coating the floor.  “It’s better than being stuck in this hellhole.”

“You know you like it.  You just don’t want to admit it.”

“I don’t have an issue with making assholes pay, but we’re kind of treating them like cattle.  Just roundin’ ‘em up for the slaughter.  You’re not even interacting with them like you did in the past.  I hope you’re not getting burned out.”

“What do you have against cattle?”

“I’m being serious.  And did you not hear a fucking thing I said?”

“Chill out.  I heard you.  And we don’t have time to listen to their false promises or proclamations of innocence.  Or that they served their fucking time.  There are too many scumbags to deal with on this trip to put up with that shit.”

Barry was nodding.  “You know I don’t have an issue with that.”

Kenneth glared at him.  “You haven’t done shit on this trip, except for getting in everyone’s way, so stop being a suck ass.”

“I’ve done my share.”

“I’m glad you think so.”  He looked at Seth.  “So, can I get the fuck out of here?”
Seth handed him a folder.  “Here’re twenty-four scumbags from the Austin area.  It contains all the info you need on them: descriptions, pictures, hangouts and their addresses.”

“How in the hell am I supposed to round up that many?”

“I don’t expect you to.  Just pick up as many as you can find.  And only get the ones that are easy.”

“Won’t that dude that set all this up get pissed if we don’t get all of them?”

“Mr. Townsend knows there’s no way we can get all of them.”

Wyatt walked up.  “Can I go with Kenneth?”

“That’s fine.  It’ll be a lot easier, and safer, with two of you.”

Barry’s eyes got big.  “I wanna go too.”

Seth knew that would cause a problem.  “That’s not a good idea.”

“Come on, man!  I wanna go!”

“No.”

“Please give me another chance to prove myself.”

“I need you here.”

“That’s bullshit!  You can handle this shit by yourself.  You just….” 

Kenneth interrupted.  “I don’t care if he comes.”

Barry glared at Seth.  “See, he trusts me.”

Kenneth laughed.  “I just like watching you get your ass kicked.”

Barry was stoked.  “Fucking A!”  He ran to the door.  “I call shotgun!”  He took off outside.

Wyatt was right behind him yelling, “Fuck if you are!  You’re sitting bitch!”

Seth handed Kenneth a duffle bag.  “This is full of disguises.  If y’all get in a place that’s crowded or has cameras, make sure everyone wears something to conceal their identity.”

“Will do.”

“When I get done with Jimmy and Maggie, I’ll head that way.”

“Okay.”

“And if Spanky causes too much trouble, just cut his throat and throw him in a dumpster.”

Kenneth laughed as he walked out the door.

Gun Smoke

Seth went over to Jimmy and checked his vitals.  Missy walked over.  “Is he going to make it?”

“He’s doing fairly well considering the trauma to his body.”  Seth noticed most of Jimmy’s intestines were still in his abdomen, meaning the blood flow hadn’t been severed.

She could tell he was thinking about something.  “I recognize that look.  What are you planning on doing to him?”

“I’m thinking about reversing his digestive system so he’ll shit out his mouth.”

“Is that even possible?”

“I don’t see why it won’t work.  Choking to death on his shit would be the main issue.”  He pointed to his tracheotomy.  “But the trach will prevent that since he’s breathing out his neck.”

Maggie started yelling at Seth.  “Please call an ambulance!  This isn’t right leaving me like this!”

“Just lay there and be quiet.”

“Please don’t do this!”

Seth went over to her.  “I told you to be quiet.”

“You can’t do this to me!”

Humberto was becoming desperate, knowing he needed to find a way to escape.  He had witnessed some gruesome acts, and now that the others had left, he didn’t feel as threatened by Seth.  “Hey, man!  Can we make a deal?”

Seth was sewing Maggie’s mouth shut.  “Nope.”

“Come on, man!  Don’t be like that!  I don’t even know you!  You must have me mixed up with some other dude!”

Seth put his finger across his own lips.  “Shhh.”

“Don’t shush me!”

“You can either hang there quiet, or I can sew your mouth shut too.”

He put his head down, not in submission, but to bide his time until he could make his move.

When Seth was done with Maggie, she was aghast as she looked at herself in the mirror above.  She looked like something from a horror film the way Seth had mutilated her body.  Her mascara was smeared all over her face, and her mouth had been sewn closed with thick, black thread.  She contemplated on stopping the drill so she could end her suffering.  

Seth was staring at her as he stood next to Jimmy.  “If you stop that drill, I’ll just bring you back.  And then I’ll stop going easy on you.”

Tears started running down her cheeks as she thought about how she was trapped in this nightmare.

Missy was still intrigued how Seth was going to reverse Jimmy’s digestive system.  “How are you going to make his crap flow backwards?”

“I’m not.  The intestines produce wave like movements that direct the waste towards the rectum, so I don’t think that would even possible.  I’m just going to swap the entrance and exit points.”  Seth took a scalpel and cut his esophagus from the top of his stomach, then cut the jejunum loose from the duodenum, severing the small intestine below his stomach.  “I have to leave his stomach and duodenum in place since they’re connected to his gallbladder, pancreas and circulatory system.”

“Can’t you just cut all that loose?”

“Too many things can go wrong when you’re dealing with that many blood vessels.  And if I accidently nicked his liver, he could bleed to death.”

“Will his digestive system still work without his stomach?”

“Not sure, but we’ll find out shortly.”  Seth cut his rectum loose at his anus then pulled the end of it up to his severed esophagus.  After he sewed them together, he pulled the end of his severed jejunum down to his anus and started sewing it in place.  When he was done, he bound shrink-wrap around his torso to prevent his intestines from falling out.  “I think that will do it.  Now I’m going to hang him on the wall.”  Seth mounted two pulleys five-feet apart on the wall next to Humberto, close to the ceiling.  He dragged Jimmy over to the ropes, tying one to each of his ankles then hoisted him up.

“Why did you hang him upside down?”

“So I can feed him.”  Seth stuck a funnel in Jimmy’s ass.

“That’s fucking disgusting.”

Seth injected him with adrenaline, and morphine to help with the pain.  A few minutes later, Jimmy awakened.  He tried to speak, but his trach tube was interfering with his normal voice process.  Seth strapped an electrolarynx to his neck.  “There you go, pal.”

“What…  What have you….”  He sounded like a robot, at which he was suddenly overcome with confusion.  “Why do I sound like this?”

Seth rolled a large mirror in front of him.  “Check it out.”

Jimmy’s eyes widened as he stared at his reflection.  He could see his organs through the shrink-wrap, and watched for a moment in stunned silence as they moved around and smeared blood on the inside surface of the plastic.  “Oh my God!  This can’t be happening!  I must be dreaming!”

Seth opened a large can of chicken noodle soup.  “Nope.  You’re awake.”

Jimmy started freaking out.  “Oh my God!  You’ve destroyed my body!  Why did you do this to me?”

“You know why.”

“I didn’t stab that boy!   You have me mixed up with someone else!  Please call an ambulance!  I don’t want to die!”

“I hope you like soup.”  He poured the can into the funnel. 

Jimmy could feel his intestines tighten up.  He looked in the mirror, detecting the funnel between his legs.  “What the fuck are you doing to me?”

Seth started dumping a can of chopped beef into the funnel.  Missy noticed it was kind of chunky.  “What is that?”

“Canned meat.”

“That’s nasty.”

Seth opened a can displaying Oriental writing.  “Check this shit out.”

She turned and gagged, revolted by the presence of a multitude of bugs whirling around in the brown liquid.  “What the hell is that?”

“Silkworm pupae stew.”

“Who in the fuck would eat that?”

“Koreans.  They love this shit.”  He dumped the can into the funnel.

“That’s freakin’ repulsive.”

“I’m sure he will think so too when he’s shitting it out of his mouth.”  Seth opened a Styrofoam container filled with night crawlers.  “I was saving these in case I went fishing, but Jimmy needs the protein.”  He dumped the worms and their bedding into the funnel then poured in a large bottle of Colon-Blow.  “And that should get things moving along.”

A few minutes later, Jimmy started making a face as if he was hurting.  His intestines could be seen faintly shifting, smearing trails of blood on the shrink-wrap.  “What’s wrong with my guts?  They don’t feel right.”

“It’s the Colon-Blow.”

“What the hell is that?”

“Sodium phosphate.  A very powerful laxative.”

“Why are you doing this to me?  I told you I didn’t kill that boy!”

Seth ignored him as he sat on a table next to Missy smoking a cigarette.

“Please get me off this wall!  I’m getting dizzy hanging upside down!”

Seth continued to disregard him.

“Come on, man!  Please don’t do this!”  Jimmy made a painful expression.  “Something’s not right.”  About that time, he farted out of his mouth, filling the air with a rancid odor. 

Missy shook her head.  “I can’t watch this shit.”  She walked to the other side of the RV.

Jimmy became aware of an alkaline taste in his mouth.  “There’s something nasty in my mouth!”  He farted again.  “Oh my God!  That smells horrible!”  Brown fluid started dripping from his mouth.  “Something’s wrong!  What the fuck have you done to me?”

“I reversed your digestive system so you can shit out of your mouth.”

He didn’t believe Seth.  “I’m serious!  What’s happening to me?”

“I told you.  You’re fixing to shit out of your mouth.”

“I think I’m going to puke!  Please get me down!”  He started panicking as his throat tensed up.  His robot-sounding voice echoed throughout the RV as he yelled.  “I’m choking!  Please help me!  I don’t want to die!”

“You’re not going to die—you can still breathe through your trach.”

“Why does my throat feel like this?”

“The shit is inducing your throat muscles to constrict since it’s moving in the wrong direction.  Just try to relax.”

He started crying.  “Please make it stop!  I beg you!”

Seth laid a puppy pad under Jimmy’s head.  “Try to aim for this.  I don’t want any shit on my floor.”

“Oh my God!  I feel it in the back of my mouth!  Please make it stop!  Oh fuck!”  Jimmy started making weird sounds through the electrolarynx as feces disgorged from his mouth.  It was thick, like the consistency of peanut butter.  He was throwing his head around in a panic as turds tumbled to the floor.

“Stop jerking around, asshole!  You’re getting shit everywhere!”  Seth quickly slid a tub under him.

Suddenly, the solids changed to liquid due to the Colon-Blow, producing a mixture of brown fluid and the undigested noodles, meat and pupae that sprayed out of his mouth like a firehose.

Missy started gagging from across the room when she noticed worms were hanging out of Jimmy’s mouth and nostrils.  “What the fuck?  This is the vilest shit I’ve ever seen!”

Seth laughed.  “It’s sick as fuck.”

Jimmy’s face and the top of his head were covered in the filth, and he was holding his eyes tightly closed as brown liquid continued to run out his mouth.  Seth picked up the tub and started slowly pouring the disgusting mixture into the funnel.  Missy was shaking her head.  “What the hell are you doing?”

“I don’t believe in wasting food.”

“I can handle just about anything, but this is some grotesque shit.”

“And I’m sure it’s going to be even more tasty the second time.”

She covered her mouth, trying to not throw up.  “Okay!  Let’s stop talking about it.”

When the tub was empty, he put it back under Jimmy before heading over to Maggie.  “I’m surprised you’re still alive, considering I replaced your heart with a few parts from the hardware store.”

Tears were running down her cheeks as she mumbled through her stitches.  “Please help me!”

Missy walked up.  “What else are you going to do to her?”

“Nothing.  Her body won’t take any more abuse.  She’s barely clinging to life as it is.”

“We need to do something so she’ll go out with a bang.”

Seth smiled.  “You just gave me a cool idea.  I’m going to….” 

Missy interrupted him.  “Hold up!  Don’t tell me!”

“Why?”

“It’ll be fun to see if I can figure it out.”

“Okay.”  He went and rounded up some parts and set them on a workbench.

Missy noticed he was taking apart a drone.  “Why are you taking your toy apart?”

“I need the parts.  And it’s not a toy.”  He removed one of the propeller motors, the battery pack, servo controller and camera.

“Are you making her one of those propeller hats that retards wear?”

“Nope.”  He laid a .38 Special, double-action revolver on a piece of wood, drew an elliptical shape inside the trigger guard on the wood and cut it out with a saw. 

“What are you making?”

“A cam.  When it turns, it will force the trigger back.”  He drilled a hole in the center of the cam, mounted it on the motor’s shaft, then attached the assembly to the trigger guard.  He temporarily connected the servo controller and battery to the motor.  “Let’s see if this works.”  Seth moved the joystick on a remote control.  The cam rotated, provoking the revolver to dry fire.  “Fuckin’ A!”

“Since you’re wiring the gun up to fire remotely, are you going to shoot her from a distance?”

“That would be boring.”  They walked over to Maggie.  Seth had Missy take over the drill as he forced Maggie to grip the revolver.  He wrapped duct tape around her fist so she wouldn’t be able to drop it.

“Are you going to make her shoot herself?”

“That wouldn’t be any fun.”  He held her arm out and drilled screws into her elbow and shoulder to keep them in the stretched-out position.

Missy was confused.  “You have her positioned where she’s pointing the gun away from herself.  Is she going to shoot someone else?”

“Nope.”  He screwed the drone’s camera to Maggie’s forehead, taped the battery pack and servo controller to her neck, then started wiring everything together.

“I know what you’re doing!  If she’s going out with a bang, you’re going to have her shoot something that explodes.”

“That’s not it either.  Plus, the gun is loaded with blanks.”  He slid Maggie off the table and into a wheelchair.

“Dammit!  That doesn’t make sense.”

Seth picked up the remote and moved the joystick.  The revolver dry fired every time the cam rotated.  He also checked to make sure he could see the live feed on his android.  “She’s ready.”

Missy was frustrated that she hadn’t figured out what Seth’s plan was.  “This doesn’t make any sense.  Why would she have a gun that fires blanks?”

He tied Maggie to the wheelchair to prevent her from falling out.  “Do you want me to tell you?”

“Hell no!”

Seth looked at his watch.  “It’s almost 1 AM.  Let’s get rollin’.”  He went up front and started the RV.

Missy sat in the passenger seat.  “Where are we heading to?”

“Drop off Maggie, then head to Austin.”

Missy was confused how a gun with blanks was going to achieve Seth’s plan for Maggie to go out with a bang.  “I can’t figure out what the hell you’re up to.  I hope you’re not screwing with me.”

“Nope.”

“I’ll have to see it to believe it then.”

“You will.”  Seth drove to the town of Belton, which was about thirty-minutes away, and parked at Yettie Polk Park.  “Hang out here while I drop off Maggie.”

Missy followed him to the cargo area as he wheeled Maggie out the door.  “Are you leaving her here?”

“Not in the park, but up the street.”

“Be careful.”

“I’ll be back in a bit.”  Seth disappeared into the dark.

A few minutes later, he came back breathing heavily.  He quickly drove off.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.  I’m just winded from having to run several blocks.”   He handed Missy his cell phone.  “Let me know if you see anyone approach her.”

She looked at the screen, realizing it was a live view of a parking lot.  “Is this from the camera mounted to Maggie’s head?”

“Yes.”

She could hear Maggie moaning and the sound of the drill running.  “I can’t believe she’s keeping herself alive.  I would have given up a long time ago.”  As Maggie moved her head around, Missy could see there were cars in the parking lot.  She then saw the side of a brick building.  “Where in the hell is that?”

“You ready for me to tell you?”

“Not yet.  I’m still trying to figure it out.”

“As soon as you see someone, let me know.”

“Will do.”

Seth pulled over to the side of the road.

“Why are we stopping?”

“The camera only has a range of about two miles.”

She looked out the window and recognized that they were on an access road by a highway.  “Where are we at?”

“Southbound on I-35.  Austin is about an hour away.”

When she looked back at the phone, she noticed someone was approaching Maggie.  “Oh shit!  I see someone!”

Seth looked at the screen, glimpsing a man in a suit.  “Fuckin’ A!”

Maggie could be heard yelling stifled words through her stitches.  She was trying to ask the man to get help.  Seth moved the joystick on the remote control.  A second later, a bright flash lit up the screen when her gun fired.  The man took off running toward the safety inside the building.  Maggie was freaking out, yelling muffled pleas for him to come back.

Seth was excited.  “It’s gonna work!  Just watch and see!”

“All I see is that you scared the shit out of some poor bastard.”

“Be patient.  It’s about to happen.”

“You really have me curious what’s….”  About that time, a bunch of cops came out of the building with their guns drawn.  “Oh, holy hell!  Check this shit out!”

Seth laughed.  “That’s what happens when you fire a gun outside the Bell County Jail.”

“You’re a crazy bastard!”

When Seth moved the joystick, the revolver fired multiple times, lighting up the dark parking lot.  It looked like fireworks were going off as the cops returned fire.  Loud, rapid-firing gunshots were echoing out through the phone’s speaker.  Maggie had ripped the stitches from her lips and was screaming at the top of her lungs as her body was being struck by bullets.  Seconds later, Maggie stopped moving, and as the gun smoke cleared, the cops could be seen standing in front of her.  They all had a grimace of terror as they looked upon the disturbing sight of a woman who had apparently been barbarically transformed into something unspeakable.

Seth fired the remaining round, eliciting another exchange of gunfire.  The video feed went dark after a bullet struck the camera.  Missy was shaking her head.  “A fucking police station?  Wasn’t that kind of risky?”

“She went out with a bang, didn’t she?”  Seth took off down the highway, heading to Austin.

Balloon Scientist

When Seth arrived in Austin, he keyed up on his two-way radio.  “K-Dog, you there?”

“What’s up?”

“How’s it goin’?”

“So far, so good.”

“How much have y’all made?”

“Six dollars, working on seven.”

Missy looked confused.  “What the hell are y’all talking about?”

“They’ve found only seven of the twenty-four scumbags on the list.”

“Why are you referring to them as money?”

“I can’t really ask how many people he has abducted over the radio.”

“True.”

Seth keyed up.  “How is Spanky doin’?  Has he caused any trouble?”

“Razor is fine.  And no, he’s a badass motherfucker.”  Some shuffling could be heard.

Seth keyed up.  “What the hell is going on?”

“Fucking Spanky took the radio from me.”

Seth could hear Barry bitching in the background how he wanted to be called Razor.  “Get control of that fucker.”

“It’s good.  I’m going to let him go by Razor so he’ll shut the fuck up.”

“That’s fine.  Do y’all need any help?”

“Nope.  We’re about to make the last buck, then we’ll be heading out.”

“We’ll beat you home.”

“Ten-four.”

Seth drove through Austin then headed down a rural road.  Forty-five minutes later, he parked at a run-down building.  Missy had fallen asleep and he didn’t want to disturb her, so he quietly left the RV to get everything setup.

Around 4 AM, Kenneth drove up.  Seth opened Missy’s door.  “They’re here.”

She was exhausted.  “Can I rest a while longer?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks, babe.  Come get me before y’all start on them.”

“Will do.”  Seth went over to Kenneth’s truck.  Barry and Wyatt were arguing as they dragged body bags out of the bed and into the building.  He walked up to Kenneth.  “What the fuck are they bitching about?”

“I don’t fucking know.  It’s all they do.”

Seth and Kenneth went into the building, an old warehouse that Seth had rented before the trip.  It was in a secluded place.  Kenneth handed Seth a piece of paper with a list of names.  “Here are the ones we were able to get.”

“Good.  And are they all unconscious?”

“Yep.  I gave them fentanyl.”  He started walking towards the door in a hurry.

“Where’re you goin’?”

“I have to go take a crap.”

“You might not want to go into the RV.”

He ignored him and walked out the door.

After Wyatt and Barry brought in the last two body bags, Seth handed Wyatt a knife.  “You and Barry start stripping them down.”  He looked at the names on the list Kenneth had given him, comparing them to the files in the folder to determine who was who.  When they had them lined up on the floor, Seth pointed to an older, skinny man with a gray beard.  “Take this fucker outside.”  He pointed to another man.  “This is Johnny Mathews, who happens to be a drug addict that murdered a woman when he broke into her house.  Hang his ass up on the wall in the RV.”

Kenneth came walking up.  He was pissed.  “What the fuck?  I don’t even have words for what you’ve done to Jimmy.”

“I tried to warn you.”

“I need to take a shit.”

“Then go take one.”

“I’m not going back into the RV.  It fuckin’ stinks.”

“You don’t think your shit is going to stink up the RV too?”

“Come on, now.  That dude is leaking shit out of his mouth into a big tub.  A tub full of shit, worms and bugs.  I don’t even want to know what the fuck you did to him, but that’s fuckin’ nasty.”

“Shit outside.”

“Fuck that.”

Seth pointed to a five-gallon bucket.  “Then shit in that.”

“Just get the fucker out of the RV.”

“I can’t.  I need him for show and tell.”

“That’s BS!  You just like being around that kind of shit.”

Seth shrugged his shoulders.  “It is kind of like a piece of home.”

“I hope you’re joking.”

“Of course.  I have all the scumbags in an underground chamber.”

“I’m sure you do.”  Kenneth jerked the bucket from the floor and headed for the door.

“I hope you have something to wipe your ass with!”

“Fuck you!”  He slammed the door shut.

Wyatt and Barry came walking up.  Wyatt had a disturbed expression.  “What the hell did you do to Jimmy?”

“Don’t start.  I’ve already heard it from Kenneth.”  He pointed to a man that was covered in tattoos and looked like a body builder.  “Y’all drag Mr. Muscles...”  He pointed to a fat man.  “…and this lard ass, over to the center of the building.  There are some chains anchored to the floor that already have shackles on them.  Secure a shackle to just one of their ankles.”  Seth tied up the three remaining men, then went to the RV to round up some items.

Thirty minutes later, Seth returned to the building.  Kenneth, Barry and Wyatt were joking around with each other.  Seth walked up to them.  “Y’all ready to get started?”

Kenneth shook his head.  “I’m going to head on to San Antonio.”

“You can take off later.  I have some entertainment lined up for everyone.”

“You know I’m not into your kind of entertainment.”

“You’ll like this.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“First, I need to see John off before I get the show started.”  Seth motioned to Barry and Wyatt.  “Y’all follow me.”

When they got outside, they noticed Missy was standing next to a man lying on the ground.  He was nude with a large backpack strapped to him.  He had numerous fishing hooks in his penis and ball sack, and steel wires ran from them to a large cardboard box filled with what appeared to be a deflated raft.

Missy got everyone’s attention.  “This is John Walker.  The sick bastard abducted a five-year-old girl from a playground and molested her.”

Wyatt noticed he was very skinny, bald on top, had a long gray beard and wrinkled skin.  “How old is this fucker?  He looks like Father Time.”

Seth looked at his files.  “It says here the pervert is eighty-one years old.”

Kenneth was aggravated.  “He’s just an old man.”

“And?”

He looked at the hooks in John’s wrinkled penis and ball sack.  “It ain’t right doin’ that to him.”

“You’re the one who picked him up.”

“I didn’t realize how old he was.  It was dark.”

“Who cares?  He’s still a child molester.”

“Don’t you have any compassion?”

“Not for molesters.  And I know you don’t give a fuck about him either.  You’re just being pissy because you had to take a dump in a bucket.”

He got mad and walked off.

Seth started pulling the deflated item from the box, stretching it out on the ground.  Wyatt started helping him.  “What is this?”

“A one-person helium balloon.  I’ve had it for a while.  I was just waiting for the right asshole to pilot it.”

Barry was intrigued and started helping too.  “How high will this go?”

“High enough.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I’m not a fucking balloon scientist.”

Barry laughed.  “Wow!  You don’t know everything.”

“Never said I did.”

Wyatt nodded towards John.  “Why did you choose him for this?”

“Because he lured that child away from a playground with some balloons, so his punishment will fit his crime.”

“I’m just surprised you’re not doing something more extreme to him.”

“His fragile body wouldn’t be able to take it.”

“Is this balloon large enough to lift him?”

“Yeah.  The calculations estimate he’ll make it to 15,000 feet, but at that altitude, if he doesn’t die from hypoxemia, he’ll freeze to death.”

Barry glared at Seth.  “You told me you didn’t know how high he would go.”

“I get tired of explaining shit to you.”

He pointed at Wyatt.  “You don’t have an issue explaining shit to that fucker.”

“That’s because he wouldn’t ask me follow up questions that are dumb.”

“And what kind of dumb questions do you think I’d ask?”

“At 15,000 feet, will he be entering space.”

“Well, will he?”

“Point made.”

When they had the balloon stretched out on the ground, Seth connected it to a large helium tank and started filling it up.  He handed the nozzle to Missy.  “Please take over.  It’s gonna be about thirty minutes before it fills up all the way.  We need to have him airborne before the sun rises.”  He looked at his watch.  “And that’s in forty-two minutes.  If he’s not on his way before then, we will draw attention to ourselves.”  He looked at Wyatt and Barry.  “You two need to hold onto the balloon’s tethers and keep it on the ground while I get John ready.”  He injected John in the neck with a one syringe before proceeding to inject his arms and legs with a different one.

Wyatt was watching Seth.  “What are you giving him?”

“The first injection was Naloxone.  It reverses the effects of the fentanyl so he’ll wake up.  These other injections are to temporally numb his limbs so he can’t fight back.”

Within seconds, John started coming around.  Seth knelt beside him.  “Hey, asshole!  You ready to take the ride of your life?”

John looked around in a panic.  “Where am I?”  He tried to move.  “What’s wrong with me?  I can’t feel my arms and legs.”

“I injected a local anesthetic into your limbs so you can’t move.”

“Are you a doctor?  Was I in an accident?’

“No, and no.  But, you are being punished for what you did to that kid.”

He started freaking out.  “What?  What kid?  Who are you?”

Seth secured a cord around his wrist that was tied to a knife.  “You will have several options once the anesthetic wears off.  I’ve strapped a knife to your wrist so you’ll have the choice….”

“Please tell me what’s going on!”

“I’m trying, asshole.  Be quiet so I can explain it.”

“Okay, okay!”

“Like I was saying, I’ve strapped a knife to your wrist.  If you want to live, you’re going to have to cut your dick and balls off, then pull the….”

“Cut my dick and balls off?  What are you talking about?”

Seth held up a needle with thread.  “Interrupt me again and I’ll sew your mouth shut.”

His eyes grew huge.  “Uh…  I….”

“Okay, now back to what I was trying to tell you.  If you want to live, you’ll have to have to cut your dick and balls off, and then pull the ripcord on your parachute.  You also have a backup chute in case the primary fails.  And FYI, you won’t be able to cut the wires tied to the hooks—they’re stainless steel, braided cables.  If you want to say fuck it and choose to die, you can either cut your throat with the knife, or just wait until the explosive on the balloon detonates.  I packed it with ball bearings so it’ll take you out too.  The timer will be set for two hours after liftoff.”  Seth could tell he wanted to speak.  “You can talk now.”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“You know why.  Any other questions?”

“Please don’t do this!  You have me confused with someone else!”

Seth fastened a piece of duct tape across his mouth and strapped a camera to his head.  He looked at the others.  “These fuckers will lie no matter how old they are.”

By now, the balloon was getting full.  Wyatt and Barry were starting to have a difficult time holding it down.  Wyatt yelled at Seth.  “Hey!  This thing is about to get away from us!”

Seth noticed the sun was starting to rise and the balloon had expanded to a diameter of thirty-five feet.  “Y’all keep hanging onto it.  In a few more minutes it should be fully inflated.”  Seth quickly set the timer on the explosive to two hours, had Missy close the fill port, then squatted next to John.  “Time to go, pal.”  He strapped a watch to his wrist.  “Remember, you’ll have two hours before your balloon pops, which will be at 7:34.  And you should start getting the feeling back in your arms and legs shortly before that.”

John’s eyes were big as medallions and he mumbled pleas through the tape, begging Seth not to do it.

Seth opened his laptop to ensure he was receiving the live feed from the camera.  He turned it so John could see the screen.  “Check that out.  We’ll being taking the ride with you.”

Barry was excited though he struggled to hold the balloon’s tether.  “Good!  I was wondering how we were going to see what happens to his ass.”

“It isn’t worth doing unless we can watch.”  Seth took a scalpel and cut across John’s abdomen from one side to the other, leaving only the thin parietal peritoneum membrane intact, then looked at Wyatt and Barry.  “Let it go.”  Seth ripped the tape from John’s mouth as the balloon jerked him off the ground.  His screams echoed in all directions as he was lifted into the sky by his penis and ball sack.

Seth noticed Kenneth sitting on the tailgate of his truck.  He yelled at him.  “Hey!  Your man friend is leaving!  You wanna say goodbye?”

Kenneth shook his head as he walked toward the building. 

Seth, Missy, Wyatt and Barry watched the balloon ascend.  Once it finally disappeared into the darkness, they went inside the building.

Mama Said Knock You Out

Seth found Kenneth sitting on a table.  “Dude, what’s wrong with you?  The fucker was a child molester.”

“It just felt wrong doing that to an old man.”

“Fucking molesters come in all shapes, sizes and ages.”

“I know.  I’ll get past it.”

“I have something planned that will be exciting.  Kind of a treat for all your hard work.”

“What is it?”

“Go have a seat over there by the others.  Allen and Harvey are going to put on a show for us.”

Kenneth walked to the center of the building where Barry, Wyatt and Missy were sitting in chairs that faced two men on the floor.  Kenneth sat next to Wyatt and observed that the two men were only wearing shorts and had ball gags in their mouths.  Their hands were tied behind their backs and chains secured to the floor wrapped around their ankles.  They were upset and attempting to yell but their words were muted by their gags.

“What’s going on?”

Wyatt shrugged his shoulders.  “Not sure.  Seth just told us to come over here.”

“I hope he’s not planning on doing any more gay shit.”

Barry had Seth’s laptop.  He turned it so Kenneth could see the screen.  “You wanna see what your buddy is up to?”

Kenneth recognized it was the live feed from John’s camera, who was wildly looking around and screaming for help.  Kenneth glared at Barry.  “Listen, you little bastard!  I’ll knock out your fucking teeth!”

“Hey, man!  I was just fucking with you!  Don’t get your panties in a wad!”

“You’re a fucking idiot!”

“Chill out!  I was just trying to be funny!”

“Do you see me laughing?”

“You didn’t get all bent out of shape when Seth was doing it.”

“You’re not Seth, asshole!”

About that time, Seth came walking up carrying a ladder.  He motioned to Wyatt and Barry.  “I need y’all to go get Jimmy.”

Barry’s eye got big.  “I don’t want to touch that nasty fucker.”

“I’ve already taken him off the wall and he’s by the door.  All you have to do is drag his ass over here.”  Seth set up the ladder by a beam situated next to the two men.  He climbed to the top of it, nailed a pulley to the beam, ran a rope through the pulley, and then climbed down. 

Wyatt and Barry returned dragging Jimmy by the legs, whose feet were secured to the ends of a plow yoke.  Seth tied the rope to the steel ring in the center of the yoke, then they hoisted Jimmy up.

Kenneth was shaking his head.  “Why in the fuck did you bring that nasty bastard in here?”

Seth tied off the rope.  “Motivation for Allen and Harvey.”

“This is fucked up!”

Seth cut the shrink-wrap from Jimmy, exposing his open torso.  “What are you upset about now?”

“I asked you to get him out of the RV earlier.  If you knew you were going to bring him in here, then why didn’t you just do it then?”

Seth stuck a funnel into Jimmy’s ass.  “Because you were acting like a little girl.”  He climbed to the top of the ladder, then started pissing into the funnel.

Kenneth shook his head.  “You are one demented bastard.”

Seth zipped up.  “Takes one to know one, pal.”  He climbed down and went over to the men.  “You two assholes are going to entertain us by fighting.”  He nodded towards Jimmy.  “And if you refuse, you’ll wind up like that fucker.”

Jimmy started yelling, producing a robotic sound through the electrolarynx that echoed throughout the building.  “Please kill me!  I beg you!”

“See, even he’s warning you.”  Seth cut their restraints.  “Get the fuck up.”

When they stood up, Kenneth noticed they were wearing boxing shorts.  “So, this is your idea of entertainment; to make them fight?”

“I figured you’d like this.”

Kenneth smiled.  “Finally, you’re doing something that’s more on my level.”

“I knew you’d like it.”  Seth had the two men face each other with their fists up in a boxing stance as he walked around them.  “Let me introduce you to our fighters.”  Seth motioned to the taller man who sported a bald head, black goatee and random tattoos covering his body.  “This is Allen Bailey.  AKA, Mr. Muscles.  He’s thirty-two, around six-foot, five-inches tall, and weighs in at two-hundred sixty pounds, give or take twenty.  He’s trained in the art of beating women to death, particularly his girlfriend, and warding off the ass bandits in prison.”

Allen lowered his fists, turned and faced Seth.  “I’ll fucking kill your ass!”

Seth got in his face and yelled, “Do it, asshole!  Pull the trigger!  I dare you!  Don’t just stand there!  Pull the motherfucker!” 

Allen looked down.

“That’s what I thought.  Now face off with that fat fuck.”  Allen turned to his opponent.  Seth gestured to the other man.  He was short and overweight.  “This is Harvey Phillips.  AKA, Lard Ass.  He’s twenty-seven years old, and five-foot nine-inches.  I tried to weigh him, but the fucking scale displayed; One at a time, please.  So, let’s just say, he’s fucking fat.  Mr. Lard Ass is trained in stabbing women to death and purse snatching.”  Seth stood between Allen and Harvey with his hands on their shoulders as he looked at the others.  “These two fuckers are going to beat the shit out of themselves.  The last one standing loses.  And I’ve already gone over the rules with them, so they know what will happen if they don’t cooperate.”

Kenneth raised his hand.  “Hold up!  You said they were going to beat themselves.”

“Yeah.  They have to square off with each other, but instead of punching their opponent, they’re going to punch themselves.  They can only hit themselves in the face.  No headshots.  The one who knocks himself out first wins.  And I’ve already told them that I will be making sure they’re not faking.”  Seth looked at Allen.  “What will happen if you pretend you’re unconscious?”

He looked down.  “You’ll cut off my dick.”

“Look at them.  And say it louder.”

He looked up.  “My dick will be cut off.”

“And what will happen if you refuse to fight?”

“My dick will be cut off.”

“What will happen if you don’t do your best?”

“My dick will be cut off.”

“And what will happen to the loser?”

“Something bad.”

“How bad?”

He looked at Jimmy for a moment.  “That kind of shit.”

Seth sat next to Missy.  “Let’s get this show started.”

Kenneth was aggravated.  “This is fucking stupid!  I knew you would fuck it up!”

“I’m putting a hundred bucks on Lard Ass.”

“What?  There’s no way that fat fuck will be able to knock himself out.”

“Put your money where your mouth is.”

“I’m not participating in your silly antics.”

“All bark, no bite.”

“Okay, motherfucker.  Make it five hundred.”

“You’re on.”

Barry pulled out a wad of money.  “I want Harvey for a hundred.”

Missy looked at him.  “I’ll take that bet.”

Seth looked at Allen and Harvey and yelled, “Ding!  Ding!  Round one, motherfuckers!”

Allen and Harvey started punching themselves in the face with little enthusiasm.  Kenneth laughed.  “This is fucking lame!”

Seth was pissed.  He grabbed a bat and started beating the shit out of Allen and Harvey, eventually knocking them unconscious.  As they lay on the floor, he cut off their penises and put them in a cooler filled with ice.  To prevent them from bleeding to death, he clamped their stubs closed with heavy-duty, potato-chip bag clips.  He sat back next to Missy, then looked at Wyatt and Barry.  “Go wake their asses up.”

They started slapping the men in the face as they yelled for them to wake up.  Allen was the first to open his eyes.  He instantly noticed the pain emanating from his groin.  After sitting up, he looked down and saw that his penis was gone, then started spazzing out about it.  “Oh God!  What have you done?”

Seth lit a cigarette.  “Gave you some motivation.”

“You sorry motherfucker!  I was doing what you asked!”

“You were half-assin’ the assignment and you knew what the consequences were.”

Harvey started coming around.  He quickly noticed his penis was missing.  “Oh fuck!  What happened to my dick?”

Allen was beside himself.  “The sorry motherfucker cut them off!”  He charged Seth, being stopped only a few short feet away by his chain.  “I’m going to fucking kill you!”

Seth opened the cooler and pulled out Allen’s penis, then lit a propane torch and held it close to the flame.

Allen’s eyes got big as saucers.  “Don’t do that!  You’re gonna burn it!”

“Then I suggest you calm your ass down.”

“Okay, okay.”  He eased back.

Seth tossed his penis back in the cooler.  “Now that I have your attention, I would suggest getting back to fighting yourself.”

Harvey was crying.  He stood up.  “I can’t live without my penis!”

“Then you should be happy to know, the one who knocks themselves out first not only gets to live, but also their dick will be relinquished to them.”

Harvey started pacing back and forth, pumping himself up.  “Fuck!  Fuck!  Fuck!”  He punched himself in the face as he shouted, “Fuck you!”  He punched himself again.  “Fuck you!”  He was pummeling himself as hard as he could.  Allen started punching himself too, worrying that Harvey would be knocked out first.

Wyatt and Barry were on the edge of their chairs yelling.  Barry was rooting for Allen and Wyatt for Harvey.  By now, both men had bloody mouths and noses, but not much damage beyond that.  Barry’s stopwatch beeped.  “Time’s up!”

Seth yelled out, “That’s it!  Take a few minutes to rest.”

Harvey was exhausted and fell to his knees.  Allen started pacing as he breathed heavily.  Kenneth looked at Seth.  “There’s no way a person can knock themselves out.”

“That was round one.  Round two will be a little more intense.”  Seth tossed two pairs of brass knuckles on the floor.  “Y’all put those on.”

Kenneth shook his head.  “Hold up!  You’re changing the rules.”

“Do you think Harvey will have an advantage now that he has brass knuckles?”

“No, because Allen has them too.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Nothing, I suppose.”

“Good.”  Seth looked at Barry.  “Start your stopwatch.”  He looked at Allen and Harvey.  “Ding!  Ding, motherfuckers!  Round two!  And last man standing gets his guts ripped out of his ass.”

They had no doubt Seth wasn’t bluffing based on their viewing of his atrociously wicked and gruesome torture of Jimmy.  And now the stakes were even higher since he had cut off their penises.  They both began sadistically punching themselves in the face.  With each blow, the brass knuckles were causing damage, from minor bruises and lacerations to nasal fractures and broken teeth.

Missy enthusiastically watched the men thrash themselves.  She was yelling at Harvey.  “Come on, you fucker!  Punch harder!  Knock yourself out!”

Seth laughed.  “Did you hear that?  Mama said knock yourself out so I can get paid.”

Kenneth was yelling at Allen.  “Let’s go, asshole!  You better not let that fat fuck win!”

Seth thought about the phrase, mama said knock you out.  He hurriedly pulled out his phone and started playing the song Mama Said Knock You Out by LL Cool J.  Everyone was cheering as the men hammered the shit out of themselves to the rhythm of the song.

Allen fell to his knees.  He was punching his face as hard and fast as he could, dazing himself.  His skin was beginning to resemble tenderized meat, and with each blow, blood splattered on the floor.  Kenneth stood up and started yelling.  “Do it, motherfucker!  Do it!”  He looked at Seth.  “Looks like I’m the one that’s going to get paid!”

Harvey was getting winded as he pounded his face.  Seth yelled at him.  “If you don’t knock yourself out, I’m going to make you eat your fucking dick before I rip out your guts!”

Allen was almost out when Barry’s stopwatch sounded.  “That’s the end of round two!”

Kenneth was pissed.  “That’s bullshit!  Allen was winning!”

Barry shrugged his shoulders.  “Dude, time was up.”

“You’re fucking cheating!  You stopped the round early!”

“No I didn’t!  And for your information, you fucking cunt, I have money on Allen too, so why in the fuck would I help out Harvey?”

Kenneth walked over to Allen as he lay on the floor breathing heavily.  His face and the front of his body coated with his own blood.  Kenneth knelt next to him.  “If you cause me to lose five-hundred bucks, I’m going to fuck you up myself.”

Allen’s mouth was full of blood and he could barely speak.  “My head is killing me!  I don’t think I can go on!”

“You fucking better if you know what’s good for you!”

Seth tossed two hammers on the floor.  “Last round.  And if no one is knocked out before the time is up, I’m going to bash in both of your heads with a sledgehammer.”

Barry got Seth’s attention.  “Hey!  John is moving his arms.  He’s trying to cut the wires going to his dick and balls.”

Everyone gathered around the laptop to see what John was going to do.  He had thirty minutes left before the balloon would explode.  Seth shook his head as he watched John cut at the wires.  “Why in the fuck does no one listen to me?  I told the fucker he wouldn’t be able to cut them.”

When John realized the wires were too tough to sever, he started chewing at the strap around his wrist that was holding the knife.  Wyatt was confused.  He looked at Seth.  “Why is he doing that?”

“It’s actually a smart move, which I didn’t think of.  He’s going to throw the knife at the balloon to pop it so he doesn’t have to cut off his dick and balls.”

“Do you think that will work?”

“He only has one shot.  And there are other issues he might have to overcome if it pops; his chute could get tangled up in the deflated balloon or the explosive could go off before he makes it to the ground.  So yeah, he has a chance.  A small one.”

Barry laughed.  “I can’t believe you didn’t think of that.  You’re going to feel like an idiot if he gets away with his dick still intact.”

“I always have a backup plan.”

“Sure, you do.”

“Want to bet on if he makes it out alive or not?”

Barry thought about it for a moment.  He knew there was a chance John would be able to pop the balloon.  And with a backup parachute, his chances of survival increased.  Even if John had to cut off his dick and balls, he would still be able to make it out alive.  Barry knew Seth hadn’t thought about that.  “Yeah, I’ll take the bet that he will walk away from this alive.”

“How much?”

“A grand.”

“You don’t have that much.”

Barry was confident he wouldn’t lose.  “I can come up with it.”

“You better, or I’ll take it out of your ass.”

“I’m not worried about it—I’m not going to lose.”

Wyatt yelled out, “He’s got the knife loose!”

Everyone was watching excitedly as John got ready to throw the knife.  He took a couple of practice swings then threw it as hard as he could.  Everyone made an ‘oh’ sound when the knife bounced off the balloon.  Seth laughed.  “Looks like I’ll be getting a tooth or ear necklace.”

Barry glared at him.  “You’re not taken’ shit from me.”

“You wanna bet on that too?”

“Don’t get cocky.  You forgot that it’s not going to kill John when he cuts off his dick and balls.  He’s still going to be able to walk away alive.”

“Wow!  You’re right.”

Barry smiled.

“But how is he going to cut off his shit when he doesn’t have his knife anymore, Einstein?”

Barry looked at the screen.  “Well, fuck me!  I didn’t think of that!”

“I’ll take two teeth, or one ear.  Your choice.”

“Come on, man!  Please….”

Wyatt interrupted.  “Hold up!  You still have a chance.  John is trying to tear himself loose.”

Seth turned the volume up on the laptop.  John was screaming as he ripped the hooks from his dick and balls.  He was destroying himself in his frenzied attempt for survival.  Barry started yelling at the screen.  “Do it, you piece of shit!  Rip yourself loose!”

About that time, the balloon shot up into the sky as John started falling.  Barry was excited.  “Pull your chute, you dumb fuck!  Pull it!”

Everyone was focused on the screen, waiting to see what was going to happen as John struggled to find his ripcord.  When he finally got hold of it, Barry shouted, “Fucking A!  He’s going to do it!”

When the pack opened, pots, pans and other camping gear came flying out.  Barry’s eyes grew huge.  “What the fuck?  That’s cheating!”

Wyatt was laughing as he watched the camping gear drop from the sky towards the ground.  It reminded him of the parachute gag he’d seen in cartoons when he was a kid.  “I think it’s funny as shit.”

Missy was laughing too.  “That’s my man.”

Kenneth was shaking his head.  “Damn, Seth!  That’s fucked up.”

Wyatt noticed something else had come out of the pack.  It looked like a large banner with something written on it.  “What is that?”

Everyone stared at the screen trying to see what it was as John franticly searched for the ripcord to his backup parachute.  Kenneth was trying to read the banner each time John’s camera faced that direction, but it was twisting around too much in the wind.  “It has Missy written on it, but I can’t tell what else it says.”

Missy looked closer.  “Why is my name on it?” 

Seth acted confused.  “I’m not sure how that got in there.”

Suddenly, the banner straightened out just long enough for her to read, Missy, Will You Marry Me.  When she turned around, Seth was on his knees holding a skull ring.  “Will you?”

“Of course, I will!  How can I say no to a proposal like that?”  She gave him a hug, then a kiss.

Barry started shouting.  “He’s got it!  He’s got the ripcord!”

Everyone looked as John deployed his backup parachute.  Barry was ecstatic as it came out of the pack.  “He did it!  I’m going to win!”

The sudden jerk of the chute opening caused John’s intestines to rip through his parietal peritoneum membrane where Seth had cut him across his abdomen.  His intestines came flying out of him, continuing to fall at a high rate of speed.  Within a fraction of a second, they had completely unraveled out of his abdominal cavity.  The weight of his intestines combined with their speed was only the precursor to his stomach, part of his esophagus and anus being ripped out of him.  Blood was gushing out of John’s open cavity, mouth, nose and rear end as he swung from the parachute.  By the time he hit the ground, he had bled to death.  Barry was pissed as he glared at Seth.  “You knew all along that was going to happen!  That’s cheating!”

“No, it’s not.”

“Fuck if it isn’t!  You had the advantage by knowing that would happen.”

“If you had inside knowledge that a boxer was ill, would you bet on his opponent to win?”

“That’s different.”

“No, it’s not.  You owe me a grand, or some body parts.”

“Fuck you!”

Seth started dancing.  “I’m getting me a tooth necklace.”

“You’re not getting shit!”

“We’ll see about that.”

Allen was sitting on the floor covered in dried blood.  He was appalled by the actions of Seth and his friends.  Even though soreness had set into his wounds and he had a severe headache, he couldn’t hold his tongue anymore.  “You people are fucking crazy!”

They all turned around and looked at him.

“What the fuck is wrong with y’all?  Don’t y’all have any respect for human life?”

Kenneth glared at him.  “That means a lot coming from a woman beater.”

“Fuck you!  That was an accident!”

Barry laughed.  “How in the fuck does your fist accidently punch a woman to death?”

“Fuck you too!”

“Fuck me?  Fuck you, you demented piece of shit!  You can burn in Hell!”

“Demented?  You’re the one that made a game out of killing that man!  And look what you’re making us do!  You’re the one that’s going to burn in Hell!”

“You don’t know shit.”

“I know you were more worried about losing a bet than that man’s life!  You should be ashamed of yourself!”  He glared at Seth.  “And you!  You’re the sickest fuck of all—murdering a man so you can propose to a woman in some twisted way!”  He looked at Missy.  “And you fucking accepted like it was no big deal!  Y’all are a bunch of sick fucks!”

Seth lit a cigarette and took a long, slow drag.  “Us sick fucks have one more round of boxing to see, so I suggest you get to it.”

Allen picked up his hammer.  “Fuck you!  I’m done playing your game!”

“You have two choices.  Fight, or be rehabilitated into a human shit factory like that fucker.”  Seth pointed at Jimmy. 

Allen started pacing.  “Fuck!  You have no right to do this!”

“That’s fine.”  He looked at Kenneth and Wyatt.  “Take his ass to the RV so I can show him what sick really is.”

Allen changed his attitude.  “You win, asshole!  I’ll do it!”

Seth looked at Harvey as he was lying on his side.  “Get your ass up.”

Harvey was covered in blood.  “I can’t.  My head is killing me!”

“I’ll be killin’ you if you don’t.”

Harvey was in excruciating agony as he stood to his feet.  “I’m very dizzy.  I don’t think I can go on.”

“Then just stand there and let Allen win.”  Seth looked at Barry then tapped his wrist.  “Start the timer.”

Barry was still pissed.  “Not until you say you cheated.”

“I think I’d rather have a penis necklace.”

Barry gritted his teeth.  “You’re an asshole!”  He started his stopwatch.

Seth yelled at Allen and Harvey.  “Get to it!”

Allen took a deep breath, knowing he had no choice, then started hitting himself in the face.  Harvey was scared to death of what Seth would do to him if he lost, so he started hitting himself as hard as he could in the forehead.  Allen noticed what he was doing, so he started hitting himself in the forehead too.  Both men were screaming as they desperately tried to knock themselves out.  Allen quickly became dazed and fell to all fours.  Kenneth was off to the side shouting, “Don’t stop!  Keep going!”

Allen sat up on his knees and started hitting himself again.  He had inflicted so much damage to his brain, that he was losing the ability to control his arms.  He was only able to take a swing every few seconds.  Kenneth was irate, yelling at him to hit faster.

Harvey had collapsed onto his knees as well.  His blood-covered body was swaying back and forth as he continued hitting himself in the head.  Kenneth could tell Harvey was on the verge of passing out.  He didn’t want to lose the bet, so he grabbed the hammer from Allen and swung it as hard as he could towards his head.  As soon as the hammer struck him, a loud boom echoed out, startling Kenneth.  “What the fuck was that?”  His eyes got big when he noticed Harvey was laying on his back and there was blood splattered across the floor.  “What happened to him?”

Seth looked excited.  “He knocked out his fucking brains.”

“Hold up!  That’s fucking impossible.”

Seth reached out.  “Where’s my five-hundred bucks?”

Kenneth examined Harvey, noticing the back of his skull was missing and brain matter was spattered on the floor.  “You fucking shot him in the head!”

“No I didn’t.”

“Bullshit!  I heard the gunshot.”

“You heard the impact of him knocking the fuck out of himself.”

“Bullshit!  There’s no way a hammer could do that.” 

“How would you know?  You were too busy hitting Allen in the head with his hammer.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Where’s my money?”

“Money?  You fucking cheated!”

“And you didn’t?  You’re just mad that I beat you to the punch.”

Allen sat up, rubbing his head.  “Did I win?”

Seth laughed.  “No, but I did.”  He looked at Kenneth.  “Time to pay the piper, pal.”

Retarded Smurfs

Kenneth was still outraged, proclaiming that Seth had cheated.  “I didn’t lose, so I don’t owe you shit.”

Barry was mad too.  “And I don’t owe you shit either.”

Seth laughed.  “Okay, you fucking crybabies.  I’ll let you welsh on your bets.”

Kenneth and Barry, fuming, commenced to yelling at Seth, who started to lose his cool.  Missy intervened before they got into it.  “Hey!  There are three more scumbags to deal with, so chill out.”

Seth nodded.  “She’s right.  We can settle our bets on them.”

She shook her head.  “That’s not what I meant.”

Kenneth liked Seth’s idea.  “What do you have in mind?”

“I’ll give them poison, and we can bet on who will last the longest.  There are three of them, so we each get to pick one.”

“I’m in, but we’re all putting in two grand.”

Barry nodded.  “That’s fine.”

Seth looked at him.  “You already owe me a thousand bucks, or some body parts.  And if you lose again, you’ll owe even more.”

“I have it covered.”

“Sure, you do.”

They walked over to the men laying on the floor gagged and hogtied.  Kenneth pointed to a skinny Mexican man with a shaved head with a teardrop tattoo under his right eye and gang-related tattoos scattered across his body.  “I choose this fucker.”

Seth flipped through his folder, stopping on a page with the man’s information.  “That’s Victor Ramirez.  He’s a serial rapist.”

Victor started jerking around and yelling through his gag.  “Fuck you!  I will kill your ass!”

Barry pointed to a man in his mid-twenties sporting slicked back hair and a long beard, resembling a hipster.  “I choose him.”

Seth flicked a few more pages.  “His name is Byron Reed.  He molested his three-year-old daughter.”

The third man looked like a bum.  He was older, around fifty, had long shaggy hair and an unkempt beard.  Seth scanned the remaining pages.  “Let’s see what kind of pervert I got stuck with.”  He stopped on his page.  “Roy Murphy.  He kidnapped a woman, locked her in his basement, and raped her for several weeks before she escaped.”

Roy was blubbering through his gag.  “Please don’t do this!”

Seth knelt beside him.  “Sucks being held against your will, doesn’t it?”

“You have no right to do this to me.”

“I’m sure Sarah felt the same way when you were indulging yourself and maintaining her as your sex slave.”

“I served my time!”

“I’m glad you think so.”  He grabbed him by the legs before directing his attention to Barry and Wyatt.  “Grab the other two assholes.”  They dragged the men over to where Allen remained chained.  Seth glanced over at Barry and Wyatt.  “Go get Allen off the floor and hang him on the wall in the RV.”

Allen’s head was so swollen he looked like a mongoloid, his entire face covered in bruises and lacerations; patches of skin peeled back from the blows of the hammer exposing muscle.  His battered face displaying a crooked nose, puffy lips and both eyes swollen completely shut.  Several of his front teeth had been knocked out or were broken off at the gum, exposing the nerve roots and intensifying the pain and throbbing of his face.  He could barely speak as he lay in a pool of his own blood.  “Are you taking me to the hospital?”

Seth shook his head.  “Not right now.”

“What about my penis?”

Seth tied a cord to it and hung it around his neck.

“Hold up!  You said I was going to get it sewn back on.”

“No I didn’t.  I said you were going to get it back, and you have.”

His unintelligible curses, distorted by the gruesome damage he had inflicted upon himself, were disregarded by Seth as Barry and Wyatt dragged him out of the building.  While they were gone, Kenneth started fastening a separate chain to each of the three men.  Missy was filling 26 ml, extended-release capsules with a white powder, and Seth was mixing some chemicals in a bowl.  Satisfied it was the perfect amalgamation, he filled a large syringe with the concoction.  He charged Kenneth with the task of restraining the men as he injected the mixture into their penises and testicles.  He filled another syringe with a different drug and injected them in the back of their throats.  He also commanded each of the reprobates to swallow two of the capsules Missy had filled with the powder.

When Wyatt and Barry got back, he had them remove the gags and untie the men.  Victor jumped to his feet and started wrenching at his chain like a wild animal as he threatened to kill everyone.  Byron was shouting that Seth and his accomplices were going to prison.  Roy was pacing back and forth, blaspheming and making threats of his own to Seth’s tyrannizing faction of vigilantes for justice.

Seth got his group’s attention.  “I’m going to explain to the perverts what I’ve concocted for them, so y’all listen up too.”  He faced the men.  “I have good news and bad news.  The bad….”

Victor charged him, jolted to a stop by the chain fastened to him.  “Fuck you!  I’m going to fuckin’ kill you, motherfucker!”

“You might want to pay attention....”

“Fuck you, gringo!”

Roy and Byron, uniting their voices with Victor’s, launched into another tirade.

Seth shrugged his shoulders.  “Fuck it!  Y’all let me know when the poison kicks in.”  He walked to the row of chairs and sat down next to Missy.

Kenneth sat down on the other side of Seth.  “What kind of poison did you give them?”

“Strychnine.”

“Isn’t that the shit in rat poison?”

“Yeah, but they were dosed with enough to kill a horse.”

“Why did you inject it in their dicks and balls?”

“I didn’t.  That was the antidote.”

Kenneth gritted his teeth.  “I’m sure it is.  And why can’t you just do something normal?”

“And what is the norm for sick, murdering bastards like us?”

“You know what I mean.  You don’t always have to involve dicks and asses.”

Wyatt, sitting on the other side of Missy, leaned forward and looked at Seth.  “So how long will it take to kill them?”

“The poison is in extended-release capsules, so it will be slowly released.  They should start feeling the effects pretty soon.”

Barry was sitting on the other side of Wyatt.  “Are they going to just fall over dead?”

“You know I’m not that generous.”

“Can’t they just throw up the poison?”

“No.  I injected their throats with an anesthetic to numb their gag reflexes.”  Seth became aware of Victor leaning forward with his hands on his knees.  Roy and Byron appeared to be ailing as well.  Seth yelled at them.  “Are y’all ready to listen now?”

Roy nodded.  “Yeah.”  He was holding his stomach.  “What did you give me?”

Seth sauntered back over to the men.  “I’ve given each of you strychnine, which is a highly toxic poison.  In fact, it only takes 16 ml to kill a human.  Y’all received 52 ml.”

Byron started wailing.  “Oh my God!  I don’t want to die!”

“Dying is the least of your worries.  You’re probably already feeling the effects of the poison and don’t even realize it.  It starts with the muscles in the head, triggering spasms as it works its way down through the body.”

Roy panicked.  “Oh shit!  I’m already having them!  Why are you doing this?”

“Because you’re a fucking rapist.”

Byron’s eyes widened.  “Hold up!  I haven’t done anything!”

“I know.  You’re innocent right along with the other child molesters.”

“Please don’t do this, I beg you!  I served my time!  You have no right to do this to me!  Please call an ambulance!”

Victor looked at Seth.  “Fuck you, dude!  I’m not going to beg like these pussies!’

Wyatt yelled out.  “I bet he’ll be begging like a bitch before it’s over.”

Seth fixed his gaze on Wyatt.  “That would be asinine for me to take that bet.  But, I’ll bet on who will beg the most.”

“Fifty bucks that Victor does.”

Kenneth shook his head.  “Hold up!  I’ve already bet on the Mexican.”

“You bet he’d be the last one alive.  I’m saying he’ll beg the most.”

Barry pointed at Roy.  “I’ll take him for fifty.”

Missy wanted in on the action.  “I’ll take Byron.”

Byron couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  “What is wrong with you people?  Don’t you have any decency?”

Seth nodded.  “Of course, we do.  We could have put the poison in quick-release capsules.”

“You’re fucking sick!  All of you are!”

Roy was holding his jaw.  “Something’s wrong with my mouth!”

Seth glanced at his watch.  “Yep, it’s been twenty minutes.  The effects of the poison are pretty darn predictable.  You’re experiencing lockjaw.  Next, the poison is going to cause rictus grin.  That’s where your facial muscles will have an abnormal, sustained spasm, producing a grin.  After that, the spasms will spread to every muscle in your body, with continuous convulsions.  The convulsions will intensify until your backbone arches and twists, turning you into a human pretzel.  You’ll also experience random symptoms such as sweating, cramping, seizures, rapid breathing, fast heartbeat and high blood pressure.  Eventually, you’ll turn blue like a fucking Smurf.  The final stages include kidney and respiratory failure, cardiac arrest, multiple organ failure and brain death.”

Roy grimaced in terror.  “I can’t believe you’ve done this to me!”  He stuck his fingers in his throat, trying to make himself vomit.

“How’s that working out for you?”

He glared at Seth.  “What the fuck?  I can’t feel my throat.”

“I numbed it so you can’t puke.”

“Please don’t do this!  I’m begging you!  I’ll do whatever you want if you help me!”

“You don’t need my help.  You already have the antidote.”

A wave of relief washed over Roy.  “Where’s it at?”

“Remember the injections you got in your cock and balls?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s it.  Each of you holds a mixture of activated charcoal, phenobarbital and dantrolene in your dick and both testicles.”

Victor was angry.  “What kind of sick game is this?”

“A fun one.”

“Fuck you!  You’re an evil piece of shit!  You’re not going to get away with this!”

Byron was sobbing.  “My face is starting to hurt!”

Seth recognized Byron’s funny looking smile.  “Rictus grin is setting in, so you better decide what you’re going to do.”

“Please don’t do this!  I can’t live without my penis!”

“Sure, you can, but it’ll be your choice to decide if you’d rather live without your dick or die a gruesomely painful, agonizing death.”

Roy was even more petrified by this as his facial muscles contracted from the unceasing spasms.  “I’m getting worse!  If I eat just one of my nuts, will that be enough?”

“Not sure.  I don’t know how much of the antidote you’ll need, so it’s up to you if you want to risk only eating one nut, two nuts, a penis, a penis and a nut, or all three.”

Victor was furious.  “Fuck you, dude!  I’ll fucking die before I play your fucking game!”

“If that’s what you want then, it’ll be just as fun watching you squeal like a pig as your insides melt.”

“You don’t know who you’re fucking messing with!”

“The way you’re drooling on yourself, I’d say a fucking retard.”

Victor suddenly realized his face was numb and slobber was running down his chin.  “You’re gonna pay for this, you motherfucker!”

Roy had put two and two together, realizing Seth was the Angel of Death.  He had read plenty of articles about him and learned about the kind of games he played with his victims.  “I know who you are!”

Seth shrugged his shoulders.  “And?”

Victor looked at Roy.  “You know this motherfucker?”

Roy didn’t want to say, worrying it would upset Seth.  “No.”

“You said you did.”

“I was mistaken.”

Severe muscle spasms wreaked havoc throughout Byron’s body and he was inundated with fear of dying.  He scrutinized Seth, knowing the only chance he had at survival was to play this twisted game.  “How am I supposed to get the antidote out of my penis and testicles?”

“By ripping them apart and eating them.”

He was stunned and revolted at the same time.  “You can’t be serious!”

“As much as the heart attack you’re fixin’ to have.”

“Oh my God!  This can’t be happening!”  He got on his knees and started begging.  “Please don’t do this!  I’m begging you!  I don’t want to die!  I’ll do whatever you want if you call an ambulance!  Please show mercy!  I’m sorry for what I’ve done!”

Roy had already discerned this to be the scenario that would play out.  “Can I have a knife?”

“What do you think?”  Seth turned to walk away, but then paused as if he had a sudden thought.  “I forgot to mention, if I was in y’all’s predicament, I wouldn’t tear off my shit, I’d rip off someone else’s.”  He strolled back to the group, sat next to Missy and lit a cigarette in anticipation of the next phase of the evening’s entertainment.

Victor hadn’t considered getting the antidote from one of the other men.  He started contemplating his options, sizing up the other two men.  Roy could tell what he was thinking.  “Fuck you, grease ball!  You come near me, I’ll kill your ass!”

Victor studied Byron, thinking he’d be easier.  Byron shook his head.  “You stay away from me!”

The men started examining each other, trying to determine their next move.  Their faces were drooping, bodies twitching and they were slobbering on themselves.  They resembled men of the Old West in a standoff.  But more like a standoff between retards.

Seth knew they didn’t have much time left—Roy was turning blue, Byron was sweating profusely and Victor was having a hard time keeping his back straight.  “You fuckers better do something quick.  Looks like y’all are on the expressway to Hell.”

Roy knew his best chance for survival was to take out Victor; he was the biggest threat.  If he could get Byron to help him, together they could overpower Victor and rip the antidote from him.  If he needed more, he figured he could easily take Byron out.  Roy looked at Byron, then nodded towards Victor.  “Help me take him down.  We can share his antidote.”

Byron was in a lot of pain and all he could think about was making it stop.  “Okay.”

Victor was holding out his fists.  “Bring it on, motherfuckers!  I’ll fucking kill you!”

Roy and Byron charged him, smashing him to the floor.  Byron sat on Victor’s chest to hold him down as Roy sat on his legs to prevent him from kicking. 

Victor grabbed at Byron’s face, trying to gouge his eyes.  “Get the fuck off me, you fucking faggot!”

Byron seized his arms, holding them down.  “Stop trying to claw me, asshole!”

Victor was so angry he was slobbering as he yelled.  “I’m going to fucking kill you!”

Roy grabbed Victor’s ball sack and tore it apart, then proceeded to yank his testicles from his body.  He shoved them into his mouth and started chewing as he jerked on Victor’s penis.  He showed no mercy, behaving like a savage—his desire to live overshadowed his humanity.

Victor was violently twisting and turning to free himself and howled when Roy tore his penis from his body.

Kenneth, shaking his head, watched as Roy chewed on the severed penis.  “Dammit, Seth!  This is gay as fuck!”

Seth laughed.  “You’re just mad because Victor might bleed out and you’ll lose the bet.”

After swallowing the penis, Roy stood up and staggered off to the side.  Byron quickly rolled off Victor and stepped away from him.  Victor reached down and felt of his groin, only to discover his penis and balls missing.  Horror-struck, he stared at his bloodstained hands and clinched his teeth.  “You fuckers are going to pay for this!”

Byron reached out towards Roy.  “Give me some of the antidote.”

Roy looked down at the floor to hide his guilt-ridden expression.

Byron’s eyes traveled to Roy’s blood-covered hands and noted that they were empty.  “Where’s it at?”

“It’s all gone.”

Anger raged through him.  “You sorry bastard!  Half of that was mine!”  Byron tackled him, bashing him to the floor.  Being stronger, he easily pinned Roy to the floor and sat on his stomach.  He grabbed his throat and started choking him.  “I’m going to fucking kill you!”

Roy’s eyes, huge as fifty-cent pieces, grabbed at Byron’s hands.  He was almost to the point of passing out when his adrenaline surged, powering him with enough strength to loosen Byron’s chokehold from his neck.  “I’ll throw it up!  I’ll throw it!  Please stop!”

Bryon continued holding him down.  “I’m not eating your fucking puke, asshole!”  He started choking him again.  “I’m going to take it from your fucking balls!  How do you like that?”

Kenneth was frustrated.  “What the hell is wrong with these fuckers?”

Seth looked at him.  “It’s called survival.”

“The motherfucker doesn’t have to eat the man’s twig and berries since he offered to throw up the antidote.”

“If he did that, you do know he’d be eating partially digesting twig and berries?”

Kenneth put his hand over his mouth, trying not to get sick.

Roy was still pleading as he continued to fight off Byron.  “I’m sorry!  I was just scared of dying!  Please let me throw up!”

“Fuck you!”

Roy started punching Byron in the face as he fought to breathe. 

Barry was yelling at Byron.  “Keep choking him!  Kill that motherfucker!”

Seth encouraged Roy.  “Rip out his fucking eye!”

A few minutes later, Roy passed out.  Byron kept squeezing his throat, intending to hold on until Roy was dead.

Barry was thrilled as he pointed at Seth.  “You’re out, fucker!”

Seth shook his head.  “What a fucking pussy.”

Barry looked at Kenneth.  “You better get ready to pay up when my boy takes out your fuckin’ Mexican.”

“You better hope so, because I’m going to take a lot more than some teeth from your ass.”

When Byron spun around to get his antidote, he stared in stunned silence at Roy’s groin.  It was covered in blood and his penis and testicles were gone.  He looked at Victor, suddenly aware he was eating something.  “That’s mine!”  He stormed toward him, but Victor had already started running, being mindful of the chain attached to him.  Victor chewed Roy’s extricated penis and balls as fast as he could though Byron continued to chase him around.

Once Victor swallowed all the parts, he stopped and held out his fists.  “It’s gone, white boy!  You can go fuck yourself!”

Byron tackled him and they crashed to the floor, rolling around and punching each other.  So much time had passed since they ingested the poison that their skin had turned a disturbing hue of blue.  They were sweating profusely and their faces were distorted by the incessant muscle spasms.  Their bodies tremored from the wracking spasms. 

Missy started laughing.  “They look like retarded Smurfs with Parkinson’s disease.”

Byron had Victor in a headlock as they writhed and trembled on the floor.  His only hope at survival now was to get the antidote back.  “Throw the shit up, asshole!”

Victor, having lost a lot of blood, was too weak to get out of the headlock.  “Let me go, you fucking puta madre!”

“Fuck you!  I’ll kill your ass!”

“I said get the fuck off me!”  He started clawing at Byron’s face.

Byron squeezed Victor’s neck as hard as he could with the little strength he had left in him.  “Die, you fucking Mexican!  Die!”

Victor managed to sink his fingers into his left eye, inducing enough pain that Byron let go and rolled off to the side screaming.  Victor climbed on him, sitting backwards, and grabbed his ball sack and tore it open.  He pulled on his testicles, stretching the spermatic cords until they snapped in two, then he started twisting his penis until it tore from his body.  Victor haltingly stood up and tossed the severed parts onto Byron’s chest.  “There’s your antidote, you fucking cocksucker!”

Byron was in so much pain from the poison that he didn’t hesitate swallowing his own penis and testicles.

Kenneth was confused.  He yelled at Victor.  “What the fuck is wrong with you, you stupid Mexican?  Why did you give him that?”

Victor flipped him off with both hands.  “Fuck you, ese!  And fuck your juego, you negro pedazo de mierda!”

Kenneth was consumed by anger after Victor called him a black piece of shit.  “You fucking bastard!”  He strode up to Victor, pulled out a Glock 29, and shot him in the face.

Barry was excited.  “I fucking won!”

Byron was sitting on the floor with his head down.  Kenneth pointed the gun at him and blew his brains out.  “No, you didn’t.”

“Bullshit!  Byron was the last one alive!”

Kenneth nodded towards Roy.  “He’s still breathing.”

Seth laughed.  “Fucking A!  I got me some teeth and an ear!”

Missy shook her head.  “Ouch!  That sucks for you Barry.”

Barry became irate.  He glared at Kenneth with hate filled eyes.  “Why in the fuck did you do that to Byron if you knew Roy was still alive?  He could have easily taken him out!”

“The fucker already had his chance when he was choking him.”

“Fuck that!  I didn’t lose!”

Kenneth laughed.  “Fuck if you didn’t.  Roy is still alive.”

Barry ran over to Roy.  He started stomping on his head as he shouted, “This is fucking bullshit!  You motherfuckers have fucked me for the last time!”

Seth stepped outside to get away from all the noise, followed by Kenneth, Wyatt and Missy.  Seth looked at his watch, noticing it was almost 1 PM.  “Damn!  We spent too much time here.  We need to get rollin’.”  He focused on Wyatt.  “When numbnuts gets through throwing his temper tantrum, y’all put the bodies in the freezer.”

“What about Jimmy?  He’s still alive.”

“Toss his ass in there too.”

“Okay.”  He went back into the building.

Kenneth pointed.  “There’s a dumpster.  Why don’t you just throw them in there?”

Seth lit a cigarette.  “That’d be a waste.”

“Waste?  What else are you planning on doing with them?”

“They’re my souvenirs.”

“Of course, they are.”

Sack Full of Heads

Kenneth was ready to go.  “Where’re we heading next?”

“San Antonio.”

“Can I go ahead and get on the road?”

“We’re going to travel together.”

“I can save us time and start rounding up the scumbags.”

“No need.  I hired some local guys to round them up.  They’re already waiting for us in a barn.  I also did the same thing for Houston.”

He was a little aggravated.  “Was I not good enough to do it?”

“That’s not it.  San Antonio and Houston are large cities and it would take too long to round up just a handful of scumbags.  Anyway, the police could be on our trail by now and we can’t risk hanging around one area too long.”

“That makes sense, but you know I enjoy the hunt.  The shit you do is boring.”

“I tell you what.  We’ll do some hunting right after we stop in San Antonio.”

“Really?  I thought you didn’t like killing animals.”

“Not four-legged animals.”

His eyes grew big.  “Oh, cool!  He thought for a moment.  “There isn’t going to be any gay shit is there?”

“Nope.”

“Good.  So, who are we going to hunt?”

“We’ll take some of the scumbags that we’re getting from San Antonio to a wooded area.”

Wyatt appeared outside and huffed up to Seth.  “I need to move Roy to the RV, but Barry is still in there kicking the shit out of him.”

Seth laughed.  “That fucker needs help.”

Kenneth shook his head.  “And you don’t?”

Seth went into the building to check on Barry.  He was still stomping on Roy’s head, disregarding that it was already flattened like a pancake with blood and brains strewn across the floor.  Seth motioned to him.  “Stop acting like a spoiled brat and let’s go.”

He was panting heavily and his shoes, socks and jeans were covered in blood.  “I don’t owe you shit!  You fuckers cheated!”

“I didn’t do shit.”

“Kenneth did!  And where’s my two grand?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I would have won.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Kenneth killed his own player.  Byron was the only one left standing, and he would have easily finished off Roy seeing as he was practically dead.”

“Not necessarily.  Roy might have surprised us.  But, we’ll never know now.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“We’ll come up with another tiebreaker later.”

“I don’t think so.  I’m not betting with you cheating fucks anymore.”

Missy walked up to Barry.  “Where’s my fifty bucks?”

He was confused.  “What are you talking about?”

“Byron begged the most.  I won the bet.”

“They all begged.  How can you say he out-begged the others?”

“Because he’s the only one that got on his knees and begged like a bitch.”  She held out her hand.  “Now pay up.”

Barry continued throwing a fit.  “Dammit!  This is bullshit!  I get fucked out of my winning bet, and now you think I should pay you?”

“You either come up with fifty bucks or one of your front teeth.  Your choice, ass-wipe.”

“What’s the deal with you and Seth wanting fucking teeth?  You fuckers are crazy!”

She pulled a pair of pliers from her pocket.  “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

Barry high-tailed it into the RV, locking himself in the bathroom. 

Missy banged and pounded on the door.  “You better be in there pulling out a tooth!”

Ignoring her, he didn’t say a word.

“That’s fine.  You’ll have to sleep sometime.”  She sashayed to the front and sat in the passenger seat.

Seth drove the RV and the trucks were driven by Kenneth and Wyatt.  Around 3 PM, they arrived in San Antonio.  Seth took them to the east side where there was an old industrial complex.  He pulled into a run-down, metal building and quickly closed the rollup door to hide their vehicles.  Seth gathered everyone, except for Barry, still hiding from Missy in the bathroom.  “I’ve owned this building for quite a while, so I know it’s safe.  Y’all are going to stay here while I collect the scumbags, so if you need to rest, now’s the time.  I paid some local guys to round them up, so all the hard, time consuming work has been done.”

Kenneth was concerned.  “How do you know you can trust them?”

“I don’t.  That’s why I’m going in alone.”

“That isn’t smart doing it by yourself.  They could try something.”

Seth was wearing a black jacket that nobody recognized and it seemed abnormally bulky.  “Exactly the reason I chose to change into this gear for the retrieval.”  He held open one side of the jacket to show the thickness.  “Between the layers, I’ve installed fifty, one-inch long nipples with end caps.  They’re filled with buckshot and inserted all the way around my jacket; the nipples connected to high-pressure hoses.”  He opened the other side, exposing a tank.  “The hoses are connected to this CO2 tank with 4500 PSI.”  He held out his hand, revealing a switch.  “Pressing this will release the gas, which will in turn blast buckshot out of my jacket from all sides.”

Kenneth remained apprehensive.  “That’s a dandy idea, MacGyver, but what if they ratted to the cops and you get busted.”

“I have someone on the inside watching for narcs, but I’m prepared for that too in the off chance someone reported me, by lining my jacket with explosives.”

Missy was livid.  “Why in the hell would you want to blow yourself to pieces?”

“Because I’m not going to prison.”

Kenneth wasn’t comfortable with the idea of Seth going alone.  “I’m going with you.”

Wyatt nodded.  “Me too.”

“Okay.  One of you can go, but only as a lookout.  Whoever stays must keep an eye on Spanky.  And if shit goes wrong, get Missy out of here.”

It just dawned of Kenneth that Barry wasn’t around anywhere.  “Speaking of that fucker, where is he?”

“In the RV pouting.”

“Why isn’t he helping?”

“He’s in one of his moods.”

“That’s bullshit!  Here we are risking our necks while yet again acting like a spoiled brat.”  Kenneth yanked open the RV door and bellowed.  “Spanky!  Get your ass out here!”

No response emanated from the RV.

“If you don’t get out here, I’m coming in there to beat your ass!”

Barry came to the door, irate as hell.  “What the fuck do you want?”

Kenneth saw that an upper incisor was missing and cackled loudly.  “Nice grill.  I take it Seth got a down payment?”

“Seth didn’t do this!  And it’s not funny!  Look what you bastards have done to me!  How am I supposed to get women with only one eye and a missing front tooth?”

“I know, since you were such a chick magnet before.”

“Fuck you!  You don’t know shit!”

Missy walked up.  “Stop pouting like a baby.”

Kenneth observed that she had a new tooth earring.  “Is that what I think it is?”

“Yep.”  She folded her earlobe forward.  “I glued a stud to it.”

“Isn’t that crafty.”

“Fuck the both of you!”  Barry slammed the door shut.

Kenneth announced his abruptly made decision to Seth.  “I’m not staying here and babysitting the fucker.”

“You can go if you stay at a safe distance.”

“That’s fine.”

Seth handed Wyatt a firearm.  “If you don’t hear from me before midnight, put a bullet in Spanky’s head, torch the RV, then get yourself and Missy out of town.”

Missy was worried.  “Maybe you should skip this one.  It sounds too risky.”

Wyatt didn’t want him to go either.  “I think you should skip it too.”

Seth noticed it was 4 PM.  “I don’t have time to debate it.  We have to be at the meeting place way before it gets dark.”  Seth opened the door to the Toyota.  “Y’all don’t worry.  I’ve been doing this kind of shit for a long time.  If something doesn’t look right, I’ll abort it.”

Missy hugged him hard.  “You better.”

Kenneth got in on the passenger side and, Seth sped off in a hurry.  He drove to the outskirts of town and pulled up to a small gas station with a single bay garage.  Kenneth observed that the building was old.  “Why are we stopping here?”

“I’m meeting Bobby.  He’s my inside man.”

“This place looks like a scene from a fifties movie.”

“Stay here.  He’s expecting me to come alone.”

Seth got out and went into the garage where a man was working on a car.  Kenneth noticed the man was older, around mid-seventies.  He was wearing a dark-gray jumpsuit and his thinned hair was greased back, reminding him of the ducktail haircut.  A few minutes later, Seth got back in the truck and drove off.

“Was that Bobby?”

“Yep.”

“What’s the deal with the old-school look?”

“His dad opened the gas station back in the fifties.  Bobby grew up working there.  When his dad passed away, he took over.  He left it the same, probably for nostalgia.”

“It looks like he’s stuck in the fifties.”

“That’s what I just said.”

“I’m curious why an old man is helping you.”

“Same reason you are.  He’s tired of scumbags.”

“What did y’all talk about?”

“Just went over everything.”

“Does he know if the thugs you hired went to the police?”

“He doesn’t think so.”

“Doesn’t think so?  That’s not too convincing.”

“It’ll be fine.”

Seth was driving down a rural road, surrounded by nothing but farmland.  Kenneth was perplexed.  “Where are we?”

“South of Seguin.”

“And why are we way out in the middle of nowhere?”

“To pick up the scumbags.”

“It’s wide open.  Cops can see us coming for miles.”

“We’re coming in a backway to the wooded area of our meeting point.”

“Dude, I really don’t like this.”

“That’s why I wanted to come alone.”

A few miles down the road, Seth turned onto a gravel road.  He went down several miles.  The area had turned from farmland to woods.  He pulled off the road into an opening through some trees.  “We’re here.”

Kenneth was nervous.  “Fuck, dude!  You could have warned me!  The cops could already be here!”

“Chill out.  The meeting site is almost a mile to the south.”  Seth grabbed a backpack and got out.  “Let’s go.  It’s a long hike and it’s already five o’clock.  We’re going to run out of daylight if we don’t hurry.”

Kenneth traipsed behind Seth as they quickly hiked through the woods.  “I hope you know where you’re going.”

Seth held up a GPS unit.  “Why do you think I’m carrying this?”

“I thought that was a radio.  So how much further is it?”

“About a half a mile.  And try to be quiet.”

When they reached the top of a hill, Seth crouched down, easing into an opening that overlooked a valley.  He pulled out a pair of binoculars.

“Can you see them?”

“Two men.”

“Where are they?”

“In front of the barn.”

“I don’t see a barn.”

“It’s 1.4 miles away.”

“How can you see that far?”

“With these binoculars, I can see an insect perched on a leaf that’s half a mile away.”

“Who gives a fuck about bugs?  Do you see any cops?”

“No.”

“How many men are there?”

“I said I only see two.”

“Where are the scumbags?”

“Not sure.”

“How many more men do you think there are?”

“Not sure.”

“How long are we going to stay up here?”

“Until I’m comfortable.”

“How long will that be?”

“You’re as bad as Barry with all the questions.”

Kenneth sank to the ground and leaned back against a tree.  “Let me know when we’re heading out.”

“Okay.”

Kenneth eventually fell asleep waiting for Seth to give the signal to continue the mission.  He twitched awake, immediately searching for Seth, but found him to be missing.  His head sagging in frustration, he discovered the binoculars in his lap.  He peered around again, thinking he’d overlooked him the first time and wondered if Seth had just snuck off the take a piss.  Forgetting that he was supposed to be quiet, he called out for his friend.  “Seth!  Where are you?  Seth!”  He started wandering around.  “Seth!  Where in the fuck are you?”  When he didn’t find him nearby, it crossed his mind he might have ventured out to meet the men alone.  He quickly picked up the binoculars and began combing the landscape for the barn.  When he located it, his eyes magnified to twice their normal size as he gawked at decapitated bodies posed in lewd sexual positions.  He couldn’t believe what he was seeing and questioned his perceptions.  It looked like an orgy from Hell.  What the fuck, he thought?  He examined each of the bodies one-by-one concluding, thankfully, Seth was not among them.  Peering around, he noticed something odd; a group of naked people was pulling an old horse-drawn cart and heading in his direction.  He zoomed in the binoculars and spotted Seth in the cart.  He lowered the binoculars and wondered to himself, what the fuck is going on around here?

A few minutes later, the nude cart pullers topped the hill.  Seth sternly called out to them.  “Whooooa, Nellie!”

When the group halted, Kenneth discerned that six men and three women were occupying the spots along the shafts of the cart.  Mouths sewn shut; their faces were covered in snot from being forced to breathe through their noses.  Seth was holding a gun in one hand and a whip in the other.  Kenneth silently questioned Seth with a disconcerted expression of bewilderment.  “What the hell is going on?”

Seth patted the seat.  “Jump on.  We need to get out of here before it gets dark.”

Kenneth climbed into the cart and sat next to him.  “Who are these people?”

“Our scumbags.”  Seth cracked the whip above their heads.  “Trot, you fuckers!”  They hauled ass lugging the cart through the woods.

Kenneth was flummoxed.  “I don’t understand what’s happening.  Why are you making them do this?”

“It’s simple.  I found the cart in the barn and didn’t feel like trekking back up the hill.”

“Don’t you think this is kind of weird?”

“Not really.”

“And what’s the deal with the decapitated bodies back there?”

“Those are the assholes I hired.  They tried to fuck me over.”

“I told you that was going to happen, but why are they positioned like that?”

“Because they like to fuck people over.”

“Damn, Seth!  You do some of the most bizarre shit sometimes.”

A couple of the bare-assed degenerates pulling the cart glanced back, yelling through their stitches.  Kenneth was shaking his head.  “Why did you sew their mouths closed?”

“Didn’t feel like hearing them bitch and whine.”

“Of course, you didn’t.”

“Barry’s infantile tantrums are still ringing in my ears.”

Kenneth laughed.

When the group reached the truck, Seth strong-armed them into the camper shell, then forced them to give each other a tranquilizer shot.  Seth pulled out of the wooded area and keyed up on his two-way radio.  “Swamp Fox!”

“Go ahead.”

“All is well.  We should be back in about an hour.”

“Ten-four.”

Built-up tension drained from Kenneth as they drove down the road.  “I’m glad that’s over.  I was so worried we were going to get busted.”

“It can get dicey when others are involved.”

“Especially when you turn it into a fucking circus.”

“I didn’t turn shit into a circus.  And I think it went smooth as hell.”

“Tell that to the police that have to investigate that mess.  I’m sure they’re going to freak out when they see all those headless bodies fucking each other.”

Seth and Kenneth laughed together as they thought about the reaction the cops would likely have to the grisly scene that awaited their arrival.

On the way back to the RV, Seth stopped by the old gas station.  Kenneth stayed in the truck when Seth carried a large sack into the garage.  He handed it to Bobby then they shook hands.

A few minutes later, Seth got back in the truck and took off.  Kenneth eyed him suspiciously.  “What did you give him?”

“A sack full of heads.”

“Is everyone you know fucking demented?”

“Yep.  Including you.”

He chucked to himself.

Bamboozled

The sun was setting as they pulled up to the building.  Wyatt opened the overhead door, allowing them to drive in.  Seth opened the back of the truck, then motioned for Wyatt to come over.  “Let’s get them moved into the RV.”  He looked around the building.  “Where’s Spanky?”

“He’s around here somewhere.”

“Is he still pouting?”

“A little.”

“Go get him so he can help.”

A few minutes later, Barry walked up.  He didn’t say anything as he stared at Seth.

“Don’t just stand there.  Help Wyatt move these assholes.”

“I’m waiting.”

“For what?”

“Your apology for cheating.”

“You still crying about that?  And I didn’t cheat.”

“I’m not fucking crying.  And fuck if you didn’t.”

Seth noticed Barry didn’t have a missing tooth anymore.  “What the fuck is that in your mouth?”

He lowered his top lip to conceal it.  “Nothing.”

“Bullshit!”

Wyatt laughed.  “It’s a white Chiclet.  He wedged it between his teeth to hold it in the gap.”

Barry became pissed.  “You don’t know shit!”

Seth reached out and tried to grab his lip.  “Let me see it.”

Barry stepped back.  “No!”

“At least your breath won’t stink.”

“It’s not funny.”

“I’m not laughing.  I think that was creative.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah.  You can sport an orange one for Thanksgiving, red for Christmas, pink for Valentine’s and a green one for Saint Patrick’s Day.”

“I knew you would have something smartass to say.”

“I’m just messing with you.  It looks fine.”

“Don’t patronize me!”

“Patronize?  That’s a mighty big word for you.”

He shook his genitals.  “I have something big for you right here.”

“To a fucking ant.”

“Ha, ha, motherfucker!”

Wyatt grabbed one of the men in the back of the truck and started pulling him out.  “Barry.  Grab his legs.  These fuckers aren’t going to move themselves.”

“I’m not doing shit until y’all make this right.”

“And how can we do that?”

“I want a gold tooth to replace the one Missy took.  And it better be solid gold.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah, and some kind of artificial eye.  A cool one, like a cat’s eye, so I don’t have to wear this stupid patch.  And I want Seth to admit he cheated and that I don’t owe him shit.”

Kenneth walked up laughing.  “A gold tooth and a fucking Halloween eye.  I’m sure the chicks will dig the retarded gangster look.”

“Screw you!  And I don’t see women flocking to your ass!  Your bald head looks like a fucking Milk Dud!”

Kenneth became angry.  “Fuck you, you little prick!”

Seth intervened before they got into it.  “Y’all chill out!”  He looked at Barry.  “If you want a gold tooth and a fucking Halloween prosthesis, I’ll get ‘em for you.”

“It has nothing to do with fucking Halloween, so y’all stop saying that.”

“Whatever.  You’ll be the one wearing it.”

“And what about your apology?”

“I told you I didn’t cheat.  You’re just trying to worm your way out of the bet.”

“You did cheat, and I’m not fucking paying you.”

“We’ll discuss that later.”

Missy walked up.  “Y’all still arguing over that shit?”

Barry looked as if he was going to cry.  “They’re trying to hoodwink me.”

Everyone started laughing.

“It’s not funny!”

Seth had an idea.  “I know how to fix it.  You think I cheated, and I think you’re trying to weasel out of a bet.  We’ll settle it with this group of assholes.”

Kenneth shook his head.  “Hold up!  I thought we were going to hunt them?”

“We are, but we’ll also be betting on who survives the longest.”

Kenneth pointed to a man that was stocky.  “I choose him.”

“You can’t pick until I get them ready.”

“Get them ready?  Aren’t you just going to let them go, then we hunt them down?”

“That would be boring.”

“Here we fucking go again!  You said you weren’t going to do anything fucked up.”

“That’s incorrect.  You asked if I was going to do any gay shit and I said no.”

Barry laughed at Kenneth.  “You got Bamboozled, fool.”

Seth looked at Barry.  “Bamboozled?  Hoodwink?  Patronize?  Where are you coming up with this shit?”

Wyatt pulled a small book from his pocket.  “He’s been reading this.”  He held it up so everyone could read the cover.  Words to Make You Sound Intelligant.  

Barry snatched it from him.  “You fucking thief!  That’s mine.”

Kenneth was shaking his head.  “Dude, you look like you’re the one that got bamboozled.  That book was written by an idiot.”

“Don’t start.  You’re just jealous that I’m bettering myself.”

“I’m being serious.  The author misspelled ‘intelligent’ on the cover?”

Barry looked at it.  “Uh…  You know what they say?  You can’t judge a book by its cover.”

“You know what?  You’re right.  It’s perfect for you.  A book written by an idiot for an idiot.”

He stuck it in his back pocket.  “Whatever, dude!”

Wyatt got Barry’s attention.  “Can we start moving these assholes?”

Barry and Wyatt started hauling the slimebags into the RV.  Seth handed Kenneth a folder.  “If you want, you can pick up William Fetterman in Uvalde and then meet us in Catarina.”

“I thought we were going to hunt theses assholes we have in the truck?”

“We are.  We’re taking them to a wildlife management area that’s to the east of Catarina.  Uvalde is on the way if you take Highway 90.  If we don’t pick him up now, we’ll have to backtrack later.”

“I don’t have a problem doing it now.  I was just making sure you weren’t changing your mind about the hunt.”

“Nope.”

“Then I’ll head on out.”

Seth looked at his watch.  “It’s almost ten o’clock.  Uvalde is about a two-hour drive from here.  Picking up William should take you about thirty minutes to an hour, but it’s another hour drive to Catarina, which means you will be arriving around 2 AM.  We’ll be at a truck stop when you first come into Catarina.  It’ll be on the right.”

“See you then.”  He took off towards his truck.

Barry ran up to Kenneth as he was driving off.  Kenneth stopped, letting him in the truck.  Wyatt marched up to Seth as they sped off.  “I know Barry didn’t just ditch my ass.”

“Yep.”

“I still have four more assholes to move.”

“Don’t get in a tizzy.  I’ll help you.”

“I didn’t think those two even liked each other.”

“It’s a love hate thing.”  Seth helped Wyatt move the rest of the unconscious delinquents into the RV.

Two hours later, Kenneth and Barry stopped at a rest area just outside of Uvalde.  Kenneth looked through the file Seth had given him on William.  He showed Barry a printout from Google Maps.  “William is staying here.”

Barry noticed the house was out in the country.  It was surrounded by farmland.  “This is good.  Less people.”

He read through some pages.  “Shit!  He lives with another dude named Isaac.  We’ll have to come up with a way to work around that.”

“We can fuck him up too.”

“I don’t think so.  It doesn’t have any information about him except that the house and land belong to his family.”  Kenneth showed him a picture of William.  “This is the dude we’re going after.”

The man in the photo was skinny, had big ears, eyes that were close together, hair cut like a mullet and a very sparse mustache.  “Nice trash-stash.”

“What the fuck is a trash-stash?”

“You know; the stereotypical, white trash mustache.  They’re thin with patches of missing hair.  It seems the trashier they are, the less they can fucking grow hair on their face.  But they sure in the fuck can grow a mullet.”

Kenneth laughed.

“And how old is this fucker?  He looks young.”

“Twenty-eight.”

“What the fuck did he do to get on the list?”

“Murdered an elderly woman when he stole her purse.  He did it when he was eighteen.  He just got paroled from prison for good behavior.”  Kenneth got out of the truck and stood between the open door and cab.  He opened a duffle bag and started changing his clothes.  He put on a bulletproof vest, covered by a black jacket.  Barry was sitting in the truck wearing gray sweatpants, a red t-shirt and white tennis shoes.  “You better change your clothes now.  We’re not stopping again until we get there.”

“This is all I have.”

“Dude!  You’re going to stand out.”

“I don’t give a fuck.”

Kenneth put on black tactical boots, black gloves and a black toboggan.  “You might not care if you get your ass shot, but I do.”

“Shot?  Do you think they have guns?”

Kenneth got in the truck.  “I’m sure.  They live in the country.”  Kenneth put William’s address in his GPS and sped off.

“Do you have another vest I can wear?”

He took a deep breath.  “Yeah.”

“Where’s it at?”

“In my bag.  It’s in the backseat.”

Barry leaned over the front seat and grabbed it.  He put on the vest, discovering it was too big.  He frowned at Kenneth.  “Do you have a smaller one?”

“Sure.  I run a tactical store out of my bag.”

Barry started digging through the bag again.  “I’m not seeing it.”

“Shit!  I might have sold out of the smaller ones.  Sorry.”

Barry sat forward in his seat, not realizing Kenneth was fucking with him.  “That’s fine.”

He turned onto a rural road.  A few miles down, he turned off his headlights and parked behind a group of cedar trees to conceal his truck.  “We’re here.”

“Where’s the house at?”

“About a quarter mile to the west.”

“It’s dark as shit out here.  How are we going to see?”

Kenneth held up a pair of night vision goggles.  “With these.”

“Those are cool.  Do you have a pair for me?”

“No.”  He grabbed a duffle bag and got out.  He handed another bag to Barry.  “Carry this one.”

He felt it was heavy.  “What the fuck do you have in here?”

“Supplies.”

“Are we going camping?”

“Don’t be a smartass.  And stay behind me.”  He started walking.

“Dude!  It’s fucking dark.  I can’t see.”

“Stop whining.”

“You better hope I don’t trip over something.”

“Do I need to hold your hand?”

“No.”

“Good.  Now stop talking.”

After a short distance, Barry was already tired.  “This bag is heavy as fuck.  Will you carry it?”

“No.”

“Come on, man.  You’re stronger than I am.”

“Be quiet before someone hears you.”

“You be quiet.”

Kenneth led Barry through a wooded area.  A few minutes later, they came to an opening in the trees.  “Don’t make any loud noises.  We’re here.”  Kenneth pulled out a pair of night vision binoculars.

“Hold up!  You said you didn’t have another pair of night vision goggles.”

“They’re not goggles.  They’re binoculars.”

“So, what.  I could have been using them.”

“Not while walking.  They’re magnified.”

“I think you’re just being stingy.”

“Hush.”

“You hush.”

“Seriously, you’re gonna get us shot if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

“Do you see someone with a gun?”

“No.”

“Then what do you see?”

“An old farmhouse with barns.  There are two trucks and a car outside.  The lights are on and I can see people moving around inside the house.  Looks like they’re having a small get together.”

“What the fuck are we going to do?”

“Don’t worry.  We have a few options.”

“This is a bad idea.”

“There’s also a dog running around outside.  Looks like a German Shepherd.”

“Dude, let’s just say fuck it.  There’re too many things that can go wrong.”

“Stop worrying.”  Kenneth dug through his bag and pulled out a balled-up piece of foil about the size of a tennis ball.

“What is that?”

“Meat laced with a mild tranquilizer.”  He handed it and a slingshot to Barry.  “Shoot that towards the house.”

Barry found a bell tied to the ball of foil.  “What’s the bell for?”

“To get the dog’s attention.”

“That’s smart.”  He shot the ball.

Kenneth was looking through the scope and watched as the foil ball landed about two-hundred feet from the house.  The dog took off running towards it.  “It’s working.”

“Did he find it?”

“Yep.”

“Is he eating it?”

“Looks like it.”

“What’s he doing now?”

“Walking around in circles.”  Kenneth kept his eyes on the dog, observing its every move until it finally lay down.  “I think he just fell asleep.”

“How are we going to know if he’s really out?”

“I’m gonna make you run over there to check.”

“Bullshit.”

Kenneth pulled out a dog whistle and blew it a few times.  “He’s not moving.  And I don’t see any other dogs coming out.  It’s safe to move in closer.”  He put his night vision goggles back on. 

“What about cameras?”

“There aren’t any.  Let’s go.”

“How do you know?”

“Most cameras installed outside have infrared lights, which can be seen through night vision lenses.”  Kenneth stopped next to the dog and examined him.  His evaluation uncovered the extent of neglect the dog was suffering from, being very skinny and covered in fleas.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure he’s okay.”

“Is he?”

“Yeah.”  He peered toward the house.

“What are you doing?”

“Shhh!”

“Don’t leave me hanging.”

“Be quiet before someone hears you.”

Barry could see people moving around inside the house.  “This is a bad idea.”

“I said be quiet.  I didn’t ask for your opinion.  You ask too many questions too.”

“I have to know what we’re doing so my anxiety doesn’t get out of control.”

“Just try to keep it down.”  It appeared to Kenneth that all of the doors and windows were closed.  He whispered to Barry.  “The house is closed up, which is what I was hoping for.  Stay behind me and try not to make any noise.”

“What are we doing?”

“We need to find the AC condenser or a plumbing cleanout.”

“For what?”

“Shut up, now!  And stay behind me.”  Kenneth crept to the back of the house, and locating the condenser, he knelt next to it.

“What are….”

“Shhh!”  He opened the bag Barry had been carrying and pulled out a gas cylinder.  He connected a hose to it, then shoved the other end into the air conditioner’s condensate line, taping it in place.  He opened the cylinder’s valve and motioned for Barry to follow him.  He quickly scrambled back to where the dog was laying and watched the house.

“What are we doing?”

“Making sure no one comes out.”

“What were you doing with that tank?”

“It’s pumping xenon into house.”

“What is that?”

“A gas used for general anesthesia.”

Relief washed over Barry.  “That’s fucking smart.  Now we don’t have to worry about getting shot.”

“That’s the intent.”

“But won’t they smell it and get out?”

“No.  The gas is odorless.”

“How did you learn to do that?”

“Seth.”

“That fucker knows all the tricks.”

Kenneth surveyed the house.  “I think it worked.”

“How do you know?”

“There’s no more movement.”

“Can I go look through a window to make sure they’re out?”

“Go ahead.  But don’t try to go in.”

“I won’t.”  Barry ran up to the house as Kenneth stayed back watching through the night vision.  Barry looked in a window, and seeing no movement, he took off running towards the front porch.

Kenneth was aggravated as he softly spoke to himself.  “You fucking dumbass.  I told you not to go in.”

Barry eased to the front door.  When he opened it, a bright flash lit up the dark followed by a loud boom.  Kenneth watched as Barry was knocked off the porch and thrown to the ground by the blast.  He pulled his Glock 29 from the holster and took off running.  He went to the side of the house and then inched around the front corner, noticing the front door was closed.  He didn’t see anyone on the porch or in the yard.  He looked through a window and observed a man next to the front door lying unconscious with a shotgun by his side.  He quickly dashed to the other windows, finding several more unconscious people, and then ran back Barry.  He was laying on his stomach.  When Kenneth rolled him over, he didn’t see any blood.  He checked his neck for a pulse, then started slapping him in the face.  “Wake up, dumbass!”

Barry made a loud gasping sound as he came to and sat up in a panic.  “Oh fuck!  I’ve been shot!”  He started frantically feeling the front of his body.

“You’re fine.  The vest saved your ass.”

“I think the bullet went through it!  I can’t breathe!”  He pulled off the vest and started feeling his chest.

“I said you’re fine.  You just got the wind knocked out of you.”

“I’m hurting really bad!”

“That’s what you get for going to the front door and trying to get inside.”

“You said they were all knocked out.”

“No I didn’t.  And I told you not to go into the house.”

Barry stood up, leaning forward with his hands on his knees.  “Fuck!  It feels like I’ve been hit with a sledgehammer.”

“I’m sure—you were shot with a 12-gauge.”

His panic morphed into anger.  “I’m going to kill the motherfucker that did this!  Where’s he at?”

“Unconscious.  The gas took him out.  And you’re not going to kill anyone.  It’s your fault for being a dumbass.”

“What the fuck was he still doing awake?”

“The gas just took longer on him, that’s why I told….”

“I know, I know!”

“Maybe next time you’ll listen.”

“I got it!”

“Let’s go find William so we can get the fuck out of here.”  Kenneth looked through a window by the front door to make sure no one was awake.  “It looks clear.”

Barry was hurting.  “I’m in fucking agony here.  You go ahead.”  He sat brooding on the steps.

Kenneth put on a gasmask and entered the house.  A few minutes later, he came out pulling a man by his arms. 

“Is that William?”

“Yep.”  Kenneth handed him a set of keys.  “See which vehicle those fit and load him up.”

Barry was relieved.  “I was wondering how we were going to get him back to our truck.” 

“Once you get him loaded up, drive over to the dog and load him up too.  I’m going to turn off the gas and make sure everyone else is okay.”

“Will do.”

Kenneth packed up the gas cylinder, and then went into the house.  He opened all the windows and checked to make sure everyone was breathing.  When he returned outside, Barry was waiting for him in a Dodge truck.  He got in the passenger side.  “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Barry noticed Kenneth was holding a paper sack stained and soaked with blood.  “What the fuck is that?”

He handed it to him.

Barry opened the sack and looked inside.  His eyes widened when he saw a severed penis.  “What the fuck did you do?  Whose dick is this?”

“Isaac’s.”

“William’s roommate?”

“Yeah.  Now let’s get to my truck so we can meet up with Seth.  We’re already running behind.”

Barry drove off.  “Why in the fuck did you cut off his dick?”

“For not taking care of Coco.”

“Who in the fuck is Coco?”

“My new dog.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The German Shepherd in the back of the truck.  He belonged to Isaac.  But now he’s mine since he didn’t take care of him.”

“How do you know the dog was his?”

“I woke him up and asked.”

“So, you cut off the man’s dick because he didn’t take care of a dog?”

“Yep.”

“I bet he now wishes he hadn’t admitted to owning him.”

“He didn’t at first, until I said I wanted to buy him.”

“Damn, dude!  What if he was lying just to get the money?”

“Then that’s what he gets for being a liar.”

Barry laughed.  “That fucker got bamboozled.”

Perverted Shit

Kenneth and Barry arrived at the truck stop in Catarina at 3 AM and located the RV parked in back.  Seth came out as they walked up.  “How did it go?”

Barry raised up the front of his shirt, showing Seth his bruised chest.  “I got shot with a fucking 12-gauge.  Luckily, I was wearing armor.”

“Sounds like y’all had fun.”  Seth noticed Coco standing next to Kenneth.  “And you found a friend.”

“Yeah.  The owner was an asshole.”

Barry laughed.  “Kenneth cut off the dude’s dick.”

“Good.  And did y’all get William?”

“Yep.”

When Kenneth entered the RV, he discovered six of the people they had picked up from San Antonio were laying on the floor coupled and joined in typical sexual positions.  There was a man and woman stitched together into the sixty-nine position.  The woman’s lips were sewn to his penis and his lips had been sutured to her pussy.  Another man and woman had their genitals stapled and affixed to each other in the missionary position.  The last couple had been hemmed and basted into the doggy-style position.  Kenneth looked at Seth.  “What kind of perverted shit do you have going on in here?  I thought we were going to hunt them?”

“We are.”

“Dude, how in the fuck are they any good to us now?”

Barry was ogling the couple and rubbing his crotch.  Seth glanced over at Barry, caught up in the moment, was reaching in to pull his dick free from his sweatpants.  “Why are you playing with yourself?”

He stopped.  “I wasn’t.”

Kenneth was aggravated.  “Why do you always have to turn shit into some sick game?”

Missy walked up.  “Y’all stop whining.  They can still run around in the woods just fine.  All you have to do is pick the team that you think will survive the longest.”

“Fuck it!  I’ll take them.”  Kenneth pointed to the couple in the missionary position.

Barry motioned toward the couple posed in the sixty-nine position.  “I choose them.”

Seth lit a cigarette.  “Then I guess I get the fuckers doin’ it doggy-style.”

Kenneth realized the other two offenders that had been picked up from San Antonio, a woman and a man, were hanging on the wall next to Gus, Humberto, Allen, Anthony and Johnny.  They were quiet as they stared back at him.  “What’s the deal with these two?”

“Saving them for later.”

Kenneth noticed that everyone on the wall had been tattooed upon their chest as he read their names and the offense each had committed.  He glanced at the names of the ones from San Antonio:  Rachel Montgomery, Cecil Stewart.  “Why did you tattoo them?”

“Because I don’t want to lose track of who did what.  And I’m bad with names.”

“They’re being awfully cooperative.”

“I told them I would cut off their dicks…”  He looked at Rachel.  “Or tits, if they acted out.”

Kenneth observed that Rachel was a thin redhead in her mid-twenties.  Cecil was older, around late sixties.  He was skinny and his long, shaggy hair and beard were gray.  “You’ve got a nice variety going here.  Can’t wait to see what you have planned for them.”  He looked at the group on the floor.  “So, what did these fuckers do?”

Seth pointed to the couple stapled in the missionary position.  “Your team consists of Megan Dolton, twenty-two, and Rodney Smith, forty-nine.  Megan left her eleven-month old son on the side of the road and he was killed by wild animals.”

“Hold up!  I thought you were saving the murderers for later?”

“I was, but if we’re going to go hunting, we’ll have to use some of them.”  Seth nodded towards the man to whom Megan was stapled.  “And the other half of your team murdered a woman for her purse.”  Seth pointed to the couple stitched into the sixty-nine.  “Barry’s team consists of Deanna Baize, who’s forty-two.  Her kids were killed when she wrecked her car.  She was high at the time.  Her partner is Marcus Jackson.  He’s thirty-six.  The sick bastard raped an elderly woman during a home invasion.  And my team consists of thirty-one-year-old Amanda Cox and her conjoined partner, twenty-two-year-old Jeffery Yates.  The bitch drowned her baby and he murdered his girlfriend.”

Wyatt felt left out.  “Can I bet on one of them?”

“I have a better idea.  You can bet on William.  He just won’t have a partner.”

Kenneth didn’t like the idea of him being solo.  “Hold up!  That won’t be fair.  He’ll be able to run quicker.”

“Don’t worry.  I’ll give him a disability.”

He walked up to Rachel.  “Why don’t you just sew this bitch to him so it’s fair?”

“I’ve already used enough of my killers for this hunt.  But don’t worry.  I’ll fix William so he won’t have an advantage.”

“That’s fine.  But, if I think he has an advantage, then he’s mine.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “Bullshit!  Seth already gave him to me.”

Barry started getting upset.  “Hold up!  Maybe I want him.”

Seth glanced at his watch, ascertaining it was already 4 AM.  “Y’all can argue on the way to Chaparral Wildlife Management Area.  We need to be there before sunrise.”  He looked at Wyatt and Barry.  “Y’all go get William so I can get him ready for the hunt.”

When they brought him into the RV, Seth directed them to strap him down on one of the tables.  “Wyatt, I need you to drive the RV so I can work on him.  Barry, you will drive Missy’s truck behind us.  Kenneth, you will bring up the rear.”

Forty-five minutes later, Seth instructed Wyatt to pull into a wooded area.  Everyone parked far enough in the woods so their vehicles were concealed from prying eyes passing by on the road.  Seth lowered the rear door on the toy hauler as everyone walked up.  Kenneth appreciated that the three couples were awake and sitting on the floor fearfully gazing back at him.  Their mouths had been sewn closed, except for Deanna and Marcus, as their mouths had previously been sutured to each other’s genitalia.  “It appears they must have been making too much noise.”

Seth laughed.  “Yep.  I couldn’t take their bitching and moaning any longer.”

Wyatt saw William sitting Indian-style with a blindfold and reached to pull it up so he could look at his eyes.  “Did you cut out his eyes or something?”

Seth slapped his hand.  “No peeking!  And he can see just fine.”

Kenneth was aggravated.  “I knew you weren’t going to do anything to him to make it even, so now he’s mine.”

Wyatt became upset.  “That’s not fair.  You can’t take him!”

“Bullshit!  I said I would if Seth didn’t give him a disability.”

Barry walked up with his chest puffed out.  “Fuck that!  I want him.”

Kenneth shoved him.  “You better back off!”

They started pushing each other and cursing.  Seth stood off to the side watching them as Missy sauntered up.  “Are you going to do something?”

“Yeah.  Let them fight it out.”

Barry got aggressive and slapped Kenneth in the face.  “Fuck you, bitch!”

Kenneth punched him back, knocking him to his ass.  Barry held out one of his hands as he covered his bloody nose with his other one.  “Okay!  Okay!  You can have him!”

Kenneth turned towards Wyatt.  “You want some too?”

He backed away.  “Dude!  Chill out!  You can have William!”

Seth marched up with a bag.  “Now that we have that out of the way, let’s get this started.”  He opened the bag and handed everyone a pistol.  “These are Ruger Mark 3s, semiautomatic pistols with a silencer and a ten-round magazine.”  He handed them a box of ammo from which each of them were instructed to remove ten bullets.  “These are white-phosphorus cartridges chambered in .22 long rifle.  I made them myself.”

Wyatt recalled Seth talking about the same type of bullets during the road trip they had taken together.  “You’ve used these before.”

“Yep.  With the gangbangers.”

Kenneth was examining one of the rounds.  “I’m glad Wyatt’s familiar with these, but I’m not.”

“They’re a normal .22 casing with a white-phosphorus projectile.  The projectile is encased in a plastic shell so the gun will cycle properly.”

“What is white phosphorus?”

“It’s the same shit used to make tracer rounds, smoke grenades and incendiary munition.”

“Oh shit!  That means we’ll be burning the fuck out of them.”

“Yep.  And the best part is they won’t bleed to death because the phosphorous will cauterize their wounds.”

“So how is this game going to be played?”

“Simple.  We’re going to let our scumbags have a head start, then we’ll go hunt them down.  Last couple alive, or in your case Kenneth, just William, wins.  But, there’s a catch; each of us will only have ten rounds.  If we run out, we have to come back to the truck to get another ten.”

“Why?”

“To make the game last longer.  If we just kill the fuck out of them, it will be over in no time.”

Kenneth liked that idea.  “I don’t have a problem with that.”

“Anyone else?”

Wyatt and Barry shook their heads.

“Good.  Let’s get started.”

The couples experienced a lot of pain as they were dragged out of the RV.  They were moaning loudly and tightly clasped the person to which they were coupled in an attempt to reduce the tension on their stitches.  Once the couples and William were outside, Seth got their attention as they lay on the ground crying.  “Y’all listen up.  You already know why you’re here.  I explained it to you earlier.  So, let’s not dwell on who is innocent or how this is unfair.  We’re passed that shit.  But, I do have some good news.  There is a chance to get out of this alive.”

Their eyes enlarged as they considered Seth’s words.

“Are y’all interested in knowing how?”

They all nodded in unison as they mumbled through their stitched mouths.

“That’s the spirit.  We’re going to give y’all an hour head start.  By then, the sun will be up.  If you can escape, you get to live.  It’s that simple.”  Seth looked at Wyatt.  “Help your team get up.”

Wyatt helped Megan and Rodney to their feet.  Since they were in the missionary position, Rodney had to support Megan’s weight as she wrapped her arms and legs around him.  As they stood, Wyatt saw blood running down Rodney’s legs.  “They’re bleeding.”

Seth lit a cigarette.  “The staples are probably tearing their skin.”

“Won’t his dick be pulled off?”

“If they get too aggressive it might.  But I also shoved his balls into her ass and sewed her sphincter closed.”

Wyatt looked under her rear, noticing most Rodney’s ball sack was inside her ass, and there was thick, black thread holding her anus tightly closed.  The upper part of his ball sack was grotesquely stretched from its original form.  “That looks fucking painful.”

“I’m sure it is.”  Seth regarded the couple.  “Y’all can go ahead and take off.”

Megan looked upon Seth and the others with much trepidation as Rodney hauled her away, finally disappearing into the darkness.

Seth motioned to the couple in the sixty-nine position.  “Barry, time to get your team up and running.”

Barry helped Marcus to his feet.  Deanna wrapped her arms tightly around his waist as she hung upside-down.  They were both moaning loudly as the stitches between their lips and privates stretched the skin gruesomely beyond its normal limits.  Seth glowered at Marcus.  “Don’t just stand there.  Get your ass movin’!”

Barry noticed Marcus was having a hard time breathing through his nose.  “Hold up!  He can’t breathe.”

Seth handed Marcus a bottle of nose spray.  “Now get the fuck out of here.”

Marcus viewed the path ahead from between Deanna’s legs as he quickly hurried away.  Seth kicked Jeffery in his side.  “Get your asses movin’!  And you better not lose if you know what’s good for you.”

Jeffery and Amanda were in the doggy-style position.  Jeffery got on his knees and started slowly scooting along as Amanda walked on her hands and knees.  They were having a difficult time due to the position in which they were attached.  Seth was aggravated.  “You fuckers better find another way to move your asses along.”

When they stood up, Jeffery had to bend his knees and shove his crotch under her buttocks to relieve the tension.  Seth shook his head as Jeffery walked bowlegged behind Amanda, grunting with every slow step.  “Why in the fuck did I get stuck with them?”

Kenneth laughed.  “Jeffery looks like a monkey fucking a football.  But don’t worry, I’ll put his ass out of misery for you.”

“You do that.”

Kenneth pulled William up to his feet.  “Time to get movin’, boy.”  He pulled his blindfold off.  “And you better not let me…  What the fuck?”  He realized William’s eyelids had been cut off and something was desperately wrong with his eyes.  “Why is this motherfucker all googly-eyed and shit?”

“I fixed him so he doesn’t have an advantage.  You knew that.”

William was holding his hands out as if he was blind.  Kenneth regarded Seth with a mixture of confusion and bewilderment.  “Can this motherfucker even see?”

“Of course.  Just upside-down.”

“What the fuck did you do to him?”

“I cut all the muscles associated with both of his eyes, rotated his eyeballs 180-degrees and glued them in place.”

“Bullshit!  That won’t work.”

“Sure, it will.  An eye is only held in place with six extraocular muscles.  And the optic nerve has enough flexibility to twist that much.  Only downside is, I accidently glued his eyeballs where they’re slightly cross-eyed.”

Kenneth was raging mad as he watched William tripping over his feet and running into the trees as he wandered away.  “Fuck this!  I want Megan and Rodney back.”

Wyatt laughed.  “You wanted him, so you got him.”

Barry popped off.  “Your dude is fucking retarded.  That’s what you get for being a dick.”

Kenneth glared at Barry.  “Fuck you!  I’ll beat your ass again!”

“You didn’t beat shit!  You just blindsided me with a sucker punch.”

Kenneth raised his fist.

“Try it, you fuck, I’ll bash in your fucking head!”  He pulled a club out of his back pocket.

Missy intervened before they got onto it again.  “Chill the fuck out!”  She glared at Kenneth.  “You wanted the fucker, so you got him.  Pull up your big-girl panties and deal with it.”  She glowered at Barry.  “And you need to put that club away before it gets shoved up your ass.”

Seth laughed.  “You better listen—she’ll turn your ass into a human Popsicle.”

Orgy in the Woods

Seth looked at his watch as they sat around a small campfire drinking coffee.  “It’s been an hour.  Let’s get to it.”

Kenneth noticed Barry wasn’t around.  “Where’s Spanky?”

Wyatt nodded towards the RV.  “He went in there to get ready.”

Seth knocked on the door.  “Hey!  We’re heading out.”

Barry flung the door open.  He was wearing a brown do-rag, black shirt and camo pants with his face, neck and arms covered in black and brown paint.  “Let’s do it!”

Kenneth laughed.  “What the fuck are you supposed to be?”

Barry shook his nuts.  “Badass!  That’s what.”

“With that fucking eyepatch, you look like a gay pirate.”

“Fuck you!”  He bounded out of the RV, raised his pistol, took aim and fired two rounds.  The silencer eliminated the sonic crack of the .22 cartridge, making it sound more like a paintball gun. 

Kenneth was caught off guard.  “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Just took out your bitch, you fucking ass clown!”  He took off running towards the woods.

Kenneth turned and watched as William rolled around on the ground with smoke coming out of him.  He had apparently wandered back toward the camp.  “Dammit!”

Wyatt took off running, shooting William as he ran by him.  Kenneth roared in anger.  “This is fucking bullshit!”

Seth laughed.  “Your guy fucking sucks.”  He and Missy dashed off sprinting, and as they passed William, Seth shot a couple of rounds in his back.

Kenneth was furious.  “You motherfuckers are going to pay for this!”  He rushed up to William, discerning the numerous smoking gunshot wounds.  “Get your ass up!”

William was in so much pain that he had ripped the stitches from his mouth crying out in agony.  “Please help me!  I’m on fire!”

Kenneth jerked him to his feet.  “Shut the fuck up and get to movin’!”

“I can’t!  I’m in pain!  And I can’t see right!”

“Then fucking hide!”  He shoved him into some bushes before taking off into the woods.

Seth, Missy and Wyatt quickly caught up to Barry.  He laughed as they approached him.  “I just killed your fuckers, so I win.”

Seth detected a foul odor lingering in the air.  It smelled like burnt hair and flesh.  He strolled a little further and discovered the three couples.  They were huddled together under a tree.  Barry had shot Wyatt’s couple, Megan and Rodney, and Seth’s couple, Amanda and Jeffery, leaving his team unharmed.  Seth noticed their hair had been burned off and parts of their scalps were charred.  He looked back at Barry.  “FYI, the white-phosphorus projectiles won’t penetrate bone, so all you did was burn the shit out of their scalps.”

Barry ran over to them and found that they weren’t dead at all, but were holding each other and moaning in agony.  “Fuck me runnin’!”

Seth shook his head as he looked at the couples.  It looked as if they were having an orgy the way they were all huddled together in sexual positions moaning.  “You dumb fucks!  You’re supposed to hide, not just lay down like sheep.”  He raised his pistol.

Wyatt looked at Seth.  “If you shoot Megan and Rodney, I’m going to shoot Amanda and Jeffery.”

“That’s fair.”  Seth started shooting Barry’s couple, Deanna and Marcus. Wyatt joined in.

Barry was yelling for them to stop as they pumped his team full of the incendiary rounds.  They were rolling around on the ground in their sixty-nine position, moaning and begging.  The rounds created a thick cloud of smoke as the white-phosphorus boiled their fluids.  Deanna and Marcus were in so much pain that they tore the stitches between their lips and privates as they screamed.  To everyone’s surprise, Marcus stood to his feet, lifting Deanna off the ground with superhuman strength.  He took off running into the woods as Seth and Wyatt shot their last few rounds into his back.  Seth was cracking up, thinking how funny it was to see Marcus carrying Deanna upside-down kicking her legs in the air.  It looked as if she was running too, but upside-down.

Barry was pissed.  “I’ll get y’all for this!”  He took off running back to the camp for more ammo.

Seth looked at his couple.  “You motherfuckers better get to movin’!”

They were both in agony and had torn the stitches from their lips.  Jeffery looked as if he was going to pass out.  Not only had he obtained third-degree burns to his head, but also his penis and balls had started tearing from where they were sewn to Amanda.  “Please don’t do this!  I’m begging you!”

Amanda was sobbing as she pulled handfuls of singed hair from her head.  “Look what you’ve done to me!”

Seth was pissed.  “If you fuckers are still here when I get back, I’ll shoot you myself.”  He and Missy raced back to camp for more ammo.

Wyatt pointed at his couple.  “Don’t just lay there!  Get your asses movin’ too!”  He dashed off behind Seth.

After a short distance through the woods, Seth found Kenneth standing over Barry.  Barry was laying on the ground, desperately trying to get his pants off.  Missy laughed.  “Did the dumbass get into some ants?”

Kenneth looked worried.  “I accidently shot him.  I thought he was one of the scumbags.”

Barry was frantic.  “I think he shot me in the dick!  It feels like I’m on fire!  Oh my God!  This can’t be happening!” 

When he got his pants off, he noticed the bottom of his underwear was burned.  “Oh fuck!  This is bad!”  He started feverishly feeling of himself, finding his penis intact.  “Thank God!  My dick is fine.”  His relief quickly changed to horror when he felt a hole in the front of his ball sack.  “Oh, shit!  I’ve been shot in the balls!”  He pulled down his underwear to examine himself closer.

Seth noticed the round had gone through Barry’s nut sack and seared him between the butt cheeks.  “You’ll live, but you’ll have a hard time sitting for a while.”

“If your dick wasn’t so small, it would have been shot too.”  Missy thought.

Everyone looked at her.

Her eyes got big.  “Oh shit!  Did I say that out loud?”

Wyatt laughed.  “Yeah.”

Barry was too worried to let Missy’s comment bother him.  “What about my balls?  The bullet might have damaged them!”

Seth noticed the entrance and exit holes were in the center of his ball sack.  “I think you’re fine, but feel around to see if the round hit one of your nuts.”

He felt of his testicles.  “It hurts to touch them, but they seem okay.”

“Now check to see if your vas deferens are still intact.”

“What are those?”

“The cords that connect to your testicles.”

He started feeling for them.  “I can’t tell.  Will you check?”

Seth shook his head.  “You’re fucking nuts.  No pun intended.”

“Come on, man!  I’m scared!”

Wyatt was smiling.  “Just do it.  It’s not like you haven’t fondled his junk before.”

Seth glared at him.

“Uh…  I meant, since you had cut off his dick, it’s not like…  You know…  To….”

“I’d suggest you stop while you’re ahead.”

“Okay.”

Barry was panicking as he looked at Seth.  “What the fuck?  You don’t have a problem touching dudes when you’re torturing them.”

“You made your point.  I have a portable ultrasound in the RV.”

Kenneth felt bad as he helped Barry up.  “Hey, man.  I’m really sorry.  You just came out of nowhere.”

“I don’t care about that right now.  I just want to get my balls checked out.”  Barry had to walk bowlegged as they headed back to camp.  He was in so much pain, that he didn’t care if he was naked from the waist down.

“Fore!”

When they returned to the RV, Seth had Barry lay on one of the tables.  He set a portable ultrasound next to him.  Kenneth thought it looked like a laptop.  “Where did you get this?”

“From Amazon.”

“No shit?  So how does it work?”

“Funny you should ask.”  He handed him the probe and a bottle of gel.

“What the fuck do you want me to do with these?”

“Rub the gel all over his sack, then press the end of the probe on it.”

His eyes widened.  “I’m not touching his shit.  You do it.”

“I’m not the one who shot him.”

Kenneth held the items out towards Wyatt.  “Here, you do it.”

He stepped back.  “In your dreams, pal.”

“Dammit!”  He looked at Missy.

She shook her head.  “Don’t even ask.”

Barry grabbed the bottle from him.  “I’ll do it myself!”  He rubbed the gel all over his ball sack and proceeded to press the probe against it.  “Now what?”

Seth was studying the monitor.  “Move it to the left.”

“Okay.”

“Now to the right.”

“Okay.”

“Push harder.”

“It fucking hurts.”

“Just do it.”

“Okay, okay.”

“Move the probe to the right a poon-hair.”

“What is that?”

“Just a little bit.”

“Okay.”

“I hope you weren’t planning on having any kids.”

“Why are you asking me that?  Is there something wrong?  Is it bad?”

“It looks like both of your vas deferens have been severed.”

“Can it be fixed?”

“No.  And since your blood flow has been cut off to your testicles, I’m afraid you’re going to lose your whole sack.”

Barry’s eyes started tearing up.  “Oh my God!  This can’t be happening!”

“It gets worse.  We need to amputate your ball sack ASAP before you get an infection.”

“No, no, no!  I’ll wait and go to a doctor!”

“That’s your choice, but if the infection gets in your dick, it must be amputated too.”

“I can’t believe this is happening to me.”  He glared at Kenneth.  “This is your fault!”

He felt bad.  “I’m so sorry.  If there was something I could do, I would.”

Barry started crying.

Seth put the ultrasound back in its box.  “Dude, I was just fucking with you.  Your balls are fine.”

He wiped away his tears with the back of his hands.  “Are you serious?  I’m fine?”

“You’re going to be sore as fuck, but yeah.”

Missy tossed him an icepack.  “You better put that on them before they swell up like a bouncy ball.”

Wyatt was still holding his pistol.  “When are we going to continue the game?”

Kenneth didn’t feel like playing anymore.  “I’ve lost interest.”

Wyatt laughed.  “That’s ‘cause your guy sucks.”

Seth handed Wyatt a large hunting knife.  “Go find them and put ‘em out of their misery.”

Missy interrupted.  “I want to do it.”

Wyatt looked at her.  “Why?”

“Because they don’t deserve a mercy killin’.  I want to make them suffer.”

Seth knew why she wanted to do it—each of them had either harmed a woman or child, and Missy despised humans that preyed on the weak.  “I’ll go with her.  There’s no reason for y’all to stay here.”  He looked at Wyatt.  “Do you think you can fly solo?”

“What do you have in mind?”

Seth pulled a page from his folder and handed it to him.  “If you want, you can take Missy’s truck to Brownsville and pick up Mary Gomez.”

He looked at the paper.  It contained the woman’s information and her photo.  “I’ll try my best.”

“If you don’t feel comfortable, it’s alright to blow her off.”

He handed Kenneth a folder.  “You can head to Houston.  When you get there, contact Joe by calling the number reordered in the file.  He already has the scumbags stashed in a cargo trailer.”

“Is Houston going to be like San Antonio?”

“No.  I trust Joe.”

“Okay.”

He considered the time shown on his watch.  “It’s almost 10 AM.  It shouldn’t take too long to finish up here, then we’ll head that way.”

“Sounds good.”  Kenneth and Wyatt ambled out the door.

Barry slid off the table.  He could barely walk but headed for the door.  Seth yelled at him.  “Where are you goin’?”

“I wanna go with them.”

“You’re fuckin’ naked.”

He grabbed a trench coat off a hook by the door.  “I got it covered.”

“Your ass is burned.  You’re not going to be able to sit in the truck.”

“I’ll figure it out.”  He limped out the door.

Seth realized Missy was looking at the files on the scumbags.  “What are you doing?”

“Seeing what they did so I’ll have an idea how to fuck them up.”  She flipped a page.  “Here it says Jeffery killed his girlfriend with a golf club.  Do we have one?”

“Yep.”  Seth dug through a cabinet, pulled out a nine-iron and laid it on the table next to her.

“Good.”  She flipped a few pages.  “William stabbed an elderly woman to death with a knife during a home burglary.”

Seth tossed a knife on the table.

“Do you have something bigger?”

He holstered the knife and pulled a Bowie knife out of a drawer.  “Will this work?”

She perceived the blade to be about sixteen-inches long.  “Fuck yeah!”

He placed it on the table.  “What’s next?”

“I’ll need some rope.”

He set some on the table.  “What else do you need?”

“Rodney shot a woman when he was stealing her purse, so I’ll just use the Ruger on him.” 

Seth laid the pistol and box of incendiary rounds on the table.

She raged as she continued to look through the files.  “What the fuck is wrong with these bitches?  Amanda drowned her baby and Megan left her eleven-month-old son on the side of the road.”  She thought for a moment.  “I need a machete.”

Seth placed one on the table.  “Nice collection you’re getting together.”

She flipped a few more pages.  “Now this fucker, Marcus, pisses me off.  He raped an elderly woman during a home invasion.  I’ll use the machete on him too.”  She continued looking through the files.  “Deanna killed her two children when she wrecked her car while fucked up on drugs.  She didn’t have them buckled in, and they were crushed under the car when it rolled.  I need something that will crush a skull.”

“I have a sledgehammer.”

“The head of it’s too small.  I need something that will flatten the entire skull at once.”

“I can probably make something.”  Seth showed Missy some weightlifting plates.  “I can weld a bar to one of these.”

She pointed to a forty-five-pound plate.  “I want two of those welded to it.”

“You won’t be able to lift that.”

“I know.  But you can.”

Seth stacked one plate on top of the other, welded them together, and then welded a long tamper bar to them.  He set the contraption on a two-wheel dolly.  “Anything else?”

“Nope.”  She holstered the pistol, then picked up the box of ammo, rope, Bowie knife, machete and golf club.  “Let’s go.”

When they exited the RV she looked around.  “Where’s William?”

Seth pointed.  “Hiding in the bushes.”

She grabbed him by the hair and dragged him out.  “Get out here, you little fucker!”

William, crying, was spattered and coated with mud and leaves.  His body covered in numerous charred holes, he had torn the stitches from his mouth yelling and screaming in agony.  “Please don’t hurt me!”

“Shut the fuck up!”  She tied a rope around his neck.  “Let’s go!”

William followed Missy and Seth through the woods.  He had to cover his eyes as he walked; otherwise, he continuously lost his balance and almost fell many times.  Several hundred yards ahead, they came upon Amanda and Jeffery.  Jeffery was on his knees behind Amanda.  The doggy-style position restricted their movement and didn’t allow them to get very far.  Missy handed Seth the rope tied to William’s neck, and then proceeded to them with the machete.  “You fuckers ready to die a slow and painful death?”

They both looked at her with confused expressions.

“I’m not asking again.”

Jeffery raised his hands.  His lips were swollen from where he had torn out his stitches.  “Please don’t do….”

She swung the machete as hard as she could.  The blade impacted Amanda’s buttocks, cutting off a large slab of muscle, and in the process, severing Jeffery’s penis.  Amanda and Jeffery both stumbled to the ground screaming.  Missy struck Jeffery in the head with the dull side of the machete, knocking him unconscious.  Amanda was crawling away like a wild animal trying to escape as Missy walked up to her.  “Hey, bitch!  Where do you think you’re going?”

She rolled over onto her back and held her hands out.  “Please don’t kill me!  I haven’t done anything to you!”

“I’m sure your baby was thinking the same thing as you drowned her.”  She swung the blade, severing half of Amanda’s fingers.

Blood was squirting out of her stubs as she waved her arms around.  “Oh my God!  Please stop!”

Missy swung again, cutting off Amanda’s right hand.  The third time she swung, the blade chopped off her left arm just below the elbow.  Missy showed no mercy as she started hacking her legs into pieces.

Seth leaned on a tree and smoked a cigarette as he watched the savagery of Missy’s fury.  The blade was slinging blood all over the trees and ground and covering Missy from head to toe in the proverbial blood bath.

When Amanda weakened from blood loss, Missy caressed the side of her face with the bloody blade.  “Let me know what it’s like drowning, bitch!”  She shoved the blade into her mouth and started twisting it, cutting large gashes in the back of her throat.  Amanda’s eyes were huge and her body shook violently as she choked on her own blood.  She turned on her side to let the tide of blood stream from her mouth as she fought for each breath.

Missy saw that Jeffery had reawakened.  She went over to him and shoved the blade through his abdomen and into the ground, pinning him on his back.  He grimaced in terror as he tried to remove the blade.  “Oh fuck!  Why did you do this?  Please get this out!”  He noticed she was holding a golf club.  “What are you going to do with that?

“It’s payback time.”

“Payback?  You already cut off my dick, you fucking bitch!”

“Lay your right arm on the ground.”

“Fuck you!”

She struck him in the face, breaking his nose.  “I said stick out your fucking arm!”

His face was covered in blood as he screamed.  “Oh my God!  Please….”

She struck him again, breaking most of his front teeth.  “Do it, asshole!”

He was shaking as he laid his arm on the ground.  “Why are you doing this?  I don’t even know you!”

“Make a fist.”

He balled up his hand.  “I’ll do whatever you want if you don’t hurt me anymore!”

She stood in a golfer’s stance and started taking practice swings at his fist.  “You better not move.”  She swung the golf club as hard as she could, but he jerked his arm back at the last moment.  “You motherfucker!”  She took the club and started beating his arms and legs, breaking bones.  Jeffery was in a massive amount of pain as he lay on the ground howling.

Missy stretched his arm out and returned to her stance.  “Ball up your fist.”

He could barely talk.  “I can’t!  You’ve fucked up my arm really bad!”

“I’ll fuckup your ass if you don’t.”

He wailed as he closed his hand.

She started taking practice swings.  “I would suggest you don’t move this time.”

He closed his eyes.  “I’m begging you not to do this!”

“Open your fucking eyes.  I want you to watch.”

“Why are you doing this to me?  I haven’t done anything to you.”

“Because you didn’t have a problem killing your girlfriend with a golf club, so I shouldn’t hear any complaints.  And you better watch or I’ll do something even more fucked up to you.”

“Please listen!  I didn’t kill Sarah!  I was framed!”

“I know.  All you fuckers are innocent.”  She swung the golf club as hard as she could.  Jeffery closed his eyes and screamed as the face of the club struck his hand, the impact shattering most of the bones in his fingers and almost severing his thumb.  He vomited from the intense agony resulting from the impact of the golf club.

“Hold your thumb up like your hitchhiking.”

“If you’re going to kill me, just do it!”

“I’m not telling you again!”

He knew she would only hurt him worse if he didn’t do it, so he held his thumb out.    “You’re a sorry bitch!”  He ranted and raved as he was overcome by anger.  She had already taken his manhood and tortured him, and he knew he was going to die no matter how much he begged.  “And I hope you get the needle for this.”

“Fore!”  She swung the club.  His severed thumb flew through the air, disappearing into the woods.

Seth laughed.  “Remind me not to play against you.”

Jeffery glared at him.  “I hope you get the needle too, you fucking piece of shit!”

Missy walked to his other side.  “Hold your thumb up.”

“Fuck you, bitch!”

She started beating his torso, working him over good.  The sound of ribs breaking could be heard with each blow.  He screamed in agony, “Okay, Okay!  I’ll do it!”

When he put his thumb out, she knocked it off with the first swing.  She walked to his feet and started knocking off his toes.  Jeffery pleaded and screamed in harmony as she mutilated his feet.  The broken bones in his legs prevented him from moving, and as much, he had no choice but to endure the pain.  When she was finished, she picked up a rock and stuck it under his ball sack to hold it up.  He was horror-stricken as she commenced taking practice swings at it.  “Oh fuck!  You can’t do this!  I’m sorry for what I did!  You’ve already gotten me back!  Look at me!  You’ve fucked me up good enough!”

“I’ll let you know when I’ve fucked you up enough.”

He wanted to fight back, but he couldn’t move due to the machete in his abdomen and all the broken bones in his limbs.  “Please have mercy!  I’ll do whatever you….”

She hit his sack so hard, it exploded into a cloud of blood.  Pieces of ravaged flesh covered a group of bushes located a few yards away.  In the distance, the sound of small tree limbs and twigs could be heard snapping as Jeffery’s testicles struck them.

Missy pulled the machete out of his body and looked at Seth.  “Let’s go find the others.”

Seth noticed Amanda was still fighting to breathe.  “She’s still alive.”

“Fuck her.  She can drown slowly on her blood.” 

“What about Jeffery?”

She dragged Jeffery over to an ant bed, leaving him to be devoured by the ants.  “Let’s go.”

Death Erection

A short distance away, they found Deanna and Marcus on the ground.  They were desperately trying to get up, but since they were sewn in the sixty-nine position, it was next to impossible.   Missy tied William’s rope to a tree.  “Let’s just leave them here and go find Rodney and Megan.”

Seth knew they could have traveled a long way since they were in the missionary position.  “No telling where they could be at.  Their position is the least awkward of the group and a hell of a lot less painful.”

Missy laughed.  “The dumb fuckers are right there.”  She pointed.

Seth noticed they were hiding in some bushes.  Rodney took off running when he realized they had been spotted.  Seth sprinted over and brought them back.

Missy handed Seth the rope.  “Tie everyone up and separate them.”

When he was done, Missy stood over them with the machete in one hand and the knife in the other.  “Who wants to go first?”

They were all mumbling unrecognizable words through their stitches.

Missy smiled.  “Cool.  Marcus said he wants to go first.”  She held up the machete.  “You ready for some lovin’?”

He was shaking his head as he mumbled, “No, no, no!”

She flipped him onto his stomach.  “Everyone knows, no means no, but no must mean yes to you since you raped that old woman.  And I know she said no.  So, since you said no, which means yes in your book, here we go.”  She shoved the machete into his ass, burying it all the way to the handle.  He tore his stitches loose screaming at the top of his lungs as she fucked him with the blade, twisting it as she stroked him.  He had to endure the pain and couldn’t fight back since his arms and legs were tied up.

Within seconds, the blade had completely ravaged his anus, rectum and internal organs.  Feces, blood and pieces of intestines were pouring out the gaping hole in his rear-end.  When the blade started flopping around inside him as if nothing remained intact, she pulled it out.  She flipped him over and wiped the blade off on his chest.  “Was that as good for you as it was for me?”

He was in so much pain he just wished he would die.  “Please kill me!”

She reached down and grabbed a hold of his ball sack.  His eyes popped open wide.  “Please don’t hurt me anymore!  Just kill me and get it over with!”

“Hold your horses.  I still have to get you back for burglarizing the old woman’s home.”  She stuck the blade of the Bowie knife into his ball sack.

“Oh fuck!  What are you doing?”

“Burglarizing your fucking jewels, asshole.”

“Please don’t!  I’m begging….”

She sliced them off, and deciding to give them back, tossed the severed organ onto his stomach.  “I’ll be back later for that dick.”  She walked over to William with the Bowie knife.

Seth was still standing next to Marcus as he lay sobbing.  “Do you want me to finish him off?”

“Fuck him!  Just let him stew awhile in his shit.”  She stabbed William in the thigh with the knife and he immediately collapsed. 

He was horrified as he held his wound.  He was seeing Missy upside-down due to his eyes being rotated.  “Oh my God!  Please don’t do this!  I just want to go home!”

“I’m sure the old woman that you murdered would like to go home too.”

He started crying.  “That was an accident!”

Missy was caught off guard with his comment.  “Accident?  What the fuck?  Did you trip and accidently stab her eighteen times on your way to the ground?”

“I’m being serious!”

She stabbed him in the leg.  “Oops.  That was an accident too.”

He let out a wail.  “Please stop!  I didn’t mean to do it!”

She stabbed him in the arm.  “I didn’t mean to do that either.”

“Please stop stabbing me!  It’s not what you think!”

She stuck him in his other arm.  “I didn’t think anything of that.”

He got angry as he realized Missy was messing with him.  “Stop fucking stabbing me!”

She sliced him across the chest.  “Is that better?”

“You fucking bitch!”

She cut off his penis and balls.  “Now you’re a bitch.”

“Oh my God!  I can’t believe you did that!  I’m going to fucking kill you!”

“You wanna be killed?”  She started stabbing him all over his body, purposely maintaining distance from his vital organs so he’d live longer.  He was screaming and begging for mercy as she ravaged him.  When she became tired, she jabbed the knife into the right side of his chest, leaving it in place.

William started having difficulty breathing.  “Oh fuck!  You stabbed my lung!  Please help me!  I don’t want to die!”

“I’m sure the woman you murdered didn’t either.”  She walked over to Deanna with the machete.  “How would you like to die?”

Deanna was glaring at her and yelling muffled curse words.  She didn’t have the look of fear as the others did.

“I have to hear this.”  Missy cut the stitches between her lips.

Deanna was furious how she had been mistreated by strangers.  “You’re a sick bitch!  You’re going to pay for this!”

“I have something special for you, but first I’m going to use it on Marcus so you’ll know what’s coming your way soon.”  Missy looked at Seth.  “Grab that thing you made and take it over to him.” 

Missy walked over to Marcus.  He was barely conscious.  “Do you know what a death erection is?”

He could barely speak.  “Please just kill me!”

She looked at Rodney as he stretched out on the ground.  “Do you know what a death erection is?”

He had been quiet, hoping if he cooperated Seth and Missy wouldn’t hurt him.  His body was trembling in fear.  “No, ma’am.”

Missy looked at the others.  “I need all of you to listen up, because each of you is going to experience a death erection.”  Missy looked at her phone.  “Wikipedia says a death erection, also called angel lust or a terminal erection, is a post-mortem erection, technically a priapism, observed in the corpses of men who have been executed, particularly by hanging.  The phenomenon has been attributed to pressure on the cerebellum created by the noose.  Death by hanging, whether an execution or a suicide, has been observed to affect the genitals of both men and women.  In women, the labia and clitoris will become engorged and there may be a discharge of blood from the vagina.  In men, a more or less complete state of erection of the penis, with discharge of urine, mucus or prostatic fluid is a frequent occurrence.”  She looked at the group.  “Here’s the best part.  The article continues and indicates other causes of death may also result in these effects.”  She pointed to the bar with the weights that Seth was holding.  “Hence, other causes of death.”  She looked at Seth.  “Slam that fucker into Marcus’ head.”

Seth raised the bar, holding the plates as high as he could, then slammed it on his head.  The ninety pounds of steel crushed his skull like a hammer hitting a marshmallow.  Blood and brain matter shot out in all directions, making a gruesome mess on the ground.  When he lifted the plates, Marcus’ head looked as if it had been run over by a road roller.  Missy excitedly pointed at his penis.  It was partially erect.  “Check that shit out!  It fucking worked!”  She pointed at William.  “Do him next before he bleeds to death.”

William was horrified as Seth approached him.  “What are you doing?  I don’t have a penis!  Look!  She cut it off!”

Seth flattened his head like a pancake.  Missy clapped as blood came shooting out of all his stab wounds like miniature geysers.  “That’s so fucking cool!”  She looked at the others.  “Who wants to be next?”

They all grimaced in sheer terror.

“You fuckers saw how much Marcus and William suffered before I put them down.  If I was you, I’d volunteer to be next.”

They remained quiet.

“Fine.”  She went over to Deanna.  “I’m going to make your little clitoris hard as a rock, but not the easy way.”  She looked at Seth.  “Smash her fucking legs.”

Deanna was terrified as Seth approached her with the weights.  “Oh my God!  Please don’t do it!  I’ll do whatever you want!”

He slammed the weights on the lower part of her legs, crushing them.  Missy shook her head and frowned as she looked at Deanna’s pussy.  “Her clit didn’t budge.”

Deanna was in so much pain she could barely think straight.  “Oh fuck!  Oh fuck!  Why are you doing this?”

Seth slammed the weights on her knees.  Missy shook her head.  “Nope.  Nothing.  Move higher.”

He crushed her thighs.  Missy thought she saw Deanna’s clitoris wiggle.  “Almost got it.  Getting hotter.”

Deanna appeared as though she might pass out.  “Just kill me!  I can’t take any more pain!”

Missy looked at her.  “I bet your kids were suffering like this when your car was laying on top and crushing them.”

“You’ve got me back!  Just kill me and get it over with!”

Missy pointed at Deanna’s abdomen.  “Make her guts blow out her ass.”

Seth lifted the weights as high as he could, slamming them onto her abdomen.  Blood, urine and shit blew out between her legs, covering the ground for several yards.  Missy pointed at Deanna’s pussy.  “It fucking worked!  Her clit looks like Barry’s tiny dick.”

Deanna was choking as blood poured out of her mouth and nose.  Seconds later, she died.  Missy regarded Rodney and Megan.  “Did y’all see all that shit come out of her?  That was fucking gross.”

Megan was panic-stricken.  She didn’t want to die, but she also didn’t want to suffer.  After witnessing the gruesome and merciless acts of violence that Missy and Seth had bestowed on the others, she knew begging wouldn’t do any good.  She got the courage to speak.  “I choose to die.”

Missy knelt beside her.  “Oh, Honey.  That was a one-time offer.”

She started weeping.  “Please don’t hit me with that thing!  I’ll do whatever you want!”

“Don’t worry.  You have a different destiny than the rest of these assholes.”  She stood up and pulled out her pistol.

Megan closed her eyes, waiting to be shot.  To her horror, the gun started firing.  She waited for the pain to set in, but it never came.  When the firing stopped, she opened her eyes.  Missy was standing next to her changing out magazines.  She surveyed her body from within her state of confusion.  There were no holes.  No blood.  Maybe Missy had shot the ground beside her just to scare her.  Then she noticed Rodney was tossing around on the ground with smoke pouring out of him. 

Missy pointed her pistol at Rodney and started shooting him again with the incendiary rounds.  When she emptied the magazine, she inserted another one.  She kept shooting him, over and over, inundating his body with the red-hot projectiles.  The air filled with a putrid odor of burnt flesh and a cloud of smoke hovered over the ground like dense fog.  Missy holstered her pistol and turned to Seth.  “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Rodney was still alive, but on the verge of losing consciousness.  Megan didn’t know what was happening.  Were they going to let her live, she wondered?  She sure in the fuck wasn’t going to ask.  A feeling of salvation overcame her when Missy and Seth disappeared into the woods.  She closed her eyes, thinking how she couldn’t wait to tell the police what had occurred.  She wanted Seth and Missy to pay for what they had done and for the other men that had hunted her earlier to be punished too.  Of course, she hadn’t suffered nowhere near like the others had, but still had been kidnapped, stripped down nude, stapled to Rodney, then hunted like a wild animal.  She was infuriated how they had shot her with the incendiary rounds as if it was a game.  The fuckers had burned off her hair.  That enraged her even more.  They were going to pay for that, she thought.

Suddenly, she heard leaves being crushed and small twigs breaking.  She looked around in a panic, thinking they had returned for her.  Rodney spoke softly.  “Don’t move.”

She looked at him.  “What’s going on?”

He was desperately trying to get his hands loose from the rope.  “If you’re quiet, they might not attack us.”

“Attack us?  Who?”

“The wild boars.”

She started looking around, finally locating some pigs.  They were hiding in the underbrush.  A wave of horror washed over her when she perceived they were everywhere.  She attempted to loosen her restraints, but they were too tight.  She was helpless.  At that moment, she realized what Missy meant by her having a different destiny.  She was going to be eaten alive.  It was her punishment for abandoning her son on the side of a road where he had been killed by wild animals.

As Missy and Seth approached the RV, bloodcurdling screams emanated from the woods as Megan and Rodney were being torn apart by the wild boars.

Shopping Spree

Seth started the RV and noticed the clock on the radio showed 4:17 PM.  He looked at Missy.  “We’re running behind.  They’re going to be pissed.”

“Is it really after four o’clock?”

“Yep.”  He keyed up on the two-way radio.  “K-Dog.  You there?”

“Sup?”

“Did you make the pickup?”

“Like an hour ago.  And I didn’t have to behead anyone.”

“I told you Joe was cool.  Have you checked on Swamp Fox?”

“Yeah.  He picked the bitch up and advised me he was heading my way.  You’ll probably get here before he does.”

“I doubt that.  We’re running a little behind.”

“How far behind are y’all?”

“Just now leaving.”

The radio was silent.

“You there?”

“You realize we left six-hours ago.”

“I know.”

“Were y’all playing hide the snake or what?”

“No, but we can.  But then we’ll be even later.”

“I don’t care either way.”

Seth could hear Barry in the background.  “What’s Spanky bitching about?”

“He’s bored and doesn’t want to wait around for you.”

“I might let y’all spend some now.  How much did we make?”

“Only five bucks.”

“That’s all Joe could get.  Houston is a shithole.”

“He said most of them were back in jail.”

“That’s about right.”

“Barry wants to know if he can still have some money.”

“There’s a number on the back of the bills.  Read those to me.”

“Let me go write them down.”  A few minutes later, Kenneth came back.  “Yo?”

“Go ahead.”

“37, 26, 19, 6 and 21.”

Seth regarded the inquisitive expression on Missy’s face.  “Those are page numbers in our files.  Let’s see who Joe was able to round up.”  After he reviewed the files, he keyed up.  “K-Dog?”

“Sup?”

“Y’all can spend three of them now.  The other two we’ll save for later.”

“Which ones?”

“Twenty-one, six and thirty-seven.  And make sure you check out their files.  Y’all need to spend the fuck out of them.”

“Ten-four.”

Seth considered the plan of actions as he gazed at Missy.  “We have to figure out what we’re gonna do next.  There’s Janna Johnson in Longview and Robert Haverland in Lufkin that still need to be picked up.  Maybe we should take them off Kenneth’s plate since we have more time.”

She shrugged her shoulders.  “You know I don’t care.”

Seth keyed up.  “K-Dog?”

“What’s up?”

“When y’all get done, head to Texarkana.  I have a warehouse there and you’ll find the address is the folder.  Missy and I will make the pick-ups in Lufkin and Longview.  Also, wait for Wyatt so he can follow you to the warehouse since he doesn’t have the information from the folder.”

“Ten-four.”  Kenneth was parked at a rest stop on the east side of Houston.  He studied Barry for a moment.  “I say we wait here for Wyatt, then head on to Texarkana.”

“Don’t you want to fuck up the assholes?”

“You know I’m not into the whole torture thing like you and Seth.”

“Come on, man!  It’ll be fun.  We haven’t had a chance to fuck up someone together.”

“We’re parked at a rest stop.  We can’t just do it here.”

“We can find a place.”

“It’s too risky.  Seth already has a warehouse in Texarkana.  Just fuck them up there.”

“I wanna do it now.”

“You’re gonna get us busted with your impatience.”

“Why are you being paranoid now?  Look at all the other shit you’ve done on this trip.”

“I’m not being paranoid.  Seth just has everything planned out.”

“If it makes you comfortable, I’ll plan it out.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.  That scares the hell out of me.”

“Just head back towards Houston.  I’ll think of something.”

“Fuck it!  If you get us busted, I’m going to make you my prison bitch.”  He drove off.

“Why would I be the bitch?  Maybe you’d be mine.”

A few miles down the highway, Barry gestured out the window.  “There’s a pawn shop.  Stop there.”

“Why?  Do you need to pawn something?”

“I’m going to get some shit that we can use on them.”

He pulled in and parked.  “Make it quick.”

“Can I have some money?”

Kenneth looked at him like he was crazy.  “Fuck you!  You want to do this, so you pay for the shit.”

“You know I’m tapped right now.”

“That’s your problem.”

“Seth gives you money.”

“Yeah.  For gas and food.  Shit like that.”

“Then let me use your credit card.”

“Now I know you’re crazy.”

“It’s not a big deal.  Seth said he would reimburse us for expenses.”

“He did not.”

“Fuck if he didn’t.  Now give me the card.”

Kenneth started to hand him his Visa, but pulled it back.  “You better not buy too much shit.”

“I won’t.”  He snatched the card from his hand and leapt out.

Kenneth keyed up on the two-way radio.  “Short Bus, you there?”

Seth answered.  “Go ahead.”

“Do I get reimbursed for expenses?”

“You shouldn’t have any.  Did I not give you enough cash?”

“Yeah, for gas and stuff, but Barry is using my credit card to buy some things at this pawn shop.”

Seth started laughing.

“That motherfucker said you would.”

“What was his new word?  Bamboozled.”

Kenneth spotted Barry pushing a cart loaded with tools and equipment.  “Oh, fuck me!”  He got out.  “What the fuck is all this shit?”

“Stuff we need.”

“Looks like you went on a fucking shopping spree.”  He noticed there were all sorts of equipment and gear piled on the cart: an electric jackhammer, log splitter, generator, cordless drill, circular saw, sledgehammer, extension cords, reciprocating saw, work lights, toolbox full of tools, a welder, a portable torch kit and some miscellaneous items.  Kenneth went ballistic on Barry.  “You got to be fucking kidding me!  How much did this shit cost?”

Barry began loading the items in the camper shell next to the unconscious scumbags.  “I need to talk to you about that.  Your card had a limit and I had to pitch in almost two-hundred bucks.  I’ll need that back ASAP.”

Kenneth exploded.  “I thought your ass was broke.  And how much did you put on my fucking card?”

“I don’t fucking know.”

“What do you mean?  You bought the shit.”

“I didn’t ask.  The guy just said I was over the limit by a hundred and ninety-seven bucks, so I paid the difference out of my pocket.”

“Where’s the receipt?”

Barry handed it to him.

Kenneth noticed the bottom with the total had been torn away.  “Where’s the rest of it?”

“I don’t know.  That’s what the dude gave me.”

“Bullshit!”  Kenneth caught sight of an old-school boom box as it was lifted into the truck.  “Why did you get that?”

“So we can listen to some music while we’re fucking them up.”

“Dude!  That thing is old.  It only takes cassettes.”

He opened one of the cassette decks and pulled out a cassette.  “Some dumbass left this in it.  And the pawn shop didn’t even catch it.”

Kenneth read the name of the movie soundtrack written on the cassette, Flashdance.  “It’s an obsolete piece of shit, just like that stereo.”

Barry laid the boom box in the back of the truck.  “You’re just jealous because I got one over on ‘em.”

He spotted a telescope laying on the cart.  “What the fuck is that?”

“What does it look like?”

“Why did you get a fucking telescope?”

“We might need to do some reconnaissance.”

“On the fucking moon!”  He looked at the price tag.  “I know you didn’t pay five-hundred bucks for this.”

“Hope.  I got a discount.”

“You fucker.  You need to take this shit back in there.”

“There’s no refunds.  Everything is sold ‘As Is’.”

“Bullshit!”

“It says it right there on the receipt.”

“How convenient that didn’t get ripped off.”

“Stop whining and let’s get the fuck out of here.”  Barry settled into the truck.

Kenneth was still steaming as he raced off.  “You’re going to pay me back every fucking cent.”

“Speaking of paying back, where’s my two-hundred bucks?”

Silicone Sex Toy

Kenneth was still pissed as he sped down the highway.  “Why in the fuck did you get a welder?”

“I bought this trailer off Craigslist a few months ago, and it needs some repairs.”

“What the fuck?  You bought shit for yourself, then have the audacity to ask for your two-hundred bucks back?”

“I told you….”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.  Just tell me where in the fuck we’re going.”

“Fine, crybaby.”  He scanned the surrounding area through the window looking for a place to stop.

A few miles down the road, Barry spotted a mini storage.  “Hey!  We can do it there.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“We can rent a space.  That way no one will see us.”

“That’s fucking stupid.”

“No, it’s not.  Think about it.  We’ll be behind closed gates.  Cops don’t patrol there.”

“Maybe not, but they have fucking cameras.”

“So.  We can disguise ourselves.”

“What about my truck?”

“We can disguise it too.”

“Stop pretending to be Seth.  It’s too risky.”

“You’re just trying to make it difficult because of the stuff I bought.”

Kenneth drove around for two hours looking for a place.  He finally found an old barn that appeared to be sitting empty and located way out in the country.  It looked as if no one had been there in a long time, judging that by the way the weeds were grown up around it.  Barry had fallen asleep, so Kenneth, still furious, yelled at him.  “Wake up, asshole!”

He jerked forward and rubbed his eyes.  “What the hell?  I was sleeping.”

“I found a place.”

Barry examined their surroundings, spotting the barn.  “I’m not really in the mood anymore.”

Kenneth pulled up to some double doors.  “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.  Now go check it out.  If it’s clear, open the doors so I can drive in.”

“Okay, you fucking grouch.”  Barry entered the barn.  A few minutes later, he opened the doors and motioned for Kenneth to pull in.

Kenneth parked inside, then reclined his seat back to get comfortable.  Barry knocked on the window.  “Hey!”

Kenneth rolled it down.  “What?”

“Aren’t you going to help me unload?”

“No.  This is your deal.  I’m going to sit my ass in the AC and take a nap.”

“At least turn off your truck so I don’t have to breathe carbon monoxide.”

“I’m not sweating, so deal with it.”

“You need to do your part.”

“I did, back at the fucking pawn shop.”

“How long are you going to cry about that?”

“Until you pay me back.”

Barry popped off as he walked away.  “When Hell freezes over.”

Kenneth yelled out the window.  “What was that?”

“I said if that appeases you.”

“That’s what I thought.”  Kenneth started to roll up his window, but paused.  “Oh yeah.  Seth said to read the files on those assholes so you know what they did.”

“Alright.”  Barry dragged the three men out of the truck and dropped them on the dirt floor.  Two of the men were younger white dudes, around mid-twenties, and they were both stocky with short haircuts.  They were wearing shorts and hoodies.  An odd combination, Barry thought.  The other man was an older Mexican that appeared to be around fifty.  He looked like Geraldo Rivera with his salt and pepper hair and thick mustache.  He was wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt that read Free Mustache Rides.  He opened the file to see what each had done.  The Hispanic man was Jose Perez.  A three-time convicted child molester who had a thing for young boys.  The younger two, Daniel Ruston and George Peterson, happened to be friends.  They served five-years in the pen for beating a fifteen-year-old with Down syndrome.  They did it just out of meanness.  Barry now understood why Seth wanted their files reviewed before the fun began.  He removed their clothes, secured their hands behind their backs and tied their legs together.

He approached Jose and stripped him down.  Then he hung two sections of rope from the ceiling ten-feet apart, tied them to Jose’s ankles, and then hoisted him up in the air to where his head hung just a few inches off the ground.  The ropes pulled apart his legs into a spread-eagle position.

He tried to wake them up, but they were in a deep state of unconsciousness.  He knocked on Kenneth’s window.

He sighed and rolled it down.  “Now what?”

“I can’t get them to wake up.”

“That’s because Joe gave them a horse tranquilizer.”  He dug through a paper bag, pulling out a syringe and vial, and offered them to Barry.  “I think this will reverse the effects of it.”

Barry read the vial.  “Yohimbine.  You sure this will work?”

“Joe said it would.”

Barry returned to the men and injected them with the drug.  George awoke first, and being a little dazed, tried to focus on Barry’s face.  “Where am I?”  At that exact moment, he realized he was tied up.  “What the fuck is going on?”

Barry stood next to him in a menacing posture.  “You’re having a nightmare.”

He was confused as he looked around.  “What?  No.  I’m awake.”  He glanced at himself trying to get oriented and suddenly discovered his nakedness.  “What the fuck are you doing?”

Daniel opened his eyes to the sound of George’s raised voice and started freaking out.  “Why am I tied up?”

George nodded towards Barry.  “This weirdo kidnapped us.”

“Kidnapped us?”  Daniel glared at Barry.  “What the fuck, dude?”

Barry put his finger to his lips.  “Shhh.”

“Don’t shush me, you sick fuck!”

“You better watch your tongue, asshole!”

“Fuck you!  I’ll rip off your fucking head and shove it up your ass!”

“I’ll remember you said that.”

“You don’t fucking scare me!”

Jose had awoken.  “Hey!  What the fuck is going on?  Why am I hanging upside-down?”

Barry strutted over to him.  “I’m glad you could join us.”

“What the fuck, man?  Are you fucking crazy or something?  Why are you doing this?”

“Because you like to fuck little boys.”

He started jerking and wrenching at his restraints.  “Who in the fuck do you think you’re talking to?  I’ll cut out your fucking guts!”

“Don’t be so aggressive.  I have a surprise planned just for you.  Something that will make your wildest fantasies come true.”

“You better let me down, motherfucker!”

Barry held up a reciprocating saw, showing him the sixteen-inch-long blade that was attached to it.  “Let me know if this hurts.”  He started cutting into his body between his left leg and balls, shredding through his muscles and hipbone.  The blade was long enough that it stuck out the backside of him, slicing through his left butt cheek.  Within seconds, Jose passed out.  Barry knocked on Kenneth’s window.  “Hey!”

Kenneth, sound asleep, startled awake yelling, “Get the fuck away from me!”

Barry knocked on the window again.  “Hey!  It’s me!”

He glared at him as he rolled it down.  “What?

“Who were you yelling at?”

“I was dreaming.”

“About what?”

“I was being chased by something that was screaming at me.”

Barry laughed.  “You heard Jose screaming and it entered your dream.”

“Try to keep it down.”

“Really?  How in the fuck am I supposed to do that?”

“Tape his mouth shut or something.”

“Maybe you should use some earplugs.  Or turn on the radio.”

He rolled up his window, then turned on the radio.

Barry knocked on the window.  “Hey!  What are you doing?”

He huffed and rolled it down again.  “Why do you keep bothering me?”

“Do you have any of that Party-Time shit that Seth uses to keep someone awake?”

He dug through a duffle bag and located a bottle of the concoction.  Kenneth shoved it at Barry.  “Don’t bother me anymore.”

Jose awoke within seconds after Barry injected him with Party-Time.  Blood streamed along his body from the cut between his legs all the way to his head.  He started freaking out.  “You’re right!  You’re right!  I am a pervert!  I’ll do whatever you want if you don’t hurt me anymore!”

Barry shoved the blade back into the wound.  Jose violently flopped around and screamed as Barry mutilated his body.  He stopped cutting him when the blade was even with his bellybutton.  From there, he carved across his lower abdomen, then brought the blade out from between his right leg and balls.  When he was done, he pulled the large slab of flesh from his body.  It contained his penis, balls and anus.  He dropped it on the floor and reached for a portable torch kit to cauterize the edges from where it had been excised to stop the hemorrhaging.  Blood, feces and urine were pouring out of the huge hole between his legs, covering his body in a blanket of filth and muck.  He had endured so much pain that he passed out again, even with the administration of Seth’s concoction.  Barry cut his ropes, allowing Jose’s body to plunge to the floor, then sauntered over to Daniel and George.  “I hear y’all like beating up retards.”

They were horrified and frantic after witnessing the brutality Barry had inflicted upon Jose.  George spoke first.  “Hey, man!  I’ll do whatever you want if you don’t hurt me.”

Daniel grimaced in terror.  “Me too!”

Barry decided to mess with them.  “Eat each other’s asshole and I might show a little mercy.”

Daniel frowned from the disgust rising up in him.  “What?  You’re joking, right?”

“ATM or get what Jose got.  And I’m not giving you another warning.”

George glowered at Daniel as they recognized they didn’t have a choice.  “Just do it.”

He shook his head.  “You go first.”

“No way.  You go first.”

Barry picked up the saw.  “I guess I’m going first.”

Daniel scooted, like a slug going to dinner, towards George since his arms and legs were tied up.  “Okay!  I’m doing it!  I’ll go first!”

George rolled onto his stomach so Daniel could crawl on top of his legs.  Daniel felt nauseous as he stared at George’s anus.  “Oh my God!  This is disgusting.”

Barry revved the saw.

“I’m doing it!”  Daniel closed his eyes, then started lightly licking around the outside of George’s anus with just the tip of his tongue.  Barry put his foot on the back of his head, shoving it tightly between George’s ass cheeks.  “Don’t beat around the bush.  Get in there.”

Daniel was horrified to find himself licking his friend’s butthole.

“Don’t lick on it.  Eat the motherfucker.”

He started gagging as he shoved his tongue inside the warm anus.  George’s face was red from embarrassment as he pouted at Barry.  “This is humiliating.  Can we stop?”

“Not until you both eat each other’s asshole.”  Barry spied Jose stirring around.  He walked over to him.  “You ready for your surprise?”

Jose started scooting across the floor.  “Stay away from me.”  His intestines were unraveling out of the large hole between his legs and he left a trail of blood and feces as he scuttled as far from Barry as he could get

Barry grabbed him by the hair of his head and dragged him back.  He showed him the section of bloody flesh that he had cut from him.  “There’s your surprise.”

Because Jose had passed out before Barry removed it from his body, he was ignorant of the fact that it was from him.  All he knew was Barry had cut him with the saw.  He was confused as he looked at the bloody piece of meat on the floor.  It looked like a large brisket with sections of skin and hair.  The part with the skin revealed male genitalia.  The rest of it looked like bloody meat with severed veins, tendons and bones hanging from it.  He assumed it was from an animal, so he didn’t think anything of it.  He was more concerned about the damage Barry had done to him.  He tried to sit up so he could see, but flopped back from the sharp pain shooting through his abdomen.  “Oh fuck!  What have you done to me?”

“I made you a surprise.”

“Why do you keep saying that?  I don’t understand what’s going on!”

Barry was standing over him with a smirk.

“Why are you staring at me like that, you creepy fuck?”

“Don’t call me that, asshole!”  He kicked him in the side.

“I don’t even know who you are!  Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because you like to fuck little boys.”

“You must have me mixed up with someone else!”

“I don’t think so, Mr. Mustache Ride.”  Barry cut his arms loose.  “Now get to suckin’ your dick.”

“Suck what?”

“Your dick.  And since it’s flaccid, it’s about the size of a kid’s dick, so you should enjoy it.”

“I don’t understand.  I can’t reach my penis.”

“Sure, you can.  It’s right in front of you.”

He looked at the slab of meat for a moment, then reached down to his groin now that his hands were free.  A petrifying sensation of terror completely overtook him when he discovered nothing remained but a gaping hole.  “Oh fuck!  What have you done?”

Barry grabbed a sledgehammer from the truck.  “I’m not telling you again to suck your dick.”

Jose growled with fury.  “You fucking destroyed my body, you sick fuck!”  He started crawling towards him.  “I’m going to fucking kill you!”

Barry slammed the hammer down on his right foot, shattering bones and crushing flesh.  “Do it, asshole!”

Jose screamed.  “Fuck you!”

Barry crushed his other foot.  “I’m not stopping until you do it!”

He raised his hands.  “Okay, okay!  I’ll do it!  Stop hitting me!”  He laid back breathing heavily and emitting agonizing moans.

“I’m waiting.”

“I’m in pain!  Give me a minute!”

“I’m going to make you think pain if you don’t get your ass moving.”

“Please show a little mercy.  I’ll do….”

Barry whacked the sledgehammer on his knee, crushing the joint.  Jose screamed as he crawled over to the slab of flesh.  He knew Barry would continue hurting him until he did it.  He was in so much agony that he didn’t give it a second thought as he started sucking on his penis.

“Don’t suck on it like a pacifier.  I want you to pull back on it until it pops from your mouth.”

Jose did what he was told.  He held a suction on his penis as he drew his head back.  After his flaccid penis stretched a few inches, it popped from his mouth.

“That’s it.  You got the hang of it.  Now keep doing it.”

He had to hold the slab of bloody flesh on the ground as he sucked on his penis.

“And while you’re at it, finger your asshole.”

Jose was livid as he shoved a finger into his anus.  He was so incensed all he could focus on was getting revenge.

Barry laughed.  “That kind of looks like you’re playing with one of those silicone sex toys.”

“You’re going to pay for this, you sick fuck!”

“Why are you so upset?  I thought you liked sucking on little ding-dongs.”

“You’re going to burn in Hell for this, you demented motherfucker!”

“You just need to worry about pleasuring yourself.”

“Fuck you!”

Penis Snorkel

Barry went over to George and Daniel to check on their progress.  “How are my two faggots doin’?”

Daniel looked at Barry as George licked his anus.  “Hey, man.  We’ll do whatever you want, as long as you don’t hurt us.”

“Don’t start whining.”

“I’m not.  I’m just letting you know you don’t have to get all crazy like you did with that other dude.”

“Crazy?  Fuck you!  I’ll show you crazy!”

George looked up.  “You don’t have to be like that.  We’re doing what you want.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m eating his ass.  Just like you wanted.”

Barry picked up the sledgehammer.

George was confused.  “Hold up!  You don’t have to use that!  I’m doing what you asked!”

Barry nodded towards Daniel’s buttocks.  “If you are, then why can I still see his pucker hole?”

He was worried Barry was going to hit him.  “I don’t understand what you want me to do?”

“Eat it.”

“I have been.”

“No, I mean eat it for real.”

“I don’t know what that means?  Is it something gay dudes do?”

“Maybe gay serial killers.”

He was even more confused.  “What?”

“I want you to literally eat his ass.”

“You mean like nibble on it or something?”

Barry’s level of frustration increased exponentially.  “No!  I want you to sink your fucking teeth into his ass and rip a piece out, chew it up, swallow it, then bite off another piece, and so on.  You know, like the directions on shampoo: wet, lather, rinse and repeat.”

George looked at him like he was crazy.  “You’re fucking nuts!  There’s no way we’re doing that!”

Daniel couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  He rolled onto his back.  “What the fuck is wrong with you?  Are you fucking insane?”

Barry launched sledgehammer into Daniel’s crotch, smashing his penis and shattering the front of his pelvis.  The impact knocked a large crater in him for the sledgehammer to burrow into, causing the head to barely stick out of his body.  Daniel wailed for a few seconds, passing out midscream.  Barry pulled out the hammer and looked at George in amazement.  “Check that shit out.  It caved in his fuckin’ dick.”

George was petrified.  “Oh fuck!  Please don’t hit me with that!  I’ll do whatever you want!  I swear.”

He lowered the hammer.  “I’m make a deal with you.  If you do everything I tell you, I won’t hurt you.”

He was relieved.  “Oh my God!  Thank you!”

Barry was stoked that George feared him.  He rolled Daniel’s unconscious body over.  “Get to butt divin’.”

George didn’t say a word as he shoved his face between Daniel’s ass cheeks and started biting into his anus.  He was terrified that Barry would use the sledgehammer on him if he refused.

“That’s right.  Treat that fucker like a buffet.”  Barry wanted Daniel to feel his ass being torn apart, so he injected him with Seth’s concoction.  Within seconds, he was screaming and violently flopping around.  Barry cut George’s hands loose.  “Hold him down while you toss his salad!”

George showed no mercy as he ravaged Daniel’s anus.  All he could think about was surviving.  Daniel was thrashing around so much that George had to hold onto his ass cheeks to keep him from wrenching away.  In fact, he was grasping him so tightly that his fingers tore into his flesh. 

Barry noticed Daniel had a big hole between his butt cheeks.  “George!  Shove your head up his ass.”

He looked up at him.  His face covered in blood and feces.  “What?”

“I want to see if you can get your entire head in his ass.”

“Why?”

“First off, because I told you to.  Secondly, because that fucker told me he was going to shove my head up my ass.”

“Don’t make me pay for that.”

“Would you rather have his head up your ass?”

“No.”  He tried to fit his head in, but the hole was too small.  “It’s not big enough.”

“Then stretch the fucker out.”

George started pulling on the hole with his hands, stretching and tearing it as much as possible.  The pain was so intense that Daniel was on the verge of passing out.  He had screamed so much he was now hoarse as he lay moaning and writhing in agony.

“Let’s see if that made a difference.”

He tried again, but his head still wouldn’t fit.  “Please don’t get mad!  I’m trying!”

“Let me try something.”  Barry motioned for him to move out of the way, then started hitting Daniel’s waist with the sledgehammer, shattering his hips and breaking the rest of his pelvis.  “Now you should be able to get in there.”

George noticed Daniel wasn’t moving.  “Oh fuck!  Is he dead?”

“No.  He passed out.”

George felt bad for Daniel.  They had been friends since grade school.  In the back of his mind, he assumed everything would turn out okay.  In the end, Barry would get caught and go to prison, and even though they would have some scarring, they would be alive.  The best-case scenario now was, Daniel would be crippled for the rest of his life, but that’s if he survived, and that thought angered him.  Prison wasn’t an option for Barry now.  He deserved to die a slow and painful death.  He started thinking of the ways he could make him suffer.

Barry noticed George was smiling as he stared into space.  “What the fuck are you doing?”

George looked at Barry.  “What?”

“Stop daydreaming and see if your head will fit.”

Even though he was angry and wanted revenge, he knew if he refused, Barry would hurt him.  His only chance at survival was to keep playing along, and if he made it out of this hellish nightmare, he’d dedicate his life to making Barry pay.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?  Why do you keep zoning out?”

“Sorry.”  George tried to stick his head into Daniel, but intestines were bulging out of the hole.  “His guts are in the way.”

“Pull ‘em out.”

He pulled out about eight feet, then ripped them in two.  This time he could get his head in, but quickly pulled it out.  “I can’t breathe in there.”

Barry was happy that George was being so cooperative.  He wasn’t used to anyone taking him serious.  It made him feel as powerful as Seth for once.  “Hold up.  I have an idea.”  He walked around the barn looking for something that would help George breathe.  A few minutes later, he came back with a piece of three-eighths copper tubing.  He squatted down next to Daniel and rolled him on his side.  He stuck the tube into the end of his penis, down his urethra, then punctured his urethra where it turned upwards towards his prostate, allowing the tube to enter his abdominal cavity.  He trimmed the end of the tubing even with his penis.  “That should do it.  Crawl on in there and find the end of the tubing.  You can use it like a straw to breathe.”

“If I do it, will you promise not to kill me?”

“I promise I will kill you if you don’t.”

George was appalled by Barry’s vile and disturbing behavior.  Never in his life had he witnessed someone so sadistic.  He had to be mentally insane to do such things, he thought to himself.  Only thing on his mind now was getting revenge, but what good would that do if Barry was going to kill him in the end.  “I’m going to do it, but I beg you to let me go when this is over.”

“I’ve already told you I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Okay.  But how long do I have to do it?”

“Until I say.  And if you pull your head out before then, I’ll beat your ass with the sledgehammer.”

He took a deep breath, then worked his head into Daniel’s open cavity.  He quickly found the copper tube and started breathing through it.  Barry sat on him and tied his arms behind his back.  He then took a needle-and-thread and started sewing Daniel’s loose skin that was hanging from his open wound to George’s neck.  George was screaming through the pipe and lurching around in an attempt to free himself as Barry stitched them together.  When he was done, he injected Daniel with Seth’s Party-Time, then sat resting on the truck’s tailgate and lit a cigarette.  He was proud as he reflected upon his creation.

Suddenly, a light started shining through the boards from the outside.  He took off running to wake Kenneth up.  He beat on the window.  “Get up!  Someone is here!”

He rolled it down.  “What the fuck is wrong with you?  You’re going to break my glass!”

“Someone is here!”

“It’s Wyatt.  I told him to meet us here.”

“Oh.”

“Get your shit loaded up.  We need to head out.”

“Don’t you want to see what I did to them?”

“Not really.”

“Come on, man.  You’ll like it.”

Kenneth got out.  “Alright.  Let’s see what the fuck you have going on out here.”  When he walked to the rear of the truck, his expression changed from one of curiosity to disbelief.  “What the fuck is this sick shit?”

Barry shrugged his shoulders.  “What do you mean?”

He shook his head watching Jose suck his own penis.  “You’re a sick fuck just like Seth.”  He then noticed that George’s head disappeared inside Daniel.  “What the hell?”  He ambled over to them, picking out a strange noise from the quiet within the barn.  “What is that sound?”

Barry, as a peacock displaying its tail feathers, pointed to Daniel’s penis.  “George is breathing through Daniel’s dick.”

“What does that mean?”

“I put a tube through Daniel’s dick and George is using it like a snorkel.  A penis snorkel.”

Wyatt came walking in.  He immediately noticed the men, then turned with a scowl to Kenneth.  “Dude!  What the fuck?  You’re always bitching at Seth for doing sick shit.”

“I had nothing to do with this.  I was in the truck.  This was all done by mini Seth.”

Barry smiled.  He liked being referred to as mini Seth.  “So, does this mean I did good?”

“I’m sure Seth would like it.”  Kenneth looked at his watch.  “It’s almost midnight.  We need to get rollin’.”  He focused on Barry.  “You need to pick up your shit and do something with those monstrosities you created.”

“I’m on it.”  Barry started loading George and Daniel into the back of the truck.

Kenneth yelled at him.  “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Taking them with us.”

“Bullshit!  You need to leave them here.”

“That’s not happening.  Seth gets to keep his trophies.”

“You’re not fucking Seth.”

“You called me mini Seth.   Don’t flip flop now.”

“You’re not putting those nasty fuckers in my truck.”

“Fuck if I’m not.”

Wyatt intervened.  “We don’t have time for this.  You know he’s not going to back down.  Just let him take ‘em.”

Kenneth gritted his teeth.  “Fuck it!  If you get any blood or shit in my truck, you’ll be cleaning it up.”

Barry was smiling as he loaded them up.  When he was done, he started pulling Jose into the truck.  Kenneth ran over to him.  “Hold up!  You’re not taking him.  He has shit flowing out of him like a sewer pipe.”

“Don’t worry—I’ll clean it up.”  He jumped out of the back of the truck, picked up Jose’s slab of flesh and tossed it towards the bed.  It flew through the camper shell, slamming into the truck’s back window and left a bloody smear in its wake as it slid down the glass.

Kenneth was furious.  “Dammit!  Look what you did!”

Barry shut the lid.  “Let’s go.”  He got in the truck.

Kenneth grumped to Wyatt.  “Let’s head out.  Texarkana is about a five-hour drive.”

Possum Eating Shit

Seth and Missy arrived at his warehouse in Texarkana around 3 AM.  They had picked up Janna Johnson from Longview, and Robert Haverland from Lufkin.  He opened a set of double doors, then drove in and parked.  He keyed up on the two-way radio.  “K-Dog.  You there?”

“Go ahead.”

“What’s your twenty?”

“Nacogdoches.”

“You’re about two-hours away.  We just arrived.”

“Ten-four.”

Missy had been asleep in the passenger seat.  She yawned as she sat up.  “Are we already here?”

“Yeah, but you can keep resting.  I’m going to get things set up before Kenneth arrives.”

“I’m fine.  I want to help.”

Before Seth left the RV, he injected everyone with a tranquilizer to knock them unconscious, then he traipsed into the building and turned on just a few high-bay fixtures.  As they slowly lit up the dark, Missy could see the inside of the building.  It was cold, damp and had a musty odor.  The walls were made of haydite blocks and the different layers of paint were peeling off, leaving a rustic look.  “What is this place?”

“It was originally a cotton gin in the early 1900s.  After that, it was used for metal recycling.  The surrounding twenty acres was used as a salvage yard, and it still has a lot of cool stuff left.”

“So, this is a junk yard?”

“Yep, just like Sanford and Son, but on steroids.”

“Why would you want something like this?”

“So I can have an endless supply of parts to build stuff.”

“That makes sense.”

Seth loaded some tools and parts on a cart, then pushed it to a wall.  He mounted ten D-rings along the wall, spacing them three-feet apart and seven-feet high.  He secured two short chains with wrist shackles on each of the rings.  Missy and Seth used a cart to haul the sleazeballs from the RV to the wall.  Seth held each scumbag against the wall as Missy shackled their wrists.

Around 5 AM, Kenneth and Wyatt drove up.  Seth opened the overhead door for them so they could park inside.  Seth peeked in the back of Missy’s truck, discerning a tarp was covered Mary Gomez.  He flung it back.  “Damn!  This bitch is gross.  She looks like the female version of Danny Trejo.”

Wyatt laughed.  “Yeah.  And heavy as fuck.”

“Drag her big ass over to the wall and hang her up next to Allen.”

“Which one is Allen?”

“The dickless dude that looks like he got into a fight with a hammer.”

Wyatt laughed.  “Oh yeah, that fucker.”

“If you need help lifting her up, get Barry to help.”

“Will do.”

Seth walked up to Kenneth and Barry as they unloaded two men out of the truck.  They were tied up and their heads were covered with tow sacks.  “I can’t believe we were only able to get five convicts from Houston.”

Kenneth laughed.  “And Barry wiped out three of them for you.”

Seth noticed one of the men had brown skin.  “I take it that’s Gilbert Lopez?”

“Yep.  He’s the one that killed the cop during a traffic stop.  And the white dude is Billy Smith.  He’s the arsonist that killed three people.”

Seth noticed all the merchandise in the bed.  “Damn!  Somebody went shopping.”

Kenneth was aggravated.  “I need to talk to you about that.  He put all this shit on my credit card.  And most of it he bought for himself.”

Barry interrupted.  “Who gives a fuck about that?”  He couldn’t wait to show Seth what he had done to Jose, Daniel and George.  “Check this shit out.”  When he started pulling them out of the truck, he noticed Jose had died.  “Dammit!  I wanted you to see Jose suck his own dick.”

Seth could see Jose’s groin was missing.  “What the hell did you do to him?”

Barry dug around in the back of the truck until he found the slab of flesh that he cut from him, bloodying his hands as he held it up.  “I made a fag toy for him.”

Seth laughed.  “That’s fuckin’ gnarly.”

“And check this out.”  Barry dragged George and Daniel out of the truck and onto the concrete.

“That’s a first, even for me.”

Barry was smiling like a possum eating shit.  “I knew you would like it.”

Seth noticed Daniel was dead, but George was still moving.  “How is that fucker breathing?”

“I put a pipe in Daniel’s dick and George is using it like a snorkel.”

“You outdid yourself.  Good job.”

Kenneth was shaking his head.  “You two fuckers need help.”

Barry laughed.  “You’re just jealous.”

Seth pointed at Gilbert and Billy.  “Y’all go ahead and drag them over to the wall and hang them up with the others.”

“Will do.”

He looked at Barry.  “Some of the scumbags are starting to wake up.  Before they get unruly, strip down the ones that are still dressed.  Then I want you to show them your creations and let them know this is the kind of shit we like to do.”

“I can do that.”  He was excited as he dragged George and Daniel away.

While Kenneth, Wyatt and Barry were doing their tasks, Seth took the opportunity to verify everyone’s identity.  They were all supposed to be murderers that had been released on early parole.  The group that Seth and Missy had hung on the wall already had been tattooed with their names and committed crimes, but he wanted to double check it.

Missy was holding the folder with everyone’s picture and information.  Hanging from left to right there was:

Janna Johnson from Longview.  She had thrown her newborn baby in a dumpster.  She was thin, redheaded and in her mid-twenties.  She was the youngest of the group.

Robert Haverland from Lufkin.  He shot a couple during a carjacking.  He was thirty-three, had a mullet and a beard.  He looked like he was straight from the eighties. 

Humberto Gonzalez from Rocksprings.  He stabbed a woman to death when he tried to steal her purse and she fought back.  He was short and stocky, had a bald head, goatee and covered in tattoos.  He looked like a gangbanger.

Rachel Montgomery from San Antonio.  She had drowned two of her kids.  She had dirty-blonde hair, big breasts and was of average build.

Cecil Stewart from San Antonio.  He stabbed his wife to death and tried to blame it on an intruder.  He was in his late sixties and the oldest of the group.  He was skinny and had long shaggy hair and a long, gray beard. 

Johnny Mathews from Austin.  A drug addict that stabbed a woman to death when he broke into her house.  He was skinny, filthy, had unkempt hair and his face was covered in scars.  He looked homeless. 

Allen Bailey from Austin.  He was the winner of the boxing match.  He had beat his girlfriend to death.  He was thirty-two, six-five and muscular.  His face and head were still bruised and bloody from the match, and his severed penis was still hanging from his neck.

Mary Gomez from Brownsville.  She stabbed her two young kids to death.  She was short and overweight.  Her skin was dark and rough with a lot of scarring, and she had long, thick black hair.

Gilbert Lopez from Houston.  Shot a police officer during a traffic stop.  He was in his late twenties, average height, thin build and covered in tattoos.

Billy Smith from Houston.  Drug addict.  Burned down a house, killing three people.  He had blonde, shaggy hair and a chubby face.  He looked like Jeff Daniels in the movie Dumb and Dumber.

Kenneth walked up to Seth and Missy.  He looked at all the people hanging by their wrists.  “Looks like y’all are fixing to have fun.”

Seth laughed.  “Yeah, it’s a vigilante’s wet dream.”  He nodded towards Kenneth’s truck.  “How much did Spanky spend on all that shit?”

“The little bastard won’t tell me.”

Seth handed him some money.  “Here’s three grand.”

He stuck it in his pocket.  “You gonna beat his ass?

“Naw.  I’m not worried about it.”

“So, what are you going to do to these assholes?”

“My plans have changed.  I just received a text with the address where Richard, Steve and Jessie are hiding.”

“Who are they?”

“The men that murdered Bill’s wife and daughter.  They’re the reason why we’re doing this.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Missy and I are going to head to Amarillo before they disappear.”

He pointed to the people on the wall.  “What about them?”

“Y’all can fuck ‘em up.”

“Fuck that.  Let me go to Amarillo.  You can stay here.”

“Richard and his buddies are priority over everything else.”

“I can handle it.”

Seth pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Kenneth.  “That’s the address.  And you need to take Wyatt and Barry with you.  These fuckers are going to be armed and more than willing to kill since they’re on the run.”

“Barry might get in the way.”

“And he might also get between you and a bullet.”

Kenneth laughed.  “A human shield.  I didn’t think of that.”

Barry walked up.  “Are you fuckers talking about me again?”

Seth looked at him.  “Yeah.  I need you to take a bullet for Kenneth if it comes to it.”

His eyes grew with excitement.  “Do we have another mission?”

“Yeah, you have another assignment.  Highest priority.  And I need you to be on your best game.”

“When are we leaving?”

“Now.”

“Is Wyatt goin’?”

“Yep.”

Barry started to take off, but paused.  “What vehicle are we taking?”

“Kenneth is taking his truck, and I need either you or Wyatt to take the Toyota.”

He ran towards Kenneth’s truck, and as he passed by Wyatt, he slapped his ballcap off as he yelled, “Shotgun!”

Wyatt walked up to Seth.  “What’s going on?”

He handed him the keys to the Toyota.  “Y’all are heading to Amarillo to pick up Richard and his two buddies.  I need you to drive the Toyota as a backup.”

“Alright.”  He headed for the RV to unload it.

Kenneth looked at Seth.  “I guess we’ll see you later.”

“Missy and I will head that way when we’re done here.”  Seth opened the door to let Kenneth and Wyatt pass.

Death Certificate

After Kenneth and Wyatt drove off, Seth and Missy went over to the group of people hanging on the wall.  He handed her a vial and syringe.  “Give the ones that are still unconscious a half CC of epinephrine.  If they don’t wake up in a few minutes, give them another dose.”

As she injected them, Seth pulled the RV closer, then opened the rear door.  He set up a table and chair, a raffle-ticket drum and a medieval-style pillory in front of the delinquents hanging from the wall.

Missy sauntered over to find Seth filling out some forms at the table.  “Only four of them were unconscious.  But for some reason, the others aren’t saying anything.”

He laughed.  “You can thank Barry for that.  He played show and tell with the dudes he fucked up.  And being nude in front of each other doesn’t help either.”  He completed the last form and turned to Missy.  “I think we’re ready to go.”  Seth marched over to the group, faced them and held up the forms.  “These are death certificates.  I filled out one for each of you, but left the cause of death blank.  You’ll get to decide how you’re going to die.  If you don’t choose, we’ll choose one for you.”  He pointed at the drum.  “That’s full of fun ways to die, and I promise, they’ll be a lot worse than anything you’ll pick.”

Everyone started yelling curse words and threats.  Seth walked up to Robert since he was being the loudest.  “You get the honor of going first.”

He glared at Seth.  “Screw you, motherfucker!  You’re not going to get away with this!”

Everyone was still shouting as Seth grabbed a special pole that he had crafted to restrain scumbags like these.  It was six-feet long and had a braided-cable loop on one end and a twist handle on the other.  The cable was covered in sharp barbs, and when the handle was twisted, the loop would tighten up.  Seth held the end of the pole over Robert’s head and lowered the loop around his neck.  He twisted the handle, tightening up the loop until Robert’s eyes bulged and he started gasping for air.  He looked at Missy.  “Unlatch his shackles.”

When she released him, he tried to fight back, but Seth twisted the handle harder, his knees buckled and sent him crashing to the floor.  “I’ll break your fucking neck if you don’t cooperate!”

The barbs were cutting into his neck and blood was flowing down his body.  He patted the pole to indicate submission as he grunted out, “Okay!  I’ll stop fighting!”

Seth forced him over to the table and shoved him down onto the chair.  He looked at Missy.  “Give the fucker his certificate.”

She flipped through the pile, found his, and slid it across the table.

Seth tossed him a pen.  “Write how you want to kick the bucket.”

He tried to get up.  “Fuck you!  You’re not going to get away with this!”

Seth twisted the handle.  “Do it, or we’ll pick one for you.”

“Go to Hell!”

Seth looked at Missy.  “Pick something cool for Mr. Mullet.”

She rolled the drum, then reached in and pulled out a folder piece of paper.  She read it out loud.  “Exploded.”

“Write that on your certificate, asshole.”

Robert was pushing off the table.  “Fuck you!”

Seth twisted the handle harder.  “Then we’ll just write strangulation on there for you.”

He tried to grab the cable around his neck, but it was too tight.  When he started turning blue, he grabbed the pen and started scribbling on the form.

Seth relaxed the cable.  “That’s kind of sloppy, but it’ll do.”  He forced Robert over to the pillory and locked his wrists and neck in it.  “Hang out here.  I’ll be back in a minute.”  He went into the RV.

Robert was frantically fighting at the wooden restraint as he shouted curse words and threats.  “Fuck you, asshole!  You’re not going to get away with this, you sick fuck!”

When Seth returned, he was wearing a chemical suit and carrying a five-gallon air tank.  The tank had a two-inch pipe with a gate valve sticking out of it.  He looked at Missy.  “Check out this thing.”

“What the hell is it?”

“Tire bead sealer.  I saw one being used in a tire shop.  They use them to blast the inside of a tire with air to make the beads seal on the wheel.  This tank holds five-gallons of air at a 145 PSI.  When I open the valve, a massive amount of air will blast out the two-inch pipe.”  He rubbed some lubricant on the end of the pipe, then forced it into Robert’s ass.  He looked at Missy.  “I’d get way back.”

Robert was screaming.  “What the fuck are you doing to me, you faggot?  It’s ripping me!  Get it out!”

Most of the dirtbags on the wall were being quiet as they watched, but some were still yelling threats.  Seth closed his face shield, held onto the tank tightly, then opened the valve.  The sudden blast of air caused Robert’s abdomen to abruptly expand like an automotive airbag.  In a fraction of a second, the skin around his torso shredded and body fluids and internal parts exploded out of him, simulating a bomb going off.  Seth was shocked as he looked at the mess on the floor.  His suit was covered from head to toe with blood, feces and ravaged pieces of flesh.  He could barely see Missy through his shield.  “I’ll be back.”  He laid the tank on the floor and hurried outside.

A few minutes later, he came back holding his suit.  It had been washed off.  “Good thing the water is on.”

Missy was shaking her head.  “Did you know that was going to happen?”

Seth noticed Robert’s abdomen looked like a deflated beach ball that had been shredded.  “Not to that degree.”

“Who’s going to clean up that mess?”

“No one.”  He opened the pillory, allowing Robert’s body to slump to the floor, then he slid it over a few feet to get it away from the mess.

She laughed.  “That’s just as bad as sweeping dirt under a rug.”

After witnessing what Seth had done to Robert, everyone was now silent.  Seth stood scrutinizing them.  “Who wants to be next?”

Rachel was crying.  “What gives you the right to murder us?”

“Execute.”

“What?”

“Murder implies you have a life worth living.”

“I haven’t done anything to you!  You have no right to do this!”

“And you had no right drowning your kids.”

“Fuck you!  You don’t know shit!” 

“I know you’re up next.”  He latched the cable around her neck as Missy released her.  She was hysterical as Seth forced her to sit in the chair.

Missy slid a certificate to her.  “Here you go, bitch.  Pick your poison.”

“Please don’t do this!  I’m begging you!”

Seth shoved her head forward with the pole.  “Do it!”

Her hand was shaking as she held the pen.  “Please don’t make me do this!  I’ll do whatever you want!”

“I want you to fill in that blank.”

She dropped the pen and started bawling.  “I can’t do it!”

Missy spun the drum, then pulled out a piece of paper.  “Brains beat out with own fist.”

Seth dragged her over to the pillory, only securing her neck and one arm.  He quickly went to the RV and grabbed a roll of quarters and some duct tape.  He forced her to hold the quarters as he wrapped duct tape around her fist.  When he was done, he whacked her arm off at the shoulder with a hatchet.

Missy reached out.  “I wanna do it.”

Seth handed her the severed arm.  “Have fun.”

Missy went to the front of the pillory with Rachel’s severed arm and started beating her in the head with it.  The bones in her fingers could be heard breaking as her fist struck her skull.  After a few minutes, Missy became tired.  Seth took the arm.  “Let me finish her off.”

Rachel was holding her head down and her body was limp.  Her blonde hair was stained with blood and her scalp was covered with contusions.  Surprisingly, she was still alive.  She raised her head and looked at Seth.  “Please don’t do this!  I don’t want to die!”

He showed no mercy as he started brutally beating her in the head with her own arm.  When brain matter started oozing from her ears, he tossed her arm on the floor, then went over to the others.  “I’m fucking pumped!  Who’s next?”

They were horrified as they looked down.  They were so scared they didn’t want to make eye contact with him in fear he’d pick them.

“Don’t fucking get shy now.”

A man close to the end coughed.  Seth walked over to him.  “Billy Smith.  Has anyone ever told you look like Jeff Daniels?”

“No, sir.”

“Are you dumb, or dumber?”

He was misty eyed.  “I don’t want to die!”

“It’s gonna happen and all the begging in the world isn’t going to matter.  And you need to be thankful I’m giving you the choice how it happens.”

“Thankful?  How can you say that?”

“Because I usually torture the fuck out of my victims.”

He started crying.  “Oh my God!  This can’t be happening!  Please, I beg you not to do this!”

“You need to show some dignity and die like a man.”

“What gives you the right to do this?  I don’t even know who you are.”

Seth had no desire to hear each of them beg, so he stood back from the group so they could all see him.  “Listen up, fuckers!  I’m Seth Coker, AKA, The Angel of fucking Death.”

Everyone’s eyes opened wide.

“Yeah, that got y’all’s attention.  There is nothing you can do or say that’s going to persuade me from killing your ass.  If you know anything about me, then you know what kind of predicament you’re in.  And you also know I’m going easy on you.  The fact is, each of you are going to die today, so I suggest you choose something that is the least painful.”  He pointed at the drum.  “Because everything in that fucker will hurt like a bitch.”

A tattooed Hispanic man yelled out, “What a tough guy!  You be talkin’ all that shit while we’re tied up!  Show me you have balls, ese, and fight me like a man!”

Seth pointed at him.  “You just moved yourself into fourth place, vato.  I’ll deal with you soon as I’m done with Jeff Daniels.”

“I got your vato hanging, motherfucker!”

Seth put the cable around Billy’s neck and forced him to the table.  Missy gave him his death certificate.  His body was trembling.  “Please don’t do this!  I’m begging you!”

Seth looked at Missy.  “Maybe I should sew their fucking mouths closed since my boogieman speech didn’t work.”

She laughed.  “It never does.”

“Right.”

Billy couldn’t believe how Missy and Seth were behaving.  “What is wrong with you two?  I’m a human being!  Y’all don’t have the right to do this!”

Missy tossed a pen next to his certificate.  “Stop whining and fill it out.”

He became violent.  “No!”  He pushed the table away.  “You don’t have the right to do this!”  He fell to the floor.  “Leave me the fuck alone!  I haven’t done shit to you!”

Seth had to hold him down.  “He’s not going to calm down, so go ahead and pick something for him.”  He tightened the loop around Billy’s neck.  “Chill out before I break your fucking neck!”  He raised his hands in submission.  Seth eased up a little so he could breathe.

Missy pulled a piece of paper from the rotating drum and read it.  “Acute poisoning; used Drano for constipation.”

Seth handed Missy the pole.  “If he becomes unruly, just twist the handle.  It will cut off his airflow and the blood to his brain.”

She took the pole.  “I hope he does—I’ll squeeze his fucking head off, like popping a zit.”

Seth grabbed a bottle of Drano from the RV, then sat on Billy’s chest, pinning his arms under his knees.  “Open your mouth.”

He shook his head and muttered through his teeth.  “No, no, no!  You can’t do this!”

Seth shoved his thumb into his right eye.  “Do it!”

“I don’t want to die!  Please stop!”

Seth pushed harder, bursting his eyeball.  “I said open your fucking mouth!”

“I can’t!”

Seth reached back, grabbed his penis and started stretching it.  “I’ll rip off your fucking dick if you don’t!”

“Oh my God!  You’re killing me!  Please stop!  I beg you!”

Seth was stretching his penis so much the outer skin was tearing.  “Drink it, asshole!”

Billy finally couldn’t take the pain anymore and opened his mouth.  Seth started pouring in the Drano.  “You better drink all of it or I’ll rip off your balls too.”

Billy was only able to get half of the bottle down before he started gagging.  Seth stood up and took the pole from Missy.  “If you try to throw it up, I’ll choke your ass.”

His eye was huge and the muscles in his face and neck were tensed up as the chemical began neutralizing his stomach acid.  Within seconds, he started spitting up dark-red blood clots and chunks of his stomach lining.  He was straining so much that his eye became blood-shot, and his empty eye socket began hemorrhaging from the enormous stress his body was going through.  Seth knew he would eventually vomit, so he dragged him by the neck away from the table to prevent a mess.  As soon as he removed the cable, Billy began vomiting uncontrollably. 

Missy was confused.  “I thought you didn’t want him to throw up?”

“It doesn’t matter now.  It’s too late.  The Drano has already eaten through his stomach and is dissolving his guts.

Billy had blood running out of his mouth and nose.  He looked like a zombie as he flopped around on the floor.  He finally arched his back as he let out a bone-chilling scream, then his body went limp.  Everyone on the wall was horrified as they watched him die a very painful death.

Seth walked up to the tattooed Hispanic man.  “You’re up, Gilbert.  Have any last words?”

He smiled, which showed he had some missing front teeth.  “Let’s do this shit!”

Seth put the cable around his neck as Missy released his arms.  Gilbert walked over to the chair and sat down without resisting.  He picked up the pen and wrote on the form.  Seth was surprised with Gilbert’s cooperation.  “The vato has a death wish.”

Missy laughed as she looked at the form.  “This is funny.”

Seth grabbed the form and noticed Gilbert had written atomic bomb for the cause of death.  “What a wise ass.”

Gilbert thought if he came up with something unrealistic that he’d get off.  He grinned.  “That’s how I choose to die, motherfucker.  And I know you keep your word, Mr. Angel of Death.”

“Alright, smart-ass.  I’ll see if I can round one up for you.”  Seth handed Missy the pole, then headed for the RV.

Gilbert yelled at him as he walked away.  “Good luck, ese!”  He smiled as he looked at Missy.  “What’s a fine woman like you doin’ with that asshole?  You need to come to brown town.”

“I’m not into dirtbags.”

“Come, on.  Don’t be like that.  You know you want this.”

“Yeah, I’ve been dreaming of snagging me a toothless fuck.”

“Fuck you, bitch!  Your white ass couldn’t handle this shit anyway.”

She tightened the cable around his neck.  “Shut the fuck up.”

“Go easy, Chica!  I was just messin’ with you.”

Seth came walking up with a wooden baseball bat.  He showed it to Gilbert.  “Does this work?”

He noticed Seth had carved the end of the bat into the shape of a bomb and wrote NUKE on it.  “What the fuck is that?”

Seth struck him in the face, knocking him out of the chair.  Gilbert defecated and urinated on himself as Seth beat him to a bloody pulp.  After a few minutes, he started having labored breathing as he lay in his own blood, piss, shit and vomit.  Towards the end, he just laid helplessly as the bat ravaged his body.  Seth had shattered most of his bones, saving his head for last.  He looked down at him.  “You ready to die?”

Gilbert could barely speak.  “Just do it!”

Seth beat him in the head until his brains were splattered over the floor.  The ones on the wall were frantic after witnessing the barbaric killing.  Half of them were fighting at their restraints, the others were trying to think of an impossible way to die, knowing Gilbert had been on the right track.  They just had to come up with something Seth couldn’t do.

Seth tossed the bat on the floor, then walked up to the group.  “That fucking wore me out.  Y’all try to pick something less exhausting.”  He started pacing back and forth in front of them.  “So, who wants to be next?”

Everyone remained quiet.

“That’s fine.  It’s time to put the old man out of his misery before he has a heart attack.”

Cecil’s body started trembling.  He knew Seth was talking about him since he was the oldest.  He didn’t say a word as Seth and Missy removed him from the wall.  Missy noticed he was in his late sixties, frail and had a long, gray beard.  She tossed him the pen as he sunk to the chair with his head down.  He continued to be quiet as he wrote on the form.  When he was done, Missy took it, then laughed.  “He might have gotten you with this one.”

“What the fuck did he write?”

“Flattened like a pancake by an authentic, full sized, steamroller.”

“Another wise ass.”

Cecil laughed.  “I might be old, but I’m not a fool.  And I hope you know what a steamroller is.  And it’s not something you can carve in a bat, because I specifically requested an authentic one of full size.”

“You sure that’s the way you want to die?”

He crossed his arms as he sported a smirk.  “Yes, sir.”

“No changing your mind?”

“Nope.”

“Alright.  Let me see what I can do.”

“You do that.”

Someone yelled out.  “That’s it.  Let’s all pick a steamroller!  He doesn’t have one, so he won’t be able to kill us.”

Seth looked at Allen.  “Did the hammer knock you silly, or did you grow a pair of balls?”

He was angry that Seth had cut off his penis. “Just playing your game, motherfucker.”

“Yes, you are.”  Seth tossed Missy some large zip-ties.  “Secure Cecil’s arms and legs.”

Cecil looked confused.  “Hold up!  Why are you tying me up?”

“Because I don’t want you running off.”  Seth looked at Missy.  “I’ll be back shortly.”  He got in Missy’s F250 and drove out of the building.

Everyone was congratulating Cecil for coming up with something that would save them.

About thirty minutes later, Seth came pulling into the building.  The diesel engine in Missy’s truck sounded like it was straining.  Cecil’s eyes grew large as Seth pulled up.  “You got to be fucking kidding me!”

Seth stopped in front of the group.  They were speechless as they stared at an antique steamroller that Seth was pulling behind the truck.  He jumped out, dragged Cecil in front of it, then hopped back in the truck.  With the window down, he gawked at everyone from the driver seat.  He had a cigarette hanging from his mouth as if he didn’t have a care in the world.  “FYI.  This is an old junkyard, and there’s a bunch of equipment out back.  Just let me know if anyone else has a creative way to die.  I can hook you up.”  He put the truck in four-wheel low, then stepped on the throttle.  All four tires spun for a moment, filling the air with the smell of burning rubber as the truck struggled to pull the heavy piece of equipment.  Cecil’s screams echoed throughout the building as he was flattened like a pancake.  All that was left of him was skin, squashed guts, a large pool of blood and pulverized bones.

Everyone was horrified as Seth strolled over to them.  “That was a good one.”  He started clapping.  “Let’s give it up for the old man.”

They just stared at him.

“Y’all are an enthusiastic bunch.”  He walked up to Allen.  “You’re up, Mr. Bigmouth.”  Seth dragged him over to the table, forcing him to sit in the chair.

Allen knew he was going to die regardless of how much begging he did.  Unlike the others, he had already gone through Hell.  And even if he figured out a way to beat the game, Seth had already robbed him of his manhood.  He would rather die than go through life half a man.  He picked up the pen and wrote the least painful thing he could think of.  Missy looked at it.  “This is simple.  Shot in the head.”

Seth pulled out his 1911 and blew his brains out, then walked over to the group.  “See how easy that was?  Now, who’s next?”

The heavy-set Hispanic woman farted.

“That’s one way to volunteer.”  Seth walked up to Mary Gomez, then looked at Missy.  “This is a ruthless bitch.  She stabbed her two young kids to death, then ate their hearts.”

Mary glared at him.  “Vete a la mierda.  Usted puede quemar en el infierno.”

“You’re the one that’s going to burn in Hell.”  She fought Seth like a wild animal as he dragged her by the neck.  She refused to sit in the chair, so he choked her into submission with the cable.  Missy started to hand her the form.  “We don’t have any in…”  She pulled it back to look at it, noticing Seth had done one for her in Spanish.  “I was going to say we didn’t have any in Spanish, but I take that back.”  She slid it over to her.

Seth shoved her head forward.  “Elegir tu muerte, perra!”

“Vete a la mierda!”

He squeezed her neck harder.  “Hazlo!”

She looked at him, running her thumb across the front of her neck.  “He puesto una maldición en usted!”

“You ain’t puttin’ a curse on no one, bitch!”  He squeezed her neck until she couldn’t breathe.  She quickly filled out her form.

Missy was confused as she looked at it.  “I don’t know what this shit says.  And she wrote a fucking novel.”

“Read it to me.”

“I’ll try.  Decapitar me como un pollo.  Entonces te veo en el infierno!”

“She wants me to cut her head off like a chicken.”

“That’s an odd request.”

“Then she said she’ll see me in Hell.  And before that, she said she put a curse on me.”

“What kind of Mexican voodoo shit is she into?”

“I don’t know, but let’s grant this bitch her wish.”  Seth dragged Mary over to the pillory and secured her in it.  While he stood behind her, he took his knife and cut around her anus, separating it from her body.  She screamed at the top of her lungs as he started pulling out her intestines.

Missy was confused.  “What are you doing?  I thought she wanted her head cut off.”

“She does.”  When he had most of her intestines out, he shoved his hand into the bloody hole between her ass cheeks.  His arm was going in deeper and deeper as he worked his hand through her diaphragm and between her organs.  “But she didn’t say from which side.”  Seth had his arm inside her all way to his shoulder when a knife blade came poking out the bottom of her throat.  Mary was howling like a stuck pig as he cut all the way around the base of her neck, finally beheading her from the inside out. 

Missy saw Mary’s head rolling across the floor.  She walked around the pillory, noticing Seth’s bloody hand remained sticking out of her beheaded torso.  He gave a thumbs up as he brandished the knife.  Missy laughed.  “That’s fucked up.”

He pulled his arm out and started slinging off the blood as he approached the others.  There were only three people left: Janna Johnson, Humberto Gonzalez and Johnny Mathews.  “Anyone else threatens to curse me like that crazy bitch did, I’ll rip their intestines out their ass too.”

Janna and Humberto remained silent, but Johnny was glaring at Seth and Missy.  He was angry how they were making a game out of killing everyone.  He knew he was going to die, regardless of how much he begged.  “You motherfuckers have no right doing this!  I hope y’all get what’s coming to you.”

Seth walked up to him.  “Thanks for volunteering to be next.  I just hope you choose something creative.”

Johnny became violent as Seth and Missy removed him from the wall.  When they got him in the chair, Missy handed him his death certificate.  “Please choose mutilation.  I’m begging you.”  She wanted to fuck him up since he had stabbed a woman to death.

He noticed she was holding a machete.  The blade was covered in dry blood.  “You can suck my dick, you crazy bitch!”

Seth smiled.  “Death by fellatio?  That is creative.  I’m impressed.  Now write that on your death certificate.”

“Fuck you!”  He tried to get up, but Seth tightened up the cable to where his air was being cut off.  “I said write that shit on your certificate!”

He continued to be defiant, even as he turned blue.  Seth didn’t want him to die an easy death, so he loosened up the cable.  As soon as he caught a breath, he tightened it up again.  He continued to choke him to the brink of unconsciousness until he finally submitted.  Johnny’s eyes were bloodshot and his neck was dark red by the time he filled in the cause of death.

Seth dragged him back over to the wall and had Missy secure his wrists with the shackles.  He removed Janna and forced her to kneel in front of Johnny.  Missy wrapped a zip-tie around her legs so she couldn’t run away, then Seth removed the cable from her neck.  “While we’re killing the fuck out of Humberto, I want you to give Johnny a killer blowjob.”

She started crying.  “Please don’t make me do this!”

Missy despised Janna for throwing her baby in a dumpster like she was a piece of trash.  She shoved her head forward.  “Get to suckin’ it, bitch!”

She grabbed Johnny’s penis and started to suck it, but changed her mind.  She let it go and backed away.  “I can’t do this!  Please don’t make me, I’m begging you!”

Missy grabbed the machete.  “I’m not telling you again.”

Janna’s hands were shaking and she was bawling as she started sucking his flaccid penis.  Johnny was jerking at his restraints as he glared at Seth.  “You have no right to do this, you sick fuck!”

“Dude, what the hell are you whining about?  You’re getting your dick sucked.”

“Are y’all getting off on this?”

Missy noticed Johnny’s penis was getting hard.  “Your cock isn’t complaining.”

Humberto was angry as he watched the young, redheaded woman being forced to perform oral sex.  “You motherfuckers are going to Hell for this!”

Missy looked at him.  He was short and stocky like a bull, and looked as mean as one with his bald head, goatee and tattoos.  “You need to mind your own business.”

“Fuck you, bitch!  I hope you get the needle for this!”

Seth looked at Missy.  “Take Janna over to the chair and secure her to it.”  He grabbed his pole and walked up to Humberto.  “Face the wall.”

“Go to hell!”

“I’m not telling you again.”

“You might as well go ahead and kill me!  I’m not going to beg you for my life like these other pussies did!”

Seth struck him in the face with a hammer.

“Fuck you!”

He struck him again.

“You fucking bastard!”

He struck him again.

“Stop fucking hitting me, you cocksucker!”

He struck him again.

“I’m going to fucking kill you!”

He struck him again.

“Fuck!”

He struck him again.

“Okay!  Okay!”

He struck him again.

Humberto turned and faced the wall.  “You better pray I don’t get loose!”

He struck him in the back of the head.

“Okay!  I’ll be quiet!”

“Put your hands on the wall and spread your legs apart.”

He did as he was told.

Seth stuck the pole between his legs, then tightened up the cable around his penis and ball sack.  “If you even flinch, I’ll rip your fucking shit off.”  He looked at Missy.  “Remove his shackles.”  Seth knew Humberto was strong, and with his aggressive attitude, he could be a problem.  “And be ready to move in case he tries something.” 

Humberto’s body was tense as she started removing them.  “Yeah, you better be scared!”

Seth jerked back on the pole.  “Shut the fuck up!”

He let out a deep moan as the cable wrenched on his genitals.  “Oh, man!  I can’t wait to get a hold of your ass!”

As soon as he was released, he went crazy.  Seth was holding onto the pole with all his strength as Humberto tried to get loose.  He was so strong that Seth’s feet were sliding on the floor as he thrashed around.  It was like a wrangler trying to gain control of a wild animal.  Seth tightened up the cable, squeezing his penis and ball sack even tighter.  “Calm down, or I’ll rip your shit off!”

Humberto took a knee.  The cable was cutting into his genitals.  “Okay!  Okay!  I’m done!  Please loosen it up!”

“Just to let you know, I only have the tension about halfway.”

“I got it!”

Seth eased off a little.  “Act up and I’ll squeeze your shit right off.”

“I said I got it!”

Seth forced him over to Johnny.  “Get on your knees.”

Humberto knew what Seth wanted him to do.  “You’re fucking crazy!”

He tightened up the cable.  “Do it, asshole!”

“Fuck you!”

He tightened it up more, causing the cable to cut into his skin.  Humberto fell to his knees.  “Oh my God!  I’m going to fucking kill you!”

“Only thing you’re going to be killin’ is that dick.  Now get after it.”

“You’re gonna have to kill me!”

Seth looked at Missy.  “Start chopping this fucker into pieces with your machete.  Just try not to kill him too soon.”

She started whacking him in the back, shoulders and legs, cutting large gashes in his flesh.  Humberto finally couldn’t take the pain anymore and started sucking on Johnny’s penis.

Johnny was glaring at Seth.  “You fucking faggot!  You’re not going to get away with this!”

Seth frowned when he noticed Johnny’s penis was hard.  “It’s funny that you’re calling me a fag with that boner you’re sporting.”

“Fuck you!  You’ll pay for this!”

Missy laughed as she looked at Seth.  “Good thing Kenneth isn’t here.  You’d never hear the end of this.”

“I know.”

“So, how is Johnny going to die from getting his dick sucked?”

Seth looked at Humberto.  “I know you’re having fun, but I need you to bite off the end of his dick, then suck all the blood out of his body.  And I mean every fucking drop.”

He looked back.  “What?”

“You heard me.”

He just glared at Seth.

“Do you need the machete again?”

He wasn’t scared to die, but if he refused, Seth would only cause him more pain.  He knew he could try to fight again, but he risked losing his genitals, and that wasn’t an option for him.  His only choice was to do what he requested, then hope he could find a way to outsmart Seth.  When it was his turn to pick a death, he needed to choose something that was impossible for Seth to administer.  Others had tried that, but it backfired on them.  He just had to be smarter.  Suddenly, it came to him; spontaneous human combustion.  He looked at Seth.  “Can I go ahead and choose my cause of death?”

“You can after you get done here.”

“I’m ready to die now.”

“Stop stalling.  That dick isn’t going to suck itself.”

“I said I’m ready to….”

Missy struck him with the machete.

Humberto was filled with rage as he bit the head off Johnny’s penis.  He spit the piece out and glared at Seth.  “You’re going to pay for this!”

“Take your anger out on that cock.”

Missy raised the machete.  “Do I need to count to three?”

“I hope you sick motherfuckers burn for this!”  He started sucking on Jonny’s shaft.  When his mouth filled with blood, he would spit it out, then start sucking again. 

Johnny was in agony as he looked at Seth.  “Please make him stop!  I don’t want to die this way!”

“Stop whining and enjoy your BJ.”

“Enjoy my BJ?  You know this fucking hurts, you sick fuck!”

“You’re the one who picked death by fellatio.  Not me.”

“I didn’t choose shit!  You tricked me!”

“It’s done, so suck it up.”

Not only was Johnny in pain, but he was also humiliated.  He knew death was inevitable.  “Just shoot me in the head and get it over with!”

“I can’t.  You’ve already filled out your death certificate.”

“I’ll fill out another one.”

“Can’t do that either.  I don’t believe in wasting paper.”

Johnny knew Seth was fucking with him.  “What the fuck is wrong with you?  How can you do this evil shit?”

Seth got Humberto’s attention.  “Hey, pendejo, suck it faster so this fucker will die.  I’m getting tired.”

He didn’t respond.

He jerked on the pole.  “I’m talking to you!”

“I fucking heard you, asshole!”

“Then speak up when someone’s talking to you.”

“Leave me the fuck alone!  I’m doing what you want!”

Suddenly, Johnny let out a moan, his body collapsed and his head fell forward, hanging lifelessly.  Seth noticed Humberto wasn’t getting much blood out of Johnny’s penis anymore.  “I think you tapped the keg, pal.”

He wiped his mouth.  “You can kiss my brown ass!”

“Make sure you put that down on your certificate.”  Seth started pulling on the pole.

“Hey!  No need for that!  I’m going!”

Seth was cautious of Humberto as he walked behind him.  He knew his cooperation was probably just a distraction, hoping he would let his guard down.  Humberto walked up to the table and stood next to Janna as she sat in the chair crying.  He leaned on the table and wrote on his death certificate without any resistance or motivation.  He slid it towards missy.  “How do you like that shit?”

She read it.  “Spontanus human combussion.  What the fuck does this mean?”

He laughed.  “Can’t you fucking read, bitch?  It says spontaneous human combustion.”

She handed the form to Seth.  “How do you want to handle that?”

He looked at Humberto.  “This looks like it was written by a retard.  You misspelled spontaneous and combustion, you dumbass.”

“Who gives a fuck?”

“This could be interpreted as something to do with your anus, pal.”

“Fuck you, dude!  I knew you were a fucking lying piece of shit!”

“Hey, you’re the one who wrote spontanus.  I just have to figure out what a spont is.”

“Fuck you!  Just do whatever the fuck you want!”

Seth looked at Missy.  “Even though he’s an illiterate fuck, we’ll grant his wish.  I need you to round up a few things.”

“What are they?”

“Potassium metal.  It’s in a five-gallon bucket in the red cabinet.  A box of Ziploc freezer bags.  They’re in the drawer next to the fridge.  And some fast-burning fuse.  There’s about ten feet of it hanging on the wall by the front door.  Bring me all of it.  I’ll need a stapler.  It’s on the workbench.  And a knitting needle.  There’s one in the sewing kit in the bathroom.”

Humberto started freaking out listening to Seth’s list of requests.  “What the fuck are y’all doing?”  He started getting antsy.

Seth struck him in the back of the head with a club, knocking him unconscious.

A few minutes later, Missy came back with the items.  She wasn’t sure if she got the right bucket.  “Is this it?”

“Yep.”

“It’s full of metal flakes.  What are we going to do with them?”

“Potassium metal reacts violently with water, producing potassium hydroxide and hydrogen gas.  The reaction causes the hydrogen to ignite.  The potassium hydroxide is also a strong alkali that destroys living tissue.”

“Thanks for the chemistry lesson, but what does that have to do with him?”

“The body is seventy-percent water.”

She looked at Humberto’s gashes as he laid on the floor.  “Please tell me we’re going to dump this stuff in his cuts.”

“In a roundabout way.”

“Cool!”

Seth handed Missy some gloves.  “Fill up about twenty Ziploc bags with the potassium metal.  Just make sure you don’t get any on you.  Especially in your eyes.”

“Okay.”  She sat at the table next to Janna and started filling them up. 

Seth laid Humberto on his back with his arms and legs stretched out.  He took his knife and made a Y-incision from shoulder to shoulder, neck to groin, then made an incision down each of his limbs.  After he laid his flesh open, he ran sections of fuse down his limbs, joining them together in his abdomen.

Suddenly, Janna started screaming.  Seth walked over to see what the commotion was.  She was holding her eyes closed.  “What’s going on?”

Missy was still filling up the bags.  “The bitch got some of this shit in her eye.”

Seth could see her left eye was swollen and leaking fluid out from under her eyelid.  “That’s what she gets for not listening.”

“Yep.  That’s what I told her.”

Seth went back to Humberto.  He took the knitting needle and shoved it down his penis, pushing it through his urethra.  He tied another piece of fuse to the joint in his abdomen, then pulled it out of his penis.

Missy came walking up with the bags.  “What do you want me to do with these?”

“Pack them in his arms and legs on top of the fuses.”

As Missy stuck the bags of potassium metal in his limbs, Seth was sticking them in his abdomen.  When they were done, Seth closed him up with the stapler.

Missy noticed a fuse was sticking out of Humberto’s penis.  “His dick looks like a fucking candle.  Can I light it?”

He handed her a Zippo.  “Sure, but let me wake him up first.”  Seth dragged him to the center of the building, then injected him with adrenaline.  Humberto was in extreme pain when he awoke.  He raised his head, noticing he had long gashes all over his body that had been half-assed closed with staples.  “Oh my God!  What have y’all done to me?”

Missy lit the fuse, then took off running.  Humberto noticed there was something flickering by his genitals.  When he realized it was a fuse coming out of his penis, he started freaking out.  “Y’all come back!  Please don’t do this to me!”  He tried to move his arms, but pain shot through his body.  When the flame entered his penis, he screamed.  A few seconds later, his body erupted into flames.  He was screaming at the top of his lungs as he was burned from the inside out.

Seth and Missy watched as lilac-colored flames engulfed his body.  When they finally went out, most of his flesh had disintegrated, leaving skeletal remains with some charred muscles.

Seth lit a cigarette.  “Kind of smells like barbecue.”

“If you say so.”

“We have one more to go.  Let’s wrap this shit up.”  Seth went over to Janna.  She had turned her chair over and was laying on the floor.  The zip-ties had cut into her wrists from where she tried to get loose.  Seth sat her back up, then slid her up to the table.  “I hope you’ve thought of something creative since you’ve had plenty of time to think.”

She started crying.  “Please don’t do this!  I just want to go home!”

Seth looked at Missy.  “Just go ahead and pick something for her so we can get the fuck out of here.”

She pulled a piece of paper from the drum and read it.  “Ride the lightning.”

“That’s an easy one.”  Seth grabbed a pair of jumper cables, some pipe nipples and a pair of insulated gloves from the RV, then dragged Janna in the chair over to an electrical panel and removed the cover.  “Fucking A.  I was hoping this was three-phase, 480-volts.”

Missy was standing next to him.  “I take it that’s a good thing.”

“Sure is.”  He handed Missy a flashlight.  “Shine this at the panel.”  He put on the gloves, then pulled out the fuses, causing the lights to go out.  He started replacing them with galvanized pipe nipples.

“Why are you doing that?”

“The fuses could blow while she’s riding the lightning.”

“I know you’re going to electrocute her, but why do you call it ride the lightning?”

“That’s what prisoners used to call the electric chair.”  When he was done, the high-bay lights started coming back on.  Seth handed Missy one end of the jumper cables.  “Clamp one of the alligator clips to her cunt and the other one to her asshole.”

Janna was scared as Missy removed her from the chair.  “Please don’t do this!  I didn’t mean to hurt my baby!  I had postpartum depression!”

Missy punched her in the face.  “Shut the fuck up!”

Janna lay crying as Missy clamped the clips to her vagina and anus.  When she was done, Seth looked at Janna as he stood by the panel and held the other end of the jumper cables.  “Do you want to go with 277-volts or 480-volts?”

Tears were running down her cheeks.  “I’m begging you not to do this!  I don’t want to die!”

“If you don’t choose, I’ll do it for you.”

“Please give me another chance!  I’ll make it up to you!  I swear!”

“You don’t owe me anything.  I’m doing this for your daughter.”

Janna shouted, “She’s fucking dead!  This isn’t going to bring her back!”

Seth was caught off guard.  “Wow!  I was going to go with 480, but now you’re getting 277.”  He clamped one of the alligator clips to the neutral bar.

Missy was confused.  “Why are you going easy on that bitch?”

“I’m not.  The 480 would have just blown her apart.  The 277 won’t.  It’ll just cook the fuck out of her.  It’ll be slower and more painful.”

“Good!  Fry this bitch!”

Janna started to speak, but Seth clamped the other alligator to a busbar.  The lights dimmed as she violently flopped around on the floor.  Her eyes were huge and she was foaming at the mouth.  The air quickly filled with a foul odor of burnt flesh as smoke began to pour out between her legs.

Missy noticed Janna was trying to speak.  “I thought electricity stops a person’s heart.”

“It will if the current runs through the heart, but in her case, the majority of it is only running between her pussy and asshole.”

“So, this could take a while to kill her.”

“Yep.  Hopefully, she’ll be cooked from the snatch up.”  Seth looked at his watch, noticing it was 11 AM.  “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“What are we going to do with all these bodies?”

“Just leave them here.  I’ll send Barry back to clean up the mess.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“We’re also going to leave the RV here and take your truck to Amarillo since the police might be looking for it.”

“I think that’s smart.”

Seth loaded a few things in Missy’s truck, then got in the driver side.  Missy looked pissed.  “What’s wrong?”

She pointed at the dash.  “Look what that little bastard did.”

Seth leaned over and noticed BARRY WAS HERE was carved into the dash.  “What a fucking asshole.”

“I’m going to carve my name in his fucking ass when I get a hold of him.”

Seth closed and locked the gates that surrounded his warehouse, then he and Missy headed for Amarillo.

Berserk

Two hours into their drive, Kenneth came over the two-way radio.  “Short Bus, you there?”

Seth keyed up.  “Go ahead.”

“We made the pick-up.  All three of them.  Heading to the safe house.”

“Good to hear.  We’ll be there around 7 PM.”

“Ten-four.”

Missy had been sleeping.  She sat up, noticing the sun was bright.  “What time is it?

“A little after one.”

“Was that Kenneth?”

“Yeah.”

“Was he able to get Richard and his buddies?”

“Yeah.  He’s taking them to an old farmhouse I have in the country.”

“Bill will be happy.”

“Yes, he will.”

“How much longer is the drive?”

“About six hours.”

She laid back in her seat.  “Then I’m going back to sleep.”

An hour from Amarillo, Seth keyed up on the two-way radio.  “K-Dog, you there?”

He didn’t answer.  He tried several more times with no response.  He tried Wyatt.  “Swamp Dog, you there?”  He didn’t respond either.

Missy was reading a book.  She looked at Seth.  “Is everything okay?”

“I’m not sure.  They’re not responding.”

“Maybe their radios are dead.”

“That’s not like Kenneth.  And he’s really good about keeping extra batteries with him.”

“He might be taking a crap or something.  I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“If we were talking about Spanky, or maybe even Wyatt, yeah.  But not Kenneth.  And with them both not responding, something’s happened.”

“Do you think they got busted by the cops?”

“I hope not.”

Seth continued trying to contact Kenneth and Wyatt with no luck.  When they finally got to the farmhouse, he noticed the Toyota was there, but Kenneth’s truck was missing.  He spotted the front door to the house standing open.  “Something’s wrong.”  He pulled out his firearm.

Missy was worried.  “I’m coming with you.”

“I need you to stay in the truck.”  Seth cautiously crept up to the house, then eased across the front porch to prevent the boards from squeaking too much.  He looked through the door, noticing there was someone laying on the floor nude.  He looked back at Missy and ran his hand back and forth in front of his throat.  She knew that meant trouble.  She pulled a gun out of her purse and got out.  She stood next to the truck, keeping an eye out in case someone was hiding outside.

Seth eased into the living room.  The man on the floor was face down and his arms were tied behind his back.  There were two more nude men on the couch.  They had been decapitated and their bodies were propped up in the sitting position.  They were covered in blood and their arms and legs were tied up with rope.  He didn’t recognize the men, giving him hope that Kenneth, Wyatt and Barry were okay.

Seth moved into the kitchen, finding Kenneth.  He was laying on his stomach with his hands tied behind his back.  He was naked and covered in blood and feces.  Seth rolled him over, noticing his face had been cut off and his penis was missing.  He checked his neck, finding a pulse.  Seth left him and started checking the rest of the house.  All the rooms were empty, but there was a closed door off the hallway.  It had numerous bullet holes in it.  He tried to open it, but it was locked.  He hugged the wall, then knocked on it.  “Anyone in there?”

A voice yelled out.  “Who is it?”

He recognized it was Wyatt.  “Wyatt!  It’s me!”

Wyatt slid something away from the door, then cracked it open.  He peeped out.  “Thank God it’s you!”  He opened the door all the way and walked out.  He was upset.  “I thought I was a dead man!”

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Barry fucking killed everyone!”

“Fuck!”  Seth ran outside to make sure Missy was okay.  “Keep a lookout for Barry!”

“What’s wrong?”

“He went fucking berserk.  Kenneth is hurt bad.  Grab the medical kit!”

Missy reached into the backseat and grabbed it.  They ran back into the house.  Seth and Wyatt laid Kenneth on the kitchen table and wrapped his face with some gauze and bandaged what was left of his penis.

Wyatt was worried.  “Is he going to die?”

“I don’t think so.  It doesn’t appear he has any major injuries, but he has lost a lot of blood.”

Missy had noticed the men in the living room.  “Is that Richard and his buddies in the other room?”

Wyatt sat in a chair.  “Yeah.”

Seth lit a cigarette, then took a long drag.  He was upset.  “What the fuck happened?”

“Barry just snapped.  He knocked Kenneth out with a gun and tied me up with some rope.”

“Where in the hell did he get a gun?”

He looked down.  “It was mine.  I had left it on the table.”  He became angry.  “The bastard said he was saving me for last and wanted me to watch.  He started on Richard and his buddies.  He had them tied up and bent over on the furniture.”  Wyatt looked nauseated.  “He raped them.  He had this big boom box playing What a Feeling, and was dancing around and taking turns on them.  The fucking bastard even rubbed his dick on my face as he taunted me.”

“How did you get away?”

“I was able to get my hands free when he wasn’t paying attention.  I locked myself in the bathroom.  Barry was irate and screaming at me like a mad man.  When I refused to come out, he started shooting at me through the door, but luckily, I was standing off to the side.  When he ran out of bullets, he started trying to kick in the door, but I had slid the clawfoot tub in front of it.”

“Damn, Dude.  I feel bad.”

Wyatt looked down, not knowing how to tell Seth what else happened.  “It gets worse.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He raped Kenneth.  I heard it.  I heard Kenneth begging for him to stop while I was hiding like a coward.”

“Don’t blame yourself.  This is all my fault for bringing Barry on the trip.”  Seth looked at Missy.  “I should have killed the bastard a long time ago.”

“It’s not your fault either.  He chose to do this.”

Seth noticed Barry’s explosive collar was laying on the floor.  “How in the fuck did he get that off?”

Wyatt shook his head.  “I’m not sure, but he was always fucking with it when he thought no one was watching.”

“Kenneth had the remote for it.  I always made sure he had it when Barry went with him.”  Seth heard someone moan.  “Y’all be quiet.”  He pulled his pistol from his holster and eased into the living room.  He noticed the man on the floor was moving around.  He holstered his gun.  “We have a live one.”

Missy and Wyatt ran up as Seth knelt next to the man.  “It’s Richard.  He’s alive.”  Seth stood up.  “We need to get Kenneth some medical attention.”  He wrote down a phone number on a sheet of paper and handed it to Wyatt.  “I have a doctor in Roswell, New Mexico that will take care of him.  Call that number when you get there.  His name is Dennis Herbert.”

Wyatt and Seth carried Kenneth to the Toyota.  Seth handed him a bag.  “Give this to Dennis.  It’s ten-thousand dollars.  Tell him I’ll get him the rest when I get there.”

“Are you not coming with me?”

“No.  I need to find Barry.  And I also have to deal with Richard.”

Missy walked up and handed Wyatt a Styrofoam cup from 7/11.  “I found Kenneth’s penis.  I put it on the ice that was left from my soda.  I couldn’t find his face though.  Barry must have taken it.”

“I’m sure that sick fuck did.”  Wyatt started the truck.  “I’ll call y’all when I get Kenneth there.”

Seth and Missy went back into the house as Wyatt drove away.

Around 2 AM the next morning, Wyatt walked out onto a veranda at the doctor’s house.  He pulled out his phone and called Seth.  “It’s me.  I just got Kenneth here.  The doctor is working on him now.”

“Does he think he’ll make it?”

“Not sure.  He’s in a coma.”

“Well, fuck!  That wasn’t the news I was hoping for.”

“Did you find Barry?”

“No.  And don’t come back to Texas.  Just stay there. 

“Why?”

“Barry could be looking for us.”

“I thought about that.  Good thing he doesn’t know where I live, but what about you?”

“Doesn’t have a clue.  But Missy and I are getting out of Texas anyway just in case he went to the police.”

“That would be stupid.  He’s not innocent.”

“I know, but we’re talking about Barry.”

“Okay.  Keep me posted.”

“Will do.”  Seth hung up.

A few days later, Seth called Wyatt.  “Hey, it’s me.”

“Did you find Barry?”

“Not yet.  How’s Kenneth?”

“He’s going to live, but he’ll have severe scarring on his face and his penis might not work right.”

“Is he awake?”

“Yeah”

“Let me talk to him.”

“He’s too fucking angry right now.  Not at you, but at Barry.”

“I’m sure he is.  Tell him I’m going to make that little fucker pay dearly for what he’s done.”

“He already knows that.  And if possible, he wants to be the one to do it.”

“Then I’ll make it happen.”

“Did Barry go to the cops?”

“Not that I can tell.”

“Are you back in Texas?”

“No.  I’m in Las Vegas, but will be heading back in a few days.”

“Are you going to keep looking for Barry?”

“I’m taking care of something I should have done a long time ago.  When I get done here, I’m going to dedicate every waking hour to finding that little bastard.”

“I’m going to head back home to hang out with my daughter.  I’ll come back in a few days to help you look for him.”

“Sounds good.  Call me when you get back in Texas.  In the meantime, watch your back.  That little fucker knows the game.  And tell Kenneth I’ll be stopping in to check on him on the way to Texas.”

“Will do.  Talk to you later.”

Seth hung up the phone, then looked at Missy.  “You ready?”

She smiled as she put her arm through his.  “Of course.”

They ambled into a small, Elvis Presley wedding chapel.

The Reckoning

Bill Townsend walked into his gallery that was filled with artifacts and oddities.  It was his morning ritual.  He enjoyed looking at all his unique possessions before he started his day.  There was something new.  He walked up to it, noticing it was an old fortuneteller machine that you would find in the early 1900s in penny arcades and amusement parks.  Bret must have found this, he thought as he examined it.  He wondered if it worked.  He tried to look inside it, but the glass was tinted.  There was a piece of paper taped on the front of it.  Maybe Bret left him a note, he thought.  When he unfolded it, a penny fell out.  He read the note.  You got your reckoning.  That’s out of character for Bret, he thought.

When he stuck the penny in the old machine, the light on the inside came on, revealing a ghastly sight.  Richard’s head was revealed behind the glass.  The skin on his face had been cut from his chin up to his forehead, over to top of his head and down the back.  The two halves were being pulled apart by fishhooks, revealing his skull.  The top of his skull was missing, exposing his brain.  There were two electrodes with wiring sticking out of his brain, and they were arcing like a Jacob’s Ladder.  Each time the arc started over, Richard would moan and his eyes would bulge out.

Bill was bewildered as he looked at the gruesome sight.  He couldn’t fathom how he could be alive.  He opened the bottom of the cabinet, discovering that Richard’s arms and legs were missing, and his torso was suspended from chains.  There was a bucket under him to catch his waste, and several IV bags hanging next to him appeared to be feeding him nutrients.

He closed the door, and then tapped on the glass.  “Can you hear me?”

Richard’s eyes started moving around.  “Oh my God!  Please help me!”

Bill smiled.  He rejoiced in the knowledge that Richard was coherent.  “Don’t worry.  I’m going to do everything in my power to help you.”

“Thank God!  Please get me out of here!  I’m in excruciating pain!  And I can’t stand the isolation!  It’s unbearable!”

“Like I said, I’m going to do everything in my power to help you.  Help you live for many, many years… Right where you are.”

To be continued...

Book Six – Death Certificate

Scumbags

Justin Martin rolled out of bed at 3 p.m. on a Tuesday.  He snagged some dirty clothes from the floor, a baggy pair of pants and a white t-shirt covered in stains.  Once dressed, he ran his fingers through his long, grubby black hair, combing it back out of his face.  Justin was thirty-two years old, lanky, and covered in poor-quality tattoos.  He lived with two of his friends, Devin “Scotty” Taylor and Brian Clark.  They split the rent for a rundown, three-bedroom mobile home located in the small town of Sweetwater, Texas.  The place was a dump, but it was all they could afford since none of them worked.  Dealing drugs, thieving, and living off the taxpayers’ dime were their main sources of income.

Justin strolled into the living room and found Brian lying on the couch playing X-box.  “Yo, dog!  What’s up?”

“Just chillin’, bro.”  Brian was thirty-six, extremely obese, sported a mohawk and a thin mustache, and wore thick glasses.  He was a gross bastard.  So gross, in fact, most people presumed him to be a child molester, a presumption based solely on his disgusting appearance.

Justin grabbed a beer from the fridge and plopped down in a recliner.  “Where’s Scotty?”

“At Beth’s house.”

Beth Brown lived on the other side of the trailer park with her grandmother.  She was only sixteen years old.  “Motherfucker gonna get dick rot fuckin’ with that skank.”

“I think he’s fuckin’ the grandma too.”

Justin chuckled.  “Naw, he only likes that young pussy.”

All three men had been incarcerated for child molestation.   Devin, the oldest of the group at forty-one, had molested his eleven-year-old daughter.  As a result of serving seven years in the pen, getting divorced, and being required to register as a sex offender, he concluded there was no reason to work anymore and became another sponge living off the government.  A government that considers pedophiles a protected people, and, furthermore, protects them under the laws established by the Hate Crimes Bill.  Justin and Brian had christened Devin with the nickname “Scotty” because he resembled the Scotty character in the movie Boogie Nights.  He was also HIV positive and claimed he had contracted the virus from using dirty needles, not from being butt-fucked in prison.

Justin, the youngest of the three perverts, had a history of sex-related crimes.  Between the ages of twelve and seventeen, he spent time in and out of juvenile detention for a variety of charges related to sexual deviancy, such as indecent exposure, indecency with a child, and masturbating in public.  At the age of eighteen, he was busted with child pornography.  At twenty, he picked up an animal abuse charge for fucking a cow.  At the age of twenty-one, he started molesting his six-year-old niece and was eventually busted when she became pregnant at twelve.  This sick bastard met Brian, who took him under his wing, in prison, and the two perverts had been buddies ever since.  Justin’s main source of revenue came from criminal activity related to peddling drugs, home burglary, and stealing car stereos.  Brian, who had molested his son, was working a different type of scam.  Somehow, the fat fucker managed to qualify for SSI due to his morbid obesity.  He was the same kind of slug who cruised around Walmart on a mobility scooter and always seemed to be dressed the same: a stained t-shirt several sizes too small for his gut, sweatpants, and flip-flops.

About that time, the sound of vehicle brakes squealed, alerting Brian.  “Hey!  I think the mailman is here.  Can you go check the mailbox?”

“Fuck that.  It’s just more bills.”

“I have a package comin’ from Amazon.”

“Why don’t you do it?”

“’Cause I’m right in the middle of this fuckin’ game.”

“Pause the shit.”

“Dude, you owe me money, so go get my shit.”

Frustrated, Justin scampered out the door, bitching and moaning.  As he strutted across his yard, he noticed his neighbor, who was working in his own yard, gawking at him.  “Yo, dog!  What the fuck you lookin’ at?”

The man lowered his head in a cowardly fashion as he continued clipping some bushes.

“That’s what I thought, motherfucker!”  He grabbed the mail and headed back inside the house.  After he plopped back in the recliner, he began tossing the bills on the floor as he sorted through the stack of magazines and advertisements.

“Was my shit in there?”

“Nope.”

“Fuckin’ assholes.  It’s been almost a week.”

“What do you expect?  Your ass needs to get Prime.”

“I ain’t payin’ for that.”

“Then don’t bitch when your shit takes a month to get here.  And what the fuck did you order anyway?”

“Some shampoo.”

“You lyin’ bastard.  I bet you bought another pocket pussy.”

That was exactly what Brian had purchased, but he wasn’t going to admit to it.  “Dude, I got plenty of women that drain these nuts.  I don’t need some fake shit like that.”

As Justin flipped through the mail, his eyes grew large when he found a letter addressed, Child Molesters, 1806 S. Lamar, Sweetwater, Texas 77044.  “What the fuck is this shit?”

“What’s wrong, bro?”

“Some motherfucker is screwin’ with us.”  He turned the envelope so Brian could read it.

“What the fuck!  I hope no one saw that shit.”

“Of course they did.  It went through the fuckin’ postal service.”

“Who’s it from?”

“The return address is Grim Reaper, 666 Sulfur Lane, Hell, Middle of the Earth.”

“Yeah, sounds like some cocksucker is fuckin’ with us.”

Justin ripped open the envelope and pulled out several documents.  After examining them, he jumped to his feet.  “Oh, shit!”

“Now what?”

He handed Brian the documents.  “This is bad!  Real bad!”

Brian studied the first one, observing it was a death certificate.  The name of the deceased, Tom Crushous, had been marked out and above it was written Devin Taylor.  “Who in the fuck is Tom Crushous?”

“Not sure.”

“And why is Devin’s name on here?”

“I don’t know, but it’s a fucking death certificate.  We all have one.”

Brian noted the cause of death listed for Devin was Fucked to Death.  “This must be a joke.”  He examined another certificate, observing Justin Martin as the deceased with a cause of death listed as TBD.  He quickly flipped to his certificate and stared at the cause of death.  His eyes widened as he read Suicide listed as his demise.  “You’re right.  This is fucking bad!”

The men ogled each other in horror, knowing what the documents meant.  They had been watching the news and following the stories reported about people being brutally murdered after receiving the same type of certificate.  Investigators believed the notorious vigilante, The Angel of Death, also known as Seth Coker, was responsible.

“You need to call the police.”

Brian quickly pulled his Obama phone from his pocket and dialed 911.

An operator answered.  “911, please state your emergency.”

“This is Brian Clark at 1806 South Lamar.  I got one of those death certificates in the mail and need—”

Justin interrupted him.  “Dude!  What about me?”

“And my roommate got one too.  We need the cops to come now.”

“Sir, please clarify your emergency.”

“That Seth Coker dude from the news sent us death certificates.”

“Who?”

“The Angel of Death.”

“Is this a prank?”

“No, it’s not a fucking prank.  He’s after us, and we need help.”

“Sir, are you in immediate danger?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe.  He could be watching us.”

“I’ll have a patrol car there in a few minutes.”

“Thank you so much.”  He hung up the phone and gawked at Justin.  “The cops are on their way.”

“Good.  What about Scotty?”

“What about him?”

“Should we let him know what’s going on?”

“Yeah, I’ll call him.”  Brian dialed his number.  When he didn’t answer, he called again.  “He’s not answering.”

“Should I run over to Beth’s?”

“Naw, let’s wait for the cops.  They can check on him.”

An hour later and with no sign of the police, Justin and Brian decided to drive to the police station.  When they arrived, Brian approached a female clerk standing behind bullet-proof glass.  “I need to talk to someone.”

Justin elbowed him.

“We need to talk to someone.”

The clerk, who was short, round, and radiating an arrogance similar to the assholes at the DMV or tax office, frowned with a don’t-give-a-shit expression.  “And what is it in regard to?”

Brian held his death certificate against the glass.  “I got this in the mail today.”

Justin slammed his against the glass next to Brian’s.  “And I got one too.”

The clerk, frustrated as if she was being inconvenienced, shrugged her shoulders.  “I have no idea what those are.”

Aggravated, Justin raised his voice.  “That dude on the news, the Angel of Death, sent us these death threats.  We need to talk to someone in charge.”

She rolled her eyes as she picked up a phone.  “We have another death certificate out here.  Do you have time for it?”  When she hung up, she peered at Brian.  “Someone will be with you in a moment.”  She then pointed to some chairs across the room.  “Go have a seat.”

Justin was thinking about her comment.  “What did you mean by, ‘We have another death certificate out here?’”

“There’s been a lot of people sticking those in mailboxes as a joke.”

Relieved, his eyes grew large.  “Oh.  Do you think these are fake then?”

“How would I know?  I’m not CSI.”

About that time, a man resembling the actor Edward James Olmos approached them.  He didn’t seem too thrilled about talking to a sloppy, obese man with a mohawk and a grungy, long-haired scumbag.  “I’m Detective Joe Garza.  How can I help you?”

Justin held up his certificate.  “Me and my two friends got these in the mail today.”

“I wouldn’t sweat it.  We’ve had an epidemic of pranking going on lately.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ever since Seth Coker’s bullshit hit the news, people think it’s funny to send fake death certificates to friends, co-workers, neighbors, and even strangers.”

“Is the stuff in the news real?”

“There have been a few murders after the victims received a death certificate, but none were here in Texas.  And the ones that were killed had long criminal records.  You know, like perverts and murderers.  Scumbags like that.”

Brian didn’t want to mention that he and his friends were convicted sex offenders, the same type of lowlifes Seth Coker targeted.  “How do you know if these are fake?”  He handed him his certificate.

Joe studied if for a moment.  “Do you have the envelope this came in?”

“Yeah.”  He pulled it from his pocket.

“I’ll pass these on to one of our investigators who’s more familiar with this case.”

“What happens now?”

“Like I said, don’t sweat it.”

Justin felt uneasy.  “Aren’t you going to put us in some type of witness protection program?”

“No.  That’s not intended for this type of situation.”

“Can you at least post some cops at our house?”

“You watch too much TV, son.  And besides…” He held up the death certificates.  “…these are fake.”

Aggravation washed over Justin.  “Hey, man!  This is our lives we’re talkin’ about.  If you don’t help us, somethin’ could happen.”

“Go on home.  If I need anything else, I’ll contact you.”

“How?  You don’t have our contact info.”

He held up the envelope.  “I have it right here.”

“That’s just our address.  You don’t have our phone numbers.”

“I said I have all I need.”

As Brian drove his beater, a 1992 Pontiac LeMans, he grumbled to Justin.  “Those fuckers don’t give a shit about common folk.”

“All I can say is, they better hope nothin’ happens, ’cause I’ll sue their asses off.”

Brian and Justin were typical scumbags with self-entitlement issues.  When they weren’t bragging about how badass they were or hyping each other up with pipe dreams, they were moaning and whining about how society treated them unfairly.

Sweet Thing

Laquita Jones pulled into the parking lot of the Hutchins State Jail in Dallas, Texas.  She was a tall, big boned, black woman with long box braids.  After going through the rigamarole of checking in, a guard escorted her to the non-contact visitation area.  A few minutes later, Barry Muller sat in a chair on the other side of a glass partition.  He’d been incarcerated almost six months for robbing a convenience store and met Laquita through a pen pal program.  Jail hadn’t been kind to Barry.  He now weighed fifty pounds more, had less hair, and sported a thin mustache.  He still looked like Elmer Fudd, but a fatter, gayer version with a mustache and one eye.  He beamed as he picked up a phone.  “How’s my Sweet Thing doin’?”

“Mama’s doin’ fine.  How’s my little Sugar Bear?”

“Is it true that Seth is back in the news?”

“I really don’t want to talk about him anymore.”

“Come on!  You know he’s after me, and I need all the information I can get.”

“I just don’t understand why he’d be after my Sugar Bear.  You didn’t do anything.”

Barry kept his involvement with Seth a secret, especially the parts about fucking him over and what he’d done to Kenneth Evans.  “I know.  The fucker is crazy.”

“That’s what you’ve been sayin’.”

“So, what have you heard?”

“He’s been sending folks death certificates before killin’ them.”

“Sounds like the shit he does.”

“Is your lawyer gonna get you some protection?”

Fearing Seth would send another inmate after him, Barry had petitioned to be moved to a more secure location.  “Fuck no.  They don’t believe me.”

“It’s okay, baby.  I believe you.”

Barry had no interest in Laquita.  He was just using her for information and money.  “That’s why I love you so much.”

“I love you too, baby.”

Barry covered his face as he pretended to be upset.

“What’s wrong, Sugar Bear?”

“I have to find a way to get out of here before it’s too late.”

“If I could help, I would.”

“You know I didn’t rob that store and got screwed during my trial.  My court-appointed attorney was an idiot.  If I’d had decent representation, I’d be with you right now instead of in here.”

“Maybe you can get a retrial.”

“I want to do that, but I need a good attorney to appeal my case.”

“I can help you find one.”

“That sounds great, but I don’t have the money.”  Barry, being a conniving prick, dropped a hint.  “I don’t even own a house.  If I did, I would use it for collateral to get a loan.”

Laquita thought for a moment.  “I should have some equity in mine.”

“Really, baby?  You’d do that for me?”

“Of course I would.  You’re my little Sugar Bear.”

A guard approached Barry.  “Time to wrap it up.”

“Just a few more minutes.”

“I said times up.”

Barry leaned in toward the glass.  “I want to be with you so bad it hurts.”

Irritated by Barry’s bullshit, the guard snatched him up by the collar.  “Get your scamming ass up.”

“Hold up, man!  I’m trying to talk to my woman.”

As the guard dragged Barry away, he yelled to Laquita, “I love you, Sweet Thing.  And my commissary account is running low.  Can you put a few bucks in it?”

The One-Man Sex Show

When Justin and Brian arrived home, Justin found a jewel case sitting on the coffee table with a yellow sticky note that read play me.  “Where did this come from?”

Brian shrugged his shoulders as he plopped his fat ass on the couch.  “I don’t know.  What is it?”

Justin opened it, finding a DVD.  “I think it’s a porno.”

“Why would you think that?”

“It’s called The One-Man Sex Show.”

“Cool.  I bet Scotty left it for us.”

Justin glanced into Devin’s bedroom.  “He’s not here.”

“He probably went back to Beth’s.  Pop that shit in the DVD player.  I’m in the mood to see some pussy.”

When the movie began playing, confusion waxed Brian’s features as he gawked at the TV screen.  “Is that fucking Scotty?”

Justin noticed Devin was lying nude on a stain-covered mattress.  “Yeah.  What the hell is he doin’?”

“Not sure.”

“Where is he?  I don’t recognize the place.”  The structure had halite-block walls, a concrete floor, and a wooden ceiling.  It appeared to be an abandoned building.

“I don’t recognize it either.”

Justin spotted work lights, which appeared to be powered by a portable generator, surrounding the mattress.  Off to the side sat a large, glass enclosure, about the size of a small car, filled with water.  “This is strange as fuck.  And what’s the deal with the lights?  It looks like a photo op or something.”

Brian’s eyes popped open with excitement.  “Oh, shit!  I bet he made a sex tape with Beth.”

Justin plopped down next to him.  “Dude!  That would be cool as fuck.”

Instead of being disgusted by their friend’s nudity or the thought of him having sex with an under-aged girl, the two perverts continued watching with wide eyes.  A moment later, a man approached Devin.  “You ready to get your fuck on?”

Devin, having just awoken, had no recollection of the events leading up to discovering himself nude in a strange building.  Last thing he remembered was having sex with Beth, then falling asleep next to her.  Exhibiting a look of bewilderment, he lashed out at the man.  “What the fuck is goin’ on?”

Justin jumped to his feet as he peered at the TV.  “Oh, fuck!  That’s Seth Coker!”

Brian paused the recording and quickly dialed 911.

An operator answered.  “911, please state your emergency.”

“This is Brian Clark at 1806 South Lamar.  Me and my friend Justin Martin just talked to the cops about Seth Coker.  And now he’s got our friend Scotty.  I mean, Devin Taylor.  We need immediate help.”

“Who’s Seth Coker?”

“The Angel of Death.”

“Sir, is this a prank call?”

“No, it’s not a fuckin’ prank.  You asked me that the last time.”

“Please remain calm.”

“I’m trying, but we warned you this would happen.”

“Sir, please describe your emergency.”

“He’s on TV.  I mean, Seth Coker left us a DVD.  Our friend Devin is on it, and I’m scared something bad has happened to him.”

“Does your friend need medical assistance?”

“How in the hell would I know?  I haven’t watched the recording yet.”

“Sir, you sure this isn’t a joke?”

“I’ve already told you no.  My friend needs your help.  Please do something.”

“I’m sending a patrol car.”

“The last time you said that, no one showed up.”

“Sir, remain calm.  An officer is on the way.”

“Thank you.  And I’m sorry for yelling.  I’m just upset with the whole situation.”  He hung up and stared at Justin.  “Can you believe this shit?”

“I’m going to sue their asses off if somethin’ happened to Scotty.”

“Speakin’ of Scotty, should we keep watching?”

“I don’t know.”

“It might help the cops if we know the outcome.”

“Maybe.  I just don’t want to see him get killed.”

“He might just get raped.”

“Raped?  Why would you say that?”

“His death certificate listed ‘fucked to death’ as his cause of death.”

Justin’s eyes widened with a dawning realization.  “Oh, shit!  Do you think Seth Coker fucked him?”

“I don’t know.  Scotty is nude.  And there’s a mattress on the floor.  So, it’s possible.”

“I didn’t know that dude was gay.”

“I didn’t either.”

Justin was secretly excited.  “I think it’s important to see what happens.   You know, so we can tell the police.”

“I agree.”  He pressed play on a remote.

Both men were sitting forward on the couch with wide-open eyes as they watched Seth approach the glass enclosure.  When he flipped a switch, the interior of the enclosure lit up, revealing dozens of jellyfish swimming about haphazardly.  “These beautiful creatures are box jellyfish, specifically the chironex yamaguchii species.  The Japanese call them Habu-kurage, and they’re found in coastal waters around Okinawa.  I selected this particular type since they possess one of the most painful venoms in the world.”

Devin tried to move, but his limbs were paralyzed.  “What the fuck did you do to me?  I can’t move my arms and legs!”

“Don’t worry.  That’s reversible.”

“Who are you?  And why did you do this to me?”

“If you stop interrupting me, you’ll find out.”  Seth turned toward the enclosure.  “As you can see, each of these guys have nine tentacles, and each tentacle can have up to five thousand nematocysts, or stinging cells.  Once a tentacle adheres to your skin, the stinging cells shoot barbs, which are like little harpoons, into the flesh, injecting your body with venom.  At that point, you’ll suffer the most excruciating pain you could ever imagine.  In fact, the pain will attack your body as quick as a lightning strike.  And before your brain ever has a chance to comprehend what happened, your lungs will feel paralyzed, your heart will pound as if it’s going to burst through your chest, your stomach will turn up-side down, and your muscles will tense up like you’re being gripped by the Grim Reaper himself.”

“Hold up, man!  Why are you acting like that shit will happen to me?”

Seth ignored him.  “The pain will be so agonizing that a second will feel like an eternity.  You’ll do anything to make it stop.”  Seth picked up a bottle of vinegar from the floor.  “At which point, this will become a hot commodity.  It will not stop your pain, but will prevent the stinging cells from releasing additional venom.”  Seth pulled a syringe from his pocket.  “This is diphenhydramine.  It will reduce some of the side effects, like nausea, headache, muscle cramping, even some of the pain.  Another hot commodity.”  He held up a second syringe.  “This one is an anti-venom, and it will save your life.  Without it, not only will the pain intensify, but your organs will start shutting down, ending with respiratory failure and cardiac arrest.”

“Oh my God!  Why are you telling me all of this?”

Seth rolled a medical crash cart next to the mattress.  “But I will try to keep you alive as long as possible.”

“Please tell me who you are and why you’re doing this.”

Seth studied Devin for a moment.  “Has anyone ever told you that you look like that Scotty dude on Boogie Nights?”

“Please stop ignoring my questions.  I need to know what’s going on.”

“And since your filthy ass has AIDs, try not to get your cooties on me.”

“I don’t have AIDs.”

“AIDs… HIV… same difference.”  Seth ran a choker cable under Devin’s armpits, encircling his upper torso, and connected the looped ends to an electric hoist mounted on a trolley system.

“Hold up, man!  Please, talk to me.  I don’t even know who you are.”

Seth pressed a button on a controller, activating the hoist, and lifted Devin off the ground.  “And speaking of AIDs, how did you get the shit?  Was it from getting ass pounded in prison for being a child molester?”

His eyes narrowed in anger.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.  I’m not a fucking child molester.  And I’ve never been in prison.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, you got the wrong guy.”

Seth knew he was lying, but wanted to mess with him.  “Isn’t your name Devin?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

He blurted out before thinking.  “Tom Cruise…”  He immediately realized his mistake and quickly added, “…shous.  Tom Cruiseshous.”

“Cruiseshous?  That’s kind of an odd name.”

“Not really.  It’s pretty common.”

Seth pulled out his cell phone and searched the name Cruiseshous.  “Dude, not one fucking person on the planet has that name.”

“You probably misspelled it.”

“Then spell it for me”

He called out the letters like he was in a spelling bee.  “C… r… u… s… u… s.”

“It’s still not coming up.  You sure that’s how it’s spelled?”

“Yeah.  I know how to fucking spell my name.”

“Maybe I screwed up.  Spell it again.”

“Fuck you!  I’m not saying another word until you tell me who you are and why you’re doing this.”

Seth held up a syringe with a large needle.  “I’ll stick this in your fucking heart if you don’t get to spellin’, asshole.”

“Okay!  Okay!  It’s C… r… u… s… h… u… s.”

“Hold up.  You didn’t spell it with an H the last time.”

“Yes I did.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

Without warning, Seth jabbed the syringe into his leg.

“Hold up, man!  What the fuck are you injecting me with?”

“Neostigmine methylsulfate.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“It will reverse the effects of the neuromuscular blocker I gave you.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means, you won’t be paralyzed anymore.”

“Are you letting me go?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a child molester.”

“Hold up!  I told you, you have the wrong person.”

“Doesn’t matter.  Your ass is still going for a dip in the aquarium.”  Seth began lifting him higher as he pulled the trolley along an I-beam mounted to the ceiling.

Devin’s eyes grew large as saucers as he approached the glass enclosure.  “Please stop!  I said I’m not Devin Taylor.”

“How did you know Devin’s last name was Taylor?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve never mentioned the name Taylor.”

“That’s because the dude lives in my trailer park and everyone knows he’s a sex offender.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.  And I knew you were talking about him.”  Devin, now hanging above the water, eyed the jellyfish as they swam around underneath him.  “Please put me back on the ground.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why?  You know I’m not Devin.”

“Because you’ve been fucking that sixteen-year-old girl, so even if you’re not the pervert I was after, you’re still a pedophile.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.  What girl?”

“Beth Brown.”

“I don’t know her.”

“You should.  You were sleeping next to her when I injected you with a tranquilizer.”

“You got it all wrong.  She’s like a daughter to me.”

Seth scowled.  “Exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

“You fucked your daughter.”

Anger washed over him.  “Screw you, dude!  You don’t know shit.”

“It’s going to be fun watching you tear yourself apart.”

“That’s not happenin’.”

“Sure it will.  Once those little bastards in the tank get ahold of your ass, you’ll do anything to make the pain stop.”

“Why are you doing this to me?  Did someone pay you?”

“Nope.  Only compensation I’ll get is watching you suffer.”

“What the fuck, dude?  I didn’t do anything to you.  I don’t even know who you are.”

“It’s not about me.  It’s about you paying for what you’ve done.”

“You have no right doing this.”

“And you had no right fucking kids.”

“Even if I was Devin, which I’m not, I would have paid my debt to society.”

“I was wondering when you were going to say that.”

“Say what?”

“Just ’cause you got caught and served time doesn’t mean your dick has been magically erased from going into your daughter.  And even if it did, you still haven’t learned your lesson.”  Seth started lowering him toward the water.  “Just to let you know, touching a jellyfish doesn’t incite an attack.  It’s provoked by the chemicals found on the human body.  Your fat ass is good and sweaty, so they’ll be on you like white on rice.  Or in your case, a molester on a kid.”

Devin, who had by now recovered full use of his limbs, held his knees against his chest, keeping his feet as high as possible as he approached the water.  “Come on, man!  You got it all wrong.  I swear to God I didn’t molest anyone.”  His eyes bulged as he peered down at the jellyfish.  “Please don’t put me in the tank!  I’ll do whatever you want!”

“Lying is only going to make this worse.”

“If I come clean, will you not put me in there?”

“Nope.  I already know you’re a pedophile.”

“There has to be something I can do.  Just name it.”

Seth paused the winch.  “Anything?”

“Yes!  I’ll do anything!”

“Okay.  I want you to fuck yourself in the ass.”

“Do what?”

“You heard me.”

“That’s physically impossible.  There’s no way I can do that.”

“Sure you can.”

“How?”

“Bring your dick to your ass, or your ass to your dick.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“You can cut off your dick, then fuck yourself with it.”

“Fuck that.  I ain’t cuttin’ off my dick.”

Seth held up a gardening tool.  It consisted of a hollow cylinder and a handle.  The cylinder was five inches long with a two-inch diameter.  One end of the cylinder had notches, creating a saw-blade-type surface capable of cutting a circular pattern, the other end extended to a handle.  “This is a bulb planter.  It’s used for digging small holes for plants, but you can use it to cut around your asshole.  Once you sever all the supporting muscles, you’ll be able to pull your colon from your abdominal cavity and use the end of it like a pocket pussy.”

His eyes narrowed.  “You’re fucking crazy.  I’m not doing either one of those.”

“We’ll see about that.”  Seth pressed the down button on the winch controller.

Devin screamed as his body plunged into the water.  Instantly, the jellyfish attacked him like a swarm of yellow jackets.  Seth watched with excitement as Devin violently sloshed around inside the glass enclosure.  Not only could he see the pain in his eyes, but he could hear his screams, even though he was under water.  Before he drowned, Seth pulled him out of the tank.  Devin’s body was covered from head to toe with bright-red trails of swollen flesh, blisters, and raised welts.  It looked like he’d been beaten with a molten whip from Hell.  He was also covered with tentacles that had detached from the jellyfish.  They were still moving and twisting around, almost writhing, as they continued injecting his flesh with venom.

By the time Seth lowered Devin back onto the mattress, his arms and legs had swollen so much they resembled inflatable limbs.  Extreme nausea had set in, and his head felt like it was going to explode.  Experiencing more pain than he could ever imagine possible, just as Seth predicted, he shouted between screams, “Please make it stop!”  When he tried to pull off one of the detached tentacles, the unfired nematocysts triggered, injecting more venom into his body.  “Please do something!  I can’t take the pain!”

Seth held up the bottle of vinegar.  “I’ll give you this after you cut out your ass.”

Out of desperation to end his suffering, he wailed, “I’ll do it!  I’ll do it!”

Seth tossed him the bulb planter.  Without hesitating, Devin fell to his back and pulled his legs apart.  Holding himself in an awkward position, he shoved the notched end of the tool between his butt cheeks.  With each twist, the tool sank deeper and deeper into his body, cutting a circular pattern around his asshole.  The pain he was inflicting upon himself was overshadowed by the torment of the venom as it eroded his flesh.  After he severed the muscles attaching his anus to his body, he pulled out several feet of his colon.  “I did it!  Please stop the pain!”

Seth doused him with the vinegar.  “FYI, this will only prevent the unfired nematocysts from injecting additional venom.”  He held up a syringe with the diphenhydramine.  “But this will reduce your nausea, muscle cramping, and headache.  It will also help to ease the pain a little.”

Devin, still experiencing a fierce amount of agony, howled, “Give it to me!”

“Not until you make your dick hard.”  Seth tossed him an awl and a cordless hot-glue gun.

He could barely speak due to the intense pain.  “Just tell me what to do.”

“I need you to poke holes all over your dick, then pump each one with as much glue as you can.”

Devin grabbed the awl and began sinking the shank deep inside his penis.  Normally, a person wouldn’t be able to perform such a brutal act upon themself, but the agony produced by the venom made mincemeat of his cognitive processing.

Seth felt enthralled—Devin was simply doing what he was told.  No arguing, no begging, no resisting.  “I should have been using this method of persuasion a long time ago.”

After Devin gouged numerous deep holes in his penis, he began pumping in the glue.  With each squeeze of the handle on the glue gun, his penis grew in magnitude, eventually expanding to the size of a banana.  A lumpy banana.  A banana that looked like it had leprosy.

Keeping his word, Seth tossed him the syringe.  Devin quickly injected the diphenhydramine into his leg.  Within a few minutes, the drug took effect, reducing his agonizing torment to a lesser pain, allowing him to rationalize.  “I can’t believe you did this to me.”

“I should give you an extra dose for being so cooperative.”

Devin, sensing Seth’s sarcasm, lashed out.  “Fuck you, asshole!  You’re not going to get away with this.”

“Don’t get cocky just ’cause you think it’s over.  You still have to fuck yourself.”

“I’m not doin’ shit.”

“If you want to live, you will.”  Seth held up another syringe.  “Anti-venom.  Without it, your organs will shut down.”

“Haven’t you done enough to me?”

“Nope.”

“You’ve destroyed my dick, and my fuckin’ rectum is hanging out of me.  My life is over.  What more do you want?”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Dramatic?  How can you say that?  Can’t you see what you’ve done to me.”

“Sure.  In fact…”  Seth pointed to a camera.  “…the whole world will get to see what happened to you after I post it on the internet.”

“Internet?  Why would you do that?”

“To humiliate you.  And to make an example out of you for the rest of the perverts.”

Even though the diphenhydramine reduced some of his symptoms, he could feel fluid building in his lungs.  “Please just give me the anti-venom before it’s too late.  I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Not until you fuck yourself.”

“You’re fucking crazy, you know that?”

“Yep, so you better slip your ass sock over your dick and get to strokin’.”

“Ass sock?  Fuck you and your sarcastic comments.”

Seth didn’t say a word as he held up the syringe with the anti-venom and began slowly pushing out the fluid.

“Okay!  Okay!  I’ll do it!   Please stop wasting it.”  Devin knew he didn’t have a choice if he wanted to live, so he grabbed the end of his intestine.  A feeling of disbelief gripped him when he saw his anus still attached to the end of his rectum.  “Do I really have to do this?”

“Quit stalling.  Your ass isn’t going to fuck itself.”

He gritted his teeth as he slid the end of his rectum over his deformed penis.  “You’re a sick motherfucker for making me do this.”

“Ha!  That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

“Fuck you!”  As he began stroking himself with the organ, feces oozed out, covering his lower body.  “This fucking hurts!  Can I stop?”

“Nope.”

“Come on, man!  I’ve done everything you’ve wanted.  Please call me an ambulance.”

“Ambulance?”

“Yeah!  I don’t want to lose my dick.”

“It’s too fucked up to be saved.”

Troubled, Devin stopped stroking himself as he gazed at Seth with a worried expression.  “That’s not true.  They can fix anything.”

“First off, the hot glue destroyed your flesh.  There’s no coming back from that.  Secondly, even if they could magically fix your shit, you don’t deserve a dick, so stop whining and get back to pleasuring yourself.”

Erupting into a fit of rage, Devin began stroking his penis rapidly.  “Is this what you want, you sick fuck?”

Fucked to Death

Seth laughed as he watched Devin acting out like a little kid throwing a temper tantrum while jerking off with the end of his intestine.

“Stop laughing!  This shit ain’t funny, asshole!”  About that time, Devin’s rectum slipped off his penis.  When he went to slide it back on, his eyes grew huge as melons when saw a bloody stump protruding from his crotch.  In a panic, he held his rectum upside down, and when he shook it, his penis slipped out and plopped to the floor.  The hot glue had cooked his flesh, weakening it to the point it simply tore apart like a piece of smoked brisket.  “Oh my fucking God!  My dick came off!” 

Seth shrugged his shoulders as if he didn’t give a shit.  “That sucks.”

In a panic, Devin wailed.  “What the fuck, man?  I said my dick came off.”

“That’s what you get for acting out.”

“You need to do something.”

Seth grabbed the detached penis and tossed it into a trashcan.

“Hold up!  That’s my dick!”

“You’re not going to need it anymore.”

“The doctors can sew it back on.”

“You’re not getting it back, so stop whining.”

“Whining?  Look what you did to me, motherfucker!  You destroyed my body!” 

Seth, ignoring Devin’s outburst, held up a sheet of paper.  “I need you to fill this out.”

He eyed the piece of paper.  “What the fuck is it?”

“Your death certificate.”

“You’re fucking crazy.  I’m not doing that.”

“You can do it now, or after I make you cut off your balls.  And that’s after you go skinny dipping again with your buddies over there.”  Seth grabbed the remote to the winch.

Inundated with the fear of dying, his attitude changed as he whimpered, “If I fill it out, are you going to kill me?”

“I will if you don’t do it.”

Tears came rolling down his cheeks.  “Please don’t do this!  I’ve learned my lesson.”

Seth tossed him the certificate and a pen.  “All you need to do is fill in your name, list Fucked to Death as your cause of death, date and sign it.”

His hands were shaking as he studied the paper.  “What do you mean by fucked to death?”

“Don’t worry.  It’s a pervert’s fantasy.  You’ll enjoy it.”

About that time, a deathly sickness washed over him.  “I… I don’t feel so good.”

“The venom is shutting down your organs.”  Seth tossed him a syringe.  “Inject that before it’s too late.”

He quickly injected himself in the leg.  As the anti-venom took effect, he thought about Seth’s ‘before it’s too late’ comment.  Did that mean Seth didn’t want him to die? he wondered.  Was filling out the death certificate just a means to terrify him?  And how could a person be fucked to death anyway?

Observing Devin in deep thought, Seth snapped his fingers to get his attention.  “Stop daydreaming, asshole.  I don’t have all night to jack around with you.”

“I’m not daydreaming.  I’m just trying to figure out what I want to do.”

Seth pressed the up button on the winch controller.

Devin knew he wouldn’t be able to survive another jellyfish attack, so his only option was to go along with Seth’s demand.  “Okay, okay!  I’ll do it!”  He began filling out the certificate as he hung a few feet in the air.

Seth noticed Devin had written Tom Crushous on the certificate.  “The last time you spelled that it didn’t have the O.”

“Yes it did.”

“Cut the bullshit and sign your fucking name on it.”

“Tom Crushous is my name.”

Seth held up a wallet.  “Recognize this?”

He ogled it for a moment.  “No.”

“You should, it’s yours.”

“No, it’s not.”

Seth pulled out a driver license.  “This Devin Taylor dude looks just like you.”

“That’s not me.”

“Oh.”  Seth pulled some bills from the wallet and stuck them in his front pocket.”

“Hold up, man!  That’s my money.”

“You said it’s not your wallet.”

“The money is.”

“How do you figure that?

“I loaned it to Devin.”

“I’ve met some fucking idiots in my time, but you take the cake.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Seth again pressed the up button on the controller.  “I’m done playing the name game with you.”

“Okay, okay!  I’m Devin Taylor.”

Seth lowered him back onto the mattress, giving him another chance.  “Any more bullshit from you and back in the tank you go.”

Devin marked out Tom Crushous and wrote in his name.  “Now what?”

“Fill out the rest of it.”

“Do I have to?”

“I’m not telling you again.”

He quickly scribbled in Fucked to Death.

“Now sign and date it.”

Once completed, he handed it to Seth.  “I’m sorry for what I’ve done.  Please have mercy.”

Seth stuck the certificate in his back pocket and began unrolling an extension cord.  After he plugged it into a generator powering the lights and hoist, he opened a wooden crate and pulled out an electric jackhammer.  “Check out this bad boy.”  A huge, shiny dildo made of solid steel protruded from the end of the tool.  It was bigger than a horse’s dick.  “This thing will give you the poundin’ of your life.”

Devin’s eyes grew huge as saucers.  “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“I think it’s obvious, dipshit.”  Seth plugged in the jackhammer.  “And since I’m such a generous guy, I’ll let you pick how you’ll get fucked.”

“You can’t be serious.  That thing will kill me.”

“Exactly.  Now, how do you want it?  In your ass?  Mouth?  I can even stick it in the hole where your dick used to be.”

His eyes narrowed as he lay on the mattress.  “You ain’t fucking touching me with that.”

“Okay.  We’ll start with a little fellatio.”  Seth held the steel dildo next to his mouth.

Devin grabbed the tool and wailed as he scrambled to his feet.  “I said you’re not fucking touching me with it.”

Seth jerked the jackhammer from his hands and cracked him over the head with it, knocking him back to the mattress.  “You don’t make the rules, you fucking prick.”  Seth stepped on his head, and as he overpowered him, he pressed the dildo to the side of Devin's face and began jackhammering, instantly shattering his teeth and pulverizing the bones in his jaw.  The pain became so excruciating, his brain shut down, triggering unconsciousness.

Seth injected Devin with adrenaline.  Within seconds, he sat up and immediately began examining his face with his hands.  His eyes bulged from his sockets when he found his jaw dangling next to his Adam’s apple.  It felt like a bag of shattered bones.  Making it even worse, his tongue stuck out from the gaping opening which used to be his mouth.  Infuriated, he glared at Seth with hate-filled eyes.  He wanted to lash out, but he had no way of verbally communicating.

Seth laughed.  “You look like Mr. Burns from The Simpsons.”

His eyes narrowed as he grunted through his esophagus.

Seth picked up the jackhammer.  “Now that we got the BJ out of the way, how do you want it next?”

He belted out a rage-filled grumble.

Seth positioned himself between Devin’s legs.  “Let’s give your nuts some lovin’ next.”  He dropped the steel dildo on top of his ball sack and began pounding them into the concrete floor.  Blood and sperm coated his ass cheeks and inner thighs as the jackhammer pulverized his testicles into mincemeat.

Devin, wailing in agony, grabbed hold of the jackhammer and tried to push it away, but Seth easily overpowered his weakened body.  When there was nothing left resembling a scrotum, he stuck the dildo into the hole in Devin’s crotch.  “Your pussy is getting jealous.”  As soon as he pulled the trigger, the jackhammer punched through the arch of his pubic bone and into his lower abdomen.  Feces and blood bubbled around the steel dildo as it ravaged his innards.  When Seth stepped back, he noticed Devin wasn’t moving his lower body.  Before the pelvic hammering, he’d been kicking and screaming.  “Try to move your legs.”

Horror washed over Devin’s face when they didn’t budge.

“Damn, dude.  I think you broke your back.”

Tears erupted from his eyes as he whimpered moans of sorrow.  It was painfully obvious the jackhammer had damaged his spine.  Up to this point, he still had hope.  Hope that his genitals could be reattached.  Hope that his anus would be repaired.  With advanced modern medicine, they could even rebuild his jaw.  But he knew spinal injuries were permanent.  It angered him that a man he didn’t even know destroyed his life, and Seth’s last comment fueled his rage even more, insinuating that he had broken his own back.  He knew Seth was just being condescending, adding insult to injury.  The thought of retaliation swarmed his mind.  He was even drooling as he pondered his vengeance.

“You can plot your revenge later.”  Using his foot, Seth rolled Devin’s body over to his stomach.  “Time for some anal lovin’.”  He shoved the steel dildo into his ravaged anus.  As soon as the jackhammer wallered out his hole, Seth began pulverizing the bones in Devin’s pelvis, hips, and lower back.  By the time he was done, Devin’s rear end was nothing more than tenderized meat and shattered bones.

Justin sprung from the couch as he watched Devin moan out his last breath of air.  “The fucking bastard killed him!”

Brian was already on his feet, pacing back and forth as he watched the events unfold on the TV.  “We need to go to the police!  Grab the DVD!”

Detective Joe Garza, after being summoned to the waiting area, was a little aggravated when he saw Brian and Justin.  “What’s the problem now, boys?”

Frantic, Justin held up the DVD and exclaimed, “He murdered our friend!”

“What are you talking about, son?”

“He filmed it.  He filmed Scotty being raped and tortured.”

“Who’s Scotty?”

“His real name is Devin Taylor, but he goes by Scotty, and he’s our roommate.”

“And you say he was raped?”

“Yeah.  He made Scotty rip out his own ass and jerk off with it.  It was some real barbaric shit.”

“Who’s he?”

“Seth Coker.”

Brian added, “Then he killed him like a fucking animal.”

The detective noticed others in the waiting area staring.  “You two need to calm down.  You’re making a scene.”

Joe downplaying the severity of the situation frustrated Justin.  “This is bullshit!  I told you this would happen.”

“Let’s go back to a room so we can talk in private.”

After the detective led them into an interrogation room, he slammed the door shut.  “I already told you boys that someone is just playing a prank on you.”

“It’s not a fucking prank.”  Justin held out the disk.  “It’s all on here.  Watch it and see for yourself.”

Joe motioned to an officer.  “Bring me the media station.”

A moment later, the officer rolled in a cart loaded with a TV and media equipment.  After he plugged it in, he popped the disk into a DVD player.

Justin was standing off to the side with his arms crossed.  “This is some sick shit, so be prepared.”

Joe ignored him as a few officers gathered in the small room to watch the recording.  When it started, Justin’s and Brian’s eyes grew large as medallions as they watched the TV.  Instead of playing the scene with Devin, the screen was divided into four sections, each showing a separate recording of Brian and Justin jacking off in their house.

Joe shut off the TV and glared at them with a disturbed expression.  “What the hell is wrong with you two?”

Justin, bewildered, exclaimed, “Hold up!  I don’t understand how that got on there.”

“I can’t believe you perverts coaxed me into watching this depraved shit.”

Brian, equally baffled, noted, “Seth Coker must have hacked the DVD.  I swear it was a recording of Scotty, I mean Devin, being tortured.”

“I doubt that, son.”

Justin was not only aggravated that Seth had tricked them with the DVD, but the thought of him sneaking around his house and violating his privacy was very disquieting.  “We’re not lyin’ to you, dude.  That bastard played us and defiled the sanctity of our home.”

“Don’t call me dude.”

“I’m sorry.  I’m just pissed.”

Joe glared at Brian.  “You need to get out of here before I lock your ass up.”

Brian glanced at Justin.  “Let’s go.”

Fuming, Justin marched toward the door.  “This shit ain’t right.  We didn’t do anything.”

Joe motioned to the officers.  “Please detain Mr. Martin.”

Justin spun around and gawked at the detective with a confused expression.  “For what?”

“You have a warrant for your arrest.”

“What are you talkin’ about?  I don’t have any warrants.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“For what?”

“Indecent exposure and male prostitution.”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

An officer, standing off to the side with a serious expression, stated, “Someone saw you suckin’ off some dude behind the Wendy’s hamburger joint.”

Several of the other cops in the room burst into laughter.

Humiliated, Justin exclaimed, “What?  That’s a lie!  Seth Coker must have set me up!”

Joe shook his head with disgust as he replied, “You can take it up with the judge.”

Spanky

A guard approached Barry’s cell.  “You have a visitor.”

Barry’s eye opened wide as he sat on the toilet.  “Really?  Who is it?”

“I don’t know.  I’m not your fucking secretary.”

Barry quickly jumped from the pot and pulled up his pants.  “Is it my girlfriend?”

The guard frowned.  “You’re a filthy little bastard.”

At first, Barry was confused by the guard’s statement, then he realized he hadn’t wiped his ass.  “I was just sitting there.”

“Let’s go.  I don’t have all day to listen to your bullshit.”

Barry followed the guard to the non-contact visitation area.  On the other side of the window sat an older Mexican man with a long, gray beard.  Barry plopped in a chair and snagged the phone.  “Who in the hell are you?”

“Damn, boy!  You got fat as fuck.”

“What?”

“Is it from the prison food, or are you just pumped full of cum?”

Barry’s eye bulged with alarm.  “Seth?”

“If you say a word to the guard…” Seth pointed to a bald, muscular man covered in tattoos in the adjacent booth.  “…Johnny Sausage will make you his bitch tonight.”

Barry laid down the phone and started to yell at the guard, but Johnny nodded at him.  “Please do it.  I’m begging you.”

Seth tapped the glass with his phone.  “Pick up, asshole.”

Barry, uncertain what to do, put the receiver back to his ear.  “You got some balls comin’ in here.”

“If you tattle on me, Johnny will make you play plumber tonight.  He likes rodding out asses with his auger.”

“I don’t have time for your games or silly comments.”

“Sure you do, Spanky.  Your ass is locked up.  You have all the time in the world.”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me Spanky.”

“Just because I’m on this side of the glass doesn’t mean I can’t have you fucked up.”

“Yeah, yeah.  Whatever, dude.”

“Keep it up, smartass.”

“What the fuck do you want?”

Seth held a piece of paper against the glass.  “This is what I’m going to do to you.”

After Barry studied a hand-drawn sketch for a moment, his face faded to the pallor of alabaster.  “Hold up, man!  That shit with Kenneth wasn’t my fault.  He provoked me.”

“Save your whining for later.”  Seth folded the paper and stuck it in his pocket.  “And speaking of ass…” He held up a plastic bottle labeled Backdoor Anal Lube.  “…here’s a parting gift.”  He set it on a ledge under the window before walking away.

The guard approached Barry.  “Let’s go, Spanky.”

Barry’s eye narrowed.  “What did you call me?”

“You heard me.”

“What the fuck, dude?  Were you eavesdropping on my conversation?”

“Nope.”

“Bullshit!”

The guard shoved him along.  “Move it.  I don’t have all day to mess around with your ass.”

“Hold up, man!  That dude that was here is Seth Coker.  The Angel of Death.  You can catch him before he gets out the gate.”

“I know who he is.”

“What?  You got to be fucking kidding me?  You knew and you didn’t arrest him?”

He pointed to the bottle sitting on the other side of the glass partition.  “And don’t worry.  I’ll make sure Johnny Sausage gets that before he visits you tonight.”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”

“Seth told you not to tattle.  Johnny will now be making a booty call after lights out.”

As Barry headed back to his cell, fury raged through him.  “I’m going to get your job for this.”

“Threaten me, boy, and Johnny won’t use any lube.”

“This shit ain’t right, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude, asshole.”

“Whatever.”  Barry strolled into his cell and flopped on the bed.

Later that evening, Barry was allowed a phone call.  After he dialed a number, a woman answered, “Hello.”

“Hey, Sweet Thing.  It’s Big Daddy.”

“How’s my Sugar Bear?”

“Not too good.  Seth visited me today.”

“What?”

“Yeah.  The bastard had the nerve to come in here.  And the fucking guard knew who he was.”

“Oh, my God.  Really?”

“Yeah.  He’s going to kill me.  You have to get me out of here.”

“I’ve been talking to your lawyer.  He’s working on your appeal.”

“I won’t last that long.  You need to come visit me so we can talk in private.”

“Okay, baby.  I’m off tomorrow.  I’ll schedule a visit.”

“Do you know how much I love you?”

“To the moon and back?”

“Yep.  To the moon and back.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, baby.  You take care.”

“You too, Sweet Thing.”

Around 11 p.m., Johnny strolled into Barry’s cell with the bottle of lube.  “I hope you don’t mind it bareback.”

The next day, Barry met Laquita in a room filled with tables and chair.  He moved slowly and eased himself into the chair.

“Are you okay, baby?”

“Yeah.  Been workin’ out.  My back is a little sore.”  He didn’t want to tell her it was his ass that was inflamed.

“Listen, baby.  I think I have a way to get you out of here.”

“How?”

“I was watching this TV show where this inmate hid in the dumpster and was hauled away in the trash truck.”

“They use a compactor here.  And all that shit they show on TV doesn’t work in real life.”

In a joking manner, she blurted out, “Then I’ll just run my damn car thorough the fence.”

He raised his eyebrows as he considered her comment.  “That’s not a bad idea.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.  But you can’t use your car.  It might get hung up in the fence.”

“What about my brother’s pickup.”

“Naw, we need something bigger.”

“My uncle is a bus driver.  I can get his keys.”

“That might work.  All I have to do is be in the courtyard when it happens.”

“What about the guards in the tower?  They might shoot you if you approach the bus.”

“That is a problem.  I need to figure a way around that.”  He thought for a moment.  “I got it.  Can you get someone to cut a hole in the bottom of the bus?”

“My brother can do it.”

“Can you trust him?”

“Of course I can.  He’s my brother.”

“Good.  And once you drive through the fence, head straight for me.  I’ll pretend I tripped, and once the bus is over me, I’ll climb inside.”

“That’s dangerous.  I could accidently run over you with a tire.”

“It’ll be fine.  Just make sure you’re not going too fast so I’ll have time to react.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”  Concerned for his own wellbeing, Barry reached out and held her hands.  “But I am worried for your safety.  The guards will fire on the bus when they realize it wasn’t an accident.  Do you think you can get your brother to cover the outside of it with something bulletproof?”

“That’s a good idea.  I’ll talk to him about it.”

“I think this is actually going to work.”

“When do you want to do it?”

“As soon as possible.  I’m not sure how much time I have left before Seth sends someone after me.”

“Want to do it Saturday?”

“Hell yeah.  Just make sure you run through the fence at the south end of the courtyard at 1 p.m. sharp.”

13 Ways to Die

Brian was frustrated when he left the police station, so he decided to stop at McDonald’s for a snack to feed his emotional eating disorder.  As he sat wolfing down cheeseburgers and fries, his huge ass swallowed up the majority of the bench seat and his oversized gut spilled onto the tabletop.  The thought of Devin being murdered by a psychopath was stressful enough, but with the cops refusing to help combined with Justin being locked up on bogus charges, life was almost too much to bear.  So much stress ravaged his being, he decided to add chicken nuggets to his spread.  After two hours of gorging and three elephant-sized dumps in the restroom, the glutton headed out.

When he arrived home around 7 p.m., he found the inside of his house pitch black.  He fumbled around in the dark searching for a light switch, and finally located it, but when he flipped it to the on position, nothing happened, and a surge of terror washed over him.  He instantly realized he’d made a grave mistake coming home alone.  About the time he turned to run, he felt a thump to his head, followed by extreme vertigo.

Brian awoke, finding himself nude in a kitchen chair with his arms secured behind his back.  Due to being extremely obese, around 475 pounds, his ass completely encompassed the chair.  The kitchen table, which was covered with a sheet to conceal different-sized objects, was positioned directly in front of him.  On the floor sat an odd-looking machine consisting of a glass tank, motor, pump, and hoses.  He attempted to stand, but the chair’s legs had been nailed to the floor.  In a panic, he tried to yell for help, but only a faint sound came from his mouth.  Inundated with confusion, he tried to yell again, but nothing more than a whimper escaped from his lips.  This time he tried speaking softly.  “Hey.”  To his surprise, it worked.  “Hey,” he said again.  When he tried to speak louder, his voice shifted back to a deadened muffle.

A moment later, Seth sauntered into the room wearing blue medical scrubs and a surgical cap.  “You ready to get started?”

Brian recognized Seth from Devin’s video, and as the color drained from his face, he cried out in a soft, shaking voice, “Please don’t hurt me!  I’ll do whatever you want!”

“That’s good to know.  If you cooperate, the night will go smoothly.”

He sighed with relief.  “Really?”

“Yeah.  If we work together, I’ll be in and out of here in a jiffy.”

“What’s wrong with my voice?  I can only speak softly.”

“I gave you a thyroplasty implant.”

“What is that?”

Seth pulled a black marker from his pocket and began drawing on a wall.  “These are your vocal cords.”  After he sketched out the human larynx, he then drew a device that resembled a right triangle.  “This is the implant.  It’s designed to create a larger gap between the vocal cords, preventing loud tones.”

“Why did you do that to me?”

“So your neighbors can’t hear you screaming.”

“Screaming?  I don’t understand.”

Seth jerked the sheet off the table, revealing an assortment of items.  “Some of these could be a little painful.”

Horror washed over Brian as he ogled the items laying on the table: a bottle of Drano, ball-peen hammer, large syringe, circular saw, electrical cord, flexible limb saw, large zip-tie, defibrillator, cordless drill with a large bit, brown paper bag, one-gallon fuel can, and a meat cleaver.  “What are you planning on doing with all that?”

“These are the instruments that will aid you in committing suicide.”

His eyes grew huge as melons.  “Suicide?  What are you talking about?”

“Tonight, you’re going to kill yourself.”

Still speaking at a low volume, he exclaimed, “Hold up!  You said everything would go smoothly if I cooperated.”

“I meant, it will go smoothly for me if I don’t have to motivate you to off yourself.”

“Off myself?  You’re fucking crazy.  I ain’t doin’ that shit.”

“You have two choices.  Kill yourself or endure torture until you kill yourself.”

Engulfed with terror, his voice started cutting out as he tried to yell.  After a few muffled words, he took a deep breath and calmly said, “Please don’t do this!  I’m begging you!”

“You saw what happened to your buddy Devin, so you should already know whining and crying won’t help.”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“You know why.”

“No I don’t.”

“If you lie to me, Devin’s punishment will look like a day at the spa compared to what I’ll do to you.”

“Come on, man!  That’s in the past.  I served my time.”

“Do you think your son is done serving his time?”

“What do you mean?”

“Was your dick magically erased from going into your son’s ass, or is he still living with the atrocious act of being molested by his father?”

Brian lowered his chin to his chest and studied his gut.

“I know it’s embarrassing as fuck for child molesters to admit to what they have done.”  Seth pulled a large knife from a sheath strapped to his side.  “But I’m not asking you again.” 

As Brian peered at the long, shiny blade, he blurted out in a shaky voice, “Please don’t hurt me!”

“Then answer my question.”

“I…  Uh…”

“‘I, uh’ is not an answer, dickhead.”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I don’t know if he thinks about…”  A flood of humiliation and shame swept over him.  “Please don’t make me do this.”

Seth stuck the end of the knife to Brian’s penis.  “Finish what you were saying.”

“I don’t know if he thinks about it or not.”

“How can you say that?  You raped your son.  You were supposed to be his protector.”

He gazed at the floor.  “It wasn’t like that.”

“What do you mean it wasn’t like that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you put your dick inside your son or not?”

“I… uh…”

Seth applied more pressure to the knife, breaking the skin on Brian’s penis.

“Yes!”

“Then it was exactly like that.”

“Go easy, man!  You’re cutting me!”

“That’s going to be the least of your worries, pervert.”  Seth strolled over to the kitchen table, stopped, and pointed at the items.  “You can use just one of these, or a combination.  I don’t care as long as you’re dead before the sun rises.”

“There’s no way I’m killing myself.”

Seth picked up the two-foot-long zip-tie.  “You can use this to strangle yourself.  All you have to do is tighten it around your neck.  Once in place, there’s no going back.”

“You’re crazy, man.  I ain’t doing that.”

Next, he held up the bottle of Drano.  “If you’re opting for an open casket at your funeral, this might be the way to go.  This shit will disintegrate your guts, causing you to bleed to death internally, but it will leave your face intact for the viewing.” 

“Yeah, right.  I’m sure as hell not doin’ that either.”

Seth snagged the cordless drill from the table.  “You can use this to drill a hole through your chest and into your heart.  Or into your head.  Either way works for me.”  Next, he held up a two-handed, flexible limb saw.  “If you decide you’d like to cut off your head, this is your best option.”

“That ain’t happenin’.”

“If you’re planning on being cremated…”  He pointed to the one-gallon fuel can.  “…that’s gasoline in case you’d prefer to burn yourself alive.  It’ll also give your mortician a good jumpstart on the cremation process.”

“I’m not killing myself, so you might as well stop.”

Seth held the paddles of the defibrillator to his chest.  “You can stop your heart with this.  Another great option for an open casket.”  He tossed the paddles back onto the table and grabbed the ball-peen hammer.  “Or you can bash in your own brains, but that might fuck up your face.”

“I said I’m not killing myself.”

He held up a syringe with a six-inch-long needle.  “This is filled with acid.  You can push the needle through your eyeball and into your brain.  I have no idea how long it will take for you to die, or if it’ll be painful.”  Seth thought for a moment.  “I’m kind of curious what this shit will do, so if you choose this option and somehow survive, I’ll let you live.”

“Fuck that.”

“If you’re interested in blowing yourself up…”  Seth pointed to a brown paper bag.  “…that’s gunpowder.  You can swallow it, then suck on a flare.”

“Nope.  Not happening either.”

Seth held up an item that resembled an ice pick.  “This is an orbitoclast used for performing a lobotomy.  You can use it with the hammer to pound it through the back of your nasal cavity and into your brain.”

“I told you I’m not killing myself, so save your breath.”

“This next one might be a little messy.”  Seth brandished a meat cleaver.  “You can use this to chop yourself into pieces.”  He picked up an extension cord next.  Affixed to one end was the male cord cap, but only bare wires stuck out from the other end.  “You can use this to electrocute yourself.”  He then held up the circular saw.  “Now, this will definitely be messy, but you can cut yourself up if you like.”

Brian’s mind was flooded with all sorts of thoughts.  This dude is fucking crazy.  Nobody in their right mind would use any of these items to commit suicide.  If he really wanted me to kill myself, a gun would be an option.  What if this is just a scare tactic? he wondered.  That’s got to be it.  It’s the only thing that makes sense.  If this is just a scare tactic, what does he want from me?  He pondered the question for a moment.  The fucker likes playing mind games.  I’m on to him now.  I’m too smart for this bastard.  Anger swept through Brian as he thought about it.  Fuck this dude.  I’m not falling for his fucking games.  The bastard has no right to do this to me.  I served my fucking time. 

“I know what you’re thinking.” 

Brian glared at Seth with hate-filled eyes.  “You don’t know what the fuck is going through my head.”

“Sure I do.  All scumbags think the same way.”

“You don’t know shit.”

“You’re probably wondering why a gun isn’t an option.  Or poison.  Or even a noose.  It’s because those would be too easy of a way out for someone like you.”

“Nope.”

“And you’ve been trying to figure out if I’m just messing with you.”

“Wasn’t thinking that either.”

“And you’re probably getting mad because you think what I’m doing is unfair because you served your time.”

“Absolutely not.”

“If you say so, pal.”

“Like I said, you don’t know shit.”

Seth observed how Brian’s demeanor had changed.  “Now that you’re full of piss and vinegar, it’s time to pick the way you’d like to die.  I’ve given you thirteen options.”  He motioned toward the items on the table.

“Yeah, right!  That shit ain’t happenin’.”

“Suit yourself.”  Seth dug through a duffle bag and pulled out a large syringe.  “This is deoxycholic acid.  It’s a synthetic substance that helps the body destroy fat cells.”

“What are you going to do with that?”

“I want to try an experiment.  Deoxycholic acid is fairly new to the market, and per the FDA, it’s only approved to decrease the fat that hangs below the chin, known as the double chin, and has not been tested for other parts of the human body.”  Seth held up the syringe.  “This holds 350 ml.  The maximum dose of deoxycholic acid per treatment is only 10 ml.  I want to see what thirty-five times the recommended dosage will do to your fat gut.”

Brian’s eyes grew huge as saucers.  “You can’t be serious!  That shit could kill me!”

“Then you won’t have to worry about committing suicide.”  Seth attached a massive seven-gauge by six-inch-long needle to the syringe.

“Please don’t stick me with that!  I’m begging you!”

“Needle phobic.  That’s good to know.”

As Seth brought the needle close to his stomach, Brian tried to yell, but the thyroplasty implant only allowed faint whispering to escape from his mouth.  “No, no, no!  Please don’t do this!  I’m begging you!” 

Seth took his time as he slowly shoved the needle into Brian’s obese belly.  Once fully inserted, he began sliding it in and out with a measured, slow motion.  “Do you like this?”

“Oh my God!  Please get it out!”

“Then pick your poison.”

“What?”

“Pick which item you want to use to off yourself.”

“I told you that shit ain’t happening.”

“Then it’s going to be a long night.”  Seth began injecting the deoxycholic acid into Brian’s fatty tissue.  “Let me know how this feels.”

“It fucking stings!  Please stop!”

“I’ve only injected a tiny squirt.  This syringe holds the same amount of liquid as a soda can.  You sure you’d rather do this than pick something from the table?”

His eyes narrowed.  “Stop fucking asking me that!  I told you I’m not doing it, asshole!”

“Okay.”  Using all of his strength, Seth rammed the plunger to the bottom of the barrel, evacuating the entire contents of the syringe into Brian’s belly.

“Oh, fuck!  Why did you fucking do that?”  He gasped and attempted to squirm away from Seth.  “It’s starting to fucking burn!”  The pain rapidly increased as the acid began dissolving his fat.  “Please make it stop!  It feels like my guts are melting!”

“Why are you throwing such a fuss?  I’m trying to help you lose weight.”

“This shit isn’t funny, dude!  It’s fucking burning my insides!”

“While we’re letting the acid simmer, I want to show you something I made just for you.”  Seth rolled a contraption, a large glass tank attached to a motor, pump, and hoses, over to Brian.  “This is a homemade liposuction machine.”  He held up a two-foot-long, half-inch-diameter, stainless-steel tube connected to a hose.  “I’m going to use this like a straw to suck out your fat.”

His eyes grew huge as medallions.  “You’re fucking crazy!”

Knowing Brian was needle phobic, Seth pointedly drew his attention to how the end of the tube had been cut at an angle.  “I filed the end so it’s sharp, just like a needle on a syringe.  I’ll be able to shove this thing deep inside you with little effort.”

“Listen, man!  I’ll do whatever you want if you don’t stick me with that.”

“Then pick an item from the table.”

“Please don’t be like this.  Haven’t you already done enough?  That shit you injected me with is burning the fuck out of my stomach.”

“We’re just getting started, and it’s not going to end until you’re dead.”

“Come on, man!  Don’t you have any compassion?”

“Not for child molesters.”  Seth knelt next to Brian’s legs, which were so fat they looked like inflatable limbs.  “I’m going to start with your calves.”

“Okay, okay!  I’ll do it!”

Seth’s eyes glimmered as he rose.  “Really?”

“Yes.  I’ll use the large knife.”

“You mean the meat cleaver?”

“Yeah.  Give it to me.”

“If you try to use it on me, or get stupid, I’ll whack your genitals off with it.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

After Seth untied Brian’s arms, he tossed the cleaver in his lap.  As soon as Brian grasped it, he became violent.  “Fuck you, dude!  You come near me, I’ll kill your ass!”

Seth was standing outside Brian’s reach.  “What did I tell you about acting stupid?”

“Fuck you and your comments.  I’m not listening to your bullshit anymore.”  He pointed the cleaver at Seth.  “I’m cutting myself loose and getting the fuck out of here, and if you try to stop me, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Seth pulled a custom Kimber 1911 from his waistband and aimed it at his head.

Brian’s eyes widened.  “Hold up, dude!  I thought guns weren’t allowed.”

“Weren’t allowed?  Are you fucking gay?”

“I meant, you said guns weren’t an option.”

“For you, dipshit.  That would be too easy of a death.”

“That’s not fair.”

“I’m sure your son doesn’t think it’s fair what you did to him either.”  Seth motioned with the Kimber.  “Toss the cleaver before I shoot you in the dick.”

“Okay!  Go easy, man!”  He dropped it to the floor.

Seth holstered his firearm and picked up the cleaver.  “What did I tell you would happen if you tried to use this on me or acted stupid?”

“I… I don’t remember.”

“I do.”  Seth slammed the cleaver down on the kitchen table, embedding the blade in the wooden top, and left it in place.  “Before the night is over, I’ll be using that to butcher your package.”

Up to this point, Brian hadn’t suffered any physical torment, except for the injection to his belly, so he still assumed Seth was just playing mind games with him.  “Dude!  Don’t joke around like that.  It’s not funny.”

“I don’t know where you got the idea that I’m just messin’ with you, but you’re fixin’ to be in for a rude awakening.”

Brian just sat with a dumbfounded expression.

“After seeing what happened to your buddy Devin, you should know what kind of predicament you’re in.  So, if you want to save yourself some agony, pick an item from the table.”

“I’ve already told you I’m not fucking killing myself.”

“Suit yourself.”  Seth injected Brian in the arm with a syringe.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Adrenaline, so you don’t pass out too soon.”

“Pass out?”

Seth grabbed the liposuction tube and knelt next to Brian’s legs.  “This might sting a little.”

When the pump on the liposuction machine whirred into action, Brian began to panic.  “Hold up, man!  You win.  I’ll do whatever you want.”

Seth ignored him as he thrust the sharp, angled tip deep into Brian’s left calf.  The powerful suction immediately began devouring all the fat it came in contact with.  At the other end of the machine, the discharge side began depositing yellowish adipose tissue, with the consistency of cottage cheese, into a large glass container.  As Seth worked the shaft around, the skin around Brian’s lower leg became baggy.  It didn’t shrink, it just simply flopped around like loose-fitting clothes.

Brian, suffering more agony than he ever imagined possible, tried to scream, but the thyroplasty implant drastically reduced his voice to nothing more than a soft squeal.  With the pain becoming more and more intense each passing second, he chaotically reached out for Seth, grasping and clawing at the air.  Not only was his torso secured to the back of the chair, restricting his reach, but his legs were secured to the legs of the chair, forcing him to endure the barbaric treatment.  He even tried to turn over the chair to escape the brutal act, but the chair’s legs were still nailed to the floor.  For now, all Brian could do was whimper moans of agony while enduring unimaginable pain.

When Seth was done, he grabbed Brian’s loose skin and shook it.  “This shit is like a deflated bag.  But don’t worry.  I’ll give you a skin tuck when I’m done.”

Panting like a dog, Brian’s snot bubbled from his nose and tears flowed down his cheeks.  “Please don’t hurt me anymore.  I’m begging you.”

Seth was amazed as he compared Brian’s calves.  His right one was fat as a football, but his left one skinny like a chicken leg.  “Damn!  This lipo shit works fantastic.  Do you want me to do your other calf next, or move on up to your thigh?”

His eyes grew large as saucers.  “No, no, no!  I can’t take any more pain!”

“Okay.  I’ll finish up this leg before starting on your other one.”  Seth shoved the tube into Brian’s flesh right above the kneecap, then pushed it all the way to the top of his leg.  As Seth worked the tube around, the skin on top of Brian’s thigh began collapsing on itself.  “Check out this shit.  It’s sucking the fat right out.”

Brian was in too much agony to respond.

After Seth sucked the majority of the fat from the top, outer, and backside of Brian’s leg, he shoved the tube into his inner thigh.  This area was extremely tender and more sensitive to pain, and as Seth drew out the fat, Brian threw his head around and tried to howl, but only faint moans of agony could be heard.  A moment later, his eyes rolled back in their sockets as he fell into unconsciousness.

Suicide Watch

When Brian awoke, his head was throbbing, chest felt tight, and his vision was a little blurry.  “What happened?”

Seth was standing next to him with the defibrillator paddles.  “You had a heart attack.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah.  I almost lost you.”

Brian noticed four syringes sticking out of his chest.  “Oh, my God!  Why are these in me?”  He started to pull them out.

“I’d leave them in place if I were you.  They’re in your heart and it might leak if you remove them.”

“Why would you do this to me?”

“You had no pulse, so I had to inject your heart with a fibrinolytic agent, nitroglycerin, and heparin.  And I also gave you some adrenaline to keep you from passing out so soon.”

His eyes grew large.  “Is that stuff safe?”

“Of course.  They’re used to dissolve clots, dilate your blood vessels, and thin your blood.  And the adrenaline is a pick-me-up.”

“Oh, fuck!  You could have damaged my heart.”

“Stop worrying.  It’s the same shit doctors use during a heart attack.”

“But you’re not a doctor.  And why did you inject them into my heart?  That can’t be good.”

“I had to get the stuff into you quickly.”

A wave of horror washed over him.  “I need to get to the hospital.”

“Why?  I did all the shit they would have done.”

“My heart might be damaged.”

“I’m sure it is, but I think I can keep it pumping long enough for you to commit suicide.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?  This is serious!  I could die!”

“I know.  You almost got off too easy.”

“Too easy?  Look what you’ve done to my leg.”  The combination of obesity combined with a lazy lifestyle had left Brian with little muscle mass.  Now that his adipose tissue had been removed, his left leg looked like a limp bag of skin encasing a frail skeletal frame.

“And I’m just getting started.  I can go all night if need be.”

Anger washed over him.  “Dude!  You have no right doing this to me and keeping me from medical treatment.  This is cruel and unusual punishment that’s prohibited by the constitution.”

Seth laughed.  “You’re a fuckin’ idiot.”

“It’s not funny!”

“Yeah, it is.  Fuckers like you always whine and cry about your rights, but didn’t give a shit about your victim’s rights.  And the Eighth Amendment only applies to the federal government, not vigilantes, you fuckin’ moron.”

“Vigilante?  You’re just a glorified serial killer.”

After Seth secured Brian’s arms behind his back, he picked up the liposuction tube and knelt next to his right leg.  “Let me know when you’re ready to end your suffering, smartass.”

“Hold up, man!  What are you doing?”

“Lipoing your other leg.”

“Please don’t!  I swear to fucking God I’ll do anything you want if you’ll stop hurting me!” 

“But your legs don’t match.”

“I don’t care.  I can’t take the pain anymore.”

“If you want your suffering to end, you know what you have to do.”

“Please don’t do this!  I don’t want to die!  There has to be something else I can do!  Just name it!”

“I’m not stopping until you change your mind.”

“Come on, man!  My heart might not be able to take the stress!”

“Don’t worry.  I have enough drugs to keep it pumping.  And the adrenaline coursing through your veins will keep you awake.”

“If you wanted me dead, then why didn’t you just let me die when I had the heart attack?”

Seth ignored him as he shoved the tube inside his calf and began sucking out the fat.  When he finished his lower leg, he moved to his upper leg.  When he started on his left arm, Brian was absolutely hysterical and begging for mercy.  By the time Seth had finished both of his arms, neck, chest, face, and hips, he was begging for death.  Now that most of the fat in Brian’s body, except for his belly, had been sucked out, Seth held up a large mirror in front of him so he could see himself.  “Check yourself out.  You’re sexy as fuck now.”

Seth’s humor was lost on Brian as he studied his reflection.  With his obese abdomen, slender limbs, and skinny neck, he looked like a spider.  At this point, Brian had endured so much torment and agony over the last hour he could barely speak, and now after seeing the freak he’d become, he longed for death even more.  “Please kill me!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t do your belly yet.  I want to hold off to see what the deoxycholic acid does to your fat.”  He examined Brian’s abdomen, noticing the area around the injection site had collapsed.  “It looks like the shit is working.”  He poked at the area with a spoon, finding it spongy.  “It’s like your fat has turned into a liquid.”  Seth took a scalpel and jabbed a hole in Brian’s belly, providing an outlet for a yellowish substance to trickle out.  “Check this shit out.  It did liquefy the fat.”  He poked about twenty holes into his flesh, allowing more fat to flow.  As the yellowish substance drained and dripped onto his lap, the outer skin of his belly began collapsing like a deflating balloon.  With the majority of his fat removed, Brian was nothing more than a skinny body inside a huge bag of skin.  It looked as if he was wearing baggy clothes made of flesh.  “You’re lookin’ good, pal, but you still need a skin tuck.”

Brian’s eyes were completely bloodshot, his skin had the pallor of porcelain, and his body was covered in sweat.  “Please kill me!  I’m begging you!”

“You can pick an item from the table and do it yourself, or I can go ahead and start on your plastic surgery.”

“Please have mercy!”

Seth grasped a handful of loose skin on Brian’s thigh, pulled it taut, then trimmed off the excess with a butcher knife.  After he stitched the wound together, tightening the skin around his leg, he stood back to admire his work.  “That turned out good.  Once I remove the rest of your saggy skin, you’ll look fabulous in your coffin.”

Brian’s spirit was finally broken.  In the back of his mind, he had been sure his suffering would end after Seth drew out all of his fat.  Now with the thought of having the flesh throughout his body cut, stretched, and sewn, he knew what he had to do to end his agony.  “Give me the zip-tie.”

Seth’s eyes lit up.  “Excellent choice.  But first, I want you to try something.”  After he untied his arms, Seth opened a valve on the side of the glass tank and filled a cup with the evacuated body fat.  “Drink this.”

Brian was at his limit physically and emotionally and didn’t argue as he gulped it down.

“Damn, boy!  You must have been thirsty.”

“I just want to get this over with.”

“Would you like to drink some more of yourself?”

“Just give me the fucking zip-tie and shut the fuck up.”

Seth handed it to him, then sat on the counter and started eating from a bag of chips.  Brian secured the zip-tie around his neck and began taking up the slack, but right before it became tight, he paused and frowned at the sight of Seth munching on Cheetos as if nothing was wrong.  “What the fuck are you doin’?”

“I’m on suicide watch.  And having a snack.”

“Really?”  Brian felt relieved, knowing the primary responsibility of a person on suicide watch was to prevent a suicide.  “Does that mean I don’t have to do this?”

“Hell, no.  Why would you say that?”

“You said you were on suicide watch.”

“I am.  I’m going to watch you commit suicide.”

Hate swept through the core of his being.  “You’re a ruthless bastard.”

“Better than a child molester.”

“Fuck you!”  He began wrenching on the zip-tie, tightening it around his neck.  When he felt pressure on his esophagus, he changed his mind.  The strap was just tight enough to create the sensation of being choked, but not enough to cut off his air flow.  As panic set in, he began clawing at the zip-tie, but it was buried inside rolls of flabby skin, a result of the liposuction.  With bulging eyes, he peered at Seth and gargled out a muffled cry.  “I’m choking!  Please help me!”

Seth ignored him as he munched on the potato chips while staring back.

Horror swept over Brian as he realized Seth wasn’t going to intervene.  “Give me the cleaver!”

Seth jumped off the counter, grabbed the meat cleaver, and eagerly handed it to him.  As soon as Brian grasped it, he started cutting at the zip-tie, but it was buried too deep inside the rolls of his loose skin.  Within seconds, he had sliced large gashes all over his neck in a desperate attempt to remove the zip-tie.  After he butchered his flesh, resulting in a bloodbath that drenched his body, he tossed the meat cleaver onto the floor and began crying.  “Please don’t do this to me!  I don’t want to die!  I’m begging you for mercy!”

Seth recognized inflicting pain alone upon Brian wasn’t enough to make him commit suicide.  He needed to take his will to live.  With that realization, he picked up the meat cleaver and began whacking Brian between the legs as he held back his weakened arms, and he didn’t stop until he mutilated his genitals, leaving them in a pile of ravaged flesh.

Brian fell into a gloomy melancholic state as he stared at his blood-soaked groin.  He was saddened not from the physical attack of having his genitals mutilated, he’d already endured so much pain that he was almost numb to it, but from the thought of living without his manhood.

Seth was standing off to the side cleaning the meat cleaver with a rag.  “Being a pervert without a dick must be devastating.”

With his body destroyed, and every inch of his being radiating with agony, Brian truly wanted to die.  “Give me the hammer.”

Seth handed him the ball-peen hammer and popped off in a sarcastic tone, “If you’re man enough to bash in your own brains, I’ll let you live.”

Brian ignored Seth’s antagonistic comment as he began whacking himself in the head.  His plan was to knock himself unconscious, eliminating his agony.  With his neck and genitals mutilated and bleeding profusely, he anticipated he would succumb from blood loss once he was out.  To his dismay, instead of accomplishing his goal, he only knocked himself silly and gave himself contusions.  In a desperate attempt to end his suffering, he whimpered out, “Give me the fuckin’ shocking thing!”

Seth held up the electrical extension cord and defibrillator.  “Which one, dipshit?  Both will shock your ass.”

Brian was exasperated by Seth’s cruel behavior.  Not only had he inflicted insufferable pain upon him and destroyed his body, but forcing him to take his own life while mocking him was adding insult to injury.  At this point, he longed for death just so he could get away from Seth.  Annoyed, he pointed to the defibrillator.  “That one, asshole!” 

Seth tossed it into his lap, then began recording him with his cell phone.

Brian’s eyes narrowed as he glared at him.  “What the fuck are you doin’?”

“I’m gonna put this on the internet so everyone can watch you punish your sorry ass.”

“Hold up, man!  That’s not right!”

“I’ve even wrote your name on your chest so they will know who you are.”

When he looked down, he saw some red writing.  “What the fuck?  When did you do that?”

“When you were passed out.”

Confusion washed over him, recalling the writing wasn’t on his chest when he viewed himself in the mirror, which was after he had passed out.  “I don’t understand.  I saw myself in the mirror.  It wasn’t there.”

“You passed out again when you were hitting yourself in the head with the hammer.  And while you were out, I was generous and stopped the bleeding coming from your neck and crotch areas.”

Brian was infuriated, not that Seth had been sneaky, preventing him from bleeding out, but by what was written on his chest.

I’m a Child Molester

Brian Seymour Clark

Age 36

Sweetwater, Texas

I Raped my son

He tried to wipe it off with his hands.  “Get this shit off me!”

“I thought you’d like that.  I added your full name, age, and where you live so folks can look you up.  I’m sure you’ll be the hot topic at your high school reunion.”

The writing had penetrated his skin, making it permanent.  “You can’t do this to me.  Paint over it.”

“I’m sure it’s embarrassing as fuck for everyone to find out you molested your son, then got fucked up like a bitch by the Angel of Death.”

“Fuck you, asshole!”  He stuck the paddles to his chest.  “I’ll see you in Hell!”  When he pulled the trigger, all the muscles in his face contracted, eyes popped opened wide, and his body tensed up.  He let out a weird aww sound for a moment before his body fell limp.  A moment later he looked around and realized he was still alive.  He stuck the paddles back to his chest and pulled the trigger again.  Same thing happened—he received a painful shock, but his heart continued to beat.  He tried several more times with the same outcome.

“Damn!  You’re one resilient faggot.”

Frustrated, he tossed the paddles to the floor and glared at Seth.  “I’m not a fuckin’ faggot!”

“Sure you are.  Your son was male.  Male on male sex is gay.  So, you’re a child molesting faggot.”

With that comment, Brian launched into a tirade.  Seth’s relentless provocation finally pushed him to his boiling point.  “Fuck you!  I’m done playing your fucking games!  You want me dead, kill me yourself, you sorry motherfucker!”

Seth jerked Brian’s arms behind the chair, tied them into place, then began trimming the loose skin from his body.  Two hours later, after several more adrenaline shots and multiple bags of blood, the skin on Brian’s arms, legs, chest, and abdomen had been cut, stretched, and sewn.  Not only had he suffered more agony than he could ever have imagined, but he’d been on an emotional rollercoaster ride, from begging to live, wishing to die, rage, irritation, humiliation, and now back to longing for death.  This was Seth’s intent from the beginning—to create the most mental and physical anguish possible.  Now that Brian’s will had been shattered, he peered at Seth with surrender in his eyes as he barely had the strength to muster out, “Give me something that will end this.”

“You have to pick.”

Thinking it would be less painful than the other items, Brian whimpered out, “Give me the acid.”

After Seth cut his arms free, he handed him a syringe.  “You’ll have to stick it through your eye to gain access to your brain.”

Sticking a needle into one’s eye would normally be an unthinkable act, but Brian had lost all emotional ties to his physical being.  Death was the only thing he sought now, and anything else was just an obstacle that stood in the way.  He didn’t give it a second thought as he plunged the needle into his right eye.  About an inch in, he felt resistance.  “It won’t go in any further.”

“That’s the bone in the back of your eye socket.  It’s paper thin, so just push harder.” 

He did just that.  With a little pressure, the needle penetrated to his brain.  Once fully inserted, he rammed the plunger all the way to the bottom.  Within seconds, his head erupted with excruciating pain.  “Oh my God!  It feels like my head is going to explode!  Please make it stop!”

“You’ll have to give it time to work.”

With each beat of his heart, his head pulsed with a shockwave of agony.  To his horror, the discomfort increased his heart rate, resulting in a faster throbbing sensation.  It became so intense, it felt like someone was using a jackhammer on his brain.  “I can’t take the pain!  Give me the poison!”

“I don’t have any poison.”

“The drain cleaner!  Give it to me!”

Seth handed him the bottle of Drano.  Brian was in so much agony that he didn’t think twice about it as he began downing the liquid.  The zip-tie around his neck made it hard to swallow, but he was still able to get half the bottle down before his stomach began spasming.  A moment later, a gut-wrenching pain began radiating from his bowels.  He had anticipated a speedy death, but by this point he was not only suffering from an excruciating headache, but his guts felt like they were on fire.  Everything had spiraled out of control too fast, and he knew he couldn’t turn back now.  Between the acid in his brain and the Drano in his stomach, death was inevitable, he just wanted to get it over with.  “You lied to me.  This shit isn’t working.”

“No, I didn’t.  The Drano will cause internal bleeding.  It just might take a while before it kills you.”

“Please stop torturing me and get it over with.”

“You’re the one picking the items, not me.”

“My guts feel like they’re being turned inside out!  Please make it stop!  I’m begging you!”  About that time, he vomited, spraying a slimy blood and mucus mixture all over the front of his body.

“See.  The Drano is dissolving your innards.  Just be patient.  You’ll be kicking the bucket in no time.”

“Please give me something that will end this now!”

Seth held up the flexible limb saw.  “You can cut off your head.”

“Give it to me!”  The flexible cable was about two feet long with a handle on each end.  At first, he tried to cut his throat, but quickly found his fatigued body didn’t have enough strength to do any serious damage.  After cutting a shallow trench across the front of his neck, he tossed the cable over his head and began sawing at the back of his neck.  In this position, he had the proper leverage to really dig in.  After a few minutes, he gave up.  “This isn’t working!”

Seth noticed the cable was covered in bone fragments.   “Actually, it is.  You’re cutting into your vertebrae.”

He left the tool hanging from his neck as his arms collapsed to his side.  “I don’t feel good.”

“Do you want to try the electrical cord next?”

Brian had become numb inside and slightly disoriented.  It seemed almost as if he was having a dream and looking in.  “Yes.  That would be nice.”

Seth plugged the male end into an electrical outlet, then handed him the end with the two bare wires. 

Being mentally wrecked, Brian began shocking himself all over his body, leaving burn marks etched into his skin.  “Why isn’t this working?”

Seth knew electricity could stop someone’s heart if it crossed their chest.  For Brian to accomplish this, he would have to hold the hot wire in one hand and the neutral in his other.  “Try your face.”

Brian dragged the cord across his face, leaving a long burn mark.  “That didn’t work either.”

“Then try your eye.”

When Brian shoved the end of the cord to his eye, the moisture created a large arc followed by a puff of smoke.  “Oh fuck!”  He tossed the cord to the floor and covered his face.  “It burnt my eye!”

“Of course it did, you dumbass.  You stuck 120 volts to it.”

With one eye damaged from the needle and the other burned, Brian could only see shadows.  “Oh my God!  I’m blind!”

Seth laughed.  “That’s what you get for burning your good eye, Einstein.  Or I should say, Eyestein.”

Brian’s head fell forward as he slipped into unconsciousness.  After Seth injected him with adrenaline, he popped back awake.  “Is it over?”

“Nope.  You’re not in Hell yet.”  Seth picked up the fuel can.  “But, this will send you on your way.”  Since Brian was too weak to hold the can, Seth doused him from head to toe, then handed him a book of matches.  “I’ll let you have the honors.”

As he fumbled blindly with the matchbook, Seth yelled, “Hold up!  I almost forgot.”  He grabbed the brown paper bag filled with gunpowder and held it next to Brian’s face.  “Hold this in your mouth.”

Brian didn’t question Seth as he latched onto the bag with his teeth.

“Now you’re ready.”  Seth quickly stepped to the far side of the kitchen.

Brian’s hands were trembling as he ran the match head across the striker.  About the same time the match lit, his body erupted into a fireball, followed by a small explosion.  Seth noticed the gunpowder had blown Brian’s jaw off, and it now dangled in front of his neck connected to some tendons. 

As the flames subsided, Seth couldn’t believe his eyes.  Brian was still breathing and moaning in agony.  “Well, shit!  Looks like you get to live after all.”

The thought of living horrified Brian because he’d now become a monster.  A dickless, blind, and disfigured monster.  He wailed in torment, begging for death, as Seth slipped out the back door.

Prison Breakout

On Saturday, a few minutes before 1 p.m., Barry was nervously waiting in the south courtyard for Laquita to break him out.  As he paced back and forth, his mind was flooded with all sorts of thoughts.  Is she actually going to show up? he wondered.  And if she does, can we even pull off such a stunt? Knowing the guards would open fire during an attempted escape, the thought of being shot terrified him.  About that time, the sound of a roaring engine and people screaming caught his attention.  His eyes popped wide open when he saw a short bus, aka retard bus, heading across a grassy area, and it looked as if it had come straight from Hell.  The paint appeared burnt, steel panels covered all the windows, and a huge bumper, similar to a cowcatcher on a locomotive, protruded from the front.  Nude people of all adult ages, genders, and ethnicities were strapped to the front, sides, and top.  They were waving their arms and kicking their legs as they shouted for help, screamed, and cried.

As Barry stood dumbfounded, staring in bewilderment, the courtyard erupted into chaos when the bus burst through the fence.  While the inmates fled in all directions, the guards aimed their rifles at the bus, but they weren’t able to take a shot due to the people strapped to the sides.  Barry, still standing motionless, snapped out of his stupor when the bus approached him.  At the last moment, he fell to the ground, lying flat on his stomach, as the bus drove over him.  Dust engulfed the air as the wheels screeched to a halt.  A second later, a hatch opened and a female’s voice wailed out, “Get your ass in here, now!”

Barry scrambled up through the hole and discovered Laquita driving.  Stunned and confused, he sat in a seat behind her.  “Why are there people on the outside of the bus?”

“Hold on, baby.  We have to get out of here.”  She quickly spun the bus around and headed out through the hole in the fence. 

Once on the road, Barry peered at her with a troubled expression and repeated his question.  “Why are there people on the outside of the bus?”

“They’re fake.”

“Fake?  They’re moving around.”

“My brother makes Halloween props.  He’s really good at it.”

“But I can hear them screaming and talking.”

“That’s a recording.”

“Oh.  Why did y’all do that?”

“So they would appear to be real.”

“I know that.  Why did y’all put them on the bus?”

“To keep the guards from shooting at us, sweetie.”

“Oh, that was smart.”  Barry glanced out the rear window, noticing police lights in the distance.  “Oh, fuck!  The cops are coming!”

“I know, babe.”

“What are we going to do?”

“We’re fixin’ to change out vehicles.”  She pulled onto a gravel road in a heavily wooded area.  About a quarter mile down, a man was standing off to the side.  She slammed on the brakes, and when the bus slid to a halt, she quickly stood up and jerked the door open.  “Let’s go.”

Barry’s eye popped wide open.  “What?”

“We have to go, now.”

As soon as Laquita and Barry exited the bus, the man jumped in and took off.  Laquita motioned to Barry.  “We have to get off the road.  Follow me.”  She quickly scurried into the woods.  A short distance in, she dropped to the ground as she yelled, “Get down!”  A moment later, several cop cars flew past them in pursuit of the bus.

Barry was breathing heavily as he lay on his stomach.  “That was fuckin’ close!”

Laquita arose.  “We have to keep moving.  I have a car parked half a mile from here.”

As he followed her through the woods, his mind was flooded with questions.  “Who was that dude?”

“Rick.”

“Who in the fuck is Rick?”

“A friend.”

“Why did he take the bus?”

“He’s luring the cops away from us.”

Barry thought it was odd that a stranger was willing to get busted for him.  “Why would someone do that?”

“Stop worrying, Sugar Bear.  My brother planned each step to ensure you won’t get caught.”

“Your brother sure has gone out of his way to help us.”

“That’s because we have each other’s back.  And he knows I’d do anything for him.”

“What does he do?”

“What do you mean?”

“For a job.”

“He was a security guard before he retired.”

“How old is he?”

“Forty-nine.”

“Oh, wow!  He’s not that old.  It must be nice to be retired already.”

“He had an accident that left him disfigured.”

“What kind of accident?”

About that time, Laquita approached a vehicle hidden under a tarp.  “Help me uncover the car.”

Barry beamed when he saw it was a black Cadillac Escalade.  “Damn, mama!  This is one badass ride.”

Once in the vehicle, Laquita grabbed a bag from the backseat and tossed it in Barry’s lap.  “Put those on.”

He opened the bag and pulled out a pair of gray sweatpants, a white t-shirt, and a black hoodie, then laughed.  “What’s wrong?  You don’t like my orange jumpsuit?”

“Be serious.  We’re still not in the clear yet.”

“Sorry.  Just trying to lighten the mood.”

“There’s gonna be a lot of eyes looking for you, so I need you to lie down in the backseat.”

“Do you think that’s necessary?”

“Your face is going to be plastered all over the news.  And with everyone on social media, someone will recognize you.”

“You’re right, but…”  Barry’s expression exuded lust.  “…can we play before we take off?”  His hand slid down to his crotch.  “It’s been a while.”

“Baby, we don’t have time for that right now.  Helicopters will be searching for us once the cops realize you’re not on the bus.”

With great disappointment, his expression morphed into a look of frustration as he climbed into the backseat and began changing his clothes.  “I’ve been counting the minutes until I could be with you.”

“Let’s focus on getting to the safe house for now.”  She started the car and pulled out of the wooded area and onto a gravel road.

“Safe house?  What is that?”

“My brother has a place where he and his friends hang out.  You’ll be staying there for a while.”

“Where’s it at?”

“Houston.”

“That’s a long way from here.”

“It’s only a few hours.  And make sure you stay down.  We’re almost to the highway.”

“What about roadblocks?”

“I’m hoping we don’t come across any, but if we do, you’re going to have to hide inside the box.”

“What box?”

“The one in the back.”

Barry looked over the back of his seat and saw a large cardboard box with a Maytag dishwasher label.  “Damn!  Y’all thought of everything.  But what if they search it?”

“Then we’re both fucked.”

Four hours later, Laquita opened the back door.  “Hey, baby!  We’re here.”

Barry sat up rubbing his eyes.  “Did I fall asleep?”

“Yep.  Just a few minutes after we hit the road.”

Examining the building, he observed they were parked inside a mechanic shop.  “Where are we?”

“At my brother’s place.”

“Why are we here?”

“I’ve already told you.  You’ll be staying here for a while.”

Spotting several mechanics working on cars, he hesitated.  “Hold up!  Someone is going to recognize me.”

“Stop worrying.  We’re all friends here.”

Barry followed Laquita across the garage, then down a set of stairs.  When he reached the bottom, he found a large, dimly lit room filled with pool tables, slot machines, old-school arcade games, and pinball machines.  In the center of the room, three cigar-smoking black men sat at a round table playing cards.  They were laughing and cutting up with each other as Laquita approached the table.  A bald man with a beard, sitting on the opposite side of the table and facing her, nodded.  “’Sup, girl?” 

Another man, heavyset with a large afro, also facing her, cautiously gawked at Barry.  “Who’s that with you?”

“This is Barry.” Laquita began introducing the men to Barry, starting with the bald man with the beard.  “That’s Charley.”  She then pointed to the heavyset man with the large afro.  “That’s Marcus.”  The last man had his back facing Laquita and Barry.  She laid her hand on his shoulder and said, “This is my brother.”

The man turned sideways in his chair, revealing a face covered with new skin grafts and severe scarring.  Barry remembered Laquita saying her brother had been in an accident that left him disfigured.  “Hey, man.  Thanks for busting me out of that hell hole.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t wait for your faggot ass to be released.”

Barry’s eye grew huge with confusion.  “Why would you call me a faggot?  I don’t even know you.”

“You should.  You did this to my fuckin’ face.”

Barry’s confusion instantly transformed into a wave of horror when he realized the man was Kenneth Evans.  As quick as lightning, his mind snapped into the fight-or-flight response, a physiological reaction to life-threatening fear.  With his heart pounding, short breath, pupils dilating, and a lump in his throat, he bolted for the exit.  Before he made it to the staircase, a dart struck him in the back, and his body collapsed onto the concrete floor.  As his vision faded to darkness, the last thing he saw was Seth standing over him.

Lard Cake

The next morning, Justin was released from jail when the judge threw out the case due to a lack of evidence for the alleged blowing of a dude behind Wendy’s restaurant.  Living over ten miles away, Justin didn’t feel like walking, so for almost an hour, he hung around outside the jailhouse and called Brian for a ride, but he never answered.  Eventually, the battery in his cell phone went dead, and being broke as fuck, he had no choice but to start hoofing it home.  During his walk of shame, he pondered how he’d been mistreated back at the police station.  The police were supposed to protect and serve.  His friend Devin had just been barbarically murdered by the Angel of Death, and instead of being helped by the police, they locked him in a cage like an animal.  Not only had he been falsely accused of something extremely humiliating, but with everyone laughing at him, it exacerbated an already fucked-up situation.  And to make it even worse, he was having to walk home.  His anger intensified with each step, not just toward the police, but Brian, too, for not answering his phone.  He anticipated the probability the lazy fuck was asleep.

Four hours later, and boiling with anger, Justin stormed into his house and wailed, “Brian!  You lazy bitch!  Where in the fuck are you?”  When he didn’t answer, he scanned Brian’s bedroom, and when he found it empty, he headed for the kitchen.  “I know your fat ass ain’t feedin’ your pie hole, you fucking dickhead!”  As soon as he peered into the kitchen, his eyes were instantly drawn to the horrifying sight of a man who had been brutally maimed.  After rushing to his side, he began taking in the magnitude of his injuries.  The man had been severely burned, and his body was covered with so many long gashes, which had been stitched together, he looked like a jigsaw puzzle.  His jaw was dangling by a few tendons, one eye was burnt, the other completely bloodshot, and his genitals were missing.  Four syringes were sticking out of his chest, and the front of his body was covered in bloody mucus that was still oozing from his throat.  “Oh my God!  Who did this to you?”  No sooner than he finished his sentence, Seth Coker came to mind.  Without hesitating, he grabbed the meat cleaver from the table.  “Is that fucker still here?”

Miraculously, Brian was still alive, but with the majority of his fat removed, he was unrecognizable.  His left eye, the one he burned, was blind, but he could still see through his right one, barely.  With his jaw in remnants, he couldn’t speak, so he shook his head.

“Do you know where my friend Brian is at?”

He nodded.

“Where is he?”

He desperately tried to tell Justin he was Brian, but only moans escaped from his larynx.

“I can’t understand you.”

Brian moved his hand as if he was writing.

“What are you tryin’ to tell me?”

He held up his other hand, then pretended to write in his palm.

“Oh, you want something to write with.  Good idea.”  Justin dashed into his bedroom and quickly returned with a pen and notebook.

Brian’s hand was shaking as he wrote, I’M BRIAN.

Justin stood dumbfounded as he gazed down at the note.  “I’m Justin.  My roommate is also named Brian.  Do you know where he is?”

He scribbled on the pad, IT’S ME!!!!!

Justin assumed the man had suffered a traumatic brain injury and was confused.  “Don’t worry, man.  I’m going to call the police and get you some help as soon as my phone has enough juice.”  He quickly plugged his cell phone into a charging cable.  “For now, you need to tell me where my friend is at.  He might be in serious trouble.”

Brian scribbled again in the notebook, then held it up.  I AM BRIAN CLARK.  SETH DID THIS TO ME.

“That’s impossible, dude.  My Brian is heavyset.”

He pointed to the homemade liposuction machine.

Justin examined it for a moment.  “What do you want me to see?”

Brian held up the notebook after he wrote, HE USED THAT ON ME.  SUCKED OUT MY FAT.

“No way.  That’s impossible.”

He jotted on another page, then held up the notebook.  HE DID.  THEN HE CUT ME UP.  Tears began pooling under his eyes as he held up another page.  LOOK WHAT HE DID TO ME.

Justin dropped to his knees next to him.  “Oh my God!  I’m so sorry he did this to you.”

Brian held up the notebook with a new message that read, PLEASE KILL ME.

“Don’t say that, dude.  Everything will be fine.”

HE TURNED ME INTO A MONSTER.  I DON’T WANT TO LIVE LIKE THIS.

“It’ll be alright, Brian.  The doctors can fix you.”

HE TOOK MY PENIS!!!  HOW CAN I GO ON?

“Please don’t give up.  They can fix anything these days.”

About that time, a dark-brown mixture consisting of blood and mucus gushed from Brian’s throat, a result of the Drano dissolving his innards.  Frightened, Justin arose as he watched Brian choke on the slimy substance percolating from his esophagus.  “Oh my God!  What’s happening to you?”

Brian violently tossed around until the nails securing the legs of the chair pulled loose from the floor and he fell backward.  As soon as his body slammed to the floor, the impact triggered a stream of dissolved bowels to spew from his throat like a geyser.  Justin stumbled backward as the brownish fluid coated the floor.  A moment later, Brian’s eyes rolled into the back of their sockets as he let out his last breath of air.

Justin darted out of the house and drove straight to the police station in Brian’s car.  As he approached the front door, a feeling of dismay swept over him, knowing Detective Garza wasn’t going to believe him as had happened before.  He also knew he’d probably be tossed in a cell again.  Nevertheless, with Seth on the prowl and two of his friends brutally murdered, that wouldn’t be such of a bad thing.  At that moment he had an epiphany; being locked up was a lot better than being dead.  With that awareness, he strode straight up to the closest officer and punched him in the face.  Like flies on shit, numerous cops swarmed in and had Justin on the ground and handcuffed within the blink of an eye.  After they roughed him up a bit, he was taken to an interrogation room.

About five minutes later, Detective Garza entered the room.  “Boy, you’re about as dumb as a box of rocks.”

“I don’t care what you think.  I’d rather be locked up in here than out there where that psychopath is killing everyone I know.”

“Don’t start that shit again.”

“And you’re a sorry asshole for making up that shit about me sucking off some dude behind Wendy’s.”

“I had nothing to do with that, son.”

“Sure you didn’t.  And now my friend Brian is dead because of you.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“If you would have done your job instead of violating my rights, he wouldn’t have been murdered.”

“It’s kind of hard to believe you when you can’t even keep your own stories straight.”

“What does that mean?”

“You said your friend Brian was dead, but the first time you came in here, you said his name was Scotty, then Devin.”

“Scotty is Devin’s nickname, and he was the one killed on the video.  Brian was the heavyset guy that’s been comin’ in here with me.”

Even though Joe assumed Justin was a pathological liar, he continued questioning him just to see what he would say next.  “I gotcha.  So, what happened to Brian?”

“Seth mutilated him.  Cut him into pieces.  He’s all burned up and shit.  And his jaw is fuckin’ hanging from his face.  His dick and balls are gone.  And somehow the sick bastard removed all of his fat.  And his eyes—”

Joe interrupted him.  “Hold up!  What did you say about his fat?”

“It was sucked out of him.”

“And what about his penis?”

“It’s gone.  I think Seth took it.”

“Where is your friend’s body?”

“My house.  At 1806 South Lamar.”

Joe quickly opened the door and motioned to an officer.  “I know who the victim is.  Round up a few guys and get over to 1806 South Lamar.”

Confusion washed over Justin.  “What’s goin’ on?”

“Follow me.  I want to show you something.”  Joe escorted Justin down some stairs, and when they came to a hallway, he stopped at a viewing window and pointed into a room.  “We were sent that a few hours ago.”

Justin saw several people in protective clothing hovering around a stainless-steel table.  In the center of the table sat a cake with a large candle protruding from the top.  “Is it someone’s birthday?”

“Not quite.  That cake is made of human lard.”

“What is that?”

“Human fat, dumbass.”

Justin’s eyes grew huge as melons.  “Oh, fuck!  Do you think that’s Brian’s fat?”

“See the thing sticking out of the top?”

“You talkin’ about the candle?”

“It’s not a candle.  It’s a human penis with a wick sticking out of the piss hole.”

“Oh my God!  That’s Brian’s dick.”

“Also, along with the cake, we received a video of a man being tortured.  Your description of your friend’s injuries corresponds with what happened to the man in the video.”

“So, now do you believe me?”

“Yeah, it looks like you and your friends pissed off the wrong person.”

“We didn’t piss off anyone.  Seth Coker did this shit.”

Sweetwater was a small town, so Joe was skeptical that the notorious Seth Coker had anything to do with it.  Even with the sadistic overtones, it was more likely to be gang related, or just some other nut job trying to make a name for himself.  “We have no proof of that.”

“Wasn’t Seth in the video?”

“No.  The only thing recorded was your friend self-mutilating himself.”

“Brian wouldn’t kill himself, especially like that.  No one would.  Someone made him do that.”

“No shit, Sherlock.  The recording was heavily edited, so whoever did it didn’t want to be seen.  Which is odd, since Seth Coker usually prances around in his videos for the whole world to see.”

Justin observed Joe peering at him with a strange expression.  “I hope you don’t think I did that shit.  I was fucking locked up.  You should know that.  You’re the one who put me there on a bullshit charge.”

Joe, being a cop, presumed everyone was a suspect.  And showing Justin the cake and discussing the case with him was just an opportunity to feel him out.  “I didn’t insinuate you did anything.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

About that time, an officer approached Justin and held out a manila envelope.  “This is for you.”

Justin saw that the envelope was addressed to him.  When he opened it, he found a death certificate.  It identified Justin Lee Martin as the deceased, the date of death listed as Soon, and the cause of death stated Somethin’ real fucked up. “Oh, shit!  He knows I’m here!”

Joe snagged the certificate and studied it for a moment, then glared at the officer.  “Where in the hell did this come from?”

“Our mailbox.”

Joe examined both sides of the envelope and noticed there was no address or postage, only Justin’s name.  “We got the fucker now,” he exclaimed with excitement.

“What do you mean, sir?”

“There’s a camera that faces our mailbox.”  He nodded.  “Follow me.”  Before he took a step, Joe motioned toward Justin as he eyed another officer.  “Make sure you keep an eye on him.”

Justin, feeling left out, whined, “Can I go too?”

Joe shook his head.  “No.”

“Why not?  It’s not your life being threatened.  It’s mine.  I should at least get to see who it is.”

Joe started to say no again, but changed his mind.  Sweetwater was usually a boring town, and seeing Justin getting all worked up was somewhat exciting.  “Sure.”

Once Joe pulled up the recordings, he began reviewing different time slots, which were in thirty-minute intervals.  He sped through the clips at high speed as everyone focused on the monitor with widened eyes, watching people coming and going from the building in fast motion while cars zipped up and down the street.  About eight clips later, which was around 10 a.m., a vehicle stopped at the mailbox before whizzing off.  Joe pumped his fists.  “We got the fucker!”  Since the recording had been playing at 10x speed, blurring out details of the driver, Joe rewound the video a bit and began the playback at normal speed.  With eagerness to learn the identity of the perpetrator, Joe peered at the monitor with great anticipation.  His eyebrows furrowed when a postal truck pulled up to the mailbox.  It was the typical white Grumman LLV, but instead of having the postal insignia of a white eagle’s head on a blue background, it displayed the portrayal of a grim reaper, outlined in white on a blue background.  Across the door read, The Grim Reaper Express, and the person driving the truck wore a grim reaper mask and a medieval-style cloak.  Joe gritted his teeth as he glared back at some officers who were watching the video.  “Did y’all not see this asshole?”

They shook their heads.

“How in the fuck is that possible?  He pulled up to our station dressed like it’s fucking Halloween while driving a damn clown car.”

After witnessing Seth’s brashness of strolling straight up to a police station, especially in such an ostentatious fashion, Justin was now frightened more than ever.  “This is bad.  Real bad.  Y’all can’t stop Seth.  No one can.  I’m so fuckin’ dead.”

“I doubt that was Seth Coker.”

“What are you talking about?  Of course it was him.  He’s the only fucker that has the balls to do shit like this.”

Joe refused to believe the Angel of Death was in his small town.  “Not necessarily.  It could be just some strung-out asshole trying to make a name for himself.”

One of the officers spoke up.  “Sir, you have to admit this is the type of shit Seth Coker is known for.”

Another officer added, “And he likes screwing with law enforcement.  That’s his M.O.” 

Joe seemed irritated.  “Even if it was him, why in the fuck would he risk his neck coming after this dipshit?”  He nodded toward Justin.

Justin felt it was time to confess, especially since his life was at risk.  “I’ve been in prison before.”

“I know what the hell you did, pervert.  You don’t think we do background checks?”

“I wasn’t sure if you did or not.”

“It’s bad enough you got your twelve-year-old niece pregnant, but fucking a cow?  What the hell is wrong with you, boy?”

After turning several shades of red, Justin mumbled under his breath, “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”  At twenty years old, Justin snuck into a barn in the middle of the night to steal everything of any value.  At this point, no one really knows what possessed him to take a liking to a black-and-white-spotted dairy cow, but a ranch hand caught him standing on a milk crate corn-holing the animal.

“Sure you don’t, pervert.”

“Don’t matter what you think.  And with Seth after me, you have to put me in protective custody.”

“We don’t have to do shit.  You and your perverted friends have simply pissed off the wrong person, but it ain’t the Angel of Death.”

About that time, an officer came to the door and knocked.  Joe waved him in.  “What’s up?”

“An Agent Arnold with the FBI is here to see you.”

Joe left for a few minutes, and when he came back, he motioned to Justin.  “You need to come with me.”

Justin’s eyes popped open wide.  “What’s wrong?”

“I’ll let Agent Arnold explain everything to you.”

Joe escorted Justin to an interrogation room where a man in a suit was standing off to the side.  He motioned toward a chair next to a table.  “Have a seat.”

Justin plopped in the chair.  “What’s goin’ on?”

“I’m Thomas Arnold with the FBI.  I’m with a special unit investigating Seth Coker, also known as the Angel of Death.  I believe—”

Justin interrupted.  “So it really is Seth Coker who’s after me?”

“Yes.”

Justin glared at Joe as he stood in the doorway with his arms crossed.  “I told you, dude.”

Feeling inadequate, he shrugged his shoulders.  “You want a cookie?”

“If you would have done your job, Brian and Scotty wouldn’t be dead.”

Thomas slammed a folder on the table.  “Hey!  You need to chill out.”

“Sorry.  I’m just pissed that the cops in this Podunk town didn’t do shit.  We showed them the death certificates we got in the mail, but they blew us off.  And this dude,” he said, pointing at Joe, “locked me up on some bullshit charge instead of helping us.”

“You need to be thankful.  That probably saved your life.”

“So, why is Seth after me?  And why did he kill my friends?”

“Most likely because you and your friends are child molesters.”

Embarrassed, Justin gazed down at the floor.  “I was falsely accused of that.”

“I’m not here to debate if you stuck your dick in that kid or not.”

Caught off guard by the agent’s crude comment, Justin’s eyes narrowed.  “That’s kind of rude.”

“It is what it is.  All I care about is catching Seth Coker, not your perverted sexcapades.”

“What the hell are sexcapades?”

Joe laughed.  “Your sexual escapades.  You know, fucking kids…  And cows.”

“Ha ha!  That shit’s real funny.”

Thomas opened the folder and pulled out several pictures of two men being brutally tortured.  “Do you recognize these men?”

Justin, still fuming, studied them.  “Yeah.  That’s Brian and Scotty.  I mean, Brian and Devin.”

He slid a document in front of him.  “I was also sent this.”

Justin recognized it as a copy of his death certificate.  “What do you mean?  Did Joe send you a copy?”

Joe shook his head.  “No.  I didn’t send him anything.”

“Then who did?”

Thomas showed him the envelope it arrived in.  “Who do you think?”

Justin saw the return address listed Grim Reaper, 666 Sulfur Lane, Hell, Middle of the Earth.  “I don’t understand.  My envelope listed the same thing.”

“It’s just more of Seth Coker’s shenanigans.”

“Why did you get this letter?”

“He wanted me to know he’s coming after you.”

“That doesn’t make sense.  Why in the hell would he want to involve the FBI?”

“It’s a game to him.  When I first started with the bureau, my boss Jim Thompson and his partner Ron Serbanic chased this fucker around for many years.  Now that they’re both retired, I’ve taken over the unit.”

“So now what?”

“I need your help catching him.”

“Like how?”

“We’re going to use you as bait.”

Justin frowned.  “That’s kind of fucked up.”

Smirking, Joe laughed.  “That’s what you get for being a pervert.”

Later that day, Thomas put Justin up in a rundown motel on the outskirts of town since his trailer house was a crime scene.  The motel complex was U-shaped, and across the parking lot in another room hid Thomas and Joe, who were now working together to catch Seth Coker.  Using Justin as bait wasn’t a covert operation, but more of a cat-and-mouse game, the type of shenanigans Seth enjoyed playing.  In this particular situation, Thomas knew Seth would come for Justin even with the FBI monitoring the motel.  In fact, Seth had orchestrated the whole event.  It started when he murdered Devin and Brian and allowed Justin to involve the local police department.  Then came the provocation of Detective Garza with the lard cake.  Sending a copy of Justin’s death certificate to Thomas was merely a way to lure him to Sweetwater for the big finale, Justin’s demise.

Around 9 a.m. on the first day at the motel, Joe was peering out the window while Thomas sat at a table working on a laptop.  “I got a guy here acting suspicious.  You might want to come and take a look.”

Thomas grabbed a pair of binoculars from Joe and shoved them through the window blinds.  After a quick scan of the area, he finally saw a man, wearing a suit and carrying a box, going door to door.  “I see him.”

“Is that Seth?”

“No.  This man is too short.”

“Do you think Seth sent him to find out what room Justin is in?”

“I doubt it.  He probably already knows.”

“What’s he doing now?”

“Still knocking on doors.”

“Do you think he’s selling something?”

“Not sure.  No one has answered their door yet.  But we need to make sure Justin answers his just in case Seth is fishing.”

Joe picked up his cell phone and texted, Answer your door when someone knocks.  And act normal.

U sure?  Is it Seth?

No.

No you’re not sure, or no it’s not Seth?

No, it’s not Seth.  Stop worrying.

Who is it then?

We don’t know.

I don’t like this.  I’m not answering the door.

Don’t screw this up!!!  DO WHAT YOU’RE TOLD!!!

Ok.  But u better not let anything happen 2 me.

Stop worrying.  We have you covered.

I’m trusting u.

Joe stuck his phone in his pocket and approached Thomas.  “I just informed Justin to answer the door.”

“Is he still whining like a little bitch?”

“Of course.”

“Can you watch the cameras while I keep an eye on this person?”

“Sure.”  Joe sat at the table with the laptop where he could monitor cameras placed inside Justin’s room.  “Where is the man at now?”

“Two doors away from Justin’s room.”

“Has anyone answered yet?”

“No.”

Joe put on a pair of headphones.  “I’m ready to monitor their conversation.”

“Okay.  He’s walking up to his room now…  Justin just opened the door…  What are they saying?”

“The guy is a Jehovah Witness.”

“He just handed something to Justin.”

“I heard something about a free bible.”

An hour later, Justin finally closed the door after listening to the man’s long-winded speech about his faith.  Joe removed the headphones and stood up to stretch.  “I didn’t think that guy was ever going to leave.”

Exhausted from spying through the window for such a long duration, Thomas stormed over to a chair and flopped down.  “What the fuck is wrong with that little bastard?  All he had to do was tell the guy to get lost like everyone else.”

“I bet he did that shit on purpose since he knew we were monitoring his ass.”

“I bet you’re right.”

Suddenly, a loud explosion echoed throughout the motel complex, prompting Joe to glance at the laptop.  “Oh shit!  That came from Justin’s room.”

When Thomas rushed over to view the cameras, he discovered Justin’s room engulfed with smoke and falling debris.  Without saying a word, the two men raced across the parking lot, and after kicking in the door, they found the room littered with pieces of paper and Justin lying on the floor covered in blood.  As Thomas checked Justin’s vitals, Joe called the paramedics.  While they waited, Justin eventually regained consciousness.  “What’s goin’ on?  Why am I on the floor?”

Joe, kneeling next to him, laid his hand on his chest.  “Try to stay calm.  We have an ambulance coming.”

“What happened?”

“A bomb exploded.”

Justin’s eyes grew huge.  “Oh my God!  Am I okay?”

“Yeah.  You don’t have any major trauma, but you have quite a few lacerations from the shrapnel.”

“Did Seth do this to me?”

Standing at the door watching the parking area, Thomas looked back at him.  “I don’t think so.  Bombs are not his M.O.”

“Then who would do this?”

“Not sure.”

“How did someone get a bomb in here?  I thought y’all checked the room.”

“We did.  It was the bible that exploded.”

“Bible?”

“Yeah.  The one you were given.”

“How do you know that?”

Thomas held up a remnant of the book binding and pointed out the charred edges.  “Because it’s scattered all over the room.”

“That doesn’t make sense.  The guy was nice.”

“Nice?  He tried to kill you.”

“Did y’all catch him?”

“Not yet.  But we did put out an APB on him.”

“Do you think Seth put him up to it?”

“Unlikely.  He likes to get his own hands dirty.”  Normally, Thomas would get aggravated by all the questions, especially coming from a convicted child molester, but keeping Justin awake and talking was crucial.  Even though he didn’t appear to have any major trauma, the blast from the explosion could have caused internal injuries. 

About that time, several police cars and a firetruck came screeching into the parking area followed by an ambulance.  Thomas escorted the paramedics into the room as Joe updated the arriving officers.  A few minutes after the ambulance hauled Justin away, another ambulance pulled up.  Thomas approached the paramedics as they unloaded a gurney.  “No need for that.  Mr. Martin has already been taken by the other crew.”

One of the paramedics, a young female, regarded him with a confused expression.  “Other crew?  What are you talking about?”

“Another ambulance has already come and gone.”

“Sir, we’re the only ones working this shift.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sweetwater is a small town.  We only have one ambulance running per shift.”

“Then who in the hell came and got him?”

“We were having mechanical issues when we got the call, so maybe an ambulance came from Abilene.”

Baffled, Thomas waved Joe over.  “Where did you send Justin?”

“To Rolling Plains.”  Rolling Plains was the only hospital in Sweetwater.

“What ambulance services do they use?”

“They have their own.”

“How many ambulances are running on this shift?”

“Usually just one.  What’s going on?”

“Someone else picked up Justin.”

Puzzled, Joe approached the young female paramedic.  “Did y’all not take Mr. Martin to the hospital?”

“No, sir.  We just got here because our vehicle had a dead battery.  Maybe our call got dispatched to Abilene.”

Joe turned to Thomas with a perplexed expression.  “What did the ambulance have written on it?”

He shrugged his shoulders.  “Not sure.  I wasn’t paying attention to it.  Too much other shit goin’ on.”

“Did you at least get a look at the paramedics?”

“Yeah.  I escorted them into the room.”

“And?”

“Average-sized female in her late forties, blonde hair, glasses, blue jeans, white shirt, and a black ball cap.  The other one was a heavyset Hispanic man, probably in his sixties, thick mustache, blue jeans, white shirt, and a brown beanie.”

“I don’t recognize either one of them.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Just seeing if one of the other crews was working.”  Joe pulled out his cell phone and called Rolling Plains.  “This is Detective Garza with the Sweetwater Police Department.  I’m checking to see if you have a Justin Martin on record.  He would have arrived within the last ten or so minutes with lacerations.”  When the answer was no, he called the Regional Medical Center in Abilene, TX, a town about forty-five minutes away.  “This is Detective Garza with the Sweetwater Police Department.  I need to check to see if you dispatched an ambulance to the Cedar Creek Motel off Highway 317 here in Sweetwater.”  A moment later he hung up the phone and gazed at Thomas with an odd expression.  “Justin isn’t at Rolling Plains, and the Regional Medical Center didn’t send an ambulance.”

“What does that mean?”

“Outside of our hospital and the Regional Medical Center in Abilene, there is no one else that would have picked him up.”

A look of dismay washed over Thomas’s face as he threw his phone across the parking lot.  “Dammit!  Seth fucked me again!” 

Mister Snuffleupagus

Barry’s vision was a little blurry as he came to.  While lying on top of a stainless-steel table, still dazed, he studied the room for a moment.  It appeared to be a surgical room in a hospital.  A ceiling-mounted mirror revealed a white sheet covering him from the neck down and bandages concealing his entire face, except for his left and mouth.  He could feel pain pulsating from around his nose, chin, and right eye.  I must have been in an accident, he thought.  As he pondered what happened, his memory suddenly came rushing back to him.  The last thing he recalled was Seth standing over him after he had been shot with a tranquillizer dart.  In a panic, he tried to sit up, but his arms were numb.  He tried to kick, but his legs were numb too.  After tossing and turning, he managed to dislodge the sheet, and it slipped to the floor.  When he gazed back into the mirror, a huge wave of trepidation washed over him when he realized his arms and legs had been amputated.  Examining himself closer, he could see fresh stitches covering the ends of his short stubs.

Next, his eye traveled to his genitals, or lack of.  Discovering his ball sack missing and a strange device sewn to where his penis was once attached incited a flood of emotions.  When he screamed out in anger, his mouth radiated with pain.  With his tongue, he examined his lips, and detected something with a jagged edge secured to each of them.

After witnessing Seth’s sadistic and morbid acts of brutality, Barry knew he’d been turned into what Seth referred to as a human slug.  An enormous amount of rage filled every fiber of his being.  He longed for vengeance.  But how? he wondered.  With no arms and legs, that would be an impossible feat.  That angered him even more.  To his irritation, he heard someone whistling outside the room.  “Seth!” he shouted.  “I know that’s you!”

Seth strolled into the room as if nothing was wrong.  “How’s it hangin’, pal?”

“Look what you’ve done to me, you sorry motherfucker!”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Fuck you, asshole!  You had no right to do this!”

“It’s what you get for raping Kenneth and cutting off his dick.”

“You are such a prick.  That’s why I’ve always hated you.”

Seth started pumping a foot pedal, raising the end of the bed.  Once Barry’s torso was in the upright position, he turned the table so he could see himself in a wall-mounted mirror.  “You need to be appreciative.  I could have cut your throat.”

After being around Seth, he knew there were things worse than death.  “I’d rather be dead.”

“Oh, Daniel-san, you shouldn’t say that.  I’ve turned you into a magnificent piece of art.”

“Art?  You’ve destroyed my body, you fucking asshole!”

Seth began removing the gauze covering Barry’s face, mimicking the act of unwrapping a mummy’s head.  “This is my masterpiece.  I spent hours creating this glorious work of art.”

With the last strip removed, Barry’s angry expression morphed into shock as he gazed at the penis dangling from his face and the scrotum hanging from his chin.  It was painfully obvious the genitals attached to his face were his very own.  “What the fuck did you do?”

“I’m glad you appreciate my hard work.  It took many hours for me to connect all the blood vessels.  And as you can tell by the color of the skin, the transplant worked.  Also, I inserted a hose through your dick so you can actually breathe through it.”

Barry, preoccupied with his right eye, wasn’t paying attention to Seth’s comments.  “What the fuck did you do to my eye?”

Seth held up a mirror so he could get a closer look.  “It’s something special to accentuate your arachnophobia.”

Barry’s empty eye socket, the result of being thrown from the RV, now incorporated tiny dowel rods implanted vertically across the opening, resembling prison bars.  As he stared in horror, he spotted something moving behind the bars.  “What the fuck is in there?” 

“A Black Widow.”

Panic washed over him.  “Please get it out!”

“Don’t worry.  I covered the inside of your eye socket with epoxy, so there is no way the spider can bite you.”

“I don’t care.  I can feel it moving around.”

Seth lowered the mirror and held up a pair of tweezers.  “I need you to be still.”

“What are you going to do with that?”

“Take care of the spider.”

“Oh.  I didn’t expect that.  Thanks.”  Barry sat motionless as Seth brought the tweezers close to his right eye socket, not breathing until Seth stepped away.  With a big sigh, Barry asked, “Did you get it out?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Did you remove the spider?”

“No.”  Seth held the mirror in front of his face.  “I fed it.”

Irritation washed over Barry when he saw the spider chasing a bug around inside his socket.  “You’re a fuckin’ liar.”

“I didn’t lie.”

“Yeah you did.  You said you were going to take care of the spider.”

“And I did.  I fed it.  What do you think taking care of something means?”

“You are such a piece of shit.”

Seth adjusted the mirror so Barry could see his mouth.  “Do you see that?”

He immediately noticed a zipper sewn to his lips.  “What the fuck, man?  Why in the hell did you do that?”

“It should be obvious, dipshit.”  Seth grabbed a pull tab hanging from the corner of Barry’s mouth, then zipped his lips closed. 

Glaring at Seth with a hate-filled eye, he growled in anger.

“And that’s not the only amenity I installed.”  Seth pointed at Barry’s crotch.  “And to keep you from pissing on me, I fitted a valve where your dick used to be.  And I also implanted a colostomy port at your asshole so you won’t get shit everywhere.”  He rolled Barry over to a crib, slid him inside it, then left the room.  While lying on his back, Barry’s eye narrowed as he peered at a musical baby mobile mounted to the side of the crib.  As he watched giraffes, tigers, elephants, and zebras rotating above him while a melodic tune played, he fumed with rage.  To make it even worse, Seth had installed a mirror on the ceiling above the crib so Barry would have to stare at himself. 

The next morning, Seth entered the room, scooped Barry up in his arms, and took him outside.  After laying him in the grass, he opened the valve at his crotch and removed the cap from the port attached to his anus.  “Hurry up and do your business.  I don’t have all day.”

With his mouth still zipped closed, Barry groaned as he glared at Seth.

“Stop growling and get to it.”  Seth held up a pooper scooper.  “I have shit to do.”  He laughed.  “No pun intended.”

Barry didn’t want to give Seth the satisfaction of defecating in the yard like a dog, but his bowels released as if they had a mind of their own.  After he evacuated all over himself, he began rolling around in his waste out of spite and defiance. 

“You nasty bastard!  You’re going to pay for that.”  Seth put on a pair of latex gloves, capped off Barry’s anus, and closed the valve at his crotch.  “And your fat ass is going on a strict diet.  You look like fuckin’ Jabba the Hutt.”

After Seth washed Barry down with a water hose, he brought him back inside the building, which was an old warehouse he rented on the outskirts of Houston, Texas.

Later that day, Kenneth Evans stopped by to see Barry.  The last time he saw him was at the auto shop where he and his friends were playing cards.  He also had no idea what Seth had done to him.  Originally, Kenneth wanted to simply kill Barry, but Seth, being Seth, persuaded him out of it by ensuring he’d do something that would be worse than death.  Once inside the building, Seth escorted him to a room decorated like a nursery.  Kenneth shook his head as he looked around.  “What the fuck is this shit?”

“Elmer’s room.”

“Why is it decorated like this?”

“Because it pisses him off.”

“Why would this upset him?”

Seth pointed to the crib.  “Take a look and you’ll see.”

Speechless, Kenneth just stood in disbelief as he stared open-mouthed at Barry’s nude body.

“What’s wrong?”

“Damn, Seth.  You turned his ass into an abomination.”

“I thought you’d like it.”

“Is that his own junk sewn to his face?”

“Yep.”

“He looks like Mister Snuffleupagus from fuckin’ Sesame Street.”

Seth laughed.  “He sure in the fuck does, now that you mentioned it.  But his trunk is tiny as fuck.”

Listening to Seth and Kenneth making fun of him, particularly of his below-average manhood, Barry began huffing and puffing, discharging snot bubbles from the end of his penis.

Kenneth cringed.  “Oh my God!  He can breathe through his dick?”

“Yep.”

“But, I do like what you did to his mouth.  The fucker always did talk too much.”

“I know.  I should have done that a long time ago.”

Kenneth peered closer at Barry’s face.  “What the fuck did you do to his eye?”

“It’s a cage for his pet spider.”

“Why in the hell did you do that?”

“Because he likes spiders.”

“I’m sure he does.”

“So, how is your sister doin’?”

“Great.  And speaking of Laquita.”  Kenneth gazed down at Barry and laughed.  “Sweet Thing wanted me to say hi to her little Sugar Bear.”  He glanced back at Seth.  “I can’t believe this dumbass fell for that shit.”

“I told you it would work.  He’s too fucking stupid for it not to.”

Barry’s face glowed red as he tossed around and grumbled about their comments.

“Is the fucker suffocating or something?”

“No.  He’s just throwing a temper tantrum.”  Seth reached down and unzipped Barry’s lips.  “Would you like to say hi to Kenneth?”

Barry peered at Kenneth’s scarred face and smiled.  “Nice face I left hangin’ on ya.  And have you not looked into a mirror lately?  You’re the abomination.  And speaking of hangin’, how’s your shit hangin’, you fuckin’ coon?”

Seth quickly zipped up Barry’s mouth.  “He’s just trying to goad you into killing him.  He’s been provoking me, too, ever since he awoke from his surgery.”

“Then let’s grant the little racist bastard his wish.”

“If we kill him, he won’t know it.  But, having to live like a monster for many, many years, he’ll suffer daily until he dies of old age.”

Kenneth thought for a moment.  “I like that.”  He glared down at Barry.  “Just to let you know, you little faggot, the doctor sewed my shit back on, and it’s good as new.  And this face you left me with, well, you’re gonna be seeing a lot of it, ’cause I’m going to make sure you suffer even more.”

Tears flowed from Barry’s eye as Seth and Kenneth left the room, pondering Seth’s comment about having to live like a monster for many years while being ridiculed by two people he despised.

A few days later, around 10 p.m., Seth and another man came into Barry’s room.  After Seth unzipped Barry’s lips, he nodded toward the man.  “Do you remember Kyle?”

Barry’s eye narrowed as he scrutinized him.  The man, dressed in blue jeans and a black hoodie, appeared to be in his early thirties, had brown hair, a stocky frame, and a long, thick beard.  The same kind of beard the younger generation was sporting.  Feeling like he was being used as a sideshow circus freak for the amusement of Seth’s friends, anger washed over him.  “Fuck you!  I’m not talking to your sorry ass.”

“Don’t start.”

“Then stop bringing people in here to gawk at me, you asshole.”

“If you don’t act right, I’ll put you back in the ice box.”  For punishment, Seth had been sticking Barry in a freezer.

“Whatever, dude.”

“I suggest you drop the attitude.”

“Just tell me what you want so y’all can go away.”

“For starters, answer my question.”

“What question?”

“Do you remember Kyle?”

Even though it had been a few years, Barry still remembered him.  “I have no idea who this fucker is.”

Seth glanced at Kyle for a moment, then back at Barry.  “He has bulked up since you last saw him.  And the beard is probably throwing you off too.”

“Nope, never seen this fuckhead before.”

“Kyle was there when you disguised yourself as a mailman and went after Herb.”

“Don’t recall that either.”

“Come on, pal.  You and Kyle burned Herb alive while he was bound in a wheelchair.”

“Nope, still doesn’t ring a bell.”

Seth knew Barry was lying.  “Doesn’t matter.  Anyway, Kyle is my new protégé.”

Erupting into a fit of rage, Barry’s face turned red with anger.  “Protégé?  Herb fucked him in the ass.  Why would you want to help this faggot?”  Barry was referring to Kyle being molested by Herb when he was a kid.  Years later, when Seth came across Herb’s criminal record, he sought out Kyle to see if he wanted to get some hands-on payback.  Since then, Kyle and Seth had remained in close contact, building a trust.  Barry, still fuming, exclaimed, “Do you hear me, asshole?”

“Of course I do.  And that’s why I installed a zipper on your big mouth.”  Seth fastened Barry’s mouth closed.  “Sorry about that Kyle.  He’s been a real prick lately.” 

Kyle, beaming down at Barry as he lay in the crib, spoke in baby-talk.  “Awww.  The little baby is jealous.  Don’t worry, buddy.  You’re still the bitch.”

Barry’s eye filled with fury as he glared back.

“You are such a handsome fella.”  Kyle laughed as he glanced back at Seth.  “I can’t believe you were able to pull this off.”

“Transplanting limbs, or in Elmer’s case, his twig and berries, really isn’t that difficult.  You just have to connect a lot of blood vessels and keep an eye out for infections.”

“The fucker looks like Squidward from SpongeBob.”

“Kenneth said he looks like Mister Snuffleupagus.”

“Ha!  The little bastard does.  And speaking of Kenneth, what does he think of what you did to him?”

“At first, he just wanted to kill him.  But after seeing how much Elmer likes being a slug, he now wants to take him home.”

Kyle laughed.  “Like a pet?”

“Actually, yeah.  He’s even making a special place for him in his basement.”

“Really?”

“Yep.  In a few days he’ll be taking him off my hands.”

“Man, I didn’t see that comin’.”

Seth glanced down at Barry, knowing he was absorbing everything that was being said.  “Kenneth is making a surprise for you.  I think you’ll really like it.”

Kyle stared at Barry’s face for a moment, then looked at Seth.  “So, why did you do that to him?”

“Because of what he did to Kenneth.”

“I know that.  I was talking about sewing his junk to his face.”

“He always bitched about me cutting off his dick, so I figured I’d transplant his little prick right in the center of his face.”

“Cut off his dick?  You just did that.  How could he always be bitching about it?”

“I also cut it off several years ago.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, when I first ran across him.  The fucker had killed his wife and tried to blame me for it, so I gave him a chance to redeem himself.”

“Like how?”

“I figured since he wanted to blame me for shit, he needed to be me for a while.”

“Let me guess.  You made him torture someone?”

“Yep.  Three perverts.”

“And why did you cut off his dick?”

“He wasn’t cooperating, so I tossed his shit in an ice chest.”

Kyle laughed.  “The dick-on-ice trick will get you every time.”

“Afterward, I let him take his pecker to the hospital so it could be sewn back on.”

“Now I’m really confused.  Why was he hanging around after that?”

“Out of the blue, I got a call from him.  He wanted to help me fuck up more scumbags.”

“That’s odd.”

“Yep.  Even I’m puzzled by that.”

“I always thought y’all were friends.  Now everything makes sense.”

Seth laughed.  “Ha!  You’re worried that I might turn you into a slug one day.”

“That never crossed my mind.  And speaking of fucking someone up,” he said and pointed to Barry’s right eye, “What’s the deal with the spider?”

“He has a spider phobia.”

“Of course he does.  And I’m surprised you didn’t do something to him sooner since he’s such a fuckin’ asshole.”

“The little prick was entertaining, so I put up with his shit.”

“He did jump through hoops like a monkey.”

“Yep.  Elmer made a good court jester… until he went full-retard on me.”

Barry loathed being berated, especially by Seth, but Kyle really rubbed him the wrong way.  Being replaced by Kyle only fueled his hate for him even more.  Out of defiance, he began holding his breath. 

“Hey, dude.  I think Elmer is choking or something.  He’s turning blue.”

Seth laughed.  “He’s just holding his breath again.  He’s been doing that shit lately.”

“Why?”

“It’s the only way he can fight back.”  Seth slid Barry into a black onesie, then secured him in a harness. 

Kyle hoisted Barry up and hung him from his back as if he was carrying a backpack, then he and Seth headed out the door.  After loading him in the trunk of Seth’s car, they took off into the night.

The Fuckin’ Pizza Guy

In a rundown trailer house on the outskirts of Killeen, Texas, Glen Avelar, Randy Pratt, and Travon Williams were passed out after an evening of partying.  Glen was a thirty-two-year-old Hispanic man, short with a stocky frame, bald headed, and whose arms and neck were covered with prison tattoos.  Randy was a twenty-nine-year-old lanky white man with long, black hair, and his face was covered with scraggly hair, which fell somewhere between peach fuzz and a beard, looking like he had a bad case of the mange.  Just like Glen, he was covered in poor-quality tattoos.  Travon was a thirty-five-year-old black man with an old-school jerry curl and thick handlebar mustache.  Standing at six feet, four inches tall and weighing 260 pounds, he was built like a brick shithouse.

Around 1 a.m., someone knocked on the door.  Wearing a wife-beater shirt and worn blue jeans, Glen rolled off a couch and quickly grabbed a shotgun, then scrambled over to a recliner where Randy was sleeping.  “Hey dude!  Someone is at the fuckin’ door!”

Randy, wearing jean shorts and a black Metallica t-shirt, popped out of the chair like a rabid monkey.  “Is it the fuckin’ cops?”

“I don’t think so.  They wouldn’t have knocked.”

“Where’s Travon?”

“Back room, I think.”

Randy grabbed a bat leaning against a wall.  “I’ll answer the door.  If someone tries something, bust a cap in their ass.”

“I got this, bro.”  Glen positioned himself next to the door with his back against the wall.  “See who it is before you open it.”

Randy looked through the peephole and glimpsed a person wearing a red jacket and black ball cap.  “What do you want?”

“It’s Pizza Hut.”

“What?”

“I have your pizza.”

Randy cracked open the door to check out the pizza delivery man holding four boxes.  “We didn’t order any pizza.”

“Is this 1032 Bird Creek, trailer 10?”

“Yeah, but we didn’t order that shit.”

“Someone did.”

“Sounds like Pizza Hut was pranked.”

The delivery man huffed and sighed as he held out the boxes.  “Do you want them, or not?”

“I’m not paying for that shit.”

“It’s already been paid for, sir.”

Randy, a paroled felon and drug addict, eyed the delivery man with suspicion as he considered the situation.  “Not interested, bud.”

Catching a whiff of the pizza, Glen peeked around the door jamb, noticing the person was indeed wearing the proper Pizza Hut uniform.  “I’ll take that shit!”  He leaned the shotgun against the wall, pushed Randy out of the way, and grabbed the boxes.

Randy slammed the door in the man’s face, skipping the tip, then grabbed a box from the top.  “This one is mine.”

Travon strolled into the room wearing only white boxers.  “What the fuck y’all got goin’ on in here?”  His eyes traveled to the boxes in Glen’s hands after he caught a whiff of the aroma of baked bread, melting cheese, and ripe-tomato sauce.  “I thought I smelled pizza.”

Glen turned his back toward him.  “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, bro.”

“I saw the fuckin’ boxes.  Give me one.”

He tossed one on a coffee table.  “These two are mine, dude.”

Randy’s eyes narrowed as he stood off to the side choking down his pizza like a starving dog.  “Why in the fuck do you get two?”

“’Cause you didn’t want the shit.”

“I was just being cautious.”

“Your ass was just being paranoid, like usual.”

Travon was wolfing his pizza down too, and between mouthfuls he grumbled, “Where did y’all get this shit?”

Randy laughed.  “Someone was tryin’ to play a prank, but it backfired on them.  We got this shit for free.”

“What’s that mean?”

“The shit was already paid for.”

Confused, Travon paused for a moment.  “How in the fuck would that be a prank?”

He pondered the question for a moment.  “I don’t know.”

“You’re a dumbass.”  Travon sniffed the slice he was holding.  “And something don’t seem right with this shit.  It has an odd aftertaste.”

“It tastes fine to me.”

“Who did you get this from?”

“The fuckin’ pizza guy.”

“What pizza guy?”

“Pizza Hut.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.  I saw his uniform.”

“It better not have come from some random dude.”

“It didn’t.  Stop worrying.”

About that time, Glen stumbled to a chair and sat down holding his head.  “Somethin’ is wrong.  I’m dizzy as fuck.” 

Travon looked at his slice, then at Randy.  “You stupid fuck!  Something is wrong with this shit.”

“I doubt that.”

“Then why is Glen sick?”

“Because he’s a fuckin’ glutton and ate too fast.”

Glen slid to the floor, landing on his knees and holding his stomach.  “Oh my God!  It feels like my guts are going to rupture.”  No sooner than he finished his sentence, uncontrollable flatulence hit him like a Mack truck.  A moment later, his bowels released, flooding his pants with liquid shit.

Between the foul stench engulfing the trailer and the sound of Glen’s butthole ripping out wet farts, Travon couldn’t control his sudden dry heaving.  When he caught his composure, he glared at Randy.  “That’s not from eating too fast, you dumbfuck.  Someone gave you rotten pizza.”

Randy, holding his hand over his mouth to block the stench, exclaimed, “It’s not my fault.  I said I didn’t want it.”  He pointed at Glen as he lay in a pile of his own feces.  “He’s the fucker who took it.”

Travon, realizing the pizza might have been contaminated, tossed his slice on the floor.  “Oh, hell no!   I ain’t goin’ down like that.”  He rushed over to the kitchen sink and attempted to vomit.

“Oh shit!  This is bad,” shouted Randy.

Travon glanced over his shoulder as he stood next to the sink.  “What’s wrong?”

“Look what I found.”  Randy held up several sheets of paper.

“Yeah?”

“They’re death certificates.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re fucking death certificates with our names on them.”

“Where in the hell did they come from?”

“I found them in the bottom of my pizza box.”

“You dumbass.  I knew there was something fucked up about this.  You better hope I don’t get the shits.”

Randy started to respond, but a sharp pain shot through his abdomen, and he doubled over.  “Oh my God!  My guts feel like they’re ripping apart!”  About that time, vomit spewed from his mouth as liquid feces ran down the back of his legs.

Horrified that both of his roommates had become violently sick, Travon turned back toward the sink and shoved his fingers in his throat.  About the same time as he initiated his gag reflex, his innards constricted, then a moment later, his bowels released like an erupting volcano, instantly turning his white boxers brown.

As the men suffered immense abdominal agony, explosive diarrhea, and uncontrollable vomiting, two men wearing chemical suits and gas masks entered the trailer.  Travon, thinking the men were there to help, reached out to them as he lay on the floor in a pile of his own puke and feces.  “Please, get me to the hospital.”  To his horror, the men whacked Glen and Randy in the head, knocking them unconscious before approaching him.  With wide eyes, he threw his hands up in self-defense.  “Hold up!  Why y’all be doin’ this?”  Before he could react, a club cracked him in the side of his head.

The Three Stooges

When Travon awoke, he found himself lying on his back in a jail cell.  The concrete floor was damp and stained, the walls and ceiling were made of crumbling cement, exposing red bricks, and completing the formation of the cell were rusted bars with a door facing the front.  To his left, Glen and Randy sat on the floor nude with their backs leaning against the wall.  “What the fuck is goin’ on?”

Fear was plastered across Glen’s face.  “We’re fucked, dude.  Fucked real bad.”

Still feeling a little dazed, Travon sat up.  “What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”

Randy’s eyes were puffy and swollen from crying.  “He’s gonna kill us.”

“He?  Who are you talking about?”  Travon glanced around the cell.  “And why in the fuck are we locked up?  I don’t remember being arrested.”

“It’s not the cops.  It’s Seth Coker.  He laced our pizza with something.”

Travon peered at Randy with confusion.  “Who in the fuck is Seth Coker?”

“You know.  The Angel of Death.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m serious.  The pizza guy was Seth Coker.  He fuckin’ drugged us and brought us here.”

“Yeah, right.  I’m not fallin’ for that shit.”

“I showed you the fuckin’ death certificates.”

“That doesn’t mean shit.  Someone was just fuckin’ with us.”

Wearing a solemn expression, Glen eyed Travon.  “It’s true, bro.  It was Seth.  While you were still out, that crazy fucker came in here talkin’ shit.” 

“I don’t believe you motherfuckers.  Y’all are just fuckin’ with me.”

Randy turned sideways, allowing Travon a view of the strange contraption running down the center of his back.  “Does this look like we’re fuckin’ with you?”

Travon stared in confusion as he examined it.  He studied the six-inch-wide gadget containing circuit boards, batteries, wiring, strange mechanisms, and several flashing LEDs of different colors.  The apparatus was attached from the top of Randy’s shoulders to the small of his back, and about every two inches, running along the center of his spine, wiring exited from tiny holes in his body.  The majority of the components were sewn directly to his flesh, and the entire contraption was encased inside clear material, which appeared to be flexible.  The device looked like something straight out of a science fiction movie, similar to what a cyborg would possess.  Sporting a disconcerted expression, Travon exclaimed, “What the fuck is that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Not really.  I think my back has been numbed or something.”

“What’s it for?”

“Not sure, but Seth said if we mess with them, they’ll kill us.”

“Us?”  He peered at Glen.  “You got one too?”

“Yeah.  And so do you, bro.”

Travon’s cloudy-headedness was rapidly dissipating, allowing him to reason for the first time since he awoke, and when he glanced over his shoulder, his eyes grew huge as melons.  “Oh fuck!  I gotta get this shit off.”  Reaching back, he grasped the device, which felt spongy, and began tugging at it.

“Stop fuckin’ with it, dude.  Seth said it will kill your ass.”

“I don’t give a fuck!”  About that time, the contraption lit up like a Christmas tree as a buzzer echoed in the cell.  A moment later, something that felt like a lightning strike surged through his body, shutting off all motor functions.

As Travon lay on the floor with saliva and snot dripping from his face, Randy crawled over to him.  “You okay, man?”

With his eyes twitching, only gibberish escaped his lips.  “Helm to medical can now.”

“What was that?”

“Help to me wrong.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“Take from me too late.”

“Dude.  You’re not making any sense.”

Glen eased over and knelt.  “He’s not thinking straight.  That contraption must have done something to his brain.”

Ten minutes later, Travon began coming around.  After sitting upright and resting his back against a wall, he gazed at Randy with bloodshot eyes.  “What the fuck happened?”

“You were messing with that thing on your back and it went fuckin’ crazy, flashing lights and shit, then you went limp.”

“Oh, yeah.  I remember that now.”

“What did it do to you?”

“It felt like I was being electrocuted.”

“Well, don’t mess with it anymore.”

“Did he say why he put these on us?”

“No.  He said he would explain everything once you were awake, but I think these are some kind of control devices.”

“Control devices?  What does that mean?”

“These are probably remote activated so he can make us hurt each other.”

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“Don’t you know anything about this dude?”

“Fuck no.”

“He makes devices like these so he can force people to do shit.”

“Force people to do what?”

“Like torture themselves, or someone else.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m not fuckin’ lying, dude.”

“How do you know that shit?”

“All you have to do is read the fuckin’ paper or turn on the TV.”

“You know I don’t pay attention to that shit.  And did he at least say why he was doin’ this shit to us?”

“Sort of.”

“And?”

To avoid the question, Randy walked over to the bars and began gazing into the empty building.  Most of the building was dark, but there were a few high-bay lights burning just outside the cell.  “It looks like we’re in an old warehouse or something.”  He glanced back at Travon.  “We need to find a way out of here before he returns.” 

“I asked you a question, dude.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What the fuck, man?  Tell me.”

“It’ll piss you off.”

“I’m not going to ask you again.”

“Because you’re a rapist.”  When Randy saw Travon’s eyes narrow in anger, he quickly added, “He said that.  Don’t get mad at me.  I know you’re innocent.”

“Hell yeah, I am.  Those bitches set me up.”

“I know they did, bro.”

“This is bullshit.”  Travon thought for a moment.  “What did he say about you two fuckers?”

Randy looked away, staring back into the building as he grumbled to himself.  “The shit that ain’t true.”

“I didn’t hear you, man.  Speak up.”

“That shit that I was blamed for.”

“You talkin’ about fuckin’ that kid.”

He glanced back at him with a sullen expression.  “You know I was falsely accused of that.  I’m in the same boat you’re in, so don’t get all self-righteous on me.”

Travon peered at Glen.  “What did he say about your ass?”

“He brought up Denise.”  Denise was a woman Glen had raped and left for dead during a home invasion, which he unequivocally denies.  For this crime, he served eight years in the Huntsville penitentiary.  Before that, he’d been in and out of the prison system for various criminalities, ranging from larceny, drugs, assault, and criminal mischief.  He was considered a habitual offender.  Randy had also been in and out of prison for the majority of his life, mostly for sex-related offenses, such as sexual deviancy, child pornography, statutory rape, stalking, and finally, which caught him a nine-year stint in Coffield penitentiary, for molesting a four-year-old boy that he picked up at a playground.  A serial rapist, Travon was incarcerated nine years in Ellis prison for raping four women.  The three men had been released early and met while attending a rehabilitation program for sex offenders, which was part of their parole requirements.  Shortly after his release, Randy’s parents had been killed in a car wreck.  Being the beneficiary of their estate, the title to their mobile home had transferred to him.  Even though it was paid for, he still owed monthly rent for the lot it sat on.  With no income, and no desire to work, Randy needed some roommates who would pay the bills.  Being a convicted child molester, finding someone willing to share a living space, much less live in a roach-infested dump, seemed impossible, until he met Glen and Travon.  The three men had been living together for the last several years, and with Travon and Glen selling drugs and stealing, there was more than enough money to pay the bills.  Their living arrangement was more of a convenience and sticking to one’s kind than a friendship.

Travon eased to his feet, and walking stiff legged, a side effect of the contraption shocking him, waddled over to the bars.  Standing next to Randy, he studied the cell for moment.  “Got a way out of here yet?”

“Fuck no.  This thing is rock solid.”

“Do you think I can grab the fucker through the bars when he comes back?”

“You talkin’ about Seth?”

“Yeah.”

Randy shrugged his shoulders.  “Probably.  The dude came right up to us as if he didn’t give a fuck.”

“How close did he get?”

“He came into the cell.”

Travon’s eyes narrowed.  “What do you mean he came into the cell?”

“He came in here and started talkin’ shit.”

“Why didn’t y’all jump his ass?”

“He had a machete.”

“I don’t give a fuck what he has.  Next time he comes in here, you fuckin’ pussies better help me take him down.”

“You can count on me.  I got your back.”

“Speaking of back.”  Travon turned his back toward Randy.  “See if you can turn this shit off.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to fuck with it.  You were lucky the last time.”

“If this thing is really remote controlled, then we need to shut it off if I’m going to take his ass down.”

“Dude, I’m not fuckin’ with it.”

“Stop being a bitch and do it.”

Knowing Travon had a violent temper, Randy did as he was instructed.  “I don’t see anything that looks like a switch.”

“Can you pull the wires out of the battery?”

Randy tried to dig his fingernails into the clear material.  “This rubbery shit is tough.  I can’t tear into it.”

“Just jerk the fuckin’ thing off.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.  There are wires going into your back.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

When Randy pulled on the contraption, the LEDs and buzzer went off again at the same time a jolt of electricity shot through Travon’s body, and his knees buckled.  “Are you okay, dude?”

“You dumbass!  You made it shock me.”

“It’s not my fault.  You asked me to do this shit.”

“Don’t just fuck around with it, rip the damn thing off in one motion so I don’t get shocked.”

“There’s no way I can do that.  It’s fuckin’ sewn to you.”

Travon motioned to Glen as he sat on the floor with his back against the wall.  “Get over here and help.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m your bitch.”

“I said get your ass over here!”

Glen, who was also familiar with Travon’s temper, knew he better comply.  “What the fuck do you want me to do?”

“Help Randy pull this shit off.”

While the two men fought with the contraption, Travon jumped around screaming as his body endured painful shocks.  About that time, Seth came strolling out of the darkness, and when he saw Randy and Glen tugging on Travon’s contraption, he burst into laughter.  “You dumbasses look like the Three Stooges.”

Embarrassed, Travon shoved the two men away.  “Y’all get the fuck off me!”

Seth paused a few feet away from the cell as he recorded the men with his phone.  “Don’t stop.  That was some funny shit.”

Being ridiculed only fueled Travon’s anger, but he held back his emotions, knowing he needed to lure Seth closer if he was going to grab him.  “Hey, man.  There’s no need to do this.”  He nonchalantly eased to the bars.  “I’ll cooperate.  Just tell me what you want.”

“That reverse psychology BS isn’t going to work on me, assclown.”

Travon erupted into a fit of rage.  “I’m going to fuckin’ kill you for doing this to me!”

“You think so?”

“I know so.  Just wait and see.”

“If you say so, pal.”

“I’m not your fuckin’ pal, asshole!”

Mad Scientist

As Seth and Travon argued, Kyle rolled a two-wheel dolly across the building.  When he reached Seth, he lowered it and dropped off a baby highchair.  Travon’s eyes grew big as medallions when he saw Barry sitting in the chair.  Speechless, his mouth fell wide open as he stared in uncertainty.

Spotting Travon eyeing him, Barry barked out, “Snap a picture, asshole!  It’ll last longer.”

Taken aback by the disturbing sight, Travon exclaimed, “Is that shit real?”

“Fuck yes, I’m real.  What the fuck is wrong with you?”

After seeing the monstrosity sitting in the highchair, a wave of terror washed over Randy as he gazed at Seth.  “Please don’t hurt me.  I’ll do whatever you want.”

Glen, also freaked out by Barry’s appearance, began pleading.  “Same here, dude.  Just tell me what you want.  I’ll cooperate.”

Seth glanced at Kyle and laughed.  “I told you having Stumpy here would make an impact.  These assholes usually talk shit at first, but after seeing him, they’re already begging and whining like little bitches.”

Barry’s eye narrowed as he glared at Seth.  The Stumpy comment was a jab at the short penis hanging from his face.  “Don’t call me Stumpy, asshole!”

“I’m just calling it as I see it.  And I’ve decided to make that your new nickname.”

“Fuck if you are.  And this isn’t my full dick.  You left part of it off.”

“You wish, pal.”

Kyle chuckled.

Barry cut his eye toward him.  “What are you laughing at?”

“You’re more worried about the size of your cock than being turned into…”  Kyle glanced at Seth.  “…what the fuck would you call this thing?”

Barry erupted into a fit of rage.  “I’m not a fucking thing.  I’m a human being that this piece of shit…”  He eyed Seth.  “…robbed of a normal life.”

Seth held up a clothespin.  “Do we need a time out?”

Gritting his teeth, Barry looked away and mumbled under his breath, “Fuck you.  I hope you die a painful death, you miserable bastard.”

“What was that?  I didn’t quite hear you.”

“I said, thank you.  I hope you have a wonderful day, my glorious master.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Raising his eyebrows and cocking his head to the side, Kyle regarded Seth.  “What was that about?”

“Stumpy is only allowed to talk shit to the scumbags.”

“I’m talkin’ about the clothespin.”

“Oh, yeah.”  Seth held it up.  “If he starts acting up, I zip up his mouth and stick this on his dick so he can’t breathe.”

“What does breathing have to do with his dick?”

“Because he can breathe out of it like you can your nose.”

“That’s actually cool, in a sick and twisted kind of way.”

“Stumpy thinks so too.”

Kyle noticed Barry was red as a beet.  “He’s holding his breath again.”

“He’s pouting because we’re making fun of him.”  Seth could have tortured Barry in so many different ways, or simply killed him, as retribution for what he’d done to Kenneth, but he knew turning him into a side-show freak would be his personal hell, and being ridiculed on a daily basis only fueled the flames.

Barry, still sullen and boiling with anger, saw Randy eyeing him.  “What the fuck you lookin’ at, you redneck piece of shit?”

Randy, with the deer-in-the-headlights-look, muttered, “I don’t want any trouble, dude.”

“Tough shit.  You got a whole lot of trouble comin’, dickhead.”

“Why?  I haven’t done anything to you.”

“Maybe not.  But you did fuck a little boy, you sick bastard.  And why boys?  Are you also a fuckin’ pole smoker?”

Humiliated, Randy stomped to the rear of the cell, turning his back toward Barry.

“What’s wrong, pal?  Being a boy fucker embarrassing?”

Randy remained quiet as he faced the wall.

“What the hell is wrong with you?  There’s plenty of pussy out there.  Shit, for twenty bucks, I can go down to the east side of town and even get my dick sucked.”

Seth laughed.  “And the show has begun.”

Kyle, shaking his head, chuckled.  “He’s actually funny.”

“Yep.  That’s why I brought him along.”

When Randy didn’t respond, Barry switched his focus to Glen, who was standing off to the side pretending to be invisible.  “And what do we have here?”

Glen remained silent as he stood with his arms crossed.

“This border jumper says he ain’t gettin’ a fuckin’ job.  He’ll just steal your shit and rape you in the process.”

“Fuck you, punk!  I was born here.”

“But you’re still a fuckin’ thief and rapist.”

“Better than being all fucked up like you.”

“You dumbass.  What the hell do you think is going to happen to you?”

Glen stood dumbfounded as he thought about Barry’s comment.

“While you’re thinking about it, contemplate this for a while.  You’re gonna have your cock ripped off at the root.”

Glen’s facial expression morphed into a look of confusion as he peered at Seth.  “What the fuck is he talkin’ about?”

Seth shrugged his shoulders as he smoked a cigarette.  “Sounds like you’re gonna have your cock ripped off at the root.”

Barry then peered at Travon.  “And check out this motherfucker.  He says he ain’t payin’ for no pussy.  He just gonna take the shit.” 

Travon’s demeanor was a little different than the other two men.  They were more docile and unsure, but he was filled with rage as he glared at Seth.  “You ain’t gonna touch me, motherfucker!  Bring your ass in here and I’ll fuckin’ kill you!”

Seth held up a contraption for Travon to see.  It was about six inches wide, fourteen inches long, one inch thick, and made of black painted aluminum.  On the left side, running from the top to the bottom, was an engraved drawing of a human spine.  Next to the right of the spine were engraved different human organs and body parts: eyes, tongue, nose, lips, mouth, vocal cords, hands, heart, lungs, liver, stomach, kidneys, small intestine, large intestine, bladder, penis, anus, and legs.  A connecting line had been drawn between each of the individually listed organs and body parts to the corresponding vertebra from which the controlling nerves extended.  Also, each line had the proper vertebra name engraved next to it, such as C1 through C7, T1 through T12, L1 through L5, sacrum, and coccyx.  All of the engraving had been color coded.  The spine was white, organs and body parts blue, and the names of the vertebrae yellow.  To the right of each organ and body part was a row of three toggle switches, eighteen switches in all.  The switches were also divided into columns.  Travon Williams was inscribed above the first column, Glen Avelar above the second, and Randy Pratt above the third.  Additional switches, knobs, and LEDs were located across the very top of the contraption.  “With this, I can make you do anything I want without even stepping into your cell.”

With a look of abhorrence, Travon’s eyes narrowed as he glared at Seth.  “Bullshit.”

“I inserted tiny electrodes into each of your vertebrae, from the top of your spine to the bottom.”  Seth pointed to the drawing of the spine, then moved his finger over to the group of switches in Travon’s column.  “I can control your body with these switches.”

Travon glanced at Glen as he popped off with an arrogant tone.  “This motherfucker thinks he’s a mad scientist.”

Seth laughed.  “Naw, I just like to tinker with gadgets that can make scumbags dance like a monkey.”

“Fuck you!  I’ll shove that fuckin’ gadget up your ass if you try to use it on me.”

Seth glanced at Kyle.  “While I give this idiot a demonstration, can you go get the girls and the milkman?”

“Sure.”

When Kyle walked away, Seth held up the remote as he regarded Randy.  “What should I do to your buddy?”

Randy just stared back with a cowardly expression, but Travon rushed the bars, grabbing them as he peered at Seth with hate-filled eyes.  “Fuck you!  I’ll break your fuckin’ neck!”

Seth flipped one of the toggle switches in Travon’s column next to a drawing of vocal cords.  “This will shut your ass up.”

Travon tried to speak, but only faint gibberish escaped his lips.

Seth glanced back at Randy.  “What should I do next?”

Frightened, he uttered, “I… I don’t want to be a part of this.”

Out of defiance, Travon stuck one of his arms through the bars, holding up his middle finger.

Seth flipped a toggle switch next to the drawing of a hand, instantly triggering Travon’s wrist and finger to collapse.  Confused, he held his arms in front of his face, and as he examined them, he found his hands and fingers limp.  When Seth flipped another switch, Travon’s eyes opened wide and urine began flowing from the end of his penis.

A chickenshit grin across his face, Barry shouted with enthusiasm.  “How in the fuck are you making him do that?”

“I’m energizing his L3 vertebra, which controls the bladder and sphincter.”

“What do you mean by energize?  Are you shocking him or something?”

“Yep, with DC current.”  Seth pointed to a knob at the top of the remote.  “And this rheostat adjusts the amount of current flowing to each of the electrodes embedded in his spine.”

“And what is the current doing to him?”

“Different parts of the spine control different parts of the body.  When I energize a particular vertebra, the current will either paralyze or over-stimulate that part of the body.”

“Can you stop his heart?”

“Yep.”

“Then do it.”

“I don’t want to kill his ass yet.  I have plans for him.”  When Seth flipped four switches, Travon took a knee, then a moment later, a grumbling sound erupted from his abdomen.

“Now what are you doing to him?”

“I energized his T4, T6, T12, and L1 vertebrae.”

“What do those do?”

“They control his gallbladder, stomach, small intestine, and large intestine.”

“And why are you doing that?”

“You’ll see in a moment.”

“Do you have it turned up all the way?”

“Not at all.”

“Then crank that shit up.”

“No need.  It’s working just fine.”

“Working?  He’s just kneeling on the floor.”

“Check out his abdomen.”

Barry noticed lumps forming and disappearing under Travon’s skin.  It almost looked as if he had eels flopping around inside him.  “What the hell is that?”

“That’s his intestines contracting.”

“That’s fuckin’ cool.”

Seth turned off the switch next to the image of the vocal cords.  As soon as Travon realized he could communicate, he wailed, “My guts are going to explode!  I can’t hold it much longer!  Please make it stop!  I’ll do whatever you—”

Seth turned the switch back on, eliminating Travon’s ability to speak.  Barry seemed as excited as a kid in a candy store.  “What the hell was he talkin’ about?  Why are his guts going to explode?”

“With his digestive tract in turmoil, all of his shit is being forced to his lower bowels, and he has to hold his butthole tightly closed to keep it in.”

“What’s the purpose of that?”

“I’m letting the pressure build up inside him.”

“Then what?”

“Check this out.”  By now, Travon was on all fours like a dog.  Even panting like one as he fought the urge to defecate.  Seth stuck his finger to a switch next to the drawing of an anus.  “You ready?”

Barry eagerly nodded his head.  “Fuck yeah.  Do it.”

Seth started to flip the switch, but paused for a moment to study Randy and Glen, who were standing off to the side.  It was obvious Randy was terrified by the way his bottom lip quivered, but Glen wore a look of frustration, maybe even a hint of cockiness.  Randy was also looking down at the floor, another indication of being stricken with fear, but Glen was making eye contact with Seth, displaying his boldness.  Seth motioned to Glen.  “Come here.”

“Naw, dude.  I’m fine where I’m at.”

Seth ran his finger down Glen’s column of switches.  “Easy way or hard way?”

Glen just stared at him and continued to stand off to the side.

“Suit yourself.  Seth flipped a switch next to the image of a heart.”

No sooner than the switch changed position, Glen grasped his left arm and howled, “Oh shit!  I think I’m having a heart attack!”

“Naw, I’m just giving you a little heart murmur.”

“Please stop!  You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me!”

Seth approached the bars and turned the face of the remote outward so Glen could see the controls.  “Check it out.  I only have the current set to one.  I can go up to ten if you like.”

“No, no, no!  I’ll do whatever you want if you make it stop!”

Out of curiosity, Seth cranked the knob to three.  “How does that feel?”

Glen fell to his knees as he clutched his chest.  “Oh my God!  My heart is flopping around inside me!  Please make it stop!  I’m begging you!”

To ensure Glen would be submissive, Seth flipped a switch next to the image of a pair of lungs.  Within seconds, Glen began gasping for air like a fish out of water.  He tried to speak, but only faint sounds escaped his lips.

“Get your ass over here before I make your dick fall off.”

Barry’s eye popped open wide.  “Can you really make his dick fall off?”

“Of course not, but he doesn’t know that.”

With eyes bulging, mouth wide open, and chest convulsing, Glen scuttled in a panic across the floor on his hands and knees.  As he fought for each breath, a loud gasping sound exuded from his lungs.  When he reached the bars, Seth shut off the electrodes, allowing Glen to take in full lungs of air.  Not being able to breathe was one of the worst experiences he’d ever felt.  It wasn’t that he was scared of dying.  It was the claustrophobic part of it, like slowly drowning, flooding every fiber of his being with apprehension.  Once Glen caught his composure, he fell into an emotional state as he gazed up at Seth from the floor.  “Please don’t do that again!  I’ll do whatever you want!”

“Travon has something between his ass cheeks.  Go see if you can find it.”

Confusion washed over him.  “What do you want me to do?”

“You heard me.”

Glen just sat on the floor dumbfounded.

Seth held up the remote.  “I’m not telling you again.”

“Okay, okay!  I’m goin’.”  After he arose, Glen walked behind Travon and began gawking at his rear end from several feet away.  “What am I supposed to be looking for?”

“Get on your hands and knees and look closer.”

By now, and in extreme abdominal agony, Travon was still on all fours, but his upper body had collapsed to the floor with his forehead resting on his arms.  Overwhelmed with emotions ranging from anger to revulsion, Glen did as he was instructed.  “I don’t see shit.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“How about now?”  When Seth flipped a switch next to the image of an anus and eliminated Travon’s ability to control his sphincter, human waste blasted from his ass like a cannonball, showering Glen in the face with liquid feces, followed by several long turds.

Exploding into a fit of rage, Glen jumped up and rushed to the front of the cell, reached through the bars, and grabbed for Seth.  “I’m going to fucking kill you for this, motherfucker!”

As shit dripped from Glen’s face, Barry erupted into laughter.  “Oh my God!  That was fucking awesome!  You blasted that greaseball good!”

Changing his focus to Barry, Glen glared at him with hate-filled eyes.  “What the fuck did you say, you little creep?”

“You heard me, assfuck.”

“If you were a man, I’d take offense to that shit.”

“What the fuck does that mean?  I am a fuckin’ man.”

“No, you’re just this fucker’s…” He pointed toward Seth.  “…twisted experiment.”

Barry’s eye narrowed.  “What the fuck do you know about it, asshole?”

Now that Glen had turned the tables on him, he proceeded to rub it in.  “I know that you’re all fucked up and will never be nothin’ but a fuckin’ joke.  And check you out.  You got a fuckin’ crotch for a face.”

Humiliated and feeling inadequate as a man, a tear escaped from Barry's eye and ran down his cheek.  “You don’t know shit!”

“Truth hurts, doesn’t it?  And I bet this sick bastard fucks you like a pocket pussy.”

“Fuck you!  I’m going to get you back for this!”

“You ain’t gonna do shit.”

“Wanna bet?”

He laughed.  “You’re a fucking retard.  What the fuck can you do to me?”

Barry peered at Seth with a sullen expression.  “Give me the fuckin’ remote.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to use it to kill that motherfucker.”

“How?  You don’t have any arms, dumbass.”

“Then you fucking do it.”

“That would be giving him an easy way out.”

“Then at least make him suffer.”

“He will soon enough.  Be patient.”

Looking as if he had lost his best friend, Barry cried, “Didn’t you hear what he said?”

“I can’t believe you let him get to your ass.”

“You should be mad too.  He said you’re a sick bastard that fucks me like a pocket pussy.”

“I heard what he said, and speaking of being a sick bastard…” Seth pointed to a pile of liquid shit splattered on the floor.  “…that’s not going to eat itself.”

A feeling of repulsion washed over Glen.  “Come on, man.  I was just blowing off steam.”

Freak Show

Originating from the dark portion of the building, a shuffling noise caught Barry’s attention.  He tried to focus, thinking it was an animal, but it was too dark to see.  As the noise increased, it began to sound like pattering feet.  “Hey, Seth!  There’s something in the dark.”

Standing next to the cell bars and jacking with the three men, Seth didn’t seem concerned as he popped off, “It’s the fuckin’ boogeyman.”

Frightened, Barry kept an eye out, and when several shadowy figures appeared in the distance, he shrieked.  “Seth!  Someone is coming!”

“Chill out.  It’s just Kyle.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that the first time?  And who in the fuck is with him?”

“Three girls, a stiff, and a milkman.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“Entertainment.”

Barry tried to focus in on the group as the high-bay lights began illuminating them, but he was nearsighted due to having only one eye.  As the group entered the light, Barry was finally able to see that Kyle was leading three women and a man.  The women were completely nude except for their red high heels and a black collar around their neck.  Two of them were sliding a filthy mattress on its side, the other one was pushing a cart covered with a sheet.  The man, who was nonchalantly strolling along behind them, wore a white robe and balanced a tripod on his shoulder with one hand, carrying a gallon of milk in the other.

When Kyle walked up, he immediately noticed Travon, Glen, and Randy sitting on the floor covered in shit and vomit.  As he looked closer, he saw each man had a shit smear rubbed around their mouth, similar to a kid eating chocolate.  Randy held a turd in his fist as brown liquid oozed between his fingers.  “What the fuck, Seth?” 

“They were acting up, so I had to get their asses in check.”

“By making them eat shit?”

“No, by inflicting so much pain upon them that they ate shit willingly.”

“If you say so.”

“If I say so?”  Seth snapped his fingers, getting the attention of the men.  “Get your ass off the floor.”

Without speaking a word, they complied.

“Randy.  Knock the fuck out of Travon.”

Without second guessing the command, Randy stood up, squared off to Travon, then punched him in the face as hard as he could.

Travon didn’t say a word as he peered at the floor.

“Glen.  Kick Randy in the nuts.”

Randy didn’t resist or even flinch when Glen planted his foot in his groin.

“Travon.  Jerk off Glen.”

Kyle raised his hands.  “Okay, okay.  No need for that.  I believe you.”

“Cancel that, Travon.”

Travon released Glen’s penis.

Barry laughed.  “Seth has these fuckers whipped into submission.”

Kyle examined Barry for a moment, noticed he was glowing, then glanced at Seth.  “I see Stumpy is in a good mood.”

Barry glared at Kyle.  “Don’t fuckin’ call me Stumpy, asshole!  I was here way before your ass came along.”

Kyle sat a napkin on Barry’s highchair.

“What the fuck is that for?”

“It’s a crying rag.”

“If I had arms, I’d beat your fuckin’ ass!”

Seth, ignoring the outburst, motioned toward the man in the white robe with Milkman embroidered across the back in large red letters.  “Go ahead and set up the camera.”

The man, who had been standing off to the side drinking milk straight from the jug, removed the tripod from his shoulder and set it on the floor.  As he mounted a camera on top, he sported a look of despair. 

Seth pointed to the two women holding up the mattress.  “Ditch the mattress so we can get started.”

After they leaned it against a wall, all three women formed a line off to the side.

Seth approached the bars and lit a cigarette.  “Good news, boys.  You’re gonna make a porno.”

Travon, Glen, and Randy didn’t say a word as they sat on the floor while covered in shit and vomit.

“Front and center, assholes.  I want y’all to have a front row seat to the show.”

The three men didn’t utter a word as they lined up across the front of the cell while covering their genitals.

Seth motioned to the first woman.  She was short, big boned, had shoulder-length black hair, a chubby face, and a big ass.  Without saying a word, she began strutting back and forth in front of the cell, and at the end of her walk, she would strike a pose before heading back the other way.

Seth picked up a pink microphone with a built-in speaker, obviously a kid’s toy, and began introducing the woman.  “This is Kim Myers.  She’s fifty-one years old—”

Barry’s eye popped open wide as he interrupted.  “Hold up!”

Seth raised his hands, palms up.  “What?”

“Can I introduce them?”

“No.  You’ll fuck it up.”

“Come on!  I wanna do it.  It’ll be fun.”

Kyle’s eyebrows furrowed.  “You’re not supposed to be having fun, dipshit.”

“Don’t fucking worry about what I’m doin’.”

Kyle shook his head in disbelief as he turned his attention to Seth.  “Can you believe this shit?  Even after you turned him into a fucking slug… a slug with a crotch for a face, Stumpy still thinks he’s part of the group.”

“Nothing surprises me with him anymore.”

Radiating with anger, Barry glared at Kyle.  “Stay out of it, you fucking prick.”  His expression morphed into a look of sadness as he gazed at Seth.  “I can be miserable later.  Please let me do it.  Please, please, please.  I’m begging you.” 

“You can’t even hold the mic.”

“We don’t need it.  The dudes are like ten feet away.”

“Doesn’t matter.  It’s my show, and I say the mic stays.”

“Then get that dumbass to hold it for me.”  He nodded toward the man wearing the robe.  As Barry moved his head around, the penis and ball sack hanging from his face bounced around like a rooster’s waddle.

“You better not fuck this up.”

“I won’t.  I swear.”

Seth handed the microphone to the man in the robe.  “Go play microphone stand for a while.”

Kyle gritted his teeth as he peered at Seth.  “Really?  You’re going to cave in?”

“Just because I’m letting him participate doesn’t mean he’s off the hook for what he did to Kenneth.  In fact, his punishment hasn’t even begun yet.”

Barry’s eye opened wide as all the color drained from his face.  “My punishment hasn’t begun yet?  What the fuck does that mean?”

Seth shrugged his shoulders.  “Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it?  You can’t say some shit like that and expect me to not be worried.”

“I don’t feel like getting into it with you right now.”

“You can’t keep something like that from me.” 

“You’ll find out later.”

“If you don’t tell me, I’m not going to announce these assholes.”

“So.  I didn’t want you to do it anyway.”

“Come on, man!  It’s making my anxiety flare up.  Please tell me.  I’m begging you.”

“I’m not really sure what’s going to happen to you.  Kenneth hasn’t given me the details yet.”

“Kenneth?  What does he have to do with it?”

“You’ll be staying with him when we’re done here.”

“Why?  What’s he going to do to me?”

“I already told you I don’t know.  He just said he has something special planned for your punk ass.”

Fury washed over Barry as he erupted into a fit of rage.  “Fuck that black bastard.  What the fuck is he going to do to me that’s worse than what you’ve already done?  Is he going to kill me?  That would be doing me a favor.  He can put me out of my fuckin’ misery.  I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

“Are you done whinin’ and cryin’?”

“Fuck you, asshole.”

The room became so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Barry quickly changed his attitude when he saw Seth’s eyes narrowing.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean that.”

“There are things a lot worse than death.  You should know that better than anyone after all the shit you have seen.”

“You’re right.  I said I’m sorry.  Please forgive me.”

“Get on that fucking microphone before I give you something to really cry about.”

“Yes, sir.”

Seth motioned to Kim.  “Get your ass back to it.”

As the woman began strutting back and forth in front of the cell as if she was a supermodel on a catwalk, Barry took over the announcement.  “This ugly bitch is fifty-one years old, divorced, and has five kids by five different daddies.  Her hobbies include fucking, sleeping in, watching TV, smokin’ crack, smooching off the government, and collecting child support from her babies’ daddies.  To land a spot in this prestigious affair, only the sorriest forms of human scum can be selected.  Kim earned her place for pimping out her young children to the perverts around town.”  Barry glanced at Randy.  “Hey, kid fucker!  I bet she’s your type of woman.”

Randy was not only shocked for being called out by the likes of Barry but was also humiliated.

“Yep, this sorry bitch whored out her children to sick fuckers like Randy so she could buy crack.  After serving only eight years in the pen, Kim is back to spreading her legs on the corner.  And to give credit where credit is due, this glorious event is brought to you by the master of masters, the grand fuckin’ facilitator, the one and only, Seth Coker, also known as the fuckin’ Angel of Death.”

Kyle put his fist to his mouth as he coughed out, “Suck ass!”

Seth gestured to Kim with a sweeping hand motion.  “You’re done.  Get the fuck off my runway.”

The next woman, who was crack-whore skinny, began prancing back and forth in front of the cell, and at the end of her walk, she would perform a fancy spin move before striking her pose.  Her black, medium-length hair was unkempt and dingy.  Her face, drawn and pale, was covered with sores.  Dark rings sat under her recessed eyes, and both of her arms showcased needle tracks.

“This gross bitch is Patricia Dunn.  Even though she looks sixty, she’s only twenty-eight.  Her hobbies include doing drugs, sucking cock, doing more drugs, taking it in the ass, and doing even more drugs.  This sorry bitch let her three-month-old baby die of starvation after going on a drug binge.  And she also has AIDs.”

Travon, Glen, and Randy couldn’t believe their eyes as they watched the freak show.  The women were prancing around nude as if everything was normal.  They didn’t even seem to be taking offense to being insulted, or having their dirty laundry aired.  Barry announcing them made the situation even more bizarre. 

Seth motioned to Patricia.  “Get your ass off my runway.”

The last woman was as round as she was tall, sported black bushy hair, and wore enough facial makeup to make a drag queen jealous.  “This is Monica Brown.  This fat bitch is twenty-one years old.  Her hobbies include gorging on Twinkies, Ding Dongs, Cloud Cakes, Ho-Hos, Devil Cremes, Dreamies, Chocolate Juniors, Zingers, Suzi Q’s, Zoinks, Snowballs, Cocoa Cremes, Chocolate Bells, Zebra Cakes—”

Seth snapped his fingers, getting Barry’s attention.  “Wrap it up.  We have other shit to do.”

“I haven’t even gotten to fast-food yet.”

“I think we get the point.”

“Okay, okay.  Outside of eating, Monica’s additional hobbies include not working, hanging out with the other government parasites living at her Section-8 apartment, having unprotected sex, smokin’ rocks, and collecting food stamps.  Monica won her spot on the walk of shame for tossing her newborn baby in a dumpster.”

Seth motioned for her to move along.  “You’re done.  Get your fat ass off my runway.”

Barry laughed, then nodded toward the men as he regarded Seth.  “Dude!  He’s got a fucking boner.”

Seth shook his head when he saw Travon’s exceptionally large, black cock sticking out like a flagpole.  “You nasty bastard.  Your ass is covered in shit.  No woman thinks you’re sexy.”

Remaining quiet, Travon’s eyes narrowed.

Seth took the microphone from the man in the robe.  “You’re up, dude.”

The man began strutting back and forth in front of the cell, same as the women had done, and at the end of his walk, he would strike a pose before heading back the other way.

Seth faced the men in the cell.  “I saved the best for last.  This is Justin Martin.  He will be your milkman this evening.  He’s thirty-two years old.  His hobbies include masturbating in public, child pornography, having sex with children—-specifically his own niece—-whom he impregnated when she was twelve.  This pervert also fucked a cow once.  Yep, this sick bastard was caught standing on a milk crate balls deep inside a heifer.”

Justin stopped in front of the cell and removed his robe.

Travon, Glen, and Randy gazed with wide eyes at Justin’s nude body.  Focusing first on his crotch, they observed a disturbing sight.  Instead of finding a penis, something similar to a cow’s mammary gland hung between his legs.  The four teats appeared to be human fingers.  Next, their eyes traveled to his left arm.  His hand was missing at the wrist and the nub took the shape of a glans penis.  Between this bell-shaped end and his elbow, numerous veins, some of them raised, could be seen running under his skin.  It was almost alien-like.  Sewn to the bottom of his arm, just before his elbow, dangled a hairy ball sack, which appeared to be in a state of decay.  Across his stomach, in large, bold letters, was tattooed GOT MILK?

Seth, using a presentation stick, pointed at Justin’s crotch.  “As you can see, Justin is sporting an udder, which is completely functional and ready for you to milk.”  He moved the stick to his left arm.  “And he’s also equipped with a huge cock for your pleasure.”

Seeing Justin’s body, Travon’s erection responded by deflating, an erection initially formed from the excitement of his belief he would be fucking several women.  Now taken aback by Seth’s ‘milking’ and ‘pleasure’ comments, Travon glanced at Glen and Randy with a puzzled expression.  “What the fuck is he talkin’ about?”

Glen and Randy were too distressed to respond.

After being slapped across the ass with the presentation stick, Justin began strutting back and forth in front of the cell again, mimicking the role of a male model.  Each time he passed by the men, he would pause and jiggle his udder at them.  Just like the women, Justin exhibited no signs of distress, or even bitterness, from being turned into a monstrosity and conducted himself as if it was normal for him to perform this routine.

Seth raised the microphone and continued his announcement.  “Outside of being an all-around sexual deviant, Justin also enjoys sponging off the government, stealing people’s shit, and selling drugs.”

About that time, Kyle pushed a media stand equipped with a large TV and DVD player over to the bars of the cell, positioning it where the men could see the screen.

Seth motioned for Justin to move off to the side.  “It’s movie time.  Get your ass out of the way.”  As Justin stood next to the women, Seth addressed Travon, Glen, and Randy.  “Before we begin making the porn, Justin would like you to see how he was transformed into such a magnificent specimen.”

Barry began tossing his body around, causing his highchair to rock back and forth.  “I wanna watch!  I wanna watch!  I wanna watch!”

Seth glared at him.  “Why are you acting out?”

“I wanna watch the movie too.”

“All you had to do was ask, you fuckin’ idiot.”  Seth slid the highchair next to the bars so Barry could see the screen.

Horrified, the three men stared at the TV as it began playing footage of the operation.  With Justin strapped to a makeshift operating table, begging and screaming, Seth severed his left hand by slicing through the tendons at the wrist with a knife.  Once he had the blood loss under control, he began inserting plastic tubing inside Justin’s arm between the layers of skin and muscle.  Completed, the tubing created the illusion of veins extending between the end of his arm and his elbow.  Next, he folded back the skin at his nub, exposing the radius and ulna bones, then wrapped the end of the bones with medical-grade rubber strips, building up the layers to sculpt them into the shape of a bell.  After securing the rubber with surgical glue, he stretched the skin over the bell and sewed the end closed.  For the final touch, Seth removed a ball sack from a Ziploc bag and sewed it under Justin’s arm next to his elbow.

Confused, Barry blurted out.  “Seth!  Whose ball sack is that?”

“Not sure.  I found it in my freezer.”

Kyle laughed as he looked at Seth.  “You know that’s fucked up, right?”

“Why?  Don’t you have some balls in your freezer?”

“Hell, no.”

“Everyone needs a set of balls, so when this is over, you can have Travon’s.”

Travon, still standing next to Randy and Glen, pulled his eyes from the TV and peered at Seth with a troubled expression.  “What the fuck, man!  That shit ain’t funny.”

Barry laughed.  “What happens to your nuts should be the least of your worries.”

Travon began pumping his fist in anger.  “What the fuck does that mean?”

“The Angel of Death has you locked in a fuckin’ cell.  What do you think’s gonna happen, dumbass?”

“Try to touch me, motherfucker, and I’ll kill your ass!”

With Travon’s temper flaring, Glen and Randy also became aggressive and started yelling.

Seth knew if the men were robbed of all hope, he wouldn’t be able to control them.  Pausing the video, he approached the bars as he smoked a cigarette.  “Listen, guys.  If you do what you’re told the first time, you’ll get to live.”

Glen looked at Seth for a moment, then at Barry, then back at Seth.  Before he could respond, Barry blurted out, “That’s right, assclown.  He’s going to do this kind of shit to ya.”

As Seth eyed Barry, he pretended to zip up his lips.  “Do you need a time out?”

“Sorry.  I’ll be quiet.”

Seth turned back toward the men.  “I’d be lying if I said y’all weren’t going to be punished.  But each of you will have a chance to get out of here alive if you do what you’re told the first time.”

Glen popped off without thinking.  “Who in the fuck do you think you are?  You don’t have the right to do this.”

“Sure I do.”

“How do you figure that?”

“I’m using the same one you used when you raped Denise and left her for dead.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means, since you didn’t care about violating her rights, I don’t care about yours.”

“I was falsely accused of that.”

“I’m sure you were.”

“What the fuck do you know about it anyway?  You weren’t there.” 

Randy raised his hand like a frightened kid.

“What?”

“What do we have to do?”

“You’ll find out after the movie.”  Seth pressed play on a remote and walked away.  When the video resumed, Justin was now unconscious from the pain, so Seth had decided to work on the udder.  After he cut Justin’s severed hand in half, leaving just his four fingers and part of his palm, he removed all of the bones.  Next, he cut a small hole into each fingertip, inserted plastic hoses through the fingers, then connected the hoses to a fitting in the palm section of the hand.  The recording briefly shut off, and when it resumed, Justin was awake and back to begging and screaming.  Without warning, Seth sliced off his penis and tossed it over his shoulder.  As Justin wailed in agony, Seth carved into his crotch with a scalpel, widening the hole where his penis had been attached.  After removing a two-inch circular section of flesh, he pulled Justin’s testicles through the hole.

Lying back on some wooden crates and smoking a cigarette, Seth observed Glen and Randy holding their nuts.  Glancing over at Kyle, who was leaning back in a chair with his feet propped up on a box, Seth laughed.  “It must be showing the part where I pulled Justin’s nuts through the hole in his crotch.”

“Can you actually do that, or did you fake it?”

“It’s a common medical procedure to remove the testicles through an incision in the lower abdomen.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.  Doctors do it all the time.”

“Why?”

“Testicular cancer, removing cysts, fixing varicocele.  Shit like that.”

On the TV screen, Seth had already severed Justin’s spermatic cords and tossed his testicles into the trash and was in the process of rerouting his urethra to his perineum, the area between a man’s ball sack and anus.  This would allow him to urinate through a small hole located in front of his anus, but only when squatting.  Upon completion, Seth had injected Justin with a tranquilizer due to the delicate nature of the next procedure.  After slicing open his upper abdomen, Seth made a small incision into the bottom of his stomach, inserted the end of a rubber hose equipped with a filter so only fluids could pass into it, and then sealed the small stomach perforation with a few stitches and surgical glue.  Seth took the other end of the hose and worked it downward through Justin’s abdominal cavity, making sure to stay between his intestines and muscle layer.  From the hole in his crotch, he directed the end of the hose into Justin’s empty ball sack.  He also ran another hose between his ball sack and the hole in his crotch, which he then connected to the hose inserted into the severed hand.  The recording briefly shut off again, and when it resumed, Justin was awake.  As Justin moaned in agony, Seth began sewing the open end of the severed hand to his crotch, which included connecting blood vessels between the two parts.

The Milkman

Seth shut off the TV and motioned to Justin.  “Show them how your udder works.”

While remaining quiet, Justin approached the bars with a gallon of milk and began chugging it.

Seth pointed to Justin’s upper abdomen with the presentation stick.  “As he drinks the milk, some of it begins flowing into the tube that I inserted into his stomach.”  Seth ran the end of the stick down Justin’s belly.  “And it continues to flow through the tube all the way to his…”  He pointed between Justin’s legs.  “…ball sack.  With his testicles removed, his sack is now used for milk storage.  By simply sucking on one of his teats…”  Seth pointed to his udder.  “…milk can be withdrawn from his sack.”

Barry, being mischievous, laughed.  “Randy said you’re full of shit.  He doesn’t believe that you can get milk that way.”

Seth peered at Randy.  “Really?  You think I’m full of shit?”

Horror washed over him.  “I didn’t say that.”

“Stumpy wouldn’t lie.”

“Come on, man.  I don’t want any problems.”

Seth glanced at Justin.  “You’re up.”

Without saying a word, Justin approached the cell, and after grabbing ahold of the bars for balance, he thrust his hips forward.  As his udder protruded between the bars and into the cell, Seth pointed at it and regarded Randy.  “Milk: It does a body good.”

Randy’s eyes grew huge as melons as the color left his face.  “What?”

“Get your ass over here and get some milk.”

“Please don’t do this.  I swear to God I didn’t say anything.”

“Do what you’re told, or I will cut off your fucking balls.”

Kyle laughed.  “You didn’t waste any time goin’ there.”

Seth pulled a knife from a belt-mounted sheath.  “I’m not tellin’ you again.”

“Okay, okay!  Please, go easy.”  After Randy knelt in front of Justin, he just sat on his knees staring at the udder.

“It’s not going to milk itself.”

“I…  I don’t know, man… this is fucking sick.  I don’t think I can do it.”

“Get on one of those fuckin’ teats before I come in there.”

“I’m feeling sick.”

Seth pulled a key from his pocket and started to unlock the door.

“Alright!  I’m doing it.”  Randy could feel his stomach tightening as he clutched one of the fingers.  With the bone structure removed, the finger was flexible and spongy like an empty bag of skin.

“Don’t just stare at it.  Get to suckin’.”

Randy closed his eyes as he eased his lips around the tip of the finger.  Over the next few seconds, he just sat holding it in his mouth.

“Stop fucking around and treat that teat like your boyfriend’s cock.”

When he applied a little bit of suction to the finger, a warm rush of liquid instantly filled his mouth.  The milky substance had flowed with such ease it was almost unexpected.

Standing off to the side, Glen and Travon grimaced as they gazed at the disgusting sight.

Deciding not to swallow, Randy jerked his head to the side and spewed the liquid from his mouth.  When he saw the reddish-tinted milk, he began vomiting.

Frustration washed over Seth.  “You’re fucking wasting it, asshole!”

“It’s fuckin’ slimy and tastes really gross.”

“I don’t care.  Get back on that fuckin’ udder.”

“Something is wrong with it.  It doesn’t taste like milk.  It’s sour… and it has an acidic aftertaste.”

“That’s probably Justin’s stomach acid you’re tasting.”

“That’s fucking nasty.  And why is it red?”

“He had tomato soup for lunch.”

“You’re a disgusting motherfucker.  I can’t believe you made me drink that shit.”

“Made is past tense.  You’re not done feasting yet.”

Being forced to perform such a revolting act really struck a chord with Randy.  Ingesting the nauseating fluid was bad enough, but having to suck on a freakish hand hanging from a stranger’s crotch was too much to bear.  And Seth’s belittling comments only added insult to injury.  Up to this point, Randy had been somewhat docile, but now he was boiling with anger and ready to fight back, regardless of the consequences.  “Fuck you, dude!”  He jumped to his feet, and as he stood glaring at Seth, he pumped his fists in anger.  “I’m not playing your fuckin’ games anymore!  Do you hear me?”

As Randy lashed out, Seth flipped several switches in each column on the remote, activating Travon’s, Glen’s, and Randy’s T1 and L5 vertebrae.  After the men collapsed to the floor with their arms and legs paralyzed, Seth ambled into the cell, stuck his knife under Randy’s ball sack, and in one swift motion, severed it from his body.  As he strolled out of the cell, he tossed the detached organ to Kyle.  “Randy said you can have his.”

Kyle jerked sideways in his chair, allowing the bloody sack to fly past him and splat onto the floor.  “No thanks, pal.”

Seth motioned to Justin and the three women.  Without being instructed to do so, Justin pushed the four-wheeled cart into the cell and parked it in the back, left corner.  The women followed him in carrying the filthy mattress, positioned it in the center of the room, then crawled on top of it and began kissing and fondling each other.  After Seth closed and locked the door, he shut off the electrodes.  Now that the men had use of their limbs, Glen and Travon stumbled to their feet, but Randy stayed on the floor cupping the bloody wound between his legs.  “Oh my God!  What have you done to me?”

“Don’t start whining.”

He glared at Seth with hate-filled eyes.  “Whining?  You cut off my fucking balls, asshole!”

“That was your fault for not minding.”

Randy erupted into a fit of rage.  “What the hell is wrong with you?  You have no right doing this to me!  It’s fucking cruel and unusual punishment!  The government has laws against this!”

“Then maybe you should send a complaint to your congressman.”

“Fuck you, smartass!  God will send you to Hell for this!”

Seth laughed.  “That’s funny coming from a fuckin’ child molester.”

“You can laugh all you want, motherfucker!  In the end, you’ll get yours!”

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t, but right now your ass is mine, so I suggest you get back on that teat.”

Randy was engulfed with a conglomeration of emotions, ranging from anger, to disbelief, to longing for vengeance.  “You’re fuckin’ insane!”

“What’s going to be insane is me cutting off your dick because you don’t listen.”

“Try it, you twisted fuck, and I’ll kill your ass!”

Seth held up the remote and started to flip a switch.  “Say goodbye to your dick, smartass.”

Randy, knowing he didn’t have a snowball’s chance in Hell to prevent it, scrambled over to Justin as he stood next to the mattress and dropped to his knees.  “Okay, okay!  I’m fuckin’ doin’ it!”  Like a kid throwing a temper tantrum, he clutched one of the fingers and began aggressively drawing out milk by the mouthfuls, allowing it to spill over the corners of his mouth.

“Keep it up, you fuckin’ rat bag.  I dare you.”

Fuming, Randy began gulping down the slimy liquid.

“That’s it, boy, nurse that titty.”

As Randy sucked on a finger, Justin began taking large gulps from the milk jug, and as he chugged the liquid, some of it began running down his chin and dripping onto his chest.

Seth glanced over at Travon and Glen as they stood off to the side with a look of disbelief sketched across their faces.  “Let this be a lesson to you fuckers.  Do what you’re told and you might get to leave here with your complete package.  And with that being said, y’all need to get over there and get some of that vitamin D before he hogs it all.”

Glen and Travon just stood dumbfounded as they contemplated Seth’s comment.  The women seemed to be in their own world, ignoring what was happening to the men, as they lay on the filthy mattress fondling and kissing each other.

Making the men perform such a sadistic and revolting act was about breaking their spirits and establishing dominance.  “I’m going to start cutting off dicks if I don’t get some fuckin’ cooperation around here.”

Glen started to approach Justin, but Travon stepped in front of him.  “What the fuck are you doin?”

“Gettin’ the shit over with.”

“Fuck that white boy.”

“What choice do we have, bro?  He’ll use that remote on us.  He’s already cut off Randy’s balls.  That shit ain’t happenin’ to me.”  He pushed past Travon and knelt next to Randy and began sucking on one of the fingers.  The warm substance was extremely slimy with a raunchy taste, instantly engaging his gag reflexes.

Seth peered at Travon as he stood off to the side clinching his fists.  “What the fuck are you waiting for, dickhead?”

“You’re fuckin’ nuts if you think I’m doing that shit.”

“You can do it with or without balls.”  Seth held up the remote.  “Your choice.”

Obedience, self-control, and patience weren’t characteristics Travon usually possessed.  He was recalcitrant, used violence to solve problems, and extremely intolerant, but after seeing what happened to Randy, Travon knew he was at the mercy of Seth.  “Okay, you fuckin’ psycho.  I’ll play your twisted little game… for now.”  He dropped to his knees next to Glen, and as he reached for a finger, he grumbled, “I’m gonna kill that crazy white motherfucker.”

By now, Glen was suffering from severe nausea as he slurped on a finger.  While taking a moment to catch his composure, he whispered to Travon, “This is fucking sick.  We need to do something.”

“I know.  I’ll figure somethin’ out.”

Teary-eyed, Randy pulled off his teat as he overheard their conversation.  “Did y’all see what he did to me?  I want to kill him so bad.”

“I know, bro.  We’ll get his ass.  For now, just try to stay calm and play along.”

Standing with his hands on his hips, Seth lashed out.  “Get on that fucking titty, Travon, before I come in there.  And you other two fuckers need to stop conspiring.”

Travon could feel the anger radiating from his face as he began sucking on a finger.  As soon as the foul liquid coated his palate, his stomach clinched up right before vomit spewed from his mouth.

“You stupid fuck!  You’re wasting it!”

Travon sat back on his legs as he wiped puke from his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Get back on that udder before I come in there.”

“That ain’t happenin’, you sick fuck.  I’m done playing your fuckin’ games.”

Seth energized Travon’s T1 and L5 vertebrae, paralyzing his arms and legs, then ambled into the cell.  While sucking down milk, Glen noticed he and Randy still had the use of their limbs.  After contemplating the situation for a few seconds, he mumbled around the finger, “Let’s take this fucker down.”

Randy shook his head as he nursed his finger.

“It’s our only chance.”

“No,” he mumbled.

“Come on, you fuckin’ pussy.”

“Machete.”

“What?”

About that time, Seth whacked Glen across his big, brown ass with the side of a machete, same as a kid getting a swat with a wooden paddle.  The force of the impact thrust his face into Justin’s udder.  At first, he was shocked as he looked over his shoulder, peering at Seth.  When he realized what had occurred, anger washed over him.  “What the fuck, man?”

Seth pointed the blade at him.  “That’s what you get for plotting an attack.”

“I was just talkin’ shit.  I wouldn’t really do it.”

“Then it’s what you get for thinking about it.”  Seth slid the machete inside a sheath secured to his belt, then strolled over to Travon as he lay on the floor.  After he pulled out his knife, he knelt next to him and stuck the blade against his ball sack.  “This might sting a little.” 

Travon lifted his head from the floor and gazed at Seth with a horrified expression.  “Hold up!  You win, dude!  I’ll do whatever you want!  Please don’t cut off by balls!  I’m begging you!”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Why not?  You can do anything you want.”

“Because, if I show you leniency, you’ll keep acting like a jackass.”

“I’ll do what you say from here on out.  I swear.”

“What about Glen?”

“What about him?”

“If I don’t establish who the boss is around here, he’ll keep acting like a prick too.”

“Then punish him.  I’ve already told you I’ll cooperate.”

“You’re only saying that because I have a knife to your balls.”

“That’s not true, man.  Please give me another chance.”

Seth knew it was difficult for Travon to be submissive.  “Then what should I do?”

“Have mercy.  You won’t regret it.  I swear.”

Seth stood and put his hands on his hips.  “Someone needs to give up their balls for making me come in here.”

“Take Glen’s.”

Overhearing the conversation, Glen was now gulping down mouthfuls of milk to show obedience, and pausing between swallows, he looked over his shoulder with the reddish liquid dripping from his chin.  “Look.  I’m doing it.  I’m drinking the milk.  Travon is the one who started this shit.  Not me.  Take his balls.”

Feeling betrayed, Travon lashed out.  “Fuck you, Glen, you backstabbing motherfucker!  I’ll fuckin’ kill you!”

“Hold up!  You told him to take mine.”

“You’re the one who started this shit.”

Glen peered at Seth.  “That’s a lie.  That fucker has been trying to get me and Randy to help him take you down all night, but I didn’t want no part of it.”

Travon’s eyes grew huge as saucers.  “That’s bullshit!  He’s lying.  I didn’t say shit.  In fact, he’s the one who's been tryin’ to talk me and Randy into taking you down.”

Seth approached Randy and stood over him while he nursed on a finger. 

“Which one of these fuckers is lying?”

By now, Randy had consumed so much milk his stomach was bloated, and he felt deathly sick.  With a pallid complexion, he gazed at Seth with bloodshot eyes.  “I want to stay out of it.”

Seth really didn’t care who said what, he just enjoyed fucking with the men, turning them against each other.  “If you don’t speak up, I’ll cut off your cock.”

“They both have said stuff.  But you can’t blame them.  It’s a screwed-up situation.  Anyone would act that way.”

“I didn’t ask for your analytical opinion.  I just wanted to know if Travon is a lying sack of shit.”

Randy was almost as terrified of Travon as he was Seth.  “I wouldn’t say that.”

“Did he lie or not?”

“I guess, a little.”

“So he is a lying sack of shit.”  Seth knelt next to Travon, and without warning, ran his knife around the base of his balls.  After he severed the skin, he pulled the sack from his body and tossed it onto his chest.  “You can thank Randy for that.”  As Travon wailed at the top of his lungs, Seth ambled out of the cell and locked the door.

A few minutes later when Travon caught his composure, Seth deactivated his electrodes.  In a panic, he sat up and examined his crotch.  To his confusion, he found only his outer sack had been removed, leaving his testicles dangling by their spermatic cords.  A nauseating feeling washed over him as he gently cupped his two balls with one hand while holding his severed flesh in the other.  “Please call an ambulance.  I need this sewn back on.”

“You need to get back on Justin’s titty bag.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, man?  I don’t have time for your silly games.”

“Listen, pal.  Show some fuckin’ enthusiasm and I might call an ambulance.”

“Might?”

“Okay.  I’ll call one.”

“You swear?”

“Yeah, I swear.”

As Travon began nursing on a finger, Randy sat up and peered at Seth.  “What about me?”

“What about you?”

“Can I go to the hospital too?”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“You said you were going to call an ambulance.”

“That’s the plan.”

“That’s good.  I need to have my balls sewn back on.”  Looking between the bars, Randy scanned the floor.  “Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

“My ball sack.”

“In the trash.”

“Can you dig it out and put it on ice?”

“No.”

“Come on, man!  The tissue will die if you don’t do it.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“This is bullshit!  Why are you being unfair?”

“Unfair?”

“Yeah.  You didn’t cut off his testicles…”  He nodded toward Travon.  “…but you did mine.  That’s not right.  And now you won’t put my sack on ice.”

“Stop whining and get back on the udder.”

“No.  Not until you do it.”

“The longer you keep stalling, the longer it’ll be before I call an ambulance.”

Travon glared at Randy and snarled.  “Do what he fuckin’ says so I can get to the hospital.”

Randy shoved his way between Glen and Travon.  “This is bullshit.”

Furious, Travon grabbed the back of Randy’s neck and spoke sternly into his ear.  “When this shit is over, I’m going to fuck you up for ratting on me, you little bitch.”

“You’re hurting me, dude!  Let go!”

“Fuck you.  You don’t know hurt.”

“Why are you so upset?”

“You know why.”

“At least you still have your testicles.  The doctors can fix your shit.”

Seth snapped his fingers to get their attention.  “No talky talky!  Time for sucky sucky!”

About that time, a Hispanic man came walking out of the dark.  Noticing him right away, Barry yelled at Seth.  “Hey, dude!  Someone is coming.”

Kyle had fallen asleep in the chair, but after hearing Barry’s announcement, he jumped to his feet in a startled daze.  “Who in the fuck are you?”

The man ignored Kyle and strolled straight up to Seth.  After he and Seth shook hands, the man approached the bars and gazed in morbid fascination at the men as they sucked on Justin’s udder while the women groped each other.  Also, with three people slurping on the udder, Justin had to continuously drink from the milk jug to keep up.  “What the fuck, Seth?  That’s some disturbing shit.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

Recognizing the man’s voice, Justin lowered the milk jug away from his face to get a better look.  His eyes grew huge as medallions when he recognized Detective Garza.  In a panic, he pointed at Seth and exclaimed, “That’s Seth Coker!  Shoot him!”  This was the first time Justin had spoken since being brought into the building.

Seth laughed as a cigarette hung from his mouth.  “You got the wrong idea, pal.  He’s here for you.”

Justin jerked his udder away from the men and approached the bars.  “What the fuck is goin’ on?”

“Joe stopped by to see how you’re doin’.”

Baffled, he gazed at Joe with a hollow stare.  “I don’t understand.”

Joe pointed at Justin’s crotch.  “Nice tits.”

“What the fuck, man?  You two working together or something?”

Seth shook his head.  “Not really.”

“Not really?  What the fuck does that mean?”

“Means, Joe don’t like perverts hanging around his town, so I helped him toss out the trash.”

Rage overcame Justin as he eyed Joe.  “You’re the fucking law!  You’re supposed to protect me!  This sorry bastard not only murdered my friends Brian and Scotty, but look what he did to me!”  He shook his udder with his right hand as he held up his left arm to show the detective the results of the surgery—his dick-crowned arm.

As Travon and Glen stood in the back of the cell with uncertainty sketched across their faces, unsure if they should say anything, Randy crept up to the bars as he sported an erect penis.  “Look what he did to me.”  He raised his left leg, showing his nuts were missing.  “And he did this to me too.”  He turned sideways to show Joe the contraption mounted to his back.  “You need to do something.”

Spotting Randy’s erection, Joe glanced at Seth with a puzzled look.  “Why in the fuck does he have a boner?”

“Because he’s a filthy bastard.”

“I’m being serious.  How can he have a hard-on when he’s been castrated?”

Seth laughed.  “I put Stiagra in Justin’s milk.”

“What is that?”

“Something I concocted.  It’s basically Viagra on steroids.  I call it Stiagra.”

Joe noticed Glen and Travon also had erections.  “Why in the hell would you want them to have hard-ons?”

“They’re going to make a porno.”

He studied the women for a moment, then the men, then ogled Seth with a baffled expression.  “This is odd.  I would have thought you had something different planned for them.”

“It’s not what you think.  But if you like, you can stick around and watch Justin’s big debut.”

“Naw, I gotta run.  But you can send me a copy.”

“Will do.”

Justin couldn’t believe his ears.  “Seriously?  You’re going to allow this to happen?”

Brushing Justin off as if he didn’t give two shits about his situation, Joe shook Seth’s hand.  “I’m outta here.”  As he walked off, he pointed at Barry.  “Now, that’s fuckin’ disgusting.”

Filthy Mattress

Still fuming, Justin erupted into a fit of rage.  “That dude is a fuckin’ cop!  Where in the fuck is my justice?”

“I’ve already told you, you lost all your rights when you fucked your niece… and that damn cow, and we’re not discussing it again.”

Barry was also fuming as he eyed Seth.  “That guy was a fuckin’ prick.  Why did you even invite him here?  He’s probably going to rat on you.”

“Why are you acting up?” 

“Because he insulted me.”

“No he didn’t.”

“He said I was fuckin’ disgusting.”

“And?”

“And?  For starters, I’m not disgusting.”

“Well, you’re sure in the fuck not handsome either.”

Justin clinched his fists as he glared at Seth through the bars.  “I don’t mean to break up your lover’s quarrel, but I was trying to talk to you, dude.”

Seth scowled at Justin.  “First off, don’t call me dude.  Secondly, you need to watch your mouth.”

“This is bullshit.”

“Just be glad I went easy on you.”

“Easy?  Look what you’ve done to me.”

“Exactly.”

“You’re a fuckin’ dick.”

“What did I tell you about acting out?”

“I don’t give a shit anymore.”

“You sure?”

Seth had warned Justin before the event not to cause any problems.  If he cooperated, he wouldn’t have to participate outside of allowing the other men to nurse his udder.  Otherwise, he would be forced to perform other acts as well.  Now knowing Detective Garza had conspired with Seth, Justin was consumed by an overwhelming amount of bitterness and anger, clouding his judgement.  “Like I said, you demented prick, I don’t give a shit anymore.”

“Excellent choice.”  Seth glanced at Kyle.  “Justin will be joining the men in making the porn.”

Waddling bowlegged, Travon approached the bars while cupping his testicles so they wouldn’t hang by their spermatic cords.  “Hey, man.  I did what you asked.  Will you call an ambulance now?”

“Sure.”  Seth dialed a number on his cell phone, then activated the external speaker.

“Best Care EMS.  Is this an emergency?”

“Nope.  All is well.”  He hung up the phone and stuck it in his pocket.  “With that out of the way, it’s time to get started.”

Travon gazed at Seth with a disconcerted expression.  “What the fuck was that?  You didn’t tell them about me.”

“I wasn’t supposed to.”

“Fuck if you weren’t.  We made a deal.”

“I said I’d call an ambulance, and I did.”

“You tricky motherfucker.  You’re not going to get away with this.  I have fucking rights.”

“Aww, the poor rapist feels he’s being mistreated.”

“Fuck you!  You’re not—”

Seth flipped a switch on the remote, shutting off Travon’s vocal cords, then he pointed at the camera while regarding Kyle.  “I was going to get Justin to operate the camera, but since he chose to be in the movie, can you run it?”

“Sure can.”

Having time to rethink his behavior, Justin gazed at Seth with a somber expression.  “I’m sorry for how I acted.  Will you give me another chance?”

“Nope.”

“Come on, man.  I did everything you wanted except for that one little outburst.”

“You’re in the movie, so I don’t want to hear anything else about it.”  Justin started to speak, but Seth interrupted him.  “But, if you don’t act up anymore, you’ll be giving, not receiving.  Get my drift?”

“Uh…”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”  Seth motioned to Kyle.  “Start the camera.”  He then pointed at Randy.  “You’re up first.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means you’re going to be doing some fucky fucky.”

“Why are you picking on me?”

“Because you’re so damn special.”

“But you cut off my balls.”

“You don’t need them to fuck.  All you need is a hard dick, and that’s why I gave you the Stiagra.”

Randy studied the women for a moment, and observing them kissing and touching each other turned him on, which was strange considering he didn’t have testicles.  “I guess I can do it.”

“Excellent.  For this scene, I’m giving you four choices.  You can fuck Patricia, who is the skinny bitch with AIDs, or…”

“Hold up!  She has AIDs?”

“Yeah, dumbass.  Stumpy mentioned that when he was introducing her.”

The thought crossed his mind Seth might be lying about her having the virus.  “Do the other girls know?”

“Of course.”

He glanced back at the women as they rolled around on top of the filthy mattress making out.  “Then why are they doing that if they know she has AIDs?”

“Same reason you sucked on a bag full of milk hanging from a dude’s crotch.”

“But you haven’t said anything to them.”

“You need to worry about yourself and not what they’re doing.”

“Is that how it is?”

“Yep.”

“Well, I’m not touching that bitch if she has AIDs.”

“That’s fine.  Your second choice is Bob.”

“Bob?  Who in the fuck is that?”

Seth pointed to the pushcart as he eyed Justin.  “Go get Bob.”

Justin pulled the cart next to the women as they fondled each other.  After jerking a sheet away, uncovering a dead body, he dumped the corpse onto the floor next to the filthy mattress.

“That’s Bob.  I dug him up from Bellwood Cemetery a few days ago.  Ol’ Bob was a child molester who I had plans for, but before I had a chance to snatch him up, he died of cancer.  That was about two years ago, but, fortunately, it looks like the mortician did a decent job embalming him.”

Randy noticed the man’s skin was gray in color with a leathery texture, giving it an un-lifelike appearance.  His face was drawn, accentuating the outlines of his facial bones.  Both of his eyes were open, glazed over with a yellowish tint, and sunk back in their sockets.  His lips and gums were receded, displaying an exaggerated amount of teeth.  The majority of his dark-colored hair had fallen out, leaving bald patches on his head, and parts of his body were covered with mold.

Randy looked at Seth for a moment, then back at the corpse, then back at Seth with a confused expression.  “And what did you want me to do with him?”

“Since you’re scared of a little AIDs, you can fuck Bob if you like.”

His facial expression morphed into a look of repulsion.  “What the hell?  That’s fuckin’ sick.  I’m not doin’ that.”

“Why not?”

“Outside of being morbid as fuck, I’m not into necrophilia.”

Barry popped off.  “No, but you sure will fuck a kid, you sick fuck.”

Seth laughed as he eyed Randy.  “He pegged your ass, pervert.”

Randy’s eyes narrowed as he peered at Barry.  “Keep your chickenshit comments to yourself, you fuckin’ freak.”  He then glared at Seth.  “I don’t care what you fuckers think.  And I’m not touching that corpse.”

“First off, you’re in no position to tell me what you will and will not do.  If I want you to fuck Bob until your dick falls off, you will.”

Randy lowered his head and stared at the floor.  “Sorry for lashing out.  What are my other choices?”

“You can get rammed in the ass by Justin’s big dick.”  Seth was referring to Justin’s left arm.  “Or you can fuck Travon in the ass.”

Travon’s eyes popped open wide.  “That shit ain’t happenin’.”

Randy looked at Patricia, then Bob, then Justin, and when he looked at Travon, Travon’s eyes narrowed.  “You come near me, I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”

Seth snapped his fingers to redirect Randy’s attention.  “Get to fuckin’ someone.  We don’t have all night.”

“Come on, man.  You can’t expect me to do something like this.”

Barry popped off again.  “Dude!  You fuck little kids.  How is this shit any worse?”

“I told you to keep your fuckin’ comments to yourself, you creepy fuck!”

Seth’s demeanor transformed from happy-go-lucky to intense as if his inner demon had been awakened.  “Do what you’re told before I come in there and gut your ass!”

Up to this point, Randy hadn’t seen this side of Seth.  Even his facial expression was daunting.  “Easy, dude.  No need to get violent.”

“I’ll show you violent, you little cocksucker!”

“Okay.  I’m choosing.”  He began feverishly eyeing his options: a skinny crackhead with AIDs, a corpse, Travon, or Justin’s arm.  A moment later, he finally settled on Patricia.  “I guess her.”

Seth set a timer on top of the TV still parked next to the bars.  “You have to fuck her in the cunt for ten minutes.  After that, you can have a little anal action if you want.”

Even though Randy was a little shy, he was secretly excited.  “Do I just go over there and do her?”

Seth pointed toward Patricia as he eyed him.  “She’s waiting.”

When he glanced in her direction, he saw she was in a doggy-style position as the other two women motioned for him to come over.  When he approached her from behind, his eyes were instantly drawn to a tattoo across the small of her back that read HIV Positive.  Enter at Your Own Risk.  Next, he examined her sickly pale skin, skeletal thin frame, and the sores speckling her body.  Second guessing his decision, he glanced back at Seth and noticed he was standing next to the bars, staring back, while running the blade of his knife along a sharpening rod.  After taking a deep breath, he dropped to his knees on the filthy mattress and positioned himself behind Patricia.  In the back of his mind, he knew there was a chance he might not even contract the virus, which provided him some relief.  As he worked his dick inside her pussy, the other two women were sitting next to him, one on each side, caressing his body with their hands as they nibbled on his ears.  If he hadn't been sticking his dick in an AIDs-infected hole, the extra company would have been a massive turn on.  When he thrust himself deep inside her, he felt sharp pain, like a pin prick, in the tip of his penis.  Concerned, he jerked out his penis and examined it, finding a small puncture hole in his head.  Stunned, he looked over at Seth.  “Something poked the end of my dick!”  He glanced back at his penis, noticing blood was pooling around a pinhole.  “Oh, shit!  I’m fuckin’ bleeding!”

Seth held up a small funnel-shaped device.  The larger end was about two inches in diameter, and the other end tapered to a point.  The length of the device, from the large opening to the point, was around four inches long.  Seth turned the device so Randy could see inside the cone, revealing a needle.  The base of the needle was secured to the tapered end, allowing its sharp point to face toward the two-inch opening.  “I know.  She has one of these in her pussy.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“It’s kind of like a diaphragm used for birth control, but with a two-inch-long needle glued to the end.”

Kyle laughed.  “You should patent that shit.  It would be the ultimate birth control device.  No man in his right mind would stick his dick in a pussy with that thing.”

Randy’s eyes opened wide.  “Oh my God!  That shit punctured a hole in my dick!  Why in the fuck would you do that?  I probably got AIDs now!”

Seth shrugged his shoulders as he studied him, expressing he didn’t give a shit.  “I’m sure.  Now stop whining and get back on her.  The camera is rollin’.”

“What?  You can’t be serious.”

“Of course, I am.”

“But… but it will keep poking me.”

“And?”

“You can’t expect me to keep doin’ it.”

“That’s exactly what I expect.  Now, get back to fuckin’.”

“I’m not doin’ it.”

Seth peered at Travon as he and Glen stood in the very back of the cell.  “Make Randy do what he’s told.”

“Naw, dude.  I ain’t gettin’ involved.”

Seth held up the remote and pointed to a red switch.  “See this?”

He shrugged his shoulders.  “Yeah.”

“This is Torment Mode.  It energizes all the electrodes in your spine at once.  Every muscle in your body will contract, your guts will knot up, your skin will feel like it’s on fire, your heart will beat erratically, and your breathing will be restricted.  Basically, every inch of your body will be in agony.” Seth tossed a flathead screwdriver onto the floor next to Travon’s feet.  “Every time one of your buddies refuses to cooperate, I’m going to punish you for it.” 

He glanced at the screwdriver.  “What the hell is that for?”

“I need you to pop out one of your eyes with it.”

“That’s not happening.”

Seth energized Torment Mode, collapsing Travon onto the floor.  After about fifteen seconds of flopping around in unbearable agony, Seth shut off the electrodes.  “You ready to pop out one of your eyes?”

As Travon lay in a pile of his own shit, piss, and vomit, he wailed out, “Oh my God!  Please…”

Seth ran the mode for thirty seconds.  “How about now?”

“You’re fucking killing me!  Please…”

He activated the electrodes for one minute.  “How about now?”

“Please stop!  I’m begging…”

This time, he let Travon agonize for two grueling minutes, and when he shut off the electrodes, he didn’t say a word before he grasped the screwdriver and shoved the tip under his left eye.  After prying around, breaking the optic nerve and some of the connective tissue, his eyeball popped out of its socket.

As Travon sat on the floor with his eyeball hanging from its socket, held in place by only a few remaining muscles, Seth peered at him as he pointed toward Randy.  “Are you ready to make that fucker do what he’s told?”

Travon, still grasping the screwdriver, climbed to his feet, and with his testicles dangling between his legs and his eyeball flopping from his face, he approached Randy as anger swept over him.  “You’re going to pay for this, you motherfucker!”

Randy quickly shuffled to the other side of the women, opposite from Travon.  “Hold up, man!  Pay for what?”

He pointed to his bloody eye socket.  “This is your fault!”

“Bullshit.  I had nothing to do with that.”

“You cost me my fuckin’ nut sack too, you rat bastard!  Now you’re going to pay!”

As Travon chased Randy around the women, Seth could see the fury raging in his face.  “Travon!  You can fuck him up all you want, just don’t kill him.”

Scared for his life, Randy pleaded with Seth as he avoided Travon’s wrath.  “Okay, okay!  I’ll fuck her!  Please make him stop!”

“Hold up, Travon.  Let’s see if he’s willing to cooperate now.”

Travon refused the order as he continued pursuing Randy.  “This little bastard is mine.”

“I said stop.  I need him pumping on that hole since the camera is running.”

“But…”

“No buts.”

Grasping the screwdriver tightly, he grumbled.  “I just want to stick him a few times.”

“You can stick him later.  And I’m not tellin’ you again.”

Travon gritted his teeth as he moved to the back of the cell.  “You better keep your word.”

Randy approached the bars while sporting a look of relief.  “Thanks, man.  I owe you one.”

“Don’t come over here kissing my ass.  You have more AIDs to contract.”

Randy dropped to his knees behind Patricia, then glanced back at Seth.  “How long do I have to do this?”

Seth reset the timer.  “Twenty minutes.”

His eyes opened wide.  “Hold up!  Last time you said ten minutes.”

“Then if you knew, why did you ask?”

“I don’t know.”

“For playing dumb, you now get to go twice as long.”

“Come on, man.  Forty minutes is too long.”

“Do I need to get Travon involved again?”

Randy noticed Travon was glaring at him with a death stare while tightly squeezing the handle on the screwdriver.  “No, sir.”  As he inserted his hard cock back in Patricia’s pussy, Kim sucked on his neck while Monica fingered his ass.

After a few strokes, Seth noticed Randy was only fucking her with the end of his penis.  “Randy!  Put your entire cock in her.”

“Yes, sir.”  As he began pumping her hole, burying his cock all the way inside her, he moaned with each thrust as the needle poked him.  “This is fuckin’ killing me.  I don’t think I can keep doing it.”

“If you stop, I’m going to let Travon kill you, very, very slowly, with that fuckin’ screwdriver.”

“Okay, I won’t, but can you at least give me back the ten minutes?”

“No.”

“Come on, man!  Why are you doing this?”

“You know why, and if you keep whining, I’m going to double your time again.  In fact, if you say another word, you’re going to fuck that bitch until your dick falls off.”

As Randy stroked her, the pain was almost unbearable as the needle jabbed two-inch-deep holes into his penis.

After several grueling minutes of agony, he pulled out his penis to examine it.  Horror overcame him when he saw the end of it had been punctured so many times his head was nothing more than tenderized meat.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

He started to speak, but changed his mind as he considered the consequences.  As he worked his bloody penis back into Patricia’s hole, tears came flowing down his cheeks.

Glen and Travon were being quiet as they watched in horror, pondering their fate.

Kyle, still working the camera, laughed at the sight of a grown man weeping at the same time he continued plowing the chick from behind.  “You know this is some twisted shit, right?”

Bob

Barry looked at Seth with confusion sketched across his face.  “How is Randy’s dick still hard after being jabbed full of holes?”

“That’s the Stiagra at work.”

“Even with drugs, it still doesn’t make sense.  Can you explain that?”

“Viagra blocks the PDE5 enzyme in the body, which is primarily found in the penis.  With PDE5 restricted, the blood flow to the penis is increased, resulting in an erection.  But, an erection can only occur if the man is sexually aroused, so that’s why Viagra, or any of the other dick pills on the market, won’t work in this type of situation.  This is where Stiagra is different.  Not only does it contain the same elements as Viagra, but it also has dopamine, nitric oxide, and testosterone to trigger a false sense of sexual stimulation.  And to make that work, these compounds are at dangerously high levels.”

Kyle was shaking his head as he listened to Seth explain how Stiagra worked.  “Didn’t you say that stuff had some really bad side effects?”

Seth nodded.  “Yeah.  It’s so potent, if they live through this shit, they’ll have permanent cardiovascular damage.  In fact, I’m surprised one of them hasn’t already suffered a heart attack.”

Overhearing Seth’s comment, Glen glanced down at his erect penis for a moment, then at Seth.  “You better not have given me that shit?”

“Did you drink the milk?”

“Why are you asking me that?  You already know I did.”

“Is your dick hard?”

“Are you fuckin’ blind?”

“Then it should be obvious, dumbass.”

“Hold up, man!  You had no right giving me that shit.”

“And you had no right raping Denise.  And since you opened your mouth, it’s your turn to pick.”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

With Randy being forced to perform such a barbaric act of self-mutilation, a nauseating feeling overcame Glen, knowing he could be facing the same fate.  “I didn’t mean to say anything.”

“You can fuck Kim, Bob, or Travon, or let Justin ram you in the ass with his arm.  Your choice.”

Travon gritted his teeth.  “What the fuck?  Stop saying that shit.  No one is fuckin’ touching me!”

Barry laughed.  “Like you have a choice.”

“Y’all motherfuckers can’t make me do shit.”

“Seth made you pop out your own fuckin’ eyeball, so why do you think you have a say in the matter?”

Travon glared at Glen as he stood next to him.  “Don’t even think about it, dude.”

“Why would you say that?  I’m not fuckin’ gay.”

Seth held up the remote.  “Do you need some motivation?”

After witnessing what happened to Randy and Travon, Glen knew Seth wasn’t bluffing.  “Naw, man.  No need for that.  I’ll pick someone.  Just give me a moment.”

“You have thirty seconds.”

The thought of fucking his friend was sickening, the corpse even more disturbing, and having Justin’s monstrosity of an arm in his ass was out of the question.  His only reasonable option seemed to be Kim, the short, big boned woman with a chubby face and big ass, but apprehension swept through him as he studied her body.  “What’s wrong with her?”

“What do you mean?”

“Does she have a needle in her pussy too?”

“No.”

“Does she have AIDs or some other type of disease?”

“Nope.”

“Does that mean nothing will happen to my dick if I chose to fuck her?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It’s kind of like a mystery box.  You’re not going to know what you get until you open it, or in this case, until you shove your cock inside her snatch.”

About that time, Randy pulled out and wailed at the top of his lungs.  “Oh my God!  Look what you did to my dick!”  The last two inches of Randy’s penis had been so mutilated it dangled from the rest of his shaft like a bag of ground meat.  “This is bad!  Real bad!”

Seth glanced at the timer.  “You have ten minutes left.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Do I need to get Travon?”

At this point, Randy was pretty much emotionally distraught.  When he tried to stick his dick back inside Patricia, the end of it broke off and plopped to the filthy mattress.

Barry erupted in laughter.  “Oh shit!  Part of his dick fell off.”

Randy sat back on his legs, and as he sobbed, he stared at his ravaged penis in disbelief.

Seth, showing no mercy, lashed out.  “You’re not done yet.  You have nine minutes left.”

Randy fell to his back and began staring at the ceiling as if he was incapacitated.

“I know your ass is faking.”

He didn’t respond, except for the tears flowing down his cheeks.

“If you don’t get your ass up, I’ll let Travon break your fucking neck.”

He still didn’t respond.

Seth knew he had broken Randy to the point he didn’t care if he died, so he glanced at Patricia.  “Take the pussy to him.”

She quickly mounted Randy and began riding what was left of his cock.

Seth then motioned to Monica, the heavyset woman.  “I want you to join in, but first, show Randy your cunt so he knows what he’s getting into.”

As she stood over him hiking one of her legs, Randy observed her pussy.  Inflamed and discharging blood, her entire crotch area was riddled with sores that were oozing pus.  “As you can see, Monica is suffering from a bad case of genital herpes.”

Randy had reached his limit, and the thought of touching her sickened him.  “Get this filthy bitch away from me.”   

When Seth motioned to Monica, she sat on his face, and as her fat thighs completely entombed his head, she began grinding her swollen and diseased cunt against his mouth.

As the women rode Randy, and as he bawled like a baby, Seth turned his attention back to Glen.  “Have you decided yet?”

After seeing the pain Randy had gone through and the irreversible trauma to his penis, he quickly changed his mind about Kim, thinking she probably had something hidden inside her pussy, maybe a needle or razor blade.  “So, what’s the deal with the body?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is there something hidden in it that will cut or poke my dick?”

“Nope.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“There must be something tricky goin’ on.”

“Isn’t fucking Bob bad enough?”

Under normal circumstances, the thought of having sex with a dead body wouldn’t even be contemplated, much less considered, but this was nothing remotely close to normal.  The choice of such a revolting act to save his manhood and avoid fucking his friend, as opposed to being sodomized by an arm, was the only logical solution.  And refusing to participate in Seth’s demented game would only result in being forced to commit self-torture or have his genitals mutilated like Randy and Travon, either of which would only be delaying the inevitable.  As humiliating as it was, Glen pointed at Bob.  “I guess him.”

“Excellent choice.”  Seth tossed a bottle next to Glen’s feet.  “You’re going to need that.”

Glen picked it up, noticing it was saddle soap.  “What is this for?”

“Bob’s dick is extremely dried out and shriveled up like beef jerky.  That will help rejuvenate it.”

“Why in the hell would I do that?”

“Because Bob is going to fuck you in the ass.”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”

“Once you get Bob’s dick hard, you’re going to ride him.”

“You’re fucking crazy.  I ain’t doing that shit.”

“You wanna bet?”

“I’ll pick someone else.”

“No, you won't.  You’ve already made your decision, and if you say another word about it, I’ll make you cut off your dick.”

He raised his hand like a kid in class.

“What?”

“Can I ask something without you getting mad?”

“What?”

“I thought when I picked the body…”

“His name is Bob.”

Glen gritted his teeth at Seth’s sarcastic behavior.  “I thought when I picked Bob, well, I assumed I only had to do him.  You didn’t say anything about putting his dick in me.”

“That’s what you get for assuming.  Now get over there and start sucking on his cock.  It’s not going to rejuvenate itself.”

Glen was overwhelmed with disgust.  “You didn’t say anything about doing that.”

“Between the saddle soap and your moist mouth, you’ll be able to exfoliate his dehydrated flesh.  And when you get it all loosened up, you’ll use expanding foam to make it nice and big.”

“You’re fucking nuts.  I ain’t doin’ that shit.”

After Seth energized Torment Mode for several minutes, Glen crab walked to Bob’s corpse and began rubbing saddle soap on the dead guy’s dick and crotch.

“Make sure you lather it up real good.  His skin is brittle, and I don’t want it cracking.” 

Glen experienced a conglomeration of emotions flooding his mind, from anger to revulsion, as he rubbed in the soap.  It was bad enough to be forced to perform such a disgusting act, but Seth’s belittling comments only added insult to injury.

“Right now it’s kind of shriveled up, but don’t worry, we’ll get that thing nice and hard for you.”

Glen glared at Seth with hate-filled eyes as he massaged Bob’s penis.  “You’re going to burn in Hell for this.”

“Maybe, but at least I’m not fondling a corpse’s dick.”

“You’re a real prick, you know that?”

“Speaking of prick, you need to start giving Bob some fellatio.”

“This is good enough.”

After suffering through several more grueling minutes of Torment Mode, Glen buried his face in Bob’s crotch.  As soon as his mouth encompassed the cold and clammy piece of flesh, the foul taste of rotted meat instantly invoked his gag reflexes.

“Get back on that dick.”

Glen raised his hand, indicating for Seth to be quiet as he fought the urge to upchuck.

“Don’t you do it.”

About that time, Glen spewed vomit all over the corpse.

“You nasty bastard.  You got puke on Bob.”

Glen wiped his mouth with the back of his arm, then surveyed Seth with a look of repulsion.  “Why don’t you just kill me and get it over with?”

“Because we’re not making a snuff film.”

Glen glanced toward Randy, and as Patricia rode his mutilated dick, he wailed in agony as Monica’s large ass gyrated on his face.  Next, he studied Travon’s missing eye and dangling testicles, then glanced at Bob, then his eyes traveled to Justin, and after examining his hellish abnormalities, he looked back at Seth with confusion plastered across his face.  “Then what the fuck would you call this if it’s not a snuff film?”

“A teachable moment.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Means, when other perverts see what happened to you and your buddies, they might think twice about raping or molesting someone.”

Glen peered at the camera for a moment.  “What are you planning on doing with that recording?”

“I’m going to send a copy to your mother.”

A combination of anger and humiliation swept over him.  “Come on, man.  There’s no need in doin’ that.”

“Are you embarrassed?”

“You know this shit is embarrassing.  It’s why you’re making me do it.”

As Kyle operated the camera, he motioned to Seth.  “Yo!”

“What’s up?”

“You know this shit is being livestreamed.”

“Of course.  But he didn’t need to know that.”

Barry blurted out.  “Why don’t you want him knowing?”

“Because he’ll start acting like an asshole.”

Confusion washed over Glen.  “What the fuck is he talkin’ about, livestreamed?”

Seth laughed.  “Here we go.”

“No one better be seeing this shit.”

Seth shrugged his shoulders as he smoked a cigarette.

Glen studied the camera for a moment, then stormed the bars, and as he shouted for help, his erect penis protruded from his body.  “My name is Glen Avelar, and I’m being held hostage by Seth Coker!  Please send the police!”

Seth laughed.  “Kyle!  Over here.”

When Kyle faced the camera toward Seth, Seth held up Glen’s mugshot.  “Everyone already knows why this fucker is in here, so let me know how you’d like to see him punished for this outburst.”  Seth flipped the photo over, revealing a phone number.  “Send your response to my cell phone.”  Within seconds, Seth’s phone began chiming, and as he read some of the texts coming in, he laughed.  “Damn.  These fuckers are ruthless.”  He held up his phone, displaying a text.  “Bubba in Arkansas says I should pull your dick out through your ass.”  He flipped to another text.  “Lee Ann says I should let Travon fuck you until your ass falls out.”  He read a few more.  “Matt thinks I’m going too easy on you.  And Brenda would like to see you cut off your own dick with a pair of fingernail clippers.  And wow.  Just wow.  This one from Jess is so fucked up, I might have to surprise you with it.”

Glen couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  “There’s no way people are responding to you.  You’re just fucking with me.”

Seth turned his screen toward Glen, showing him the face of a young woman.  “Check this out.”

When he approached the bars to get a closer look, he saw it wasn’t a still photo, but a live image.  “What the fuck is that?”

The woman laughed.  “It’s Skype, dumbass.”

Glen’s eyes popped open wide.  “Seriously?  You can see me?”

“Yep.”

“Do you know what’s happening here?”

“Of course.”

“Are you calling the cops?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because this dude has kidnapped us.  And he’s forcing us to do sick shit.”  He pointed at Bob.  “Check that out.  He wants me to have sex with that dead body.”  Next, he pointed toward Randy.  “Look what he did to him.”  The grizzly moans of Randy were still escaping from under Monica’s portly ass as she ground her herpes-infected cunt against his face, and as Patricia rode what remained of his cock, his bloody meat package was staining her crotch and the insides of her legs red.  “He mutilated his fuckin’ dick.  And now he’s making him have sex with it.  The dude is fuckin’ sick.”

“I know.  That’s why I’m a fan.”

“And you’re okay with this shit?”

“Well, yeah.”

He gawped at Seth with disbelief.  “I don’t understand.  There’s no way this can be happening.  How in the fuck can you be puttin’ this shit on the internet and no one cares?  This is fuckin’ America.  We have laws here.  I have rights.”

Cackling emanated from Seth’s phone.

“Who’s laughing at me?”

Seth began quickly rambling off names.  “Michelle, Tyler, Brenda, Rick, Becky, Paul, James, Emma, Chris, Mike—”

“Okay, okay!  I get it.”

“I can keep goin’.”

“You’ve made your point, but how is everyone seeing this shit?”

“I’m having a group chat.”

“Who are these fuckin’ people?”

“They’re on my webpage.”

“What webpage?”

“Scumbags Gone Wild.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“It’s kind of like Girls Gone Wild, but instead of sexy chicks prancing around, my page details scumbags and lowlifes mutilating each other.”

“I’m not a fuckin’ scumbag.  And why don’t these people have a problem with this shit?”

“Because they hate rapists and molesters.”

“Can anyone see this?”

“Yeah, after they register.”

“Ah.  So you make money on this?  That explains why you’re doing it.”

“Nope.  Scumbags Gone Wild is free.”

“Then how do you keep the cops from seeing this?”

“I don’t.  They watch it too.”

“Bullshit.  They would do something if they did.”

“They don’t like rapists either.”

Glen was beside himself with the whole situation.  “This shit ain’t right, dude.”  He glanced over at Travon as he stood in the very back of the cell.  “Can you believe this shit?”

Now knowing there was a live audience, Travon concealed his erection with his hands as he sported a look of trepidation.  “Don’t drag me into this shit.”

“Seriously, dude?  You’re gonna be like that?”

“Look what he’s already done to me.  I don’t want any more trouble.”

“Wow, dude!  You’re starting to sound like a bitch.”

“Fuck you, man.  He didn’t make you pop out your eye with a fucking screwdriver.  Or cut your sack off.”

“You still have your fuckin’ nuts, so start actin’ like it.”

Seth motioned to Travon, getting his attention.  “Since Glen is acting like an asshole and refusing to suck Bob’s cock, should I make him pop his eye out too?”

“I don’t want any part of that.”

“Either you’re gonna pop out your other eye, or he’s gonna pop out his.  Your choice.”

He didn’t say a word but pointed toward Glen.

“You’re not as dumb as you look.  Now give him the screwdriver.”

When Travon tossed the tool at Glen’s feet, Glen rushed over to Bob and began sucking on his putrefied penis.

“I’m gonna put that screwdriver on hold for a bit, so you better act right if you know what’s good for you.”

Casting a shit-eating grin Glen’s way, Barry asked, “Bob’s dick looks like a shriveled-up wiener that was left on the campfire too long.  How is he going to fuck it?”

“Between the saddle soap and his saliva, it should soften it up.  Once that happens, I’ll have him inject it with some expanding foam.”

Glen sat up and spit a few times as pieces of rotted flesh hung from his lips.

“What’s wrong?”

“I keep getting rice in my mouth.”

Seth laughed.  “That’s not rice.”

When Glen looked down at the penis, a maggot slithered out of the piss hole.  “Oh my God!  It’s fucking maggots!”  Without warning, he turned to the side and disgorged vomit.

“Stop fucking around and get back on that cock.”

As Glen contemplated his situation, he gazed at the floor with hollow eyes, studying the maggots as they flopped around in his puke.

“While you’re pondering your next move, you need to consider the consequences.  You’ve been real lucky so far.”

His eyes traveled to Seth.  “How can you say that?  Look what you’re making me do.”

“You have no idea how easy I’ve taken it on you.  In fact,” Seth said, addressing the group with the exclusion of Randy, who couldn’t hear anything between Monica sitting on his face and his own moans of agony, “outside of doing some nasty shit, you fuckers have only lost a few minor body parts.  Maybe I should make this film about medieval torture.”

Glen didn’t say a word as he began sucking on Bob’s dick again.

Speaking with a British accent, Seth announced, “That’s the spirit, ol’ chap.”

After a few more minutes of fellatio, Seth motioned to Travon.  “Come here.”

He eased up to the bars like a scolded dog.

Seth held up a can of expanding foam.  “I want you to make Bob’s dick as big as possible for your buddy Glen.”

“Why me?”

“If I let him do it, he’ll fuck it up on purpose, or make sure it’s not fully pumped up.  Do you think you can handle that?”

He nodded and flashed a disturbed expression.

“Good.”  Seth pointed to the nozzle, indicating the tip had been cut at a sharp angle.  “You can shove this down the center of Bob’s dick, from the tip to the base.  But you can’t simply shove it down his piss tube since it runs along the bottom of his shaft.  You’ll need to force the tip straight down the center of his dick through the corpora cavernosa tissue.”  He tossed him the can.  “And if you fuck this up, I’ll make Glen fuck you instead of Bob.”

Travon was irritated at the idea of handling Bob’s penis, but, at the same time, relieved he wasn’t in Glen’s predicament.  As he knelt next to Bob with the can, Glen stood off to the side, frowning as he pouted.  “This shit ain’t right, dude.”

“I’m just doin’ what I’m told.”

“Aren’t you being a good house nigga’.”

Travon arose.  “What the fuck did you say?”

“You heard me.”

Seth intervened before they got into it.  “Travon!  That dick ain’t goin’ to fill itself up.”

Travon was so furious he was foaming at the mouth, and the only thing holding him back was Seth and the knowledge he’d be punished again if he attacked Glen.  “Please let me fuck this bitch up?”

“You’ll get the opportunity to do it later.”

“I wanna do it now.”

“Let Glen enjoy riding that cock first.”

Eyeing Glen, Travon grinned wickedly as he knelt next to Bob.  “I’m gonna turn this motherfucker into Long Dong Silver.”  Travon was referring to the porn star who sported a massive cock.

“Fuck you, house boy.”

Seth saw Travon’s eyes narrow after Glen’s comment.  “He’s just tryin’ to goad you into a confrontation so he won’t have to fuck Bob.”

Travon grasped the clammy, dead piece of flesh and shoved the nozzle straight down the center, and as he began pumping in the foam, he sarcastically laughed.  “Yeah, Glen, dis shit is gonna be all up in yo’ faggot ass.  I’m gonna make it so big, yo’ won’t shit right fo’ a month.”

As the organ inflated like a balloon, a combination of resentment and anger engulfed Glen.  “You’re a fucking black prick, you know that?”

Travon seemed to be taking a real interest in filling up the penis, meticulously ensuring the entire length had an equal amount of foam.  “Yeah, you gonna like this shit all up in that ass.”

“That’s right.  Do what the masta’ says.”

As Travon topped off the penis, which was now the size of a banana, Seth laughed as he eyed Glen.  “Not quite as big as Long Dong Silver’s cock, but I’m sure you’ll still enjoy it.”

Glen experienced intense nausea as he gazed at the gray-colored, lifeless organ.  “Dude, you made your point.  I’ll cooperate.”

“Too late for that shit.  It’s time to ride to Bob.”

“Why do you want me to do that?  It’s fucking stupid.  And stop referring to him as Bob.  It’s a fucking corpse.”

Seth enjoyed fucking with lowlifes as much as he did torturing them.  “You’re gonna hurt Bob’s feelings.”

“You’re fucking insane.”

“Maybe, but at least I’m not going to be a one-eyed corpse fucker.”

“What does that mean?”

After Seth forced Glen to pop out his right eye with a shoehorn, which prompted a complete attitude adjustment, he tossed him a plastic tube.  “That’s for Bob so he doesn’t get blisters on his dick.”

As blood ran down the side of Glen’s face, he glanced at the name on the bottle that read, Hole Lotion for Faggots.  After enduring the brutality of being shocked to the point he ripped out his own eye, he lost his will to fight.  Now that his spirit was broken, he remained silent as he knelt next to Bob and began applying the lubricant to his penis.

“Make sure you lather it up good.  Bob likes it real slippery.”

Without being instructed, Glen climbed on top of Bob, placed a knee on each side of the hips while facing his feet, and began working the decayed dick into his ass.

“Ah.  You’re goin’ with reverse cowgirl.  Interesting choice.”

Glen ignored Seth’s belittling comments as he began riding the dick.

“Damn, boy.  Looks like you’ve done that before.”

Humiliated beyond belief, he lowered his head and closed his eye.  As he rode Bob, his mind flooded with thoughts of vengeance.  In life, Glen had always been a predator, the aggressor, the abuser, and a taker.  On the streets, he was feared.  In prison, respected.  Now he found himself being bullied, disrespected, and chastened, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.  Playing the part of the victim, or the prey, was a hard pill to swallow, and contemplating his vengeance consumed every fiber of his being.

Last Man Standing

Now with Glen riding Bob and Randy in a threesome, Seth motioned to Travon.  “You’re up, pal.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re the only one who’s not fucking, and Kyle wanted to get some group sex on film.”

Kyle shook his head as he operated the camera.  “Bullshit!  You can cut their throats right now as far as I care.”

Seth laughed as he eyed Travon.  “Well, maybe not, but nevertheless, you need to join the party.”

“Do I really have to?”

“Don’t start whining.”

“Come on, man.  I’ve been cooperating.  I deserve some mercy.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah.”

“And what would be considered merciful?”

“I shouldn’t have to do anything that’s fucked up.” 

“That depends on what your definition of ‘fucked up’ is.”

“You know….”  He pointed at Glen.  “…that kind of shit.”  He motioned toward Randy.  “Or like that.”

“What about letting Justin ram you in the ass with his dick?”

Travon gawked at Justin’s left arm.  “I don’t think so.”

“How about Kim?  She’s not doin’ shit right now.”

He studied the woman as she sat Indian-style on the filthy mattress while the other two women rode Randy.  “Naw, man.”

“Why not?  Do you not like women?”

“I’m not fallin’ for that shit like Randy did.”

“Well, everyone else is busy, so Justin and Kim are your only choices.”

Glen rose to his feet with a look of disgust plastered across his face.  “Oh my God!  I can’t believe this shit!”

When Barry noticed Bob’s penis was missing, he erupted into laughter.  “Check that out!  Bob’s dick broke off in Glen’s ass!”

As Glen fingered his rear end, trying to remove the severed dick, maggots began falling from his anus.  The situation was so disconcerting, it launched Glen into a tirade, and as he glared at Seth with a look of detestation, he exclaimed, “This is your fault, you twisted bastard!”

When Kyle noticed the hole left in Bob’s crotch overflowed with maggots, he leaned forward resting his hands on his knees and began gagging.  “Dude!  This is fuckin’ sick.”

In a desperate attempt to dislodge the dick from his ass, Glen squatted, and as he strained to produce a bowel movement, maggots tumbled to the floor.  “It’s fucking stuck, you asshole!”

Seth exploded into laughter as he watched Glen struggling to shit and wearing a look of repulsion.

“It’s not funny, you fucking prick!”  A moment later, the rotted organ fell out of his ass, plopping to the floor followed by a wad of maggots.  Furious, Glen stormed to the front of the cell and gripped the bars.  “I’m going to kill you for this, you fucking prick!”

Seth glanced at Travon as he stood in the back of the cell.  “Remember when I said Justin and Kim were your only choices?”

“Yeah.”

“Now that Glen is done pleasuring Bob, you can fuck him if you like.”

Before Glen could react, Travon was on him like a savage.  After Travon slung him to the floor, he then commenced beating him ground-and-pound style.  Once he was dazed and beaten into submission, Travon forced Glen into the doggy-style position and began fucking him in the ass, and as he donkey-punched him, he shouted, “Who’s the fuckin’ house nigga’ now, bitch?”

Barry glared at Glen as Travon pumped his ass and continued punching him in the back of the head.  “You were talkin’ all that shit earlier, calling me names and saying that Seth used me as a pocket pussy.  Now look who’s being used as a pocket pussy, you fucking one-eyed prick.”

Glen was so humiliated and beat down he didn’t say a word as he gazed at the floor.

“Look at me.”

He didn’t respond.

“I have something important to tell you.”

He still didn’t respond.

“If you don’t look at me, I’ll get Seth to make you suck Travon’s dick.”

Hatred was etched across his face as he raised his head.  “What?”

“Ass: the other vagina.”

“That’s the shit you wanted to say to me?  Fuck you and your chickenshit comments!”

About that time, Travon began rapidly pumping Glen’s ass, then a moment later, his body shook as he moaned.  Barry erupted into laughter when he saw Travon sporting an ‘O’ face, the sign of sexual pleasure.  “Oh my God!  Travon just came in Glen’s ass.”

Glen peered over his shoulder and glared at Travon.  “What the fuck did you do?”

“Nothin’.”

“You fuckin’ faggot!  I can’t believe you did that!”

Confused, Kyle looked at Seth with a puzzled expression.  “How is that possible?”

“As Glen said, Travon must be a fag.”

“Not that.  He doesn’t have the outer skin around his balls.”

“Apparently, that doesn’t matter.”

Filled with rage, Glen reached between his legs, grasped Travon’s testicles, and pulled forward.  With his spermatic cords stretched, Travon was forced to hold his crotch against Glen’s rear end.  “Let go of my fuckin’ nuts!”

“Fuck you, asshole!”

“I said let go!”

“No.”

As the two men remained locked together like two dogs in a copulatory tie, an idea came to Seth.  Peering at Justin, he held up his left arm and made a fist, jabbed it forward a few times to mimic penile thrusting, then pointed at Travon.  “You’re up.”

Justin poured milk all over his arm, then knelt behind Travon.

Horrorstruck, Travon helplessly glared over his shoulder as he was bound to Glen.  “You better not touch me, you fuckin’ creep!”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“That’s a lie!  You don’t have to do it!”

“Sorry, man.  I’ll be punished if I don’t.” 

In a panic, Travon began slapping Glen on the back.  “Let me go!”

“No.”

With his dick buried inside Glen’s ass, Travon couldn’t move sideways or stand up.  “Come on, man!  I need to stop this motherfucker!  He’s gonna stick his arm in my ass!”

Originally, Glen was holding onto Travon’s nuts as an act of self-defense, but now it was for revenge.  “Good.  It’s what you get for raping me.”

Travon’s eye was huge as he gawked at Justin’s arm.  An arm that had been transformed into a massive dildo.  “If you touch me with that, I’ll fuckin’ kill you!”

Justin doused Travon’s ass crack with milk.

“What the fuck, man?  Why are you pouring that shit on me?”

“Just go with it.”

“Just go with it?  I’m not fuckin’ gay.”

“Nor am I.”

“Then don’t do it.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll try to make it sexy as possible.”

“Sexy?  What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Justin began caressing Travon’s anus with the end of his stub.  “Does this feel good?”

In a panic, Travon leaned forward, reached under Glen, and grabbed the arm of the hand latched onto his testicles.  “Let go, you fuckin’ prick!”

“I said no.”

When he tried to jerk the arm loose, it pulled his spermatic cords, stretching them even further.  “Come on, man!  Don’t do this!”

As Justin worked the helmet-shaped end of his arm into Travon’s ass, Travon clinched his butt cheeks as tight as he could.  “You’re fuckin’ hurting me!”

“You need to relax, baby.”

“I’m not your fuckin’ baby, you sick fuck!”

With the first part of his stub inside Travon, he began twisting it back and forth as he eased it in deeper.  “Damn, dude.  You’re nice and tight.”

“I’m going to kill you for this, you sick fuck!”

“Man, this feels so good.”

“You are so fuckin’ dead!”

“You know you like it.”

About that time, Justin’s entire lower arm slipped inside Travon’s ass.  Feeling helpless, debased, and worthless, Travon gazed at Seth with a look of sadness.  “Please make him stop.”

“Now you know how the women felt while you raped them.”

“I’ve learned my lesson.  Please make him stop.  I’m begging you.”

“That’s not happening.”

“Come on, man.  He’s violating my rights.”

“Really, Travon?  A rapist whining about his rights being violated.”

Now that Justin had his arm fully inserted, he began stroking Travon’s ass, slowly at first, eventually working up to a fast rhythm.  “My guts feel like they're being ripped apart.”

“Good.”

In a desperate attempt to break Glen’s grip, Travon tried to push him off his knees and onto his stomach, but Glen jerked on his testicles.  “I’m not letting go, so stop tryin’ to get free.”

For no reason at all, Justin poured milk on top of Travon’s head, soaking his afro.

Travon couldn’t believe the situation he found himself in.  “What the fuck is wrong with this dude?  Get him the fuck away from me!”

Justin leaned forward as he stroked Travon’s ass and licked some milk from the back of his neck.

Erupting into a fit of rage, Travon began punching Glen in the back.  “I’ve had enough of this shit!  Let go of me, now!”

“No.”

“I’m going to kill your ass when I get loose!”

“You ain’t gonna do shit, you fuckin’ prick.”

As the men argued, Seth motioned to Kyle.  “Get a close-up of these fuckers.  I want to make sure their mothers recognize them.”

Kyle zoomed in, getting a close-up of Glen holding onto Travon’s nuts, Travon’s dick buried in Glen ass, and Justin’s arm ramming Travon from behind.  All three men had different facial expressions.  Glen sported a look of revulsion, Travon’s expression exuded pain and humiliation as milk drizzled down his face, and Justin was making a sexy face as if he enjoyed sodomizing Travon.  Kyle shook his head as he watched the screen on the camera.  “This is some depraved shit you’ve created.”

“I’m glad you appreciate it.”

Feeling more shame than he’d ever experienced in his life, Glen peered at Seth as he held himself up on one arm while holding onto Travon’s nuts with his other hand.  “Please turn off the camera.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want my mom, or any of these other people who are watching, to see me like this.”

“Like what?  A rapist who’s being punished?”

“You’ve gotten me back.  That should be enough.”

“I don’t think a little anal action and a missing eye is nowhere near enough.”

“You did a lot more than that.  You made me suck on that corpse and—”

“His name is Bob.”

“You made me suck Bob and ride his dick until it broke off in my ass.  And I got maggots inside me.  And you made me eat shit and suck on Justin’s udder.”

“I’m glad you’re keeping score, but that’s still not enough.”  Seth motioned to Patricia and Monica.  “I need Randy to come join his buddies.”  When they dismounted, Randy’s skin tone exhibited a bluish hue, his lower body was covered in blood, and his face was coated with pus and vaginal secretions.  Seth studied him for a moment as he lay motionless.  “Is he fuckin’ dead?”

Kim shook him a few times, then looked at Seth and shrugged her shoulders.

“Randy!  Are you faking?”

He remained quiet as he lay still.

“If you’re playing opossum, I’ll cut off you fuckin’ head.”

He didn’t respond.

Seth opened the cell and strolled up to the filthy mattress to check for himself.

Travon looked over his shoulder at Justin.  “Go take Seth out.”

“Fuck that.”

“Dude!  He’s right there.”

“It’s not worth the risk.”

“Look what he’s done to you.  Aren’t you pissed?”

“Yeah, but it’s better than what’s happening to you right now.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Me too.  I’m not risking my ass being fucked with a giant dildo.”

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot.”  Travon shook Glen’s back to get his attention.  “Here’s your chance to take him down.”

“I’m not letting go of your nuts, so stop asking.”

“Come on, dude.  We have a chance to get free.”

“I agree with Justin.  It’s not worth the risk.”

“You two are fuckin’ pussies.”

Suddenly, a scream echoed out followed by loud gurgling.  Horror overcame the men when they saw Seth cutting into Randy’s neck while he was still alive.  After Seth severed Randy’s head, he held it by the hair as he approached the men.  “The next person who plays opossum gets their fuckin’ head cut off too.”

A tear rolled down Glen’s face as he gazed at Seth.  “I can’t believe you killed my friend.”

Seth ignored him as he motioned to the women.  “Get the fuck out of here.  These faggots don’t like pussy.  And don’t forget the mattress.  I have some new meat comin’ in a few days.”  Seth followed them out of the cell as they dragged the mattress on its side, then closed and locked the door.

Travon glared over his shoulder at Justin.  “You can stop now.”

“No can do.”

“My friend just died.”

“So.”

“So?  You need to show some fuckin’ respect.”

“You didn’t even like that motherfucker.”

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“I’m just doin’ what I’m told.”

“I think you just like sodomizing dudes, you fucking homo.”

“You have a lot of room to talk with your dick buried in your buddy’s ass.”

“This isn’t my fault.  He’s holding onto my balls.”

“You dumbfuck.  He grabbed you because you were raping him.  And that was your choice.  Seth didn’t make you do it.  And you even blew your load in his ass.  So, who’s really the homo?”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about.”

“Even Seth thinks you’re a homo.”

As Travon and Justin argued, Glen felt nauseated watching Seth put Randy’s head in an ice box.  “I thought we had a chance to get out of here alive.”

“And y’all do.”

“Then why did you kill Randy?”

“Because he wasn’t willing to participate anymore.”  Seth approached the bars and addressed the men.  “Fucky fucky time is over.”  He tossed two fencing sabers into the cell.  “Last man with a dick wins!”

In an attempt to obtain both sabers, an obvious tactical advantage, Glen began crawling toward the weapons while dragging Travon.  Justin moved in tandem with them as he continued stroking Travon’s ass.  A few feet away, Travon dug his knees into the floor as he pulled back on Glen’s hips.  “Let me go, you fuckin’ prick!  I know what you’re tryin’ to do.”

To keep Travon subdued, Glen pulled harder on his testicles, stretching his spermatic cords to the point of breaking.  “Fuck you!”

“When I get loose, I’m going to fuckin’ kill you!”

Unexpectedly, Glen’s arm snapped forward, and when he gazed into his hand and saw two oblong objects, he quickly scrambled to the sabers and picked them up.

Now free, Travon shoved Justin backward, dislodging his arm from his ass, then rose to his feet as he boiled with anger.  “You’re fuckin’ dead, freak!”

Before Justin could react, Travon kicked him in the udder, and when he hunched over from the pain, he struck him with an uppercut, knocking him onto his ass.  As Justin sat dazed, Travon turned his attention to Glen.  “You’re next, you fuckin’ prick!”

Holding a saber in each hand, Glen pointed one at him.  “Come on over here, asshole, and I’ll stab your ass.”  Feeling cocky, he threw the severed testicles at Travon, striking him in the chest.  “See what happens when you fuck with me.”

At first, Travon wasn’t sure what Glen had thrown at him until he looked at the floor and saw two oblong items, followed by an examination of his crotch.  “You sorry motherfucker!  You ripped off my balls!  You’re fuckin’ dead!”  Before Glen could react, Travon rushed him and jerked one of the sabers from his grasp.  Both men equipped with a weapon, they began a standoff and sized each other up.  As they contemplated their next move, they held the weapon in one hand and protected their erect cock with the other.  Travon acted first, striking Glen across the face.  That led to both men chaotically whipping each other as they guarded their most-prized organ.  Their performance was sloppy, amateurish, and awkward, similar to two kids sword fighting with sticks.  As they thrashed each other’s body, the blades etched red lines into their skin.

“Hey, dumbasses.  I said, last man with a dick wins.  Not the man with the least number of welts.”

Since they ignored the comment, Seth tossed Justin a saber.  “Show these fuckers how it’s done.”

Justin approached Travon, who had his back to him, and yelled, “En garde, motherfucker!” right before he smacked him across the ass.  The impact was so hard, the blade left a bloody gash in his flesh. 

Travon spun around with a startled expression.  “You little bastard!  I’m going to fuck you up!”

Justin motioned to Glen for him to stand down.  “I want this fucker for myself.”

Travon smiled as he prepared to strike back.  “You are so—”

Before Travon could finish his sentence, Justin poked him in his right eye, the only one left.  The pain was so excruciating, Travon dropped his saber and covered his eye socket as he shrieked in anguish.  Justin showed no mercy as he quickly struck him in the throat.  Travon released his penis and clutched his neck as he gasped for air.  With his guard down, Justin lunged forward, and in one swift motion, whacked Travon’s dick in half.

Seth laughed.  “Now, that’s how it’s done.”

After Travon, wailing in agony, fell to the floor, Justin faced Glen as he assumed the on-guard position.  “Let’s see what you got, prick!”

Frightened, Glen quickly moved backward as he regarded Seth.  “I don’t want to do this!  Please back him off!  I’ll do anything you want!  Just name it!”

Seth raised his hand, gesturing for Justin to hold up, and eyed Glen.  “Suck all the blood from Travon until he’s dead.”

“How do I do that?”

“Use his straw.”

Glen started to ask what that meant until his eye locked on the sight of the remaining half of Travon’s dick.  “If I do that, do I get to live?”

“Did you do what you were told the first time?”

“Yes.”

“Then you have your answer.”

As Glen held Travon down and sucked mouthfuls of blood from his penis, the rumbling sound of loud exhaust echoed throughout the building.  A moment later, a woman pulled up on a motorcycle. 

Barry looked at Seth.  “Who in the fuck is that?”

“Missy.”  Seth strolled over to Kyle and handed him the remote.  “I’m outta here.  When Glen gets done with Travon, bash his head in with a hammer.”

“What about the women?”

“Put them back in the cell.”

“And Justin?”

“Take him to my workshop.”

Glen’s eye opened wide as blood dripped from his chin.  “Hold up, man!  You said I would get to live.”

“Yeah, if you did what you were told the first time.”

“I sucked Bob.  I rode him.  I even sucked Travon’s dick.  I ate shit and drank that disgusting milk from Justin’s udder.  I did everything you asked.”

“That’s why your fuckin’ eye is laying over there on the floor.”

“What does that mean?”

“Sure doesn’t mean you did what you were told the first time.”

“You didn’t say anything about doing it the first time.”

Seth held up his cell phone and played a recording.  Listen, guys.  If you do what you’re told the first time, you’ll get to live.  “I recorded that for the sake of argument.”

“Hold up, man!  You tricked me.  That’s not fair.”

“I’m sure the woman you raped, Denise, didn’t think what you did to her was fair either.”

“But I also won.”  He pointed at Travon’s body, indicating that he was missing the majority of his penis.  “I still have mine.”

“You sure do.”  Seth tossed a trophy into the cell. 

When Glen picked it up, he noticed the base was made of wood, and on top stood a bronze man with an erect penis.  He then noticed the plaque read, Last Man Standing.  “You sorry motherfucker.  You planned this from the beginning.  You already knew none of us were going to get out of here alive.”

Seth glanced at Kyle.  “I just remembered, Barry told Glen earlier he was going to get his cock ripped off at the root, so make sure that happens.”

“Will do.”

Seth strolled over to the motorcycle and sat bitch, and as the bike pulled away, he threw Glen the bird as he stood behind the bars with a sullen expression.

1,439 Minutes

The glaring lights from above irritated Barry’s eye as he sat propped up in a corner of a small enclosure.  The sides and back of the enclosure were constructed of plywood, and fluorescent lights and a door made up the top.  The front consisted of thick glass, and the bottom was covered with hay.  On one side of the enclosure hung a water bottle typically used for guinea pigs, and a feed trough was mounted on the other side.  The structure, which resembled something between a rabbit hutch and a fish aquarium, was perched on top of a metal stand with legs, and the unit sat in the center of an empty room.  The room had no windows, and the walls, floor, ceiling, and a door were painted a dull gray, a gloomy and depressing color.  The only thing in the room besides the enclosure was a wall-mounted clock, which was also gray in color.  Everything inside his cage was gray as well, except for the hay he lay upon.

Barry’s entire body was riddled with bruises and large, swollen welts, and as he sat gazing through the glass, he peered at the clock hanging on the wall.  The clock’s hands seemed to be moving in slow motion.  Even the second hand took forever to snap to the next moment in time.  Being turned into a limbless monstrosity was something he could bear, but the monotony of living in a confined space with no human interaction was excruciatingly painful.  He despised solitude.  And to make it even worse, his only view of the outside world was a gray clock on a gray wall in a gray room.

Currently, it was 5 p.m.  He had fifteen more minutes until he would be able to feel again.  It was a feeling that most people would find tremendously unpleasant, but for him, it was better than the unbearable and agonizing boredom of being caged like an animal.  An animal that the world had forgotten about, except for its daily feeding.  Even death would be welcome over this lonely existence.

Barry actually dreaded 5:15 p.m., but not as much as the other 1,439 minutes of solitude that made up rest of the day.  Without arms and legs, he couldn’t even escape, leaving him condemned to live the rest of his life as a slug.  A slug trapped in a jar.

Suddenly, the sound of a door opening and closing broke the silence.  Barry glanced at the clock and realized it was 5:15 p.m.  As he sat trembling, he watched in dismay as Kenneth Evans approached the enclosure.  When he opened the top, Barry gazed up at him with a saddened expression.  “Please talk to me.  I’m begging you.  Just say anything.”

As Kenneth popped a lid off a large can labeled Slug Food, Barry began shaking his head as tears flowed from his only eye.  “No, no, no!  Please don’t do it!  I’m sorry for what I did to you!  Please have mercy!”

Kenneth didn’t say a word as he sprinkled scorpions on top of Barry.  As soon as the arachnids came into contact with his body, they immediately drove their stingers into his flesh, instantly producing extreme agony. 

From previous experience, Barry knew any movement would only provoke the scorpions to sting more than once, so he just sat in anguish while enduring the pain.  Around a minute later, the majority of the scorpions had wandered off, burying themselves in the hay, while leaving him with newly-formed welts.  But then in another 1,439 minutes from now, he was going to undergo the same grueling experience again, but that one minute of agony was the only time he actually felt alive.  During the 1,439 minutes of excruciating boredom, he longed for the one minute of agony.  During the one minute of agony, he prayed for the boredom.  This was his new world.  His personal hell on earth.  For him, being condemned to live the rest of his life in solitude was the worst thing imaginable.  Seth was right.  There are things worse than death.

Shenanigans

In Denver, Colorado, a delivery truck stopped at a house in the suburbs.  As the driver unloaded a wooden crate, the size of a washing machine, in the driveway, Agent Arnold came marching up.  “Hold up, fella.  You have the wrong address.”

The driver pulled a sheet of paper from his back pocket and glanced at the address.  “Is this 2505 Shady Trail?”

“Yeah, but I haven’t ordered anything.”

“Are you Thomas Arnold?”

“Yeah, but like I said, I haven’t ordered anything.”  Thomas noticed the crate had LIVE ANIMALS stenciled on the sides, and above the writing were a row of two-inch-diameter holes.  “You can’t leave this here.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, pal, but I can’t take it back with me.”  He handed Thomas the delivery sheet, then continued unloading the crate.

“I’m an FBI agent, and I’m telling you to stop right now.”

“I know you’re an agent.  It says it right there on the paper.”  After he dropped the crate onto the ground, he held out a pen.  “Sign at the bottom.”

“I’m not signing anything.”

“Suit yourself.”

As the man climbed back in his truck, Thomas held out his hands.  “What the hell is even in the box?”

“Can’t you read?  It says live animals.”

“I know what it fuckin’ says.  What kind of animals?”

“How in the hell would I know?”

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Not my problem, pal.”

As the man drove away, Thomas peeked into one of the holes, noticing movement in the dark.  Intrigued, he tapped on the side of the crate to see if he could get the animal to respond.  A moment later, a white furry object brushed up against the air hole.  Now even more curious, he hurried to the garage and quickly returned with a flashlight.  When he shined the light into one of the holes, the animal was too close, only allowing Thomas a glimpse of its furry side.  He scurried to another hole, and when he peeked in, the animal had moved and was blocking his sight again.  Thomas moved to a third hole, and the same thing happened.  That’s odd, he thought.  Whatever it is, it must be attracted to the light. 

To get a better look, he moved to the opposite side of the crate, and as the light illuminated the inside of the box, he was able to get a peek at a white, baby alpaca before its body blocked his view again.  Now excited—he loved alpacas—Thomas rushed back to the garage for a crowbar.  As he eagerly pried open the corner of the crate, he could see the alpaca’s eyes gleaming in the darkness, gazing back at him.  “Don’t worry, cutie.  Papa is gonna get you out of this itchy box.”  As soon as the corner busted open, a large, stuffed alpaca came popping out before tumbling to the ground.  Baffled, Thomas stumbled backward, and as his brain tried to comprehend what had happened, Justin came barreling out of the crate wearing only a white turban and a vest made of dynamite.  Before Thomas could react, Justin tackled him, knocking him onto his back, and as he held him down, he began tea-bagging him in the face with his udder as he shouted, “Allahu Akbar!  Allahu Akbar!  Allahu Akbar!”

Thomas couldn’t believe what was happening, and as his face was being slathered with milk, he feared the dynamite would explode any moment.  “Please don’t do this!  I don’t want to die!”

To Thomas’s horror, Justin sprang from him like a kangaroo, and as he hovered over him, he grabbed a cord that was attached to the vest.  Thomas raised his hands in a defensive manner as he wailed, “Oh my God!  Please don’t do it!  I’m begging you!”

“Allahu Akbar, dickhead!”

Thomas closed his eyes as his body was pummeled by shrapnel.  Or was it shrapnel?  There wasn’t even a boom.  When he sat up and opened his eyes, he noticed his body was surrounded by rubber dicks.  At that moment, he realized the vest hadn’t been made of dynamite, but dildos, and when Justin pulled the cord, they had unraveled from each other and rained down on upon him.  When he looked for Justin, he caught a glimpse of him hightailing it down the street right before he disappeared around a corner.  Boiling with anger, Thomas gritted his teeth as he mumbled to himself, “Damn you, Seth!  Fuck you and your fuckin’ shenanigans!  I don’t care how long it takes me, but you’re going down!”

To be continued...

Book Seven – Brutality

Minor-Attracted People

In Jacksonville, Florida, Randy Moore slouched in a chair in a waiting room while displaying a look of aggravation.  Just released from prison for child molestation, this was his first visit to the probation office.  Wearing gray sweatpants, a white tank top, and sandals, Randy was thirty-four years old, around six-feet tall with a chubby physique, sported red hair fashioned into dreadlocks, freckles riddled his pale skin, and a red mustache topped off his already peculiar appearance.  As he exuded a sex-offender vibe, he surfed the internet for child porn on his cellphone as he waited to see his parole officer.

At the age of twenty-three, Randy began molesting his ten-year old niece.  Two years later he impregnated her, followed by an investigation, then his arrest.  A DNA test proved Randy was the father and he was found guilty of child molestation.  After serving nine years out of a fifteen-year sentence, he was released early for good behavior.

A few minutes later, a woman called out his name.  “Randy Moore!”

He quickly shoved his phone in his pocket.  “Yeah!”

“Mr. Barnett will see you now.”

Randy swaggered into a small office and plopped in a chair.  “When do you want me to piss in a cup?”

Sitting at a desk, Andrew Barnett, an older man with a bald head and thick mustache, opened a folder and began reviewing some documents.  “Just sit there and be quiet.”

“I’ve been holdin’ my piss all mornin’ and need to take a leak.”

“You can relieve yourself when we’re done.”

“I’ve got to go really bad.  And I mean bad.”

Aggravated, Andrew pointed toward the door.  “There’s a restroom around the corner.”

Randy quickly left the room.  When he came back, he slouched in his chair while displaying a look of aggravation.  “If I’m not required to take a drug test, I’m not going to hold my piss anymore.”

“Since this is your first visit, I need to go over the conditions of your probation.  Before we start, I would like to record this conversation to ensure your rights are protected.  Do you consent to being recorded?”

“That’s fine.”

Andrew sat a plastic container on his desk.  “Item number one; random drug testing will be performed.  You’ll need to leave a sample before you leave.”

Randy’s eyes narrowed.  “Why didn’t you tell me that before I took a piss?”

Andrew slid a checklist over to him.  “Item number two; you cannot have any contact with the victim, or the child you fathered.”

“I’m sure you hear it all the time, but I was falsely accused of that.  And that kid isn’t mine.”

“I’m not here to debate your innocence or guilt.”  Andrew glanced at Randy’s file for a moment.  “A DNA test did confirm the child is yours.”

“I don’t know how that’s possible.  I’m not a child molester.  Maybe she got my jizz off the toilet seat or somethin’.”

Being a probation officer for almost three decades, Andrew dealt with a lot of scumbags and lowlifes who claimed they were innocent, but Randy’s jizz off the toilet seat comment was a first.  “It doesn’t work that way, son.  And I’ve already told you, I’m not here to debate your innocence or guilt.”  He pointed at his own copy of the checklist.  “Item three; you’ll have a mandatory curfew between 10 PM and 6 AM.”

“I can do that, I guess.”

“You guess?  If you violate any of the conditions of your parole, your probation can be revoked, and you’ll go back to prison and serve out the remainder of your sentence.”

“Naw, dude.  I got this.”

“It’s Mr. Barnett, not dude.”

“Sorry, man.  No disrespect intended.”

Andrew possessed a no-nonsense demeanor, and he didn’t have much patience for sex offenders.  “Item four; you cannot live within one-thousand feet of a park, playground, school or day care.”

“I don’t.”

“Item five; you will need to register as a sex offender.”

“I want to talk to you about that.  I don’t identify as a sex offender, child molester or predator, and frankly, I find those labels offensive.”

“Really?  So, what would you consider yourself?”

“A MAP.”

“What the hell is that?”

Randy handed Andrew a pamphlet.  The front page displayed a flag with pastel colors of blue, red, yellow, purple, and pink; colors usually reserved for babies.  Across the center of the flag was written, Minor-Attracted People and Their Pursuit of Dignity.  When he flipped open the pamphlet, he scanned the message, Minor-Attracted People (MAPs) are individuals whose sexual and romantic preferences often draw them to underage people.  Minor-attraction is an orientation, and it is not chosen by the individual and usually reveals itself during puberty.  We are all born with a predetermined sexual preference, meaning, MAPs didn’t choose their sexual preference no more than others get to choose their sexual preference and they shouldn’t be judged for it.

MAPs are often misunderstood and are victims of misinformation and discrimination.  It’s often believed that they are dangerous, untrustworthy, and less human than everyone else.  Many people are frightened by MAPs, including trained counselors, and they are often ostracized for their urges.  A majority of MAPs lead lives of isolation due to prejudice, resulting in mental health challenges, such as depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts.  MAPs are people too, and their pursuit for dignity shouldn’t be disregarded.  When Andrew finished reading the pamphlet, he nonchalantly tossed it in a trashcan and picked up where he left off.  “Item six; you may not volunteer….”

An angered expression formed on Randy’s face.  “Hold up, man!  That was my personal property you threw away.  And I was tryin’ to talk to you about that.”

“Don’t interrupt me again.”

“Okay.  But you didn’t even comprehend what I was tryin’ to get across to you.”

“I got it.  Now sit there and be quiet.”  Andrew continued.  “Item six; you may not volunteer, or work for pay, at any place where children gather, including daycares, schools, parks, playgrounds, libraries, zoos, pet stores, theme parks, and malls.  Item seven; you may not obtain or use a P.O. box without my approval.  Item eight; you will be subject to a polygraph test at least once a year.  Item nine; you may not view, own, or possess any pornographic or sexually stimulating material, including digital and physical media.”

“What about Penthouse magazine?  I already have a subscription.”

“Item ten; you must keep a driving log, and you’re not allowed to operate a motor vehicle alone without my approval.”

“I don’t have a car, so no problem there.”

“Item eleven; you cannot participate in any Halloween activities where children will be present.  On Halloween, you must post a sign at your residence that states ‘no candy’, all exterior light must remain off, and you cannot display any Halloween decorations.”

“But I live in an apartment complex.  I can’t control what my neighbors do.”

“Item twelve; you will need to successfully complete a sex offender treatment program.”

“Wow!  That’s ridiculous.”

“Last, but not least.”  Andrew strolled over to a closet and pulled out a large sign that incorporated red letters plastered across a bright-yellow background, then leaned it against his desk.  “You will need to display this at your place of residence at all times.”

Randy’s eyes opened wide as he glared at the four-foot wide by three-foot tall sign that read, WARNING! Randy Paul Moore is a Convicted Sexual Predator.  “Are you fuckin’ jokin’!?!”

“If it was a joke, would it be funny?”

Randy could sense Andrew took delight in his humiliation.  “You can’t expect me to do that.  It’s embarrassing as shit.”

“Displaying the sign outside of your residence is part of your probation.  If you fail to meet any of these conditions, your probation can be revoked, and you’ll go back to prison and serve out the remainder of your sentence.”

“You’ve already made that clear.  And why is it so damn big?”

“To ensure everyone will see it.”

“Naw, man.  That shit violates my rights.”

“How do you figure that?”

“It just does.”

Andrew slid his copy of the checklist to Randy.  “Sign that.”

“Why?”

“So, I’ll have proof you were informed of these conditions.”

Randy quickly scribbled his signature on the document.  “You know, I’m a person too.  This isn’t fair.”

“What you did to that young lady wasn’t fair either.”

“I already told you I was falsely accused of that.”

“If you were falsely accused, I find it kind of odd that you would be carrying around a molester handout that promotes child molestation.”

“It’s not a molester handout.  If you took the time to read it, you’d know that.”

“Oh, I got the message.”

“I don’t think you did.  And I don’t appreciate how you’re treating me.  I have rights like everyone else.”

“Send a complaint to the molester protector.”

“Wow!  Someone needs to knock you off your pedestal.”

Andrew began writing in his folder.

“What are you writing down?”

“I’m keeping track of your threats and lack of cooperation.”

“That will be my word against yours, dude.”

Andrew nodded toward a wall-mounted camera.  “This conversation is being recorded.”

Randy’s eyes narrowed as he studied the camera.  “Hold up, man!  It’s illegal to record someone in Florida.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah.  I know my rights.”

“Florida does have stricter privacy laws compared to other states, and usually prohibits the recording of private conversations.”

“I told you I know my rights, and not only are you gonna lose your job for this, but I’m also gonna sue your ass.”

“But Florida does allow recording when all parties consent.”

“I didn’t consent to shit.”

“Before we started, I told you I would like to record this conversation to ensure your rights are protected.  I also asked if you consented, and you said that’s fine.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Andrew held up a remote control.  “Do you want me to play back the recording?”  He nodded toward a large flatscreen TV mounted on the wall.  “I can play it back on that eighty-five-inch screen if you like.”

Knowing he did consent, he gritted his teeth as he grumbled, “Naw, man.  I’m good.”

“That’s what I thought.”  Andrew jotted a few things down on a piece of paper, then handed it to Randy.  “I’ve added some additional conditions to your probation.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Sure, I can.  It’s at my discretion.  And because of the behavior you demonstrated here, you’ll be required to complete an anger management course.”

“Seriously?”

“And you need to undergo a psychological health assessment.”

“Why?”

“Because you might be suicidal.”

“Why in the hell would you think that?”

Andrew retrieved the pamphlet from the trash and stuck it in Randy’s file.  “Your molester handout states child molesters face mental health challenges, including suicidal thoughts.”

“Stop calling it a molester handout.  And I’m not suicidal.  It’s just a brochure I printed from the internet.”

“You’re also going to be GPS monitored.”

“I know you’re not sayin’ I have to wear one of those ankle bracelets.”

“And I’m giving you a hundred hours of community service.”

“You’re just doin’ all this because I’m not bowing down to you.”

“This meeting is concluded.  And before you leave, drop your urine sample off at the reception desk.”  As Randy walked toward the door, Andrew added, “And make sure you pay your probation fee.”

“Probation fee?  How much is that?”

“Fifty dollars.”

“I only have twenty bucks, and I need that for my ride home.”

“Nonpayment will result in a violation of your probation.”

“What am I supposed to do?  I told you I only have twenty bucks.”

“That’s not my problem.  And speaking of being broke, you’ll be required to obtain employment.”

“I’ve been trying to find a job, but no one is hiring.”

“Bullshit.  I see help-wanted signs everywhere.”

“Like where?”

“There’s plenty of construction work around town.”

“I ain’t doing that hard labor shit.”

“All the fast-food joints are hiring.”

“I’m not flippin’ patties at McFuckers.”

“Most of the local factories are hiring.”

“Naw, man.  That would be boring, and I ain’t doin’ shift work.”

“Well, laziness is no excuse, so you better have proof of employment at our next meeting.”

“I didn’t want to mention this, but I filed for disability, and if I get a job, they will deny my benefits.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You’re a typical lazy scumbag looking for free handouts.”

“You can’t insult me like that.”  Randy glanced at the camera, then grinned.  “I got your ass now.  That comment is gonna cost you your job.”

“I turned the camera off when I said this meeting was concluded.”

“You sure are a sneaky fucker.  I’m gonna talk to the judge about this.”

“Good.  And make sure you print out another molester brochure for him.  He’ll get a kick out of it too.”

Boiling with anger, Randy stormed out of the office without paying his probation fee or leaving a urine sample.  Once outside, he opened an Uber app on his phone and requested a ride.  As he lingered around on a busy sidewalk, a young secretary came out of the probation office with his yard sign.  “Mr. Barnett said you forgot your sign.”

A wave of humiliation came over him as he gawked at the woman as she struggled to hold the large sign in the wind.  “That’s not mine.”

“Mr. Barnett said if you don’t take it, he’ll have a warrant put out for your arrest.”

“Are you fuckin’ serious?”

“That’s what he said.  Can you please take it before it blows out of my hands?”

Consumed with anger, he snagged the sign.  “Just give me the damn thing.”  When she walked away, he tried to face the writing toward his body so others couldn’t see it, but to his dismay, he found it was printed on both sides.  He tried to fold it, but discovered the sign was made of laminated aluminum.  As he stood on the crowded sidewalk waiting for his Uber, people were laughing and making snide remarks as they walked past him, and some were even taking pictures of him with his sign.  “Hey!  Y’all can’t be takin’ fuckin’ pictures of me.  That’s an invasion of my privacy!”

A few minutes later, his Uber showed up, but when the driver spotted the sign, the car quickly sped away.  Frustration swept over Randy as he requested another ride.  To his annoyance, the next driver did the same thing, and as the vehicle sped away, a woman yelled out of the window, “Fuck you, pervert!”

On his third attempt for a ride, the vehicle didn’t take off.  Relief washed over him as he climbed into the back of a Nissan Cube.  With the sign taking up a large portion of the rear seat, humiliation engulfed Randy.  “My friends made this sign as a joke, and they bet me a hundred bucks that I wouldn’t take an Uber with it.”

The driver glanced into the rearview mirror as he drove down the street.  “It’s all good, man.  I’m in the same boat you’re in.  And I take it Andrew is your probation officer.”

Randy noticed the man looked like a hipster with his slick-back haircut and thick beard.  “How do you know Andrew?”

“Because he’s my P.O. too.  And those signs are his M.O.”

“Yeah, it’s fuckin’ embarrassing, especially when I didn’t do anything.  Someone saw me pissin’ behind a dumpster, and now I’m considered a sex offender.”

“Same shit happened to me.  I got drunk at a party and some lady said she saw my dick when I was pissin’ on a tree.  Our laws in this country are really fucked up.”

“I agree, man.  Decent folks like us get fucked all the time.”

Twenty minutes later, the driver pulled into a Section 8 apartment complex located in the Lavilla District.  “You take care, bro.  And don’t let Andrew’s bullshit get you down.”

“I won’t.  And I’m glad I ran across you.  It’s good to meet like-minded people.”

“I’m Mack by the way.”

“I’m Randy.”

He handed Randy his business card.  “Hit me up the next time you need a ride.”

“Will do, man.”

Madam Scatophilia

“Get your fat ass out of bed.”

Startled awake, Lindsay, a 550-pound woman in her late twenties, lifted her head from her pillow and discerned a shadowy figure positioned at the foot of her bed.  Thinking it was her boyfriend, she grumbled, “What the fuck, Zac!?!  It’s two in the mornin’!  And why did you call me fat?”

“I said get your fat ass out of bed, bitch.”

Not recognizing the intruder’s voice, panic overcame her.  “Who in the fuck are you!?!  And why are you in my fuckin’ house!?!” 

Seizing her leg, the man forcefully thrust a needle into her ankle.  She instinctively attempted to yank her foot away, the sharp pang eliciting an urgent shriek, “What the hell are you….”  Her vision faded to black.

Lindsay snapped awake, her head throbbing and vision blurred.  A wave of terror engulfed her as she realized she was naked and lying on the floor of her travel trailer.  Positioned on her back, she attempted to move her arms, but quickly discovered nails bound her hands to the floor.  Her horror deepened when she observed her legs being pulled into the spread-eagle position by ropes running between her knees and neck.  As her vision improved, she noticed her boyfriend sitting on the couch, his expression filled with apprehension.  In her desperate attempt to yell out, she discovered that sutures tightly sealed her lips together.  Simultaneously, she struggled to close her eyes, only to find that something bound her eyelids firmly to her forehead.

Zac Perry, a small and slender man in his early fifties, stood five-feet four-inches tall with a weight of around 115 pounds.  Being into rockabilly and a wannabe greaser, Zac sported a pompadour hairstyle, wore twill trousers with cuffed pantlegs, black combat boots, a white t-shirt, and a black leather jacket, the same clothes he fell asleep in after passing out drunk on the couch the previous evening.  A thin, black mustache sat perched above his top lip, pockmarks covered his bony cheeks, and thick eyebrows sat over his dark eyes.

Lindsay and Zac were definitely an odd couple, and a perfect example of opposites attract.  Three years ago, they met online through Lindsay’s FansX page, a subscription-based social media platform.  Being an unemployed felon and leech, Zac began shacking up with her in her 1976 travel trailer located in a rundown mobile home park on the outskirts of Tarrant, Alabama.

Morbidly obese and a typical freeloading scumbag, Lindsay received disability benefits, Section 8 housing, and food stamps.  Tattoos covered her fingers, hands, arms, and neck, and written in cursive script, the word BITCH draped above her left eyebrow.  Piercings lined her right eyebrow, ran around the edge of her ears, dangled from her nose, bottom lip, and chin.  She sported long black hair, wore dark eyeshadow, and bright-red lipstick.

Seth, dressed in beige combat pants and a black t-shirt, came sauntering into the living room.  He set a laptop on the coffee table, then plopped down next to Zac on the couch.  “What’s your password, Fonzie?”

With his hands tied behind his back, Zac trembled with fear as he gazed downward.  “Why are you doing this?”

Seth typed, why are you doing this, into the computer, then hit enter.  “That’s not it, asshole.”

“I know.”  Casting a glance at Lindsay, he observed the crude manner in which she had been restrained to the floor, then his eyes traveled to the stitches holding her mouth tightly closed and her eyes wide open.  “I was just asking, why are you doing this to us?”

“We’ll get to that in a moment, but first, I wanna see what kind of sick shit you two have been up to, so I need the password to your computer.”

Thinking Seth was merely a deranged fan, he muttered, “I have a USB drive with all of our videos.  I’ll give it to you if you will let us go.”

Seth removed a large knife from his waistband and sat it on the coffee table.  “I’m not asking again.  And if you don’t cooperate, I’m gonna start jabbin’ holes in you.”

“Okay, man.  No need for that.  It’s Lindsay’s hashtag.”

“Like I’m supposed to know that shit.”

“You know, bbwqueenbitch666.”

With her mouth stitched closed, Lindsay eyed Seth with a hateful expression as she growled out muffled threats.

Ignoring her outburst, Seth typed the hashtag into the computer.  “Excellent.  Now let’s see what kind of depraved shit y’all have on here.”  He opened a folder labeled FansX Videos.  “Damn!  You two have been busy.”  He scrolled through the list, selecting one that was labeled Five Gallon Shit.  “Let’s see what this one is about.”

Lindsay, also known as Madam Scatophilia, performed acts of coprophilia, a paraphilia involving sexual pleasure from feces, for her fans.  When the video started, it showed Lindsay, butt naked, sitting on top of a 5-gallon bucket while eating a slice of pizza.  Seth frowned when he detected the sound of flatulence.  “What the fuck, dude?  Is she takin’ a dump?”

Zac kept his head down while remaining quiet.

“People actually pay to watch this shit?”  He chuckled.  “No pun intended.”  Obviously, Seth already knew the depths of depravity humankind could sink to.  He also checked out Lindsay’s page when he first investigated her and knew what kind of videos they made.

Zac didn’t respond as he continued gazing downwards.

“I asked you a question, Fonzie.”

“Stop calling me Fonzie.”

“Then you shouldn’t dress like him.”

“It’s called rockabilly.”

“And what did I say would happen if you didn’t cooperate?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

Seth snagged the knife from the coffee table and jabbed it into Zac’s thigh, leaving it in place.

Zac snapped out of his daze as he belted out a bloodcurdling scream.  “Oh, my God!  Why in the fuck did you do that!?!”

“Answer my question before I stab you again.”

“Yeah, man!  People pay to watch!”  He grimaced as he gazed at the handle of the knife protruding from his thigh.  “Please get this out of my leg!”

“It’s fine where it’s at.”  Seth turned back to the laptop.  “Let’s see what other sick shit y’all have on here.”  He selected a video labeled Pooper Scooper.  Seth shook his head as he observed a man wearing a black, full-body latex suit and WW2 style gasmask standing behind Lindsay, wielding a lacrosse stick.  “Is that fuckin’ you?”

“Maybe.”

Seth reached over and turned the handle of the knife.

“Yeah, it’s me!  Please stop twisting it!”

“Then fuckin’ speak up when I ask you a question.”  Seth glanced back at the video, then frowned as Zac caught a large turd in the net as Lindsay squatted on the floor.  “You two are some sick motherfuckers.”  To Seth’s revulsion, Zac grabbed a handful of feces from the net and began rubbing it all over Lindsay’s nude body.  “Really, dude?  This is the kind of sick shit you fuckers have been doin’?”

“It’s not what you think.”

“You’re rubbing her fat ass down with shit.  What else am I supposed to think?”

“It’s only for show.  You know, for her fans.”

“They’re just as fucked up as y’all are.”  Seth clicked out of the video and began reading some of the other titles out loud.  “Cleveland Steamer, Dirty Sanchez, Hot Karl, The Alabama Hot pocket, Chicago Sunroof, The Kentucky Klondike Bar, Alaskan Pipeline.”  Seth glanced at Zac.  “I know what most of this shit is, but what is the Alaskan Pipeline?”

“It’s where you freeze, you know, a turd.”

“And what the fuck do y’all do with that?”

“It’s inside a rubber.”

“And?”

“You know.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You use it like a dildo.”

“Of, course you do.”  Seth continued reading the list.  “Dirty Thunderstorm, Panamanian Petting Zoo, Whale Tails 4 Sale.”  He paused as he regarded Zac.  “What the fuck is a whale tail?”

“Uh, her panties.”

“She refers to them as fuckin’ whale tails?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s weird.  And y’all sell them?”

“I guess.”

“You guess?  Either you fuckin’ do or you don’t.”

“Yes, we sell them.”

“Seriously?  People actually buy that shit?”

“Sometimes.”

Seth continued reading the list.  “Blumpkin, Rusty Trombone, Scat Baby.”  He glanced back at Zac.  “What the fuck is a Scat Baby?”

“Uh, that’s just the name for a small shit, you know, little nuggets.”

Detecting Zac wasn’t being truthful, Seth clicked on the video.  “Oh.  So, this one shouldn’t be that bad.”

A troubled expression came over him.  “You don’t want to watch that one.  It’s kind of stupid.”

When the clip started, it showed Lindsay laying on her back inside a baby crib wearing a diaper.  Her huge obese body completely filled the inside of the crib as her fat squeezed out between the slats.  Her enormous ass was smashed against one end with her legs sticking straight up, knees bent over the top, and her head cocked forward at the other end.  “How in the hell did you get her big ass in there?”

“I took the side off.  But this video isn’t that good.  Try one of the other ones.”

“Naw, this one looks interesting.”  Seth shook his head as he watched Zac, wearing a red Teletubby costume, change her diaper as it overflowed with shit.  “I don’t see any nuggets, as you put it.”

“I got confused.  That must be in another video.”

After Zac flipped over the diaper, he began rubbing it across Lindsay’s large tits, coating them in a layer of feces.  “Why in the fuck are you doin’ that?”

Zac lowered his head in shame.  “Man, it’s all a show, you know, for her fans.”

“You already said that.”

“You can turn if off now.”

“There’s twenty minutes left.”

“There’s nothing to see.  I just keep doing that to her, you know, rubbing her with the diaper.”

“We’ll see.”  After Zac smashed the diaper into her face, leaving a thick layer of feces across her features, and similar to shoving a cream pie in someone’s face known as pieing, Lindsay began licking the shit from around her lips.  “You nasty fuckers.  What the hell is wrong with you two?”

“Please turn it off.”

“That’s not happening.”  Seth continued watching as Zac grabbed something from a table and approached the end of the crib where Lindsay’s large ass was smashed up against the rails.  After squatting down, he began slapping her pussy with the item.  Seth moved closer to the screen to get a better look.  “What the fuck are you using on her?”

“Just a dildo.”

His eyes narrowed when he noticed the object appeared to be made of plastic and incorporated a tiny hand.  “Is that a damn arm from a baby doll?”

Ashamed, he kept his head down as he mumbled.  “Maybe.”

“I see now why you wanted me to turn it off, you fuckin’ weirdo.”  After Zac whacked her pussy with the arm twenty to thirty times, he unzipped his fly, pulled out his penis and commended to running the plastic hand up and down his shaft.  “I’m not even gonna respond to that.”  When Zac’s penis became fully erect, he rammed the arm, hand first, into Lindsay’s cunt and began stroking her.  “Of course, you’re gonna fuck her with it.”  Seth shook his head when Zac shoved his crotch against the crib and began fucking her in the ass through the slats as he stroked her pussy with the arm.  “You filthy bastard.  The bitch is covered in shit.”

He remained silent, keeping his head lowered in shame.

As the video continued playing, Zac’s voice echoed out, “Damn, girl!  You’re fillin’ my bladder with farts.”  Seth glanced back at him and frowned.  “What the hell did you just say?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“You’re gonna tell me what that means.  I’ve been around some sick bastards before, but I never heard of someone having their bladder filled up with farts.”

“It was just a joke.”

“Bullshit.  There’s more to it than that, and you better tell me.”

“Sometimes she tries to push me out… you know, when I’m inside her, and I get air inside my penis.”

“You two are a special kind of perverted.”  Seth started to click out of the video when he heard Zac exclaim, “Oh, hell yeah!  I’m all up in this sewer pipe.  Roddin’ this motherfucker out good.  Damn, girl!  Gimme those sewer gases.”  Disgusted, Seth shook his head.  “I’m not even going to ask.”  He clicked out of the video and selected the one labeled Whale Tails 4 Sale.  “Let’s check out these whale tails y’all been sellin’.”  When the video began, Lindsay, wearing only white underwear, bent over in front of the camera, then brown liquid formed in the center of her ass, staining the material, as the sound of flatulence reverberated in the speakers.  Then to Seth’s disgust, Lindsay began twerking, forcing the liquid shit to spread out across her entire ass end.  “You nasty motherfuckers.  I’ve come across some sick fucks before, but you two are a special kind of retarded.”  After Seth scanned the remaining videos, he glanced at Zac.  “Where’s the Baby Blue video?”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Sure, you do.”

With Seth inquiring about the missing video, it dawned on Zac that he wasn’t simply an obsessed fan pursuing Lindsay for his own perverse desires, but rather someone with much darker intentions.  “Who are you?  And what do you want from us?”

Seth remained silent as he began pulling items out of a large duffle bag and laying them on the coffee table.  As Zac examined the objects, including a clothes hanger, ice pick, baseball bat, bleach, and a bottle of Drano, he swiftly recognized their significance.  “Why are you showing me this stuff?”

“You already know the answer to that.”

Eleven months ago, Lindsay sought medical attention at the hospital due to experiencing unusual muscle spasms in her abdomen.  To her astonishment, she discovered that she was eight months pregnant, and the twitching sensation was a result of her baby kicking.  Surprised by the news, Lindsay and Zac were both taken aback, as Lindsay had been unaware of her pregnancy due to her weight of 550 pounds.  Not wanting kids, they pleaded with the doctor to terminate the pregnancy.  However, they soon discovered that late-term abortions in the third trimester were prohibited in Alabama unless the mother’s health was in danger, so the couple decided on self-terminating the pregnancy, all the while documenting the process for Lindsay’s fans.

Following their research on different methods, they initially attempted a mixture of bleach, vitamin C, pennyroyal, and aspirin.  When this approach proved ineffective, they decided to pierce Lindsay’s belly with an ice pick.  They did manage to stab the baby a couple of times, bursting the amniotic sac in the process, but the excruciating pain proved unbearable for Lindsay to endure and they quickly abandoned the idea.  Undeterred, they then considered the clothes hanger method.  However, they quickly realized that it would be equally agonizing.  Next, using a turkey baster, they filled her vagina with Drano.  That too deemed too painful as the drain cleaner burned her insides, resulting in them using a garden hose to flush her out.  In their desperate quest, they finally resorted to the use of a baseball bat.  As the camera recorded the event, Zac wacked Lindsay in the stomach several times as she lay on the couch.  To their surprise, the devastating impacts triggered labor.  An hour later, Lindsay gave birth while sitting on the toilet.  As Zac held the camera, spectators watched in disbelief as the child, still head down in the toilet, kicked its legs as it fought to catch a breath of air.  Lindsay severed the umbilical cord with a knife, and after waiting for the child to stop kicking, she pulled the lifeless baby boy from the toilet bowl.  With the baby exhibiting a blue skin tone, the couple referred to him as Baby Blue as they pranced around in front of the camera with their deceased infant like two hunters showing off their kill.

Two days later after uploading the video, law enforcement took the couple into custody, arresting them on charges of murder.  The subsequent trial evolved into a media circus, captivating audiences from all corners of the globe.  The couple’s defense argued that the act could not be classified as murder.  They contended that it was merely a case of self-induced abortion, emphasizing that since the fetus had never taken a breath, it did not possess the legal status of a living being.  During the trial, the prosecution, also backed by the medical examiner, claimed the child had been sodomized, but the defense maintained their stance that the fetus was not a living being and the charges for child rape could not be upheld.  Following extensive deliberation, the jury reached an impasse and failed to reach a verdict, leading to a mistrial.  Subsequently, the court made the decision not to pursue a retrial of the case.

As Zac’s gaze fixated on the items spread across the table, a feeling of doom washed over him.  “What are you planning on doing with that stuff?”

“We’re gonna give Lindsay an abortion.”

“But she’s not pregnant.”

“Not yet.”

Thinking Seth was planning on having sex with her, he grumbled, “You’re not gonna touch her.”

“First off, you’re in no position to tell me what I can and can’t do.  Secondly, I wouldn’t fuck that nasty bitch with your dick.”

“Why are you doing this to us?  I don’t even know who you are.”

“Sure, you do.”

A mixture of apprehension and dread enveloped Zac as he instinctively knew that the man seated beside him was the notorious vigilante known as the Angel of Death.  Yet, the fear of verifying this suspicion gnawed at him, for he feared that seeking confirmation would inevitably seal his own fate.  “No, I don’t.”

“Yeah, you do.  I can see it written across your face.”

“If it’s about the fetus thing, we were found not guilty of any wrongdoing.”

“That’s not exactly true.  The jury couldn’t come to an agreement, and the judge chose not to retry the case because of political pressure.”

“But the fetus never took a breath, so it wasn’t murder.  And women have the right to protect their health.”

“You’re just repeating the shit your attorneys said.  And I’m not here to debate women’s rights, or the morality of abortion.  Legally, you might have gotten away with it, but most people, regardless of their stance on abortion, would agree you two fuckers crossed the line.”

“That’s not true.”

“How many followers do you still have on your pervert page?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Don’t answer my question with a question.”

“I don’t know.  I haven’t looked.”

“Bullshit.  If you don’t tell me…”  Seth jerked the knife from Zac’s leg.  “I’m gonna start removing body parts, startin’ with your dick.”

“Uh, I don’t know, like twenty-three hundred I think.”

Seth opened the laptop and started to log in.  “That seems a little high.”

“Hold up, man.  It’s more like twenty-three.”

“Twenty-three and twenty-three hundred is a big difference.”

“I don’t know why I said that.  It was a slip of the tongue.”

“How many followers did you have before you drowned your child in the toilet?”

He lowered his head.  “Three hundred and eighty thousand.”

“So, do you still think that most people condoned your actions?”

“I guess not.”

“And which one of you sickos fucked the baby off camera?”

Caught off guard, Zac’s eyes widened as his face reddened with humiliation.  “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.  We didn’t do that.”

“Someone did, and since you’re the only one sporting a dick, I would presume it was you.”

“I would never do something like that.”

Seth pulled a document from the bag.  “You sure about that, Fonzie?”

Zac noticed the page contained his criminal record.  “Hold up, man.  I was falsely accused of that.”

“Three times?”

“Yeah.”

“Your record states you molested your eight-year-old son, fondled your sister’s kid, and child porn was found on your computer.”

“Like I said, I was falsely accused of that.”  Living within a mobile home park, Zac knew someone was always walking around at all hours of the night.   Casting a wary gaze toward the door, he recognized that reaching the exterior would grant him the opportunity to call out for help.  While his legs remained unrestricted, his hands were firmly bound behind his back, presenting a conundrum as to how he could manipulate the doorknob.

Seth began removing items from the bag and placing them on the coffee table.  “I know what you’re thinking.  There’s nowhere to run, and no one will hear you screaming.”

A wave of horror swept over Zac as he observed a small oxygen and acetylene set, limb saw, scalpels, sewing kit, I.V. bags, hoses, syringes, vials filled with different colored fluids, and other random medical supplies.  “Come on, dude.  You got me pegged wrong.  I didn’t touch the fetus.  I swear to God.”

“Stop referring to your child as a fetus, asshole.”  Seth pulled a large battery-operated pair of shears from the bag and held them up.  “Check out this bad motherfucker.”  He opened and closed the jaws a few times.  “These are similar to the Jaws of Life used in auto accidents, but I modified them to sever limbs.”

“What, like tree limbs?”

“No, like arms and legs.”

Inundated with a mixture of desperation and terror, Zac sprang from the couch like a spider monkey and dashed for the door.  Despite the constraint of his bound arms, he forcefully thrust his shoulder into the door, shattering the locking mechanism.  To his surprise, the door yielded more easily than he had anticipated.  The sheer momentum sent him hurtling forward through the air, reminiscent of Superman soaring through the sky.  After nose diving into the dirt, he quickly scrambled to his feet and began wailing, “I need help!  We’re being held hostage!”  A wave of confusion came over Zac when he realized he wasn’t in the mobile home park but in the middle of the woods.

Seth approached the door of the RV while smoking a cigarette.  “If you run, I’ll hunt your ass down.  And besides, you don’t want to leave Lindsay behind.”

“Where in the fuck am I?”

“Texas.  I moved your RV while you were out.”

“That’s not possible.  I was only asleep for a few hours, and that would have awoken me.”

“I injected you and that fat bitch with a sedative.  In fact, you fuckers have been asleep for three days.”

Without hesitating, he bolted, and as he disappeared into the darkness, Seth yelled, “What about your girlfriend, you jackass!?!”

Cat’s in the Cradle

Zac struggled to gather his senses as he awoke with a throbbing headache and obscured vision.  “Am I in the hospital?”

“No, dumbass.  You’re back in your shitty trailer.”

“Seth!?!”

“Aw!  So, you do know who I am.”

He tried to move, but his body felt numb.  “What’s wrong with me?  I can’t feel my arms and legs.”

“I shot your ass with a tranquilizer dart after you took off into the woods, but the effects should wear off soon.”

“Something isn’t right.  I feel hot, like my skin is on fire.”

“That’s just your body’s reaction to the clotting agent I injected you with.  I also gave you a hefty dose of adrenaline to keep you awake.”

“Clotting agent?  Did I get injured or somethin’?”

“Not yet.”

With his vision quickly improving, he scoured his surroundings, only to discover Lindsay lying beside him, still firmly constrained in the sadistic and crude fashion.  Beside her head stood a coatrack adorned with numerous I.V. bags suspended from its hooks.  These bags held various colored fluids, including red, green, and clear solutions.  Plastic tubing extended from each bag, leading down to multiple catheters inserted into her neck.

When he sat up, he ascertained his nudity, then he found a chain secured to his waist, the other end tethered to an anchor in the floor between Lindsay’s legs.  “Why am I naked?”  He jerked on the chain.  “And why am I tied up?”  Then he noticed a heavy object resting on his shoulders, compelling his hands to instinctively examine a thick, metal collar encircling his neck.  “What the hell is this around my neck?” 

Seth ignored him as he connected his cell phone to a home stereo system via Bluetooth.  “Have you ever heard the song, Cat’s in the Cradle by Harry Chapin?”

“I asked you a question.”

“And I asked you a question.  Do you know the song?”

“Yeah.  Now will you please tell me why I’m tied up?  And what the fuck is this around my neck?”

“There’s a phrase in that song that reminds me of you fuckers.  Can you guess which one it is?”

“I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Little boy blue and the man in the moon.  Little boy blue reminds me of the child you two murdered.”  Seth motioned toward Lindsay’s large, white ass.  “And you’re gonna be the man in the moon.”

As his vision sharpened, he discerned his video camera stood atop a tripod while his laptop illuminated a live feed streaming to their FansX page.  Between the camera and Seth’s reference to him being the man in the moon, moon being Lindsay’s ass, he now concluded Seth wanted he and Lindsay to have sex while being livestreamed.  “You’re not gonna get away with this, you sick bastard.”  He eyed the camera and shouted, “We’re being held hostage!  Please call the cops!”

Seth’s attention was drawn to a chat icon that appeared on the computer screen with the username alienprobe69.  Driven by curiosity, he clicked on the video chat option.  A person materialized before him, adorned in a vibrant body suit made of an assortment of different colored fabric.  Their face was concealed by pink cloth, featuring openings for the eyes and mouth.  Intrigued, Seth leaned closer to the screen, only to discover that the suit was fashioned out of women’s underwear, intricately sewn together with black thread.  “What the fuck?  Are you supposed to be some kind of superhero?”

Speaking in a deep voice, the man responded, his eyes revealing unmistakable traces of uncertainty.  “I hope y’all are just role playin’ or somethin’?”

Seth laughed.  “I got it!  You’re Panty Man!”

“I’m being serious.  I’ll call the cops.”

“You do that, you fuckin’ weirdo.”

“You better not harm Madam Scatophilia or Mr. Sado.”

“Who in the fuck is Mr. Sado?”

“The guy you have chained up.”

“Oh.  You’re talkin’ about Zac Perry from Tarrant, Alabama, age fifty-three.”

Zac’s eyes widened as he sat on his knees.  “Hold up, man!  Don’t tell him who I am!”

“Everyone already knows who you are, dumbass.”  Seth glanced back at the camera.  “And the fat bitch is Lindsay Przybyszewski.  They’re the fuckers who were in the news earlier this year for murdering their baby, but I’m sure you already knew that, perv.”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Sure, you don’t.”  Seth lost interest as he regarded Zac while holding up a remote control.  “Speaking of your collar, let me demonstrate how it works, but first, I need you to put these on.”  He casually tossed Zac a pair of steampunk-style goggles.

Zac scrutinized the eyewear, observing they appeared to be homemade, crafted of metal with a Kevlar strap, and incorporated glass lenses.  “What the fuck are these for?”

“To protect your eyes from the flames.”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?  What flames?”

Upon pressing the button on the remote, flames erupted from the collar, engulfing Zac’s head in an inferno.  Within mere seconds, the intense heat ruthlessly incinerated his mustache and eyebrows as the hair on his head burst into a fireball.  In a state of panic, Zac desperately clutched at the collar, attempting to remove it.  However, the searing flames scorched his fingers, intensifying his agony.  Finally, after a moment of anguish, Seth released the button, abruptly extinguishing the flames.  Zac was left wailing in agony, his skin bright red and covered in blisters, lungs burning from breathing in the hot gases, and the smoldering remnants of his hair filled the room with a foul odor.  When he caught his composure, he sat up and began rubbing his eyes.  “Oh, fuck!  My eyes are burning!”

“That’s why I gave you the goggles, jackass.  And if you don’t want your fuckin’ eyes to get burned out, I would suggest you put ‘em on.”

He raised his hands.  “Hold up, man!  Please don’t do that again!  I’ll do whatever you want!”

Approaching Zac with a sledgehammer in hand, Seth was poised to speak when a voice echoed from the computer, interrupting his thoughts.  “Hey!  I called the cops!”

Seth glanced back at the camera.  “Good for you, Panty Man.  Do ya want a fuckin’ Bucky Beaver Badge?”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It’s an old saying, same as, what do you want, a cookie?”

“This shit ain’t funny, dude.  And the cops are on their way, so you better leave while you still can.”

“Whatever, you creepy fuck.”  Seth turned his focus back to Zac.  “Anything?”

A look of confusion washed over his face.  “What are you talkin’ about?”

“You said you would do whatever I wanted if I didn’t burn you again.”

“I will.  I swear to God.”

“Excellent.”  He sat the sledgehammer on the floor next to Zac.  “First, I need you to break Lindsay’s pelvis with this.”  He tossed a large butcher knife at his feet.  “After that, you’ll cut out her female organs and remove her intestines.” 

Zac’s eyes widened, and his mouth fell agape in sheer disbelief.  “What?  You can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

“There’s no way I’d do that to Lindsay.  I love her.”

Seth thought for a moment.  “I tell you what.  I’ll make you a one-time offer.  If you take that knife and cut your throat, I’ll let her live.”

“You’re fuckin’ crazy!  I’m not killin’ myself.”

“What if I let you cut off your dick instead.”

“I’m not doing that either.”

“What about a finger?”

“No.  And stop asking me to hurt myself because it’s not going to happen.”

“Then you truly don’t love your gal pal.”

“She’s not my gal pal.  She’s my fiancé.”

“Well, congratulations.”  Seth plopped on the couch, opened a music app on his cell phone, selected a track and clicked the repeat option.  When he pressed play, the home stereo began playing the song, Cat’s in the Cradle.  “You have until the song is over.”

Zac sat in stunned silence, his eyes mirroring a mix of shock and apprehension as he considered Seth’s unthinkable and sadistic request.

“The pain will stop when her guts are in a pile on the floor.”  He held up the remote to the collar.  “And you need to put on the goggles.”

“Come on, man!  Please don’t….”

Seth engulfed his head with flames for a few seconds.  “I said put the damn goggles on, asshole.  You’re gonna need your fuckin’ eyes to cut that bitch apart.”

Amidst the excruciating pain, Zac let out a heart-wrenching cry as he desperately patted the top of his head, smothering the flames consuming what little hair remained.  “Oh, my God!  You’re fuckin’ killin’ me!”

“I’m gonna kill you if you don’t put on those fuckin’ goggles.”

“Come on, man!  Please….”

Seth let flames enshroud his head for a few more seconds.  “I said do it!”

As Zac rolled around on the floor screaming, he wailed, “I’m not gonna do that to her!”

“You hardheaded motherfucker.”  Seth pointed a tranquilizer gun at him and pulled the trigger.

Upon waking, Zac heard the song Cat’s in the Cradle playing in the background, indicating he was still in the RV, and as he gathered his thoughts, he was met with a throbbing pain radiating around his head.  His trembling hands discovered the goggles firmly fastened to his face, and as he attempted to remove them, a sharp pain shot through his skull.  Then his fingers located the strap, but it too wouldn’t budge.  “What the fuck did you do?  They won’t come off.”

Lounging on the couch smoking a cigarette, Seth laughed.  “I nailed the fuckers to your head with furniture tacks.”

His eyes opened wide, filling the inside of the goggles.  “What!?!  You can’t be serious.”

“And that’s not all I did.”  Seth padded the top of a Styrofoam ice chest perched next to him on the couch.  “I also put your package on ice.  If you want it back, then you better do what I ask.”

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“I have your twig and berries in here.”

A confused expression came over him as his hands reached for his genitals.  “My twig and….”  He lost his train of thought when he discovered a bandage covering his crotch.  A wave of horror swept over him as his fingers found the dressing lying flat against his skin.  “Oh, fuck!  This can’t be happening!”

“It’ll be fine.  The mortician will sew them back on.”

“Mortician!?!”

Knowing the importance of hope, Seth chuckled as he corrected his comment.  “I mean, the doctors can sew them back on.  But you better not wait too long, because your shit will go rotten pretty damn fast.”

He bowed his head as though conceding defeat, a palpable sense of sadness permeating the gesture.  “Just kill me and get it over with.”

“You don’t have to throw in the towel.  If you do what I ask, you’ll get your man parts back.”

“I don’t give a shit about that.  I’d rather die than hurt her.”

“Well, fuck.  I guess the dick-on-ice-trick isn’t gonna work this time.”  Seth held up the remote.  “So, I’ll just cook your head until you do it.”  He pressed the button.

As Zac rolled around on the floor screaming at the top of his lungs, he desperately fought at the collar, the flames searing the skin on his fingers.  Seth continued to burn his face, neck, and head, and when his skin turned bloody red, he shut off the flames.  “Are you ready to do it?”

Lying on the floor, he groaned in excruciating pain, smoke billowing from his charred flesh.  “I’m not fuckin’ doin’ it, so stop askin’!”

Filled with panic, Lindsay desperately fought at her restraints as she yelled through her stitched lips, conveying her distress.

Seth lit Zac up again, this time burning his head until his skin boiled, the end of his nose and edges of his ears incinerated, and his bottom lip ruptured.  His face now resembled melted pizza, and his hands were extremely swollen, bright red, covered in blisters, and his fingertips were black as coal.  “How about now?”

In an act of defiance, Zac belted out, “Fuck you!”

“Seriously, dude?  You already look like fuckin’ Freddy Krueger.”

“Go to Hell, you demented fuck.”

Seth tossed the remote on the table, knowing Zac wouldn’t survive another round of having his head burned.  “It’s not very often I run across someone who’s this hardheaded, but I have a remedy for that.”  He pulled a weed burner from his bag and approached Zac.  “Your head is toast, pal, but you still have plenty of skin left on your body.”

When Seth lit the weed burner, Zac’s eyes opened wide, completely filling the inside of the goggles.  “Oh, my God!  You can’t do this to me!”

Seth engulfed his body in flames, provoking Zac to violently flop around on the floor while wailing bloodcurdling screams.  When his body became bright red and covered in blisters, he pulled the flame to the side.  “Are you ready to do it?”

Zac stayed silent, only releasing groans from his lips, his body trembling in the grip of agony.

“I asked you a question, dickhead.”

“Yeah, I’ll do it!  Please don’t burn me anymore!”

“Then get to it.”

“Give a second.”

“One Mississippi.”  Seth engulfed him with flames for a few seconds.

“Okay, okay!  I’m doing it!”  He scrambled to his knees and began scrutinizing the floor around himself.  “Where’s the fuckin’ knife?”

“It’s in my pocket, but you can start with the sledgehammer.”

He sat back on his legs as a deadpan expression came over him.  “Please give me the knife.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want you cuttin’ your throat.”

“Why do you give a shit?  You didn’t care earlier.”

“Yeah, and I said that was a one-time offer.”

His shoulders dropped as he let out a sigh.  “Then fuck you!”

“You stubborn motherfucker.”  Seth set the weed burner down and retrieved the battery-operated shears.  “I’ll gut the bitch myself, but first, I need to get you ready.”

Zac’s body quivered with fear, his eyes fixed on the ominous tool.  “Hold up, man!  What are you gonna do with those?”

“Hold out one of your arms so I can cut it off.”

“You’re fuckin’ crazy!  I ain’t doin’ that.”

“We can do it the easy way, or hard way.”

“I told you I’m not doing that.”

“Suit yourself.”  Seth opened the jaws on the shears, and as he approached Zac’s left shoulder, a surge of panic compelled him to push the tool away, but his terror intensified as the jaws closed around the center of his forearm.  A bone-chilling scream escaped Zac’s lips, echoing the excruciating torment that befell him.  With chilling ease, the shears cleaved through his flesh and bones, allowing his lower arm to plop to the floor with a resounding thud.  Driven by a sadistic determination, Seth moved the tool to Zac’s elbow, severing the next section of his arm.  He continued the merciless dismemberment, slicing through his bicep, then ultimately chopping his entire arm off at his shoulder, ensuring he aligned the amputation evenly with the side of his torso.  As Seth utilized the oxygen and acetylene torch to cauterize the wound, Zac’s body succumbed to the excruciating pain, eventually slipping into unconsciousness.  Seizing the opportunity of Zac’s subdued state, Seth proceeded to amputate his other arm at the shoulder, then promptly cauterized the fresh wound.

While Zac lay asleep, Seth approached Lindsay with the sledgehammer.  “Are you gonna be as hardheaded as Mr. Sado?”

Lifting her head from the floor, she stared at Seth with terror-stricken eyes while muffled whimpers escaped through her stitched lips.

“Oh.  It’s good to know you’re willing to participate and I can proceed.”

She shook her head as she desperately tried to communicate.

Seth slammed the hammer into her groin, shattering her pelvic girdle.  She wailed a muffled scream as her eyes rolled back into their sockets, then a moment later, she succumbed to the pain and passed out.  As she lay unconscious, Seth cut out a large, gaping hole in her crotch, from the bottom of her anus to the top of her vagina, then pulled out her reproductive organs, followed by her bladder and intestinal tract.

As Seth cauterized her blood vessels with a small butane torch, troubled voices resonated from the laptop’s speakers.  When he glanced back at the screen, he observed a group of individuals donning tactical gear and holding an array of weapons.  They stood behind the man who had previously worn the suit made of women’s undergarments.  The man, now wearing a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants, appeared to be in his early sixties, the top of his head was bald, and long, stringy gray hair cascaded down to his shoulders.  A thick, red mustache adorned his chubby face, accompanied by studs lining his left eyebrow, a loop dangled from his lip, and large gauges adorned his earlobes.  Seth frowned as he eyed the man’s appearance.  “Damn, Panty Man, you’re one creepy lookin’ motherfucker.  You just look like you’re beggin’ for it.  And if I found out you’re a child molester or rapist, I’ll be seeing you next.”

The man’s eyes grew huge as saucers.

“Yeah, you didn’t think of that, did you, dumbass?”

One of the men in tactical gear approached the screen.  “You need to cease and desist!”

Seth laughed.  “You need to cease and desist.”

“I’m being serious, sir!  You need to stop what you’re doing right now.”

“I can’t.  I’m trying to get this bitch’s bleeding under control.”

Another officer tapped the man on the shoulder, provoking a conversation off to the side.  A moment later, he came back and regarded Seth.  “I’m Officer Bailey.  What are your demands?  I can get you anything you need.”

“You’re just trying to stall me until you can get a team over to the Sunset Mobile Home Park in Tarrant, Alabama.”

His eyes widened.  “That’s not true.  I just want to talk this out.”

“Don’t waste your time, pal.  I’ve already moved the RV.”

A third officer approached Officer Bailey and whispered into his ear.

Seth laughed.  “Yep.  My internet connection is encrypted.”

“We’ve actually pinpointed your location, so I would suggest that you don’t harm Mr. Perry and Miss…”  He studied a piece of paper for a moment.  “Miss Proboski any further and leave the scene now.”

“Her name is definitely a mouth full.  And it’s pronounced Przybyszewski.  And the cops would never tell an assailant to leave the scene of a crime, so that tells me you fuckers have no idea where I’m at.”

“Sir!  I’m just trying to keep you from getting hurt.”

Seth arose from between Lindsay’s legs and approached the laptop.  “I’m gonna mute you now so I don’t have to listen to any more of your bullshit.  And tell Panty Man I’ll be seeing him real soon.”  Seth muted the speakers, and as he watched Officer Bailey desperately trying to communicate, Seth stood in front of the camera, gesturing to his own ears while moving his mouth, silently repeating, “I can’t hear you.”

Guilty Pleasures

Randy marched into his apartment and slammed the door shut.  Lounging on a couch, his roommate Jeff paused a video game as he gawked at the large pedophile sign.  “What the fuck, bro!?!  Why are you carrying that shit around?”

Engulfed with anger, Randy held it out so he could get a full view of it.  “Because my P.O. is a fuckin’ dick.  He said I had to put this in my yard, or my probation will be revoked.”

“Oh, hell no!  We can’t stick that shit outside.  It’s embarrassing as fuck.”  Jeff Blackmore, also known as Papa Smurf, was forty-eight years old, short and fat, sported bright-red hair fashioned into a fauxhawk hairdo, and a long, gray beard hung from his face.  Large gauges drooped from his ears, studs lined his left eyebrow, and a tattoo of Papa Smurf covered the right side of his neck.  At thirty-seven-years old, Jeff abducted a five-year-old boy from a playground and molested him.  After serving ten years in prison out of a fifteen-year sentence, he was released early for good behavior and now on parole.  Jeff met Randy at Chuck E. Cheese, and being convicted child molesters, a bond quickly formed between the two men, not out of friendship, but out of necessity and sticking to one’s kind.

Randy slid the sign behind a bookcase, placing it next to Jeff’s sexual-predator sign.  “I’m telling you, dude, that guy was a real fuckin’ prick.  And he’s making me register as a sex offender.”

“Did you show him the brochure?”

“Yeah, but he didn’t give a shit.  In fact, I have to take a mental evaluation because of it.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep.  And on top of that, the fucker is making me take an anger management class, wear a tracking device, and do a hundred hours of community service.”

“Wow!  What a fuckin’ dick.”

“But the worst part is, the asshole is making me get a job.”

Jeff was already on SSI and teaching Randy how to manipulate the system.  “That’s bullshit.  Did you tell him you have a bad back?”

“I never had a chance.”  Randy plopped in a recliner and pulled out his phone.  “That dude fucked with the wrong person.  I’m gonna send a complaint to the probation department and leave his ass some fucked-up reviews.”  Within a few minutes, Randy lost interest in his quest for retaliation and began searching the internet for child pornography. 

Around 3 PM the doorbell rang, prompting Jeff to pause his video game.  “I wonder who that is.”

A fearful expression came over Randy.  “Oh, shit!  It might be the cops!”

In a panic, Jeff quickly rose to his feet.  “Why!?!”

“I was pissed off when I left the probation office and didn’t leave my urine sample or pay that asshole his money.”

Jeff crept to a window and peered through the blinds.  “Relax, dude.  It’s just UPS.”

Still worried, Randy eased open the door and peeked out.  A wave of relief washed over him when he spotted two large boxes sitting on the porch.  “Damn!  That scared the fuck out of me.”

“You better go back and take care of that shit before your P.O. sends the cops over here for real.”  Jeff wasn’t concerned about Randy’s wellbeing, but only worried about himself, knowing if the police showed up, they might search the apartment and find his personal stash of child pornography.

“I don’t have the money to pay my probation fee.”

“How much is it?”

“Fifty bucks.”

“I don’t need the fuckin’ cops snooping around, so I’ll loan it to you.”

“Thanks, man.”  He grabbed the boxes and shut the door.  “These are heavy as fuck.  What the hell did you order?”

“I didn’t order anything.”

“Oh.”  Randy sat the boxes on a coffee table, then examined their shipping labels.  “I didn’t order anything either, but one is shipped to me, the other to you.”

“Who are they from?”

“Some company called Guilty Pleasures.”

“Guilty Pleasures?”  Intrigued, Jeff grabbed a knife from the kitchen.  “Let’s open ‘em up.”

Jeff quickly cut open the boxes, and when he removed the top layer of newspaper from his box, confusion came over him.  “What the hell?”

Randy’s eyes grew huge as medallions as he peered down in his own box.  On the bottom, nestled in newspaper, lay a full-sized replica of a toddler wearing a black BDSM mask, and between its legs appeared to be a slot for sexual penetration.  “Dude!  Did you get these from the dark web?”

“No.  I already told you I didn’t order anything.  Someone must have sent these to us by mistake.”  Noticing how realistic his doll appeared, Jeff touched its face.  “It’s made out of hard plastic, but the damn thing looks real.”

Randy spotted a tag hanging from the doll’s toe with his name written on it.  “My name is written on this tag, so these were sent to us on purpose.”  He wanted to stick his fingers into his doll’s vagina, which appeared to be a pocket pussy made of soft latex, but he decided to keep his excitement hidden.  “I don’t know why someone would send me this shit.  I’m not into kids, and I find it very insulting.”

Secretly excited as well, Jeff noticed his doll was black and incorporated a penis with a pocket anus.  “I’m not into kid’s either.  And I find it extremely offensive that someone thought I’d be interested in this.”

“Someone must have done this as a prank.  And whoever it was must have looked you up on the internet and dragged me into this.”

“Why in the fuck would you say that?”

“How else would they know to send you a boy doll?  And a black boy at that.”

An angered expression formed on Jeff’s face.  “You know I was falsely accused of that shit.  I’m not fuckin’ gay or into kids.  And I can’t believe you’d insult me like that, you fuckin’ prick.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you, bro.  I was just saying, since that information is under your profile, someone must have looked you up.”

“What about you?  Maybe someone looked your ass up and dragged me into this.”

“I’m not registered yet, so that couldn’t have happened.  And I wasn’t trying to piss you off.  I’m just trying to figure out who did this.”

As Jeff pondered the situation, specifically that his doll happened to be black and a boy, the thought of Randy ordering them crossed his mind.  “Hold up.  You’re the one who ordered these.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Your doll is wearing that creepy sex mask, and no one else knows you’re into that bondage shit, so you must have ordered them.”

“I already said I didn’t.  And I don’t need a fuckin’ sex doll.  I have plenty of women who drain these nuts.”

“Same here.  I got several hoes in this building that drain my nuts anytime I want.”

Randy picked up his box.  “I’m gonna go hide this shit for now, and first thing in the morning, I’m gonna throw it in the fuckin’ dumpster.”

“Same here.”

Randy and Jeff took their boxes into their bedrooms and shut the door. 

Around four minutes later, they both came rushing out of their bedrooms as the dolls hung from their crotches while wailing, “Child Molester!  Child Molester!  Child Molester!”

Nude from the waist down, both of their dicks were stuck deep inside the dolls, and as Randy held onto his to prevent the weight of it from tugging on his penis, he glanced at Jeff with a panic-stricken expression.  “It’s fuckin’ locked onto me, man!  I can’t get it off!”

Equally terrified, Jeff was holding onto the waist of his doll since he penetrated it in the doggy-style position.  “Same here!  I heard a snap, then it felt like something cut into my dick!  And I can see some blood coming out from between my dick and the hole in the doll.”

“I think they’re fuckin’ needles or something!”

“Needles!?!  What do you mean!?!”

“If I pull back on the doll, I can see something that looks like a needle going through my dick!  And my dick is bleeding too.”

“Oh, shit!  This is bad!  Real bad!  What the fuck are we gonna do!?!”

“I’m gonna try to open it up!”  Randy rushed to the kitchen and grabbed a knife.  When he tried to pry open the doll, a devastating electrical shock dropped him to his knees.  “Oh, my God!  The fuckin’ thing just electrocuted me!”

Jeff grabbed a hammer, and when he wacked his doll in the back of the head, an electrical shock buckled his legs.  “Oh, fuck!  I just got zapped too!”

As Randy’s doll continued to shout “child molester” over and over, he tried to cover its mouth to reduce the sound, but he received another shock.  “It keeps shocking my dick!  I can’t even cover its fuckin’ mouth!”

“I know, man!  I’m getting shocked every time I try to fuck with mine too!  I think they’re defective or something!”

“They’re not defective.  Someone did this on purpose.”

Jeff’s eyes opened wide.  “Oh, shit!  I didn’t think of that!”

“We need to figure out a way to get these off, but first we need to shut them up before someone hears them.”

“Maybe we can dunk them in water and short out the electrical circuits.”

“Good idea.”

The men quickly hobbled into the bathroom as they held onto their dolls to reduce the weight on their dicks.  Randy turned on the faucet, and as he waited for the tub to fill up, he kept his back toward Jeff.  Having his cock buried in a full-sized replica of a toddler created an overwhelming amount of humiliation, and the doll declaring he was a child molester only exacerbated an already fucked-up situation.  “I’m not into kids, bro.  I was just trying to remove the pocket pussy and accidentally got my dick stuck in it.”

“I’m not into kids either, man.  I fell asleep and was dreaming about having sex with an older woman.  When I woke up, my cock was inside the doll.  I must have accidentally rolled on top of it or something.”

Instead of owning up to his own transgressions, Randy shifted the blame to Jeff.  “This is all your fault.”

“How do you figure that?  I didn’t make you fuck that doll.”

“I wasn’t fuckin’ it, asshole.  And I know you’re the one who ordered them.  And don’t tell me you fell asleep and accidentally got your dick stuck inside it.  You were only in your bedroom for like five minutes.”

“Fuck you, dude.  When we get these dolls off, I want you out of my fuckin’ apartment.”

“I was already planning on moving out.”

“Good.”  With the water level now around twelve inches deep, Randy stepped into the tub and dropped to his knees.  Anger engulfed him as he stared down at the doll as it slightly hovered above the water.  “I’m gonna drown your little ass.”  When he submerged the doll, its eyes fluttered a few times as it made an electrical buzzing sound, then it went silent.  “It fuckin’ worked!”

Jeff made a sweeping motion with his hand.  “My turn.  Get the fuck out of the tub.”

When Randy lifted the doll out of the water, its eyes popped opened wide as it began laughing in a creepy childlike tone.  “Oh, shit!  The water didn’t deactivate it!”

“Dunk it again!”

Without hesitating, he shoved the doll back into the water, but to his confusion, a burning sensation began emanating from his penis.  “Something is wrong!  My dick is getting hot!”

“Maybe the battery is shorting out.”

The pain became so intense, Randy lunged from the tub and began frantically punching the doll in the face as it laughed at him.  “Oh, fuck!  It’s burning the fuck out of my dick!  Please help me!”

Jeff couldn’t fathom the bizarre situation he found himself in as he stood dumbfounded.  “What do you want me to do!?!”

A grimace of terror came over Randy when smoke began bellowing out between his crotch and the doll.  “Oh, shit!  It’s destroying my dick!”  In a panic, he took off out of the bathroom.  As Randy frantically ran around their living room, jumping and screaming, Jeff chased after him while shouting, “Stop running!”  It became even more of a spectacle as Randy ran around and around the couch with his doll laughing as Jeff pursued after him with his doll wailing “child molester”.  It was like a scene featuring The Three Stooges on an episode of The Twilight Zone.

Randy paused for a moment.  “Please help me, man!  It’s fuckin’ burning my dick!”

Without thinking, Jeff grabbed the doll and tugged on it.

Randy’s eyes grew huge as saucers.  “Stop pulling on it, dumbass!  You’re gonna rip off my dick!”

“Sorry, man!  I was just trying to help.”

“You did that on purpose!”  Angered, Randy kicked Jeff’s doll in the head, triggering an electrical shock.

Jeff hunched over from the pain and grumbled.  “You stupid fuck!  You made it shock me!”  He punched Randy’s doll in retaliation, prompting him to receive a debilitating electrical jolt.

Randy dropped to his knees, then fell to his side as he wailed, “Okay, okay!  I give!”

As Randy lay on the floor, Jeff noticed a yellowish substance flowing from his doll’s mouth.  “Dude!  Something is leaking out of your doll.”

“I think it’s piss.”

“Why do you think that?”

“That last shock caused my bladder to release.”

“Why in the fuck is it coming out of its mouth?”

“I don’t know, man.”

After a few minutes, the burning sensation faded and the smoke dissipated.  Relieved, but also worried about the severity of the burns he sustained, Randy sat up and leaned his back against a wall.  With the majority of his cock inside the doll, he could only see about an inch of it, and what he could examine appeared to be burned.  “Oh, shit!  My dick is burnt!”

Jeff slid to the floor and sat next to Randy.  “What the fuck are we gonna do, man?”

“I don’t know.”  To Randy’s dismay, his doll stopped laughing and began wailing “child molester” again.  “I can’t believe this shit is happening.”

“I know.”

“Should we call the police, or an ambulance?”

“I don’t know, man.  That would be embarrassing as fuck.  And they won’t believe we got our dicks stuck by accident.”

“But if we try to get them off ourselves, we’ll just get shocked or burned.”

“I need to think for a moment.”

“Hell, we can’t even cover their mouths without getting shocked.”

Anger came over Jeff as he thought about it.  “I know.  Some asshole spent a lot of time making these, and when I find out who did it, I’m gonna fuck them up.”

Flabbergasted, the two perverts just sat on the floor as their dolls wailed out “child molester”.

Man in the Moon

While the group of officers watched in horror, Seth approached Lindsay and severed her right nipple, then he ran a half-inch diameter tube from the hole in her breast to the bloody and ravaged wound in her crotch.  After he affixed a mouthpiece to the end of the tubing hanging from between her legs, he injected Zac and Lindsay with adrenaline.

Zac jolted awake first.  Feeling a throbbing sensation radiating from his sides, he glanced at each of his shoulders.  His eyes widened in disbelief when he saw both of his arms were missing.  “Oh, my God!  I can’t believe you did this to me!”  Then he spotted the bloody pile of organs and entrails lying next to him.  “Oh, shit!”  In a panic, he raised his head and examined his abdomen.  “Where in the fuck did those come from!?!”  His eyes then traveled to Lindsay.  A wave of horror came over him when he saw the gaping hole between her legs.  “You fuckin’ killed her, you sadistic bastard!”

“Is that a statement, or question?”

Peering at Seth through the goggles, his narrowed eyes conveyed a burning rage.  “You’re going to pay for what you did to her!”

Seth frowned as a cigarette hung from his lips.  “Really, Zac?  Your ass doesn’t have any arms.”

“I might not be able to do anything, but you’ll get the needle for this!”

“Yeah, maybe, but not tonight.”

“When the cops find out what you did, they’ll hunt you down.”

“If you want, you can tell ‘em right now.”  Seth motioned toward the camera.  “They’re watching as we speak.”

“Bullshit.”

“Check out your laptop.”

When Zac glanced over at the screen, he saw several officers gazing back at him while their mouths silently moved.  Fearing that Seth might terminate the connection, he hastily blurted out, “My name is Zac Perry, and she is Lindsay Przybyszewski!  We’re still in our RV, but we’re in the woods somewhere in Texas!  Please send help!”

Seth unmuted the speakers as Officer Bailey glanced back and exclaimed to the other officers, “They’re in Texas!”

Seth shrugged his shoulders as if he didn’t give a shit.  “Maybe we are, maybe we’re not.”

In a panic, Zac wailed out, “I think he’s Seth Coker, the Angel of Death!  You need to find us before it’s too late!”

Officer Bailey’s eyes widened in disbelief.  “No, way!”

Seth laughed.  “Yes, way.”

He glanced back again and instructed, “Contact the FBI.”

“Make sure you tell them to send Agent Arnold.  And he’ll need to bring two body bags, but one of them needs to be walrus sized for the fat bitch.”

He turned back toward the screen.  “This isn’t a game.”

“No, it’s retribution for murdering their child.”  Seth nodded toward Zac as he regarded the camera.  “And that sick bastard fucked the infant after they drowned it in the toilet, and the fat bitch not only watched, but egged it on.”

Zac’s eyes grew large as saucers as he shook his head.  “No, I didn’t!  He’s lying!”

Seth held up a red USB drive.  “You sure about that?”

Zac’s facial expression conveyed a look of guilt.  “Where did you get that?”

“I found it in your hiding spot stashed amongst your child porn.”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

Seth held up the USB drive so Officer Bailey could see it.  “I’m gonna leave this here on the coffee table.  It’s a video of Zac sodomizing their dead child.  Lindsay was the one who recorded it, and she can be clearly heard in the background instructing him to do it.”

The officer displayed a straight-faced expression.  “Okay.  If what you’re saying is true, we can use that as evidence and they’ll go to prison for what they’ve done, so there is no need in harming them any further.”

“The court system had its chance, and at their trial, the defense already stated that since the child wasn’t born alive, he wasn’t considered a living being, and the charges for child rape could not be upheld.  That will most likely happen again.  And besides, even if they were held accountable, these two sick fuckers don’t deserve three hots and a cot.”

Suddenly, Lindsay awoke and began emitting muffled groans of agony through her stitched lips, prompting Seth to casually stroll over to Zac.  “About time the bitch came to.”  He glanced at his watch.  “I’ve got a match in the mornin’, so we need to wrap this shit up.”  He pointed between Lindsay’s legs.  “Go ahead and crawl in there so I can abort your ass.”

“What?”

“I need you to get inside your girlfriend, I mean, fiiiancéee, so I can abort you.”

Zac was flooded with a mix of relief and horror.  While grateful that Lindsay wasn’t dead, an overwhelming sense of dread washed over him as he contemplated the uncertain fate that lay ahead for both of them.  “Please don’t hurt her anymore.  I’m begging you.”

Seth retrieved the sledgehammer.  “I need you to crawl inside the open cavity between her legs, and I’m not asking again.”

“Please don’t….”

Seth slammed the head of the hammer onto Zac’s left ankle, shattering his bones.  “Move it, asshole!”

Zac wailed at the top of his lungs.  “Oh, my God!  Please stop….”

He crushed his knee.  “I’m not stoppin’ until you do what you’re told.”

“Okay, okay!  I’ll do it!”

Seth seized the mouthpiece attached to the hose hanging from Lindsay’s gaping wound.  “You’ll need this to breath.”  He attempted to insert it into Zac’s mouth, but he kept spitting it out.  Frustrated, Seth grabbed a hammer and a handful of nails.  “I’m gettin’ tired of your tenacious attitude, you prick.”  He commenced nailing the mouthpiece to Zac, each nail shattering a front tooth at the root as they penetrated his gums.  Zac cried out in torment as he was compelled to endure the excruciating pain.  After Seth drove in the last nail, he forcefully shoved Zac’s head inside the gaping hole between Lindsay’s legs, then he kicked him in the buttocks with his boot.  “Get on in there, asshole!”

In an act of defiance, Zac began wiggling his body, slowly working himself out.

“You hardheaded prick.”  Seth retrieved the sledgehammer and began striking him in the legs, each blow breaking bones and bursting open his flesh.  Zac’s screams of agony could be heard echoing out from the tube protruding from Lindsay’s right tit.  Realizing his suffering wouldn’t end unless he did as instructed, Zac began working his way inside her while moving like an inchworm. 

Given her extreme obesity and the absence of her female organs, bladder, and intestinal tract, along with Zac’s arms being severed at the shoulders, he somehow managed to fit his entire head and the upper portion of his torso inside her.  As Zac lay on his back weeping, Seth began sewing the ravaged skin hanging from Lindsay’s gaping wound to Zac’s chest and sides.  After he sutured them together, Seth stood to his feet, and as the song Cat’s in the Cradle softly played in the background, he glanced back at the camera and laughed.  “I told that fucker he was going to be the man in the moon.”

As the barbaric event unfolded before him, Officer Bailey’s expression displayed a sense of consternation.  “You can’t do this, sir!  People have the right to be tried by a jury of their peers.”

Seth approached the laptop, observing there were now around two million viewers watching the live feed, indicating people were telling their friends and family about the video.  He moved back in front of the camera.  “I see that this has gone viral, so I’ll let all of you decide their fate since the cops feel these assholes deserve to be tried by their peers.  Behind me is Zac Perry and Lindsay Przybyszewski.  For the ones of you who don’t know who they are or what they did, just search for them on the internet.  Also, pull up Zac’s criminal record.  It will show he’s a convicted child molester.”  Seth held up the red USB drive.  “This is a video of Zac having anal sex with their dead child, and Lindsay was the one recording it.  And she not only condoned his actions, but instigated it.  I can’t show you the video because it’s too vile, and I don’t want it floating around on the internet; there are too many sick fucks out there that would use it to get off, and it would also be inappropriate for me to show it anyway.  You’ll have to trust my word on this, but I will be leaving this copy for the cops to review later.  Anyone who thinks these fuckers are guilty and deserves what they’re gettin’, give a thumbs down.  For those of you who feel they are innocent, or should be given the opportunity to have their day in court though our judicial system, give a thumbs up.  The majority vote will decide their fate.  They’re already fucked up pretty bad and will most likely die from their injuries anyway, but if the majority is a thumbs up, then I’ll leave them right where they are and give the cops the GPS coordinates.  I’m giving everyone thirty minutes to decide.”

Officer Bailey couldn’t fathom what he was hearing.  “You can’t do this, sir.  We have laws in this country.”

“They’re being judged by their peers, so it’s the same damn thing.”

“They have a right to legal representation.”

“Everyone can see and hear you, so represent their asses if you want.  You have twenty-eight minutes left.”

His eyes opened wide as he thought about how many people were viewing him.  “But I’m not an attorney.”

“So, what.  If you think these fuckers didn’t murder their newborn son, or that it was alright for Zac to fuck him after they drowned him in the toilet, then speak up.  Everyone is listening.”

Secretly, he agreed with Seth and felt Zac and Lindsay were getting exactly what they deserved, but being an officer, and if he didn’t want to lose his career, he had no choice but to explain the law to the viewers.  As Officer Bailey pleaded his case, Seth strolled over to Lindsay, then laughed as he pointed at her.  “Y’all have to see this.”  He retrieved the camera from the tripod and aimed it toward her abdomen.  Zac’s face could be seen pushing against the skin on the inside of her belly, resembling an opaque entity you’d see in a horror film where a ghost or demon is trying to push itself out of a wall.  “That shit reminds me of the movie Frighteners.”

He then took the camera into the bedroom and showed the viewers a hidden compartment in the wall behind a painting.  “This is where I found the USB drive with Zac fucking their dead child.”  Seth grabbed a handful of photos and digital media from the void and held them up.  “This is their stash of child porn.”  He tossed the items on the floor as he moved across the room over to a nightstand.  “I have run across plenty of deviant motherfuckers before, but these two are pure evil.”  He showed the viewers a family portrait of Zac and Lindsay holding their deceased child.  “I have a dark sense of humor like anyone else, but this is demented as fuck.”

Seth strolled into the bathroom and filmed the toilet.  “This is where they drowned their child, who they referred to as Baby Blue after he died.”  He then panned across several large panties hanging from a shower rod, their white fabric stained brown.  “They call them whale tails and sell them to their perverted fans.”  He then showed several buckets containing large turds and splattered feces.  “There’s not much to say about that shit, pun intended.”  Seth walked into the living area, secured the camera back to the tripod, then plopped on the couch.  From where he sat, he could see the likes and dislikes on the laptop.  “There’s just a few minutes left, and you’re losing your case, Mr. Bailey.  Outside of a handful of child molesters, sick fucks, and a few bleeding hearts, it’s about ninety seven percent in favor of me finishing them off.”

Officer Bailey’s shoulders slumped, and a disappointed expression crept across his face.  “Please reconsider what you’re planning.  This isn’t a third-world country.  We have laws.”

“Yeah, laws that don’t discourage scumbags from committing heinous crimes.”  Seth glimpsed his watch, then eyed the laptop.  “Times up, pal.  And it’s now four-million, eight-hundred and thirty-seven thousand, to a hundred and ninety-four thousand.”  He snagged the ice pick from the coffee table and approached Lindsay.  Her eyes were huge as saucers as she fought at her restraints while mumbling muffled pleas of mercy through her stitched lips.  Seth pointed at Zac’s face as it slithered around from under her skin.  “Don’t worry.  I’ll take care of that pesky critter for you.”  He knelt on one knee, then started thrusting the ice pick into her abdomen, stabbing Zac in the face.  As Zac violently thrashed his head around while screaming through his breathing tube, Seth patiently waited for a bulge to reappear in her abdomen before he jabbed him again, resembling a game of Whac-A-Mole.  With every strike, Lindsay let out anguished cries through her stitched lips, while Zac writhed within her, inadvertently exacerbating his suffering as he kicked his broken legs.

After Seth punctured about fifty holes into her flesh, ultimately stabbing Zac in the process, he grabbed a bottle of bleach.  “He’s still kickin’, so let’s see if this shit will work.”  He began pouring it into the tube hanging from her tit, filling Zac’s mouth with the liquid.  To keep him from blowing it out, Seth held his thumb over the tube until he felt a suction, indicating he swallowed the sodium hypochlorite.  He allowed Zac to take a few breaths, then he poured in more before placing his thumb over the end of the hose again.  Zac quickly figured out he wouldn’t be able to breathe unless he swallowed the bleach, so he began gulping it down between breaths.

When he swallowed about half the bottle, Seth moved to Lindsay’s head and locked eyes with her, witnessing the terror in her gaze.  “While we let the bleach simmer, we’re gonna give you a dose of Drano.”  He sliced a small incision into the front of her neck and quickly inserted a tracheotomy tube.  After he inflated the cuff, locking it inside her trachea, he slid a clear vacuum bag over her head and taped the end around her neck to prevent any leaks.  A surge of claustrophobia overwhelmed her as she struggled to draw air through the breathing tube.  Seth, adding to her distress, opened the vacuum port above her face, inserted a small funnel, and began filling the bag with Drano.  The sodium hydroxide, also known as lye, instantly burned her eyes, skin, and sinus cavity.  The highly caustic and alkaline substance triggered saponification, a reaction that began breaking down the fats and oils present in her skin, turning them into a soap-like substance.  Amidst her wails of agony channeled through the breathing tube, a distressing sequence unfolded.  Her hair started dissolving, blisters erupted on her face, and her eyeballs turned bloody red.  The merciless sodium hydroxide continued its reaction with her skin, delving deeper into the tissue layers, inflicting extensive damage on cells, blood vessels, and nerves.  At the same time, an exothermic reaction ensued, generating scorching heat and causing thermal burns on her skin.

Lindsay violently convulsed as the skin on her face liquefied, releasing a bloodcurdling scream through her tracheotomy.  Seth then witnessed blood and mucus spewing from Zac’s breathing tube as the bleach dissolved his stomach lining.  As the couple endured an excruciating amount of pain and teetered on the verge of death, Seth retrieved the baseball bat and began beating Lindsay in the stomach, each impact making a thump as it connected with Zac’s head.  He continued whacking her until Zac stopped moving, the conclusive blow producing a distinct cracking sound as his cranium shattered.  Seth then casually tossed the bat onto the floor and nonchalantly glanced at the camera.  “I think that got his ass.”

Officer Bailey remained silent as a look of trepidation hung from his face.

“Don’t look so sad.  The fuckers got off easy.”

“Easy?  What the hell, man?”

“I would have taken them with me, but I didn’t bring a cattle trailer to haul the lard ass.”

“You didn’t have the right to take the law into your own hands.  And everyone who voted for this is just as guilty.”

Ignoring him, Seth focused on searching the laptop.  In no time, he discovered a spreadsheet detailing Lindsay’s sales.  He then located the name alienprobe69.  The person bought a pair of her whale tails, and it included his shipping address.  Starting with the zip code, Seth discovered that it belonged to Monte Vista, Colorado, a town with a population of 4,300 residents.  He then pulled up the Rio Grande County Tax Assessor’s webpage and searched for the address.  The tax records showed Billy Ray Monroe owned the house.  He then searched the person’s name on a sex offender registry.  To his lack of surprise, the person was listed.  His record showed he was sixty-two-years old and molested two children, a five-year-old in 1981, and an eight-year-old in 1995.  He served seven years for the first offence, and twelve for the second.  Billy then picked up a child pornography offence in 2009 and served three additional years.  Seth compared the man’s picture to the man in the chat window, verifying they were the same person.  “Hey, Panty Man?”

A worried expression came over him as he stood in the back of the room.  “Yeah.”

“You’re lucky that I don’t know who you are or where you live, because if I found out you were a sex offender, I’d turn you into a monster.”

His eyes opened wide.  “A monster?”

“Yeah.  I like turning fuckers into monsters.  I already have a dick-faced slug and a milkman.”

Officer Bailey signaled to one of the other officers as he motioned toward Billy.  “Get him out of the room.”  He turned back to the camera.  “We need to….”

Seth closed the laptop, picked up his tools, then strolled out the door, leaving Lindsay moaning in agony while Zac lay dead inside her abdomen.

Ass Clown

In an abandoned slaughterhouse located in West Texas, Barry Moeller glared at Seth and exclaimed, “Come on, dude!  Please don’t do this!  It’s fuckin’ humiliatin’!”

Seth laughed as he lounged in a chair while holding a remote control.  “Hush, before I turn on your collar.”  Seth eyed Kenneth as he sat next to him.  “You ready?”

“Sure, man.  And I got a surprise for your ass this time.”  Kenneth moved a joystick on his remote, sending his armored robot to an arena for combat.  His crude robot consisted of a self-propelled push mower deck, an electric motor, and a large mechanical arm, similar to a scorpion’s tail, as its primary weapon.  Instead of a stinger on the end of the tail, it featured a large rubber dildo.

Seth’s battlebot consisted of a mobility scooter with the seat and handlebars removed, and instead of four wheels, it incorporated tracks akin to a tank.  An exoskeleton encased Barry’s limbless body and a hydraulic cylinder was attached between the exoskeleton and the base of the scooter, allowing Seth to lay Barry flat on his stomach, or raise him into the upright position.  A robotic arm with a two-finger gripper was mounted next to Barry, and a control panel with a joystick hung next to his face so he could operate the contraption with his tongue or mouth.  Around Barry’s neck hung a pink collar adorned with iced-out letters spelling “SPANKY”, and atop his head sat a colorful court jester hat with bells.  Currently, Seth controlled the machine with his remote, disabling Barry’s joystick.

For the last six months, Barry endured the misery of being confined in a small cage at Kenneth’s house.  After being stung by scorpions daily, bumps and scars covered the skin on his face, head, and body, giving him the appearance of having leprosy.  Enraged, Barry directed a piercing glare at Seth through his left eye, while his mechanical right eye, reminiscent of something from a sci-fi movie, zoomed in and out, producing a symphony of whirring and whizzing sounds.  “Do you really have to do this?  It’s fuckin’ degrading.”  As Seth and Kenneth rammed their battlebots into each other, the penis and ball sack hanging from Barry’s face flopped around in macabre synchrony.  “I can’t believe you fuckers are doin’ this to me.”

Kenneth laughed as he began jabbing Barry in the face with the dildo.  “If I knock out his fuckin’ eye, do I win?”

Seth reached out with the robotic arm and began grabbing at Kenneth’s mechanical tail.  “Which one?”

“His real eye, not that fake shit.”

“I guess so.”

“Good.”

As the dildo relentlessly battered Barry’s face, his ball sack swung like a speed bag, accompanied by the jingling of the bells on the court jester hat.  “Please stop!  Y’all are gonna….”  Suddenly, the dildo struck Barry in the eye.  “You stupid fuckers!  You got me in the eye!”

Seth spun the contraption around, and as he fled, Kenneth chased behind him while jabbing the dildo at Barry’s ass.  “Ha!  Your shit is too slow, boy!”

Around that time, Missy casually strolled up.  “When you two get done playin’ with your toy robots, Wyatt and Kyle just dropped off Lisa.”

Seth glanced at Kenneth.  “Well shit.  I guess we’ll have to finish this later.”  He flipped a switch on the remote, engaging Barry’s controls.  “Come on, Spanky.  It’s time for show and tell.”

Barry raised himself into the upright position.  “I can’t see.  My fuckin’ eye is swollen shut.”

“You’re fine, so stop stallin’.”

“Come on, man.  It’s embarrassing when you do this.”

“Everyone has a specific role to play, and yours is to show the scumbags what can happen if they don’t cooperate.”

Barry hadn’t encountered Wyatt since the farmhouse where he attacked him and Kenneth, creating a tense and awkward moment.  “I know, but I don’t want Wyatt to see me like this.”

“You should have thought about that before you decided to butt-fuck everyone and cut off Kenneth’s dick and face.”

A frown crept over Kenneth’s features.  “Hold up, man.  That’s a sore subject.”

“Sorry, bro.  He needs to be reminded sometimes.”

A look of sadness overcame Barry.  “I’ve already told Kenneth I’m sorry like a million times.  I don’t know why I did that, and if I could take it back, I would.  I think I had a mental breakdown or somethin’.”

“Mental breakdown or not, there was no excuse for it.  Now get your ass movin’.”

Barry and Kenneth followed Seth down a corridor and into a large room where Missy, Wyatt, and Kyle stood around a redheaded woman lying on the floor hogtied.

Upon catching sight of Barry, Wyatt’s eyes widened in astonishment.  “Damn, Seth.  I heard what you did to Spanky, but I didn’t believe it.  That’s really fucked up.”

“He usually does provoke that kind of reaction at first.  That’s why I like to use him for show and tell.”

“He kind of looks like a cyborg with leprosy.  And I can’t believe you transplanted his dick and balls onto his face.”

“That’s his punishment for cutting off Kenneth’s dick.”

Kenneth scowled.  “You don’t have to keep bringing that shit up, man.”

“Like I said earlier, he needs to be reminded of what he did.”

Barry’s eye narrowed as his mechanical eye zoomed in and out.  “I can hear everything y’all are saying.  And how can I forget?  You turned me into a fuckin’ monster.”

Wyatt scrutinized the motorized lens protruding from Barry’s face.  “Does that mechanical eye really work?”

Seth laughed.  “Naw, but it looks cool.”

“And I see you installed a zipper on his mouth.”

“Yeah, sometimes I don’t feel like hearin’ his shit.”  Seth glanced back at Barry as he displayed a pouted expression.  “Do you have somethin’ you want to tell Wyatt?”

Consumed with humiliation, Barry lowered his head while simultaneously shrugging his shoulders.  “Not really.”

“You sure about that?”

He took a deep breath, then made eye contact with Wyatt.  “I’m sorry.”

Seth motioned with his hand.  “And?”

“I’m sorry that I… you know, did what I did.”

“Say it.”

“I, uh, had my way with Kenneth, and uh…”

“Don’t sugar coat it.”

“Do I really have to say it?”

“Yes, and I’m not telling you again.”

“I’m sorry for doin’ Kenneth and….”

“Doin’?”

Barry glanced down at the floor.  “For...”

“Look at Wyatt when you talk.”

He lifted his head back up.  “I’m sorry for having intercourse with...”

“Intercourse?  We’re not in a fuckin’ doctor’s office.”

“I’m sorry for having sex...”

“Sex isn’t the word I would use either.”

“I, uh…”

“I know it’s awkward as fuck, so just spit it out and get it over with.”

He took a deep breath.  “I’m sorry for fuckin’ Kenneth in the ass and for cuttin’ off his dick and face.  And I’m sorry that I was plannin’ on fuckin’ you too, and I’m sorry for tryin’ to shoot you.  I don’t know why I did it, but if I could take it back, I would.”

Kenneth’s eyes narrowed as he peered at Seth.  “That shit is embarrassing, man.  Now everyone knows.”

“Everyone already knows.”

“But we don’t have to keep bringin’ the shit up.”

“At least he has a small dick.”

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“It was probably the same as gettin’ cornholed by a hamster.”

“That’s fucked up.”  Kenneth glared at Barry.  “I should have killed your ass, you little faggot.”

“I’m not a faggot.”

“Really?”

Seth intervened before an argument broke out.  “Listen, guys.  It’s good to get the shit out in the open.  Bottlin’ it up isn’t healthy.”

Filled with resentment, Kenneth clenched his teeth.  “You wouldn’t want to talk about it if it happened to you.”

“Sure, I would.”

“Bullshit.  You would have cut his fuckin’ throat.”

“I wasn’t tryin’ to upset you.  I just thought it was important to clear the air.”  Seth handed Kenneth a knife.  “If you want to kill his ass, do it and get it over with.”

His eyes widened as he held the blade.  “Really?  I can kill the little faggot?”

Seth nodded.  “Yep.”

Everyone expected Barry to flee in his robotic contraption, but to their surprise, a tear ran down his cheek as he held his head up.  “Just do it.”

Kenneth approached him.  “I am, motherfucker.”

“Good.  Put me out of my misery.  I don’t give a fuck.”

“I’m not playin’ around with you, punk.”

“Don’t just stand there.  Fuckin’ do it.”

Kenneth hesitated as he held the knife.  “I am.”

“Then what are you waitin’ for?”

Caught off guard by Barry’s demeanor and willingness to die, he glanced at Seth.  “Why is he actin’ this way?”

“You’ve heard me say over and over there are things worse than death.  Spanky would rather be dead than live like a sideshow freak.  And he despises being in the cage even more.”

Kenneth thought for a moment.  “Can I kill his ass anytime I want?”

“Yep, it’s an open offer.”

Kenneth pointed the knife at Barry.  “I’m gonna let you live for now, faggot.  And when you’re not expecting it…”  He abruptly thrust the blade forward, slashing through the air, as he shouted, “BAM!  Your ass is dead!”

Barry flinched, causing the ball sack dangling from his chin to jiggle like a rooster’s wattle.  At first, he was relieved, then anger swept over him as he thought about it.  “Fuck that.  I’m not gonna be lookin’ over my shoulder.  Just do it and get it over with.”

“Naw, man.  I don’t want you to not know when it’s comin’.”

“Come on, dude.  It’s gonna make my anxiety go up.”

“Good.”

Barry didn’t want to die, but he also didn’t want to go back to his cage where he spent countless hours in solitary.  Being around Seth and the others was the only time he felt alive.  “Will you do it later?  I don’t want to go back in that cage?”

“No, and stop askin’.”

“But I cut off your dick.”

“You’re not gonna goad me into doing it, so drop it.”

“Come on, man.  Don’t be like that.  You’ve been whinin’ and cryin’ that Seth wouldn’t let you do it, and now you’re pussin’ out.”

“I said no.”

“Bullshit.  You’re gonna do it when we get back to your house.”

Kenneth handed the knife back to Seth.  “Damn.  He ain’t gonna shut up about it.”

“Nope.  He’s going to drive you crazy until he gets his way.”  He glanced at Wyatt.  “Are you good with Spanky’s apology?”

“He didn’t fuck me in the ass, or cut off my dick, so yeah.”

Kenneth grumbled.  “Hey, man.  Y’all need to stop bringin’ that shit up.”

Seth laughed.  “Now that we got that out of the way.”  He pointed at the red-headed woman on the floor as she lay unconscious.  “Missy and I have something special planned for this ruthless bitch.  But I’m gonna warn ya now, it’s gonna be brutal as fuck.”

Kenneth observed that the woman appeared to be in her late thirties, of average size with large tits, and long, flowing red hair cascaded past her shoulders.  She possessed a pretty face, featuring smooth skin and full, luscious lips.  “Who is this chick?”

Seth lit a cigarette.  “Lisa Jerguson.”

“She doesn’t look like she would hurt a fly.”

“Don’t let her good looks fool you.  She’s a cold-blooded bitch.”

“What the hell did she do?”

In Sacramento, California, Lisa Jerguson led a typical life, having been married to a man named Ron for nine years, and blessed with three kids: Liam at eight months old, William at two, and Ava at four.  Ron, a commercial pilot, traversed the skies while Lisa embraced her role as a dedicated stay-at-home mom.  Beneath the façade of her seemingly content life, Lisa’s heart was burdened by the constant absence of her husband due to his demanding job.  Overwhelmed by anger and frustration, she found herself succumbing to temptation and rekindling an affair with a man named Ricky, an old boyfriend from the past.

As the truth about Lisa’s affair came to light, the ensuing arguments between them revealed a devastating surprise.  Not only was it not Lisa’s first affair, but Ron also discovered that Liam was not his biological son, but fathered by a man named Chuck.  The revelation shattered their already crumbling marriage, leaving a trail of heartache and betrayal in its wake.  Struggling to come to terms with the painful truth, Ron made the difficult decision to file for a divorce and fight for custody of all three children.

Then, in a horrifying twist of events, an act of spite and retribution overcame Lisa.  Driven by her rage and desire to hurt her husband, she resorted to a chilling act of vengeance and ruthlessly killed their three children with a butcher knife.  With a heart hardened by resentment and malice, Lisa penned a chilling and callous note, detailing her intent to inflict the cruelest punishment upon her husband by taking away his children.  Her words dripped with icy cruelty, revealing the depths of her malevolent plan to strip away every ounce of joy from his life.  In a final, heart-wrenching act of revenge aimed at causing the maximum amount of pain to Ron, she cut her wrists as she laid in the bathtub while wearing her wedding dress. 

Brimming with anger, Missy’s gaze narrowed upon Kenneth as she started to recount the vicious act committed by Lisa.  “The bitch killed her three children with a butcher knife.  She fuckin’ stabbed them innocent babies over fifty times each.” 

“What the fuck?  Was she on drugs or somethin’?”

“No.  The bitch couldn’t keep her legs closed.  When her husband found out about her affairs, he was leaving her sorry ass, so she did it to punish him.”

“What a ruthless bitch.”

“And that’s not all that she did.  She castrated the two boys before she killed them, and that includes cutting off their penises.  Liam was only eight months old, and William was two.”

Kenneth’s eyes narrowed in anger as he glanced at Seth.  “Damn, Seth.  We’ve come across some cruel motherfuckers before, but this bitch is pure evil.”

“Yep.  She’s the worst one so far.

“So, what happened next?”

“She tried to kill herself by cutting her wrists.”

Infuriated, Missy added.  “The bitch was wearing her wedding dress while lying in a bathtub.  She had spread rose petals all over the floor, and placed candles around the tub.  She also had those precious babies in the tub with her.  Their mutilated bodies turned the water red with their blood.  In her suicide note, she said she did it so that image would be burned into her husband’s memory for the rest of his life.”

“Wow.  What a sadistic bitch.  Did her husband find her?”

Seth shook his head.  “No.  The cleaning lady did.  The dumbass forgot she was coming that day.  And that’s why she didn’t bleed out and was saved by the paramedics.”

“And why isn’t her sorry ass in prison?”

“She was.  In fact, she got the death penalty and was on death row at the Central California Woman’s State Prison.”

Confusion clouded Kenneth’s expression.  “How in the fuck did you get her out?”

“Do you remember Bill Townsend?”

“Of course.  He’s the rich dude that gave us the files on all those scumbags after his wife and daughter were murdered.”

Barry chuckled as he sarcastically popped off.  “How could he forget?  That’s when he got his dick cut off.”

A frown came over Kenneth as he glared at Barry.  “What the fuck did you say, you faggot ass punk?”

“You heard me.  And you know what you can do about it.”

“Fuck you.  You’re not gonna goad me into killin’ your ass.  But when I get you back to my house, you’re gonna wish you were dead.”

“Don’t get your panties in a wad.  I was just messin’ with ya.  And I’m not a faggot, so stop callin’ me one.”

“Then what the hell would you call it when a dude rapes another dude?”

“A teachable moment.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“You always talked shit and said you were going to fuck me up, so I got your ass before you got me.  And you didn’t say no, and everyone knows, no means no.”

Kenneth eyed Seth with a look of annoyance.  “The little fucker is startin’ to sound just like your ass.”

Seth glared at Barry.  “What the hell has gotten into you?”

“I’m tired of being your science project.”  He shook his head, prompting the bells on his hat to jingle.  “And why do I have to wear this shit?”

“Because it entertains me.  And since you always acted like an ass clown, I turned you into one.”

“Well, fuck you, asshole.”

“Asshole?  Keep runnin’ your mouth and see where it gets you.”

“Yeah, yeah.  What the hell can you do to me that’s worse than this?”

“You wanna find out?”

He shrugged his shoulders.  “Whatever, man.”

“One asshole comin’ up.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You’ll find out later.”  Seth pulled a remote from his pocket and pressed a button.

When Barry tried to speak, a zapping sound emitted from the pink collar around his neck the same time he let out a yelp, his eye opened wide, and the dick and penis hanging from his face quivered.

A look of confusion came over Wyatt.  “What the hell is wrong with Spanky?”

“I activated his collar.  It shocks him every time he tries to speak, same as one of those electric barking collars that assholes put on their dogs.”

“That’s funny as shit.  But why didn’t you just zip up his lips?”

“Because this pisses him off more.”

Out of defiance, Barry tried to speak.  “This is…”  Zap!  “Come on…”  Zap!  “Dammit…”  Zap!  “Uh…”  Zap!

Seth frowned as he peered at him.  “Are you done?”

“Fuck…”  Zap!  “You…”  Zap!

“Keep it up and see where it gets you, smartass.”

When Barry didn’t respond, Seth glanced at Kenneth.  “What the hell were we talkin’ about?”

“You were going to tell me how you got this evil bitch out of prison.”

“Oh, yeah.  Since Mr. Townsend has the financial resources and the right connections, I asked for his help.”

“I’m surprised he was willing to risk it.”

“After we gave him his reckoning, he said he wanted to keep helping us whenever he could.  Ever since he lost his wife and daughter, Bill has been struggling to find peace, and he wants to take his misery out on every scumbag that’s harmed someone.  That’s how I was years ago, so I know the feeling.  Now that I have Missy and you guys in my life, I’m not consumed with anger anymore.”

Missy gave Seth a peck on the cheek.  “I love you too, baby.”

Seth winked at her, then continued.  “When I showed Bill Lisa’s court records, he became obsessed with getting her out.  For this to have any chance of working, we needed someone on the inside, specifically a doctor.  Since it would be impossible to use one of their doctors, we found this shady bastard named Cecil Wylie that was willing to do it for a sizable payoff.”

Kenneth raised his hand, getting Seth’s attention.  “I thought doctors had some kind of moral code they had to abide by.”

“They do, it’s called the Hippocratic oath.  And that’s why I said we found this shady bastard.”

“How much did y’all have to pay him?”

“Mr. Townsend forked out three million.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep.”

“I’m surprised Bill was willing to do that.”

“That’s pocket change for him.  And he’s the one who came up with the idea to pay off a doctor in the first place.”

“What happened next?”

“We had Cecil move from North Carolina to Chowchilla, California.  When a position at the prison became available, which was about six months later, he applied for it and was hired.  We waited about a year before we proceeded, but during that time, Cecil did take Lisa’s blood and urine samples from her during routine checkups.”

“Damn.  Why did y’all wait so long?”

“To reduce suspicion.  After that, Cecil slipped tetrodotoxin into her food, which is a neurotoxin from a puffer fish, causing her to fall into a coma.  When she was moved from solitary to the prison’s medical ward, Cecil sent the lab the blood and urine samples that he originally took from her so they wouldn’t be able to detect the tetrodotoxin.  We kept Lisa in a state of comatose for six weeks until the prison decided to have her moved to a local hospital for further testing.  Knowing the date and time she was expected to be moved, I borrowed one of the ambulances from the hospital and picked her up myself.  There were two guards that accompanied her, but I gassed the back of the ambulance with nitrous oxide and temporally knocked them unconscious.  After that, I took her to Cecil’s house where he helped her recover.  She’s been there for almost three weeks, and Wyatt and Kyle just picked her up this evening.”

Kenneth displayed a frown as he listened to the story.  “That sounds like a lot of fuckin’ work.  And I’m surprised you were even able to pull off such a stunt.”

“It was risky, and I wasn’t sure if it was going to work myself.”

“If she was on death row, why didn’t you let them just kill her ass?”

A grave expression fell upon Missy’s face.  “Because the bitch didn’t deserve to die a painless death.”

Kenneth scrutinized Lisa as she lay on the floor.  “So, what are you planning on doin’ to her?”

Missy presented him with a figurine of a knight in shining armor.  “Something poetic.”

“What the hell is this?”

“It’s William’s toy.  The bitch had it standing on top of her suicide note.”

Confusion came over him as he held it up.  “And what are you gonna do with this?”

“You’ll find out in a couple of days.”

“Couple of days?”

Seth nodded.  “It’s gonna take that long to break her.”

“What does that mean?”

“I need her mentally and physically broken so she’ll do what needs to be done.”  Seth glanced at his watch, noting it was a little after eleven PM.  “Y’all can come back in forty-eight hours, and make it twelve AM sharp.”

Kenneth nodded toward Barry as he regarded Seth.  “Do you want me to take him back to my house?”

“Naw, he can stay here.  I have some shit work that needs to be done.”

Not being able to talk with his shock collar activated, Barry raised his mechanical arm, then held up the two-finger gripper.

Kenneth frowned.  “What the hell is he doin’?”

“Throwing me the bird.”

“Of course, he is.”

How to Catch a Predator

Jeff finally gathered his thoughts, stood up and walked over to the coffee table.

Randy glanced up at him as he remained on the floor.  “What are you doin’?”

“I’m gonna check the boxes to see if there are any instructions.”

“That’s fuckin’ stupid.  Someone made these to humiliate us.  Why in the fuck would they leave us some instructions?”

“We have to do something.  My dick is starting to hurt really bad, and I want this thing off before it causes more damage.”  When Jeff removed the bottom layer newspaper, he found the box empty.  “Dammit!  There’s nothing in here.”

“I told you.”

He started to walk away, but his eye caught a glimpse of a drawing mixed in with the newspaper.  “I think I found something, dude.”

“What is it?”

He unfolded the page and discovered an exploded diagram.  “I think it’s a blueprint of my doll.”

“Seriously?”

“It looks like it.”

Randy scurried over to his box and quickly found the same drawing intermingled with the layers of newspaper.  The page mimicked an actual section of the newspaper with a headline that read, How to Catch a Predator.  The center portion of the page featured an exploded view of the doll, and each of the separate parts displayed a number.  Sections of text surrounded the drawing: one described the listed parts, another looked to be a set of guidelines or instructions, and a third one appeared to be a manifesto.  Randy knew someone purposely disguised the page to blend in with the newspaper.  “Some sneaky fucker didn’t want us to find these when we first opened the boxes.”  With the headline titled, How to Catch a Predator, he knew the dolls were deliberately sent to him and Jeff.

Jeff felt nauseous as he examined the drawing.  “You were right, man.  Needles are binding our dicks inside the dolls.  Item number three shows there are seven of them, and they’re going all the way through our dicks from one end to the other.  And per the instructions, the needles engaged only at full penetration during ejaculation.”

“I’m sure they did.  Whoever did this is an evil motherfucker.  And for the record, I didn’t cum in the fuckin’ doll.”

“I didn’t either.”  Jeff continued scanning the paper.  “Number four shows the electrodes, and the directions say if the doll is tampered with, the parasite will receive an electrical shock.  And number five shows a heating element, and it says if the doll is submerged in liquid, the parasite will receive a burn.  And number six mentions that the parasite will get shocked if the doll is covered for concealment or to reduce its sound.”

“Well, we already figured that shit out.  And the parasite comment is starting to piss me off.”

“It’s pissing me off too; I’m not a fuckin’ parasite.”  A look of surprise came over Jeff as he studied the schematic diagram.  “I figured out why pee came out of your doll’s mouth.  The drawing shows a hose that runs from the end of the pocket pussy to the doll’s head, and the description refers to it as a urine tube.”

Randy seemed distracted and didn’t respond.

“Did you hear what I said about the urine tube?”

“Naw, man.  I’m reading a message from the asshole who sent me this doll.”

“What part are you looking at?”

“It’s at the very top of the page.”

Jeff began scanning the section.  “It’s going on and on about the lasting effects of sexual abuse and how child molesters are the parasites of society.”

“Skip past that bullshit and read the bottom portion.”

Jeff’s eyes narrowed as he read, Jeffery Hugo Blackmore, also known as Papa Smurf, lured five-year old Aiyden Neville Robinson from a playground using the temptation of candy.  He felt nauseated as the author described the explicit details of the sexual assault that took place in a nearby restroom.  He then learned Aiyden committed suicide at the age of fourteen after suffering from severe depression related to his molestation.  The last sentence read, This doll was handcrafted with love and dedicated to the memory of Aiyden Neville Robinson.  “What a fuckin’ asshole.  And he has me mixed up with someone else.  I didn’t do this shit.”

Randy’s page also went into detail about him molesting his ten-year old niece, which resulted in her impregnation at the age of twelve.  “Same here.  It talks about some shit I didn’t do either, and it’s dedicated to that lying whore.”

“I can’t believe this is happening.  I’ve already served time for something I didn’t do, and now this.”

“I know man.  I’m in the same boat you’re in.”

A frightful expression came over Jeff as he began studying the diagram again.  “Oh, fuck!  Check out number seven.”

Randy glanced at the drawing, observing number seven looked like a small cylinder with tiny hoses that ran to the needles in his penis.  “What the fuck is that?”

“The description says it’s a formaldehyde injection system.  The needles are perforated, and if the doll is X-rayed, scanned, frozen, heated, exposed to magnetism, including an electromagnetic pulse, or severely damaged, the chemical will be injected into the penis, resulting in a penectomy.”  He glanced at Randy with a grimace of terror etched across his face.  “Isn’t formaldehyde the same shit they use to embalm dead bodies?”

“Yeah.”

“And what the fuck is a penectomy?”

Randy quickly searched the internet on his phone.  “It’s where the penis is removed through surgery.”

“Oh, fuck!”

Out of concern, Randy searched the internet for the effects of formaldehyde on a living person.  “This is bad!  Real fuckin’ bad!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Formaldehyde causes living tissue to die, and accidental injections usually result in the removal of the contaminated flesh, or an appendage or limb to be amputated.”

“Then we won’t try to remove the dolls.”

“We can’t just leave them on our fuckin’ dicks.”

“I know that.  Maybe we can wait until the batteries go dead.”

“What does the directions say about the life of the batteries?”

Jeff scanned the drawing and located two batteries.  “There are two of them.  Number twelve and thirteen.”  He quickly read the description.  “It says the batteries are lithium-ion and they can last up to six weeks.”  The color drained from his face as he continued reading the description.

“Now what?”

“If the primary battery is drained, the formaldehyde injection system is automatically activated, which is powered by the second battery.”

Randy scowled.  “Of course, it is.  This shit is getting more fucked up by the minute.”

“It gets worse.  There’s also a countdown timer that will initiate the formaldehyde injection system.”

“Oh, shit!  How long do we have?”

“It just has a range between four hours to three days.”

“That’s fuckin’ vague.”

“Yeah, it is.  So, now what?”

“Well, it’s obvious we can’t just wait until the fuckin’ batteries go dead, or wait until the timers goes off, so I guess we’re gonna have to call 911.”

“I agree.  I don’t think we have a choice.  But what are we gonna say?”

“I have no idea.  The asshole who made these screwed us good.”

“There’s nothing we can do about it right now.  We just need to focus on what we’re gonna tell the cops.”

“I know.  But when I do get this shit off, I’m gonna find the fucker who did this to us.”

“I’m right there with ya.  So, do you want me to make the call, or do you wanna do it?”

Physically and mentally drained, Randy shrugged his shoulders as he grumbled in frustration.  “It doesn’t really fuckin’ matter.  Just do it and get it over with.”

Jeff dialed 911 and put his phone on speaker so Randy could hear.  A moment later, a female dispatcher answered.  “911, please state your emergency.”

“This is Jeff Blackmore.  Me and my roommate need….”

With the dolls wailing “child molester”, the dispatcher could barely hear him.  “Ma’am!  I’m having a hard time hearing you with the children in the background.  Can you please move to a quieter location?”

“First off, I’m not a woman, I’m a man.  And no, I can’t move to a different location.  The sound is coming from….”

“Ma’am!  I still can’t hear you.  Can you…”  The dispatcher paused for a moment.  “Hold up!  Why are the children yelling child molester?  Are they in immediate danger?”

Jeff raised his voice so the operator could hear him over the dolls.  “It’s not kids making the noise, it’s dolls.”

The phone went silent for a moment.  “Is this a prank?”

“No, it’s not a prank.  Someone snuck into our apartment and drugged us when we were asleep.  When we woke up, these dolls were attached to us and we need help getting them off.”

Randy gave him a thumbs up.  “Good excuse, bro.”

The dispatcher remained silent.

“Are you still there?”

“Misuse of 911 services, including making a false alarm or reporting false information, is a misdemeanor of the first degree.”

“I already told you this isn’t a damn prank.”

“Please explain your emergency again.  And speak louder so I can hear you.”

“I don’t know how to explain what’s happening because it’s embarrassing.  Can you just send the cops or an ambulance to our apartment?”

“I need to know the details of your emergency before I can dispatch an officer or medical services.”

“Like I said, someone snuck into our apartment and drugged us.  When we woke up, we found our penises stuck inside some dolls and we can’t get them off.  I think the person is some kind of pervert or something.”

The dispatcher hung up.

Jeff peered at Randy with an aggravated expression.  “The fuckin’ bitch hung up on me.”

“Call her ass back.”

Jeff dialed 911 again.

A male dispatcher answered.  “911, please state your emergency.”

“This is Jeff Blackmore.  I was just on the phone with y’all, but the call was dropped.”

“Please state your emergency.”

Jeff explained everything again, resulting in the dispatcher hanging up on him.  “What the fuck, bro?  They keep hanging up on me.”

“Call ‘em back, but this time don’t mention the dolls.  Just say I’m having a heart attack.  That will get their ass over here.”

“But they’ll still hear the fuckin’ the dolls and ask about them.”

“Just say it’s coming from the T.V. or something.”

He dialed 911 for the third time.

A woman answered.  “911, please state your emergency.”

“Yeah, this is Mr. Blackmore.  My roommate is having a heart attack.”

“Please hold.”  A moment later, an older man spoke.  “This is Rodney Pickett, supervisor of 911 services.  Please explain your emergency.”

“My roommate is having a heart attack.”

“Please speak louder.  I can’t hear you over the kids.”

Aggravated, Jeff shouted into the phone.  “I said my roommate is having a heart attack!”

“Sir!  This is your third time calling 911 services.  Reporting false information is a first-degree misdemeanor punishable by up to one year in jail and a thousand dollar fine.”

Jeff muted his phone and eyed Randy with a troubled expression.  “Dude.  If I lie about you having a heart attack, I could go to jail.”

“So, what.  It’s better than losing your dick.”

Jeff unmuted his phone.  “I’m not reporting false information.  This is a real emergency.  Please send the cops or an ambulance.”

“What is your full name and address?”

“Jeffery Hugo Blackmore.  501 Green Forest Trail in Jacksonville Heights, apartment 302.  Are you sending someone now?”

“An officer will contact you in a few days to issue a citation or make an arrest.”

“Hold up, man.  First off, I can’t wait that long.  And I’ve already told you I’m not reporting false information.”

The dispatcher hung up.

Anger engulfed Randy.  “What the fuck, man?  Call their asses back.”

“I’m not calling anymore.”

“This has turned into a fuckin’ clusterfuck.  And I can’t believe they’re not sending someone.”

“What the hell did you expect with all the racket these fuckin’ dolls are making?  And now I might be going to jail, and that’s your fault, asshole.”

“Don’t start your shit.  I was just trying to get us some help.”

“Well, the fuckin’ cops aren’t coming, so we’re gonna have to go to the hospital on our own.”

“There ain’t no way I’m leaving this apartment.”

“I’m not losing my dick, but you can do whatever you want.”  Jeff grabbed a pair of sweatpants from his bedroom.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna put on some fuckin’ pants, then I’m going to the hospital.”  When he slid them up to his waist, a jolt of electricity shot through his groin, provoking him to jerk them back off.  “Fuck!  I just got shocked!”

“Are you serious?  We can’t even put on some fuckin’ pants?”

“I guess not.”  Jeff grabbed a hand towel from the kitchen.

“Now what are you doing?”

“I’m going to cover up the doll so no one can see it.”  When he draped the towel over his doll, another jolt of electricity shot through him.  “Dammit!  I got shocked again!”

“You dumbass.  The directions said if we try to conceal them that would happen.”

“Don’t call me a dumbass.”  Jeff grabbed his phone and requested a ride from Uber.  “I got a car coming.  It will be here in about fifteen minutes.  You can go to the hospital with me, or stay here, I don’t give a shit.”

Randy glanced at a clock and noted the time of 4:45 PM.  “Should we wait until dark?”

“My dick is starting to hurt really bad and I just wanna get to the hospital.”

“I guess if you’re going, I’ll go too.”

“Then take that creepy sex mask off your doll before we head out.  It makes you look like a deviant.”

“I’m a deviant?  Dude, your doll is a boy, and your dick is stuck in its ass.”

“I told you I accidentally rolled on top of it when I was asleep.”

“Whatever, dude.  I don’t want to argue.”  He began to remove the BDSM mask, but a shock radiated out from his groin.  “Dammit!  It lit me up when I tried to remove it.”

“Then I guess you’ll just have to leave the damn thing on there.”

Remembering what happened the last time he tried to take an Uber, Randy held up a business card.  “Cancel your ride.  I’m gonna call Mack.”

“Who in the fuck is Mack?”

“He’s the Uber driver who gave me a ride home from the probation office.  The first two drivers wouldn’t even pick me up because of the damn sign.  If a sign freaked those fuckers out, what do you think will happen when they see these dolls?”

“I didn’t think of that.  Do you think he’ll give us a ride?”

“Yeah.  He’s a cool dude.”

“Then give him a call.”

Randy dialed the number several times, but it kept going straight to voicemail.  “He’s not picking up.”

Jeff glanced at his phone.  “I guess we can still take my Uber.  It’s only a few minutes away.”

Only wearing a t-shirt and flip-flops, a crippling amount of anxiety came over Randy as he supported his doll.  “Are we really leaving our apartment?  Everyone is going to see us.”

“We don’t have a choice.”

“I don’t know if I can do this, man.”

“Maybe we should hide our faces.”

“I was already thinking the same thing.  Let’s see what we can find.”

After searching the apartment for something to conceal their identity, Randy decided to use a brown paper bag.  He cut out holes for his eyes, then pulled the bag over his head.  “What do you think?”

“That will work, man.”  Jeff covered his head with a white pillowcase with holes cut out for his eyes.  “What about mine?”

With Jeff’s spiked hairdo, the top of the pillowcase came to a point.  “It looks like you’re wearing one of those Klan hoods.”

He pushed down on the top of the pillowcase a couple of times.  “Did that fix it?”

“Naw, man.  You got too much gel in your hair.”

“Fuck it.”

“Dude!  We’re in the fuckin’ ghetto.  You can’t go outside wearing that shit in this neighborhood.”

“I don’t have time to change it; the driver is almost here.”

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.  You know this is embarrassing as fuck, right?”

“Let’s just head down to the parking lot and get it over with.”

“But what if the driver takes off on us?”

“I’ve already thought of that.  I’m gonna run to the car and get in before they do.”

“Good idea.  But what if they refuse to drive us?”

Jeff grabbed a knife from the kitchen.  “Then I’ll make them.”

“Dude!  Your ass will definitely be going to jail if you do that.”

“Like you said, it’s better than losing my dick.”

“Are we really doing this?”

“Yep.  And it’s time to go, so let’s get the fuck out of here.”  Jeff took off out the front door followed by Randy.

Ride the Tin Man

Two days later around midnight, Kenneth, Wyatt, and Kyle entered the building.  A moment later, Barry came driving up in his mechanical contraption.  “Hey, guys.”

Kenneth noticed that Barry appeared distraught.  “What the hell is going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re actin’ weird.”

Wyatt laughed.  “Yeah, you’re not being your normal smartass self.”

“I’m just feelin’ a little depressed.”

“Did somethin’ happen?”

“Not really.”  He spun his contraption around.  “Follow me.”  Barry led them through a corridor adorned with rusted meat hooks suspended from the ceiling.  The air in the old slaughterhouse carried the scent of past death, and the atmosphere hung heavily, radiating an unsettling undertone.

Eventually, they arrived in a large chamber illuminated by candles.  In the center of the room, Kenneth’s gaze fell upon a life-sized replica of a knight-in-shining-armor, sprawled on its back across the floor.  The knight appeared to be antique, made of sheet metal, and around six foot tall.  Resembling the type of metal sculpture often found as a yard decoration or outside an army surplus store, the knight lay on a red satin sheet while encircled by an arrangement of candles.  A pair of candle rows extended from the figure to a doorway roughly thirty feet away.  Rose petals adorned the floor both around him and along the pathway, creating a fragrant carpet, while a lone camera positioned on a tripod stood a few feet away.

Barry came to a stop next to a row of chairs.  “Seth set up some chairs for y’all.”

Taking a seat beside Wyatt, Kenneth observed that the atmosphere carried a sense of solemnity.  “Damn.  This feels like a funeral.”

Wyatt agreed.  “Yeah, it does.”

Seated on the opposite side of Wyatt, Kyle experienced a wave of unease.  “Or an execution.”

A shadow of gloom and melancholy descended upon them, casting a pall over their spirits.

A few minutes later, Seth approached wearing blue medical scrubs stained in blood, an aura of fatigue clinging to him.  “Listen, guys.  This is going to be pretty fucked up, and I’m reconsidering if you should even be here.”

Kenneth’s eyes narrowed.  “What the hell does that mean?”

“I’m not sure if you’re gonna have the stomach for it.”

A slight amount of irritation came over him.  “Bullshit.  I’m not a fuckin’ pussy.  I’ve seen plenty of sick shit, and I doubt this will be any worse.”

“Well, you’ve been warned, so I don’t want to hear it if you get traumatized.”

“That ain’t gonna happen.”

Wyatt’s gaze fixated on Seth’s bloodstained garments before shifting to his weary and exhausted eyes.  “You look tired.”

“Yeah, Missy and I have been up for forty-eight hours straight.”

“What the heck did y’all do to her?”

“We had to break her mentally and physically, so she’ll do what needs to be done.”

“What does that mean?”

“Let’s just say, she’s ready to die.”

“Oh.”  Wyatt glanced at the knight as candles surrounded him.  “What’s the deal with the tin man?”

“It’s just another part of her atonement for what she did to her kids, like poetic justice.”

“Is it really gonna be that bad?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe it’s just me.  I haven’t slept in a couple of days.”

“Whatever is going to happen, I can handle it.  The bitch deserves to suffer.”

“Okay.  I’m gonna go get with Missy so we can get started.”  Exhausted, Seth lumbered down the candle-lit path, gradually vanishing into the obscurity ahead.

As the men waited with a mix of apprehension and curiosity, Wyatt cast a quick glance at Kenneth and Kyle.  “What the hell do you think they’re gonna do to her?”

Kenneth shrugged his shoulders.  “I have no idea, man, but it can’t be worse than the other shit we’ve seen, so I don’t know why Seth came out here and treated us like we’re a bunch of bitches.”

Kyle scrutinized the knight as he lay on the floor, then gazed at Barry.  “What are they planning on doin’ with that statue?”

“I don’t know.  They didn’t tell me.”

“You must know something.  And you’re acting weird, like something is bothering you.”

“They haven’t said shit to me, and they wouldn’t even let me in the room where they’re holding Lisa.  But I did hear her scream and beg for two days straight.  She kept screaming and screaming, and I never thought it was going to end.  I guess that’s what got me feelin’ down.”

“Oh, shit.  I wonder what they did to her.”

“I don’t know.  But she was begging to die towards the end.”

Suddenly, the song Unchained Melody began softly playing, casting a haunting ambiance throughout the room.  Perched at the edge of their seats, the trio of men watched in hushed anticipation as Barry hung in his contraption.  With wide eyes, they held their silence, bracing themselves for whatever was about to unfold.

Emerging from the darkness, three people eased their way into the beginning of the candle-lit path.  Robed in black cloaks with hoods, Missy and Seth stood on each side of Lisa as she adorned a white wedding dress, her head covered in a veil.  It appeared she could barely walk as Missy and Seth provided support, their arms gently encircling her arms.  On the other side of Seth, he maneuvered an I.V. stand with multiple bags of blood with hoses that ran to Lisa’s wrist, while Missy held a large carving knife in her free hand.

After a short distance, they paused and began removing Lisa’s wedding dress and veil.  Once unclothed, the men gasped in disbelief when they saw her nude form, her once vibrant red hair now gone, lips sewn together, eyelids removed, and thousands of stitched incisions covered every portion of her body.  About one inch in length and spaced a quarter of an inch apart, these incisions, stitched closed with thick black thread, completely covered her shaved head, face, neck, torso, breasts, and limbs.  Stitches even lined her fingers and toes, covered the bottom of her feet, encircled her ears, and dotted the whites of her eyeballs.  A sewn gash ran from her shoulders to the center of her chest, then down to her groin, similar to a Y incision performed during an autopsy.

As Seth clenched Lisa’s arm, her frantic heartbeats pulsed through his fingers, and the disconcerting rhythm of her panicked breath reverberated in his ear.  Amid the haunting notes of Unchained Melody enveloping the room, Missy’s voice pierced the air with a chilling announcement as they advanced forward, “Dead woman walking!”

Following that chilling proclamation, Seth sensed Lisa’s heart momentarily falter, a faint, desperate whimper escaping from her quivering lips, her mind consumed by the horrifying reality of her impending doom.  As they slowly ventured forth along the path aglow with flickering candles and padded with rose peddles, Lisa’s anguished moans reverberated, each step a symphony of suffering, her stitched body a canvas of torment.  It took several agonizing minutes for Lisa to traverse the thirty-foot path, her stitched feet leaving bloody footsteps in her wake.  When they approached the knight, Seth and Missy helped Lisa stand over him, placing a foot on each side of his waist, while facing toward his head.  Missy then knelt and shoved the handle of the large carving knife into a hole in the tin man’s crotch.  She rotated the knife, and when its razor-sharp blade faced forward, a latching mechanism made a snapping sound as it locked it into place.

A nauseated feeling swept over the men as they observed the size of the knife, its blade stretching about fourteen inches in length, its base expanding to three inches in width.  Then to their absolute horror, as soon as Seth and Missy stepped away, Lisa didn’t hesitate as she squatted downwards and shoved the knife inside her pussy, instantly splitting her vagina down the center from her clit to the top of her uterus.  After enduring two days of relentless torment and suffering more agony than she ever thought possible, she was not only ready to die, but longed for it.  As she began riding the tin man, she wailed muffled screams through her stitched lips as the knife ravaged and mutilated her innards.  Her gaping wound flowed with crimson, seeping relentlessly onto the cold, unforgiving metal of the tin man beneath.  The blood snaked its way across her metallic lover with an unsettling deliberation, weaving a sinister dance of scarlet rivulets that trailed and merged, forming a grotesque canvas of suffering.  Each drop seemed to echo a disturbing rhythm, as the tin man’s suit of armor absorbed the macabre offering.

When the knife came piercing through the skin on her lower back, Kenneth leapt from his chair and began dry heaving.  He struggled to suppress the rising urge to vomit, but when he detected the sound of the blade scraping against her tailbone intertwined with her grizzly moans of agony, he couldn’t hold back any longer and began vomiting.

Within seconds, the blade had butchered Lisa’s female organs, sliced open her bladder, and mutilated her intestines.  Experiencing an overwhelming amount of pain combined with a surge of adrenaline, she ripped the stitches from her lips, and as she wailed a bloodcurdling scream, urine, feces, blood, and ravaged pieces of flesh gushed from the gaping hole between her legs, covering the tin man’s waist and engulfing the air with an overpowering and repulsive stench, an amalgamation of acrid and nauseating notes that arose from the mingling of various body fluids.  The odor hung heavily, reminiscent of a dumpster filled with putrefying meat, stale blood, and swarming maggots, clinging to the atmosphere like an unwelcome shroud and a testament to the raw, bodily essence of life.  As blood drained from her gaping wound, the bags of blood hanging from the I.V. stand steadily deflated as they attempted to replenish her body.

Wyatt and Kyle sat in stunned silence as the blade came slicing through the front of her lower abdomen, creating a huge opening from her vagina to her belly button.  As her abdominal cavity lay wide open, her ravaged female organs, detached bladder, and large sections of mutilated intestines spilled out of the cavernous wound and onto the tin man before sliding to the floor.  From her wound, warm jets of blood erupted, showering the tin man in a gruesome spray, transforming him into a canvas of gore and dulling the once-gleaming armor to a coppery hue.

Then a wheezing sound began emanating from Lisa’s chest, the result of the knife puncturing one of her lungs, and as she gulped for air like a fish out of water, blood came pouring from her mouth and nostrils.  A moment later, her lifeless body fell forward and slumped against the tin man.  While the song Unchained Melody cast a somber atmosphere over the grim scene, Seth quickly pulled her onto the floor, laying her on her back, as Missy brought over an emergency crash cart.  As lights began illuminating the room, Seth and Missy feverishly worked to control Lisa’s bleeding with clamps, sponges, and clotting agents.

Seth glanced up, noticing Kenneth was lying on his back behind the row of chairs.  “What’s wrong with Kenneth?”

Wyatt glanced over his shoulder.  “Oh, shit.  I knew he got sick, but I didn’t know where he went.”  He quickly rushed over to him and checked his vitals.  “I think he’s just passed out.”

“I warned his ass this would be too much for him to handle.”  Seth then noticed Barry and Kyle were missing.  “And where’s Spanky and Kyle?”

Wyatt shrugged his shoulders.  “They both rushed out of here.  I think they got sick too.”

About that time, Kenneth sat up.  “What the fuck?  Why am I on the floor?”

Seth laughed as he gave Lisa chest compressions.  “You said you weren’t a pussy, but your ass passed out.”

He stood to his feet, his voice laced with disbelief.  “Bullshit.  I didn’t pass out.”

“Hell, if you didn’t.”

A surge of queasiness overwhelmed him as he examined the blood-smeared knight, its waist and surrounding floor covered with mangled organs, entrails, blood, urine, and feces.  When his gaze shifted to Lisa’s ravaged body, he began to retch uncontrollably.  “Oh, my God!  How is she still alive?”

“She’s not, but we’re trying to bring her back.”

“Why?  Just let her die.”

Missy shook her head as she pumped a manual resuscitator.  “Hell no.  This bitch ain’t done suffering if I can help it.”

Suddenly, a gasp escaped Lisa’s lips as she startled awake.  Missy glanced at Wyatt as he stood off to the side with a disturbed expression.  “Go grab the gurney.”

Seth raised his hand, getting their attention.  “We can’t move her.  There’s way too much trauma done to her body, and she’s not going to survive much longer anyway.  And I’m surprised that she even woke up.”

A look of disappointment came over Missy.  “Dammit!”  She retrieved a knife from her waistband and began stabbing Lisa in the face, rupturing both eyeballs, shattering her teeth at the roots, and mutilating her flesh.  As Lisa wailed out her last breath of air, Missy buried the knife deep into her heart, leaving it in place as she rose to her feet.  “That ruthless bitch got off way too easy.”

“Naw, she’s burning in Hell now.”  As Seth lit a cigarette with his bloodstained hands, he noticed Kenneth was lying on the floor.  “Seriously?  His ass passed out again?”

Wyatt shrugged his shoulders.  “I guess.”

Seth laughed.  “What a pussy.”

FUBAR

Randy and Jeff lived on the third floor, and traversing the stairs deemed to be more difficult than first anticipated.  With the dolls throwing off their center of gravity, and with no hands available to hold onto the handrail due to supporting their dolls, the two perverts were forced to take slow and cautious steps to ensure they wouldn’t slip and fall.  To make the situation worse, the sound of the dolls shouting “child molester” not only resonated throughout the building, but also provoked some of the residents to come out of their apartments.  A few of the spectators just stood dumbfounded as they observed the perverted display, others began shouting obscenities and making threats.  The same reaction happened with people coming up the stairs; some fled in the opposite direction, others just stood off to the side in a state of confusion, and some became aggressive and were yelling vulgarities and making threats, specifically toward Jeff because of his white hood. 

About halfway down the staircase, the two perverts came upon several black men.  At first, the men just stood speechless, then anger swept over them when they noticed the dolls.  “What the fuck!?!  Check out these sick motherfuckers!”

Humiliated beyond belief, Randy didn’t say a word as he moved over to the side so he could go around them.  Jeff slid over and got behind Randy as he held his head down in shame.  As Jeff passed by the men, one of them snatched the pillowcase from his head and shouted, “I ought to beat your ass, punk!”

Now with Jeff’s head exposed, another man exclaimed, “The dude even looks like a fuckin’ child molester!”

With the situation becoming chaotic, Jeff bumped Randy in the back with the head of his doll.  “Hurry up, man!  They’re fixin’ to lose their shit!”

“I’m going as fast as I can!”

On the last staircase, Randy lost his footing and tripped.  His paper bag dislodged from his head as he tumbled down the steps like a sack of potatoes.  As his body flopped around, he desperately held onto his doll to prevent his penis from being ripped off.  To make the situation worse, the doll’s defense mechanism activated and began shocking him.  When he crashed onto the concrete floor at the bottom of the staircase, he immediately scrambled to his knees and began examining his crotch.  “Oh, fuck!  I think I tore my dick!”

“Get your ass up!  They’re coming after us!”

Tears and snot covered Randy’s face as he gazed up at Jeff.  “What?”

“They’re gonna fuckin’ kill us!  Run!”

Horror came over Randy when he glanced over his shoulder and spotted a group of men and two women brandishing weapons.  “Oh, Shit!”  He quickly rose to his feet and took off limping behind Jeff.

When they came to the parking lot, Jeff noticed their Uber was parked about a hundred feet away.  “I’m gonna jump in the car before they have a chance to take off.”  Right as he approached the vehicle, it sped away.

Randy came hobbling up with an aggravated expression.  “I told you this shit would happen.”

“Fuck!  I guess we need to go back to the apartment.”

“I can’t.  I tore my dick when I fell down the stairs and need to get to the hospital.”

Jeff noticed blood coated the inside of Randy’s legs.  “Oh, shit!  That’s bad!  But how are we gonna get there?”

“I guess we’re gonna have to walk.”

Jeff looked around, and being a little after 5 PM, he observed the streets and sidewalks were crowded with people heading home from work.  “The hospital is like two miles away, and the streets are crowded right now.”

“That’s why I wanted to go after dark, but you didn’t listen.”

“There’s nothing we can do about it now.”

As Jeff and Randy headed down a busy sidewalk in a low-income residential area, people were reacting in different ways; some were laughing, others were disgusted, frightened, and confused, and some were upset and shouting profanities and threats.  Cars were even stopping in the street as they gawked at the perverted display.  The further they traveled, the houses were being replaced by commercial buildings, and as the building grew in height, the area became more and more congested with people.  To make the situation worse, most of the spectators were recording the depraved exhibit with their phones.  After several more blocks, a mob formed and began following behind the men as they recorded and berated them.  Jeff and Randy didn’t say a word as a crippling amount of humiliation consumed every fiber of their being.  They could hear people making fun of them and how their videos were being livestreamed to different social media platforms.  With each step, the mob became more aggressive, eventually escalating to items being hurled at the two perverts ranging from food to rocks.  Some of the spectators even tried to grab the dolls, forcing Jeff and Randy to fend off their attackers by kicking at them.  With the situation turning violent, the perverts began jogging as hundreds of people followed behind them.

After traveling several more blocks, a bicycle cop came riding up and blocked their path.  He couldn’t believe his eyes as he gazed upon two weirdos holding dolls against their nude crotches.  Randy’s red dreadlocks, Jeff’s likeness to the cartoon character Papa Smurf, and the dolls wailing “child molester” only exacerbated the bizarre situation.  “What the hell is going on here!?!”

A feeling of relief washed over Randy.  “Sir!  Thank God you’re here!  We need your help.”

Befuddled, the cop let his bicycle fall to the sidewalk as he drew his firearm from its holster.  “You two sickos need to get your hands up!”

“We can’t.”

“I said get your fuckin’ hands up!”

Jeff cried out in a high-pitched and panic-stricken voice.  “We can’t let go of them, sir!  Our penises are stuck inside them!”

“I can see that, you pervert.”  He motioned toward the ground with his firearm.  “I need y’all to get on your knees.  And you better not take your hands off those creepy-ass dolls.”

Randy and Jeff complied as they dropped to their knees.  “We won’t.  And can you please call an ambulance?”

Not sure how to handle the bizarre situation, the cop keyed up on his radio.  “This is Officer Harris.  I have a FUBAR (fucked up beyond all recognition) situation down here on the corner of Laura and Adams and need some backup.”

A dispatcher responded.  “Ten four.  I’m sending some units now.”

The cop studied the crowd of people that encircled him and the two perverts, noting half of them were outraged and shouting profanities and threats.  There were so many onlookers gathered around in a circle, it reminded him of fights that took place in the schoolyard back when he was kid.  “I need everyone to move back!”  With the large number of spectators flocked so tightly together, he quickly realized the inner rows couldn’t move backwards.  “I need everyone in the back to start moving backwards!”

Observing the majority of the spectators were holding out their phones, Randy gazed up at the officer with a troubled expression.  “Please make them stop recording us.”

“That should be the least of your worries, pervert.  And you need to shut those damn dolls up before the situation gets out of hand.”

“We can’t.  They shock us if we try to mess with them.”

“You and your friend sure got some balls doing this perverted shit out in the open like this.”

“This isn’t our fault, sir.  Someone did this to us and we’re just trying to get to the hospital.”

About that time, a shoe came flying through the air and struck Randy in the face, prompting not only laughter from the crowd, but inciting some of the spectators to become more aggressive.  The cop keyed up on his mic again.  “This is Officer Harris.  The situation is getting out of control.  I need backup ASAP.”

The dispatcher responded.  “They’re already en route and should be there shortly.”

Knowing if he didn’t take control of the situation, the mob could become violent.  With some of the more aggressive individuals wanting to see Randy and Jeff chastised, his only option was to show a display of aggression and arrest the two perverts.  “Get your asses on the ground and put your hands behind your back!  You’re both under arrest!”

A frown came over Randy.  “Why!?!  We haven’t done anything wrong!”

“Indecent exposure and inciting a riot.  Now get your ass on the ground, asshole!”

“Inciting a riot?  I’m the one who got hit with a fuckin’ shoe.”

Becoming frustrated, the cop shoved them to the ground.  “I said get on the fuckin’ ground, dumbass!  I’m trying to deescalate the situation!”

Randy and Jeff couldn’t get on their stomachs due to the dolls, so they lay on their sides as Officer Harris handcuffed their arms behind their backs.  Once the two perverts were secured, he addressed the mob.  “They have been placed under arrest, so I need everyone to go on about their business!”

They ignored his command as they continued shouting profanities and threats.  Without warning, a fat woman wearing a bright-yellow shirt lunged from the crowd and grabbed Jeff’s doll.  He wailed at the top of his lungs as she began dragging him across the sidewalk by his dick.  As people attempted to grab Randy’s doll, he rolled onto his back and began kicking at them from the ground.  His new position also created a lot of tension on his penis as his doll hung off the side of his waist.  Terrified, he began yelling at the cop for help.  “Please get them away from me!”

To Jeff’s confusion, the woman took off with his doll and quickly disappeared into the crowd.  When he glanced down at his crotch, a grimace of terror came over him when he saw blood spewing from his crotch.  “Oh, my God!  She pulled off my fuckin’ dick!”

A wave of horror washed over Randy as he frantically kicked at his attackers.  “Do something, man, before they pull my dick off too!”

Also shocked that Jeff’s penis was ripped from his body, the cop removed a can of pepper spray from his duty belt and aimed it at some of the aggressors.  “Get back before you get sprayed!”

About that time, numerous cops came rushing into the inner circle.  At first, they just stood dumbstruck as they gazed at Randy and his doll.  Then their eyes grew huge when they saw Jeff’s blood-soaked crotch and missing penis.  Officer Harris pointed at the two perverts and shouted, “Get them out of here!”

As a handful of cops created an opening, two officers escorted Jeff through the crowd as he exclaimed, “Please find that fat bitch!  She has my fuckin’ dick!”

Another officer tried to help Randy to his feet, but with his hands secured behind his back he couldn’t support his doll.  “I can’t stand up!  My dick is stuck inside the doll!  Can you carry it for me!?!”

The cop glared at Officer Harris.  “I’m not touching his damn doll.”

Aggravated, Officer Harris quickly removed the handcuffs.  “Get your ass out of here!”

Randy grabbed his doll and took off limping.  Without hesitating, the cops shoved the perverts into the back of an ambulance.  Officer Harris climbed in after them, and as they closed the door, Jeff cried out one last plea, “Please find my dick so I can have it sewn back on!”

A wave of relief came over Randy when the vehicle began moving.  “Thank God that’s over!  I thought I was a goner there for a moment.”

Jeff glared at him as a female paramedic held gauze to his crotch.  “Thank God?  I got my dick ripped off, man.”

“I know, dude.  But don’t worry.  I’m sure the cops will find it and bring it to the hospital.”

Jeff eyed Officer Harris as he sat next to Randy.  “Hey, man.  Please radio your cop buddies and tell them to find that fat bitch.  She’s wearing a bright-yellow shirt with cats printed on it.”

“You two are some stupid motherfuckers.  And you better be lucky that’s all that happened to you.”

Randy could see the disgust on the paramedic’s face as she applied pressure to Jeff’s wound.  “Some sick bastard knocked us unconscious and did this to us.  We’re just innocent victims of a crime.”

She glanced at his doll as it wailed child molester.  “I didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah, but I can tell by your face what you’re thinking.”

Officer Harris elbowed Randy in the side.  “Sit there and be quiet, perv, and let the lady do her job.”

When they arrived at the emergency room, hospital staff moved Randy and Jeff into wheelchairs, then rolled them into the building.  Randy couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw the waiting area was full of men with dolls hanging from their crotches, and the sound of ‘child molester’ completely engulfed the room.  There were even Hispanic men with dolls that yelled out the phrase, “Abusador de niños!”  Doctors, nurses, and police officers were chaotically running around as numerous dolls declared everyone in the room was a child molester.

To Randy’s surprise, he saw Mack sitting across the room.  With all the dolls in the room making so much racket, he leaned close to Jeff and yelled, “See that dude with a beard sitting next to the reception area?”

Jeff nodded.  “Yeah.”

“That’s Mack, my Uber driver I was telling you about earlier.”

When Mack noticed Randy and Jeff were staring at him, he came rolling up in a wheelchair.  “Hey, man.  Can you believe this shit is happening?”

Randy pointed at his own ear.  “I can’t hear you.”

Mack rolled closer to him, then raised his voice as he repeated himself.  “Can you believe this shit is happening?”

“Hell, no.  It’s fucked up.”  Randy’s eyes traveled to a doll sitting in Mack’s lap.  “Damn, dude.  Someone sent you one too?”

“Yep.  My dumbass fell for it hook, line, and sinker.  And apparently, thousands of these dolls were sent to people across the country by Seth Coker.”

“Who in the fuck is that?”

“You know, that vigilante dude that’s always on the news.”

His eyes opened wide with disbelief.  “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you know that?”

He pointed at a wall-mounted T.V.  “It’s all over the news.”

Randy noticed the news confirmed Mack’s story, stating thousands of boobytrapped dolls were sent to convicted child molesters across the country by a vigilante known as Seth Coker.  The news stated hospitals across the country were being flooded by men who fell victim to the mischievous stunt.

Anger washed over Jeff as he glared at the screen.  “This wasn’t a mischievous stunt.  It was a cruel and sadistic assault.  And because of it, I got my fuckin’ dick ripped off.”

Randy grabbed Jeff’s shoulder.  “It’ll be alright, man.  The doctors can sew it back on and you’ll be good as new.”

“Yeah, if they can find the damn thing.”

“I’m sure the cops are looking for it as we speak.”

“They better be.”

Randy glanced around the room and observed the facial expressions on the other men as their dolls wailed child molester.  He could see the humiliation plastered across their faces as they waited for a doctor.  Feeling ashamed, he eyed Mack with a troubled expression.  “I didn’t have sex with this doll.  I was trying to take it apart and accidentally got myself stuck inside it.”

Equally mortified, Jeff lowered his head.  “I accidentally rolled on top of mine when I was asleep.”

Mack shrugged his shoulders.  “I ain’t gonna lie.  I fucked the damn thing.  It is what it is.”  He glanced at a sheet covering Jeff’s waist.  “How did you lose your penis, bro?”

“When I was in handcuffs, some cat lady grabbed the doll and ripped it from my body.”

His eyes grew huge as medallions.  “Oh, shit!  That’s messed up, dude!”

“That bitch better hope I don’t find her ass.  And I’m gonna sue that cop for violating my rights and not protecting me when I was in his custody.”

“I don’t blame you, man.  And you’re not the only one that’s happened to.  Several men have come in here with missing dicks.  I’m not sure if someone else did that to them, or if they did it to themselves, but they’re with the doctors right now.”

“Do you know what the wait time is to see a doctor?”

“Those guys got to go back pretty quick, but that was before the waiting room got full.”

“How long have you been in here?”

“About two hours.”

His eyes opened wide.  “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

Frustration came over Randy.  “Why is it taking so damn long?”

“I’ve overheard some of the nurses mention that the doctors don’t know how to remove the dolls.  When they X-rayed or scanned them, some type of chemical was injected into their dicks.  Same thing happened when they tried to open the dolls.  And apparently, the doctors had to amputate their dicks because of the chemical.”

“It’s formaldehyde.”

“How do you know that?”

Randy pulled a sheet of paper from his sock.  “Did you not find the schematics that came with your doll?”

“Naw, man.  I drove straight here after the damn thing latched onto my dick.”

“They need to hurry their asses up.  I’m almost to the four-hour mark and my timer could go off.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The dolls have countdown timers that will automatically inject the formaldehyde into our dicks.”

Up to this point, Mack didn’t seem too concerned with his situation.  He assumed the doctors would eventually find a way to remove the dolls.  But now realizing the dolls possessed a timer, he became worried.  “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.  It’s in the schematics.”

“How long do we have?”

“It’s between four hours and three days.”

“That’s vague as fuck.”

“I said the same thing.  And I’m almost to the four-hour mark.”

Mack glanced at the time displayed on his cellphone.  “Damn!  It’s been almost six hours for me.  You need to give your schematics to the doctors and tell them about the timers.  It might also help them find a way to remove the dolls.”

“That’s a good idea.”  Randy rolled his wheelchair over to the reception desk and held out his schematics.  “Can you give this to the doctors?  It’s a schematic diagram of my doll.”

The nurse displayed a look of revulsion as she shook her head.  The sight of numerous men sitting in wheelchairs with dolls perched in their laps not only appalled her, but the chaotic sound of ‘child molester’ echoing out was almost too much to bear.  Randy’s peculiar appearance combined with his doll wearing a BDSM mask only disgusted her further.  “They already have several copies.  Please go back to where you were sitting.”

“But my copy might be different, and it could help them find a way to remove it.”

She snatched the paper from his hand as she grumbled to herself, “It’s what you get for fucking kids.”

“What did you say?”

“I said it’s what you get for fucking kids, pervert.”

“You can’t talk to me like that!”

“Please go away before I call security.”

Randy rolled up to Jeff and Mack with an aggravated expression.  “I gave it to that bitch over there, but she said the doctors already have several copies.”

Mack shrugged his shoulders.  “That’s a good thing, so there’s no reason to be upset.”

“I’m not pissed about that.  She called me a pervert and said this is what I get for fucking kids.”

“Wow!  What a cunt.  You need to file a complaint against her ass.”

“I am when this is over.”

Suddenly, everyone became quiet in the waiting room as the dolls continued repeating child molester.  Randy and Jeff noticed the news was displaying videos taken by people from all over the country.  The clips were collected by the news channel from various social media platforms, meaning people from around the world were not only seeing, but sharing the videos, creating an enormous amount of humiliation for the perverts who fell victim to Seth Coker’s antics.  The videos displayed men with dolls chaotically running down streets and sidewalks with people chasing after them.  Some scenes showed mobs of people beating men, ripping dolls from their bodies, and in some of the more violent scenes, men were being stabbed, shot, and set on fire.

Mack couldn’t believe his eyes when the next video began playing.  “Holy, shit!  That’s y’all!”

Humiliation engulfed Randy and Jeff as they watched themselves on T.V. being chased down the street by a mob of people.  The next scene showed them laying on the ground handcuffed as the heavy-set woman tugged on Jeff’s doll.  Anger swept over Jeff as he glared at the screen.  “There’s the fuckin’ cat lady who ripped off my dick!”

Randy shook his head as he watched the scene unfold.  “This is embarrassing as fuck.”

Mack nodded.  “Yeah, it is.”  He eyed Jeff.  “But it’s also a good thing.  Now that the cops know what she looks like, they’ll be able to find her and get your dick back.  And they can also use this video as evidence against her.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I am, bro.”

When the next clip began playing, frustration came over Jeff.  “There’s that bitch again!  And she’s got my fuckin’ dick!”

In the video, Randy spotted a heavy-set woman wearing a bright-yellow shirt covered in cats.  As she stood in front of a group of people, she held up a doll while everyone cheered.  “What a cunt!”

Jeff’s eyes narrowed when he saw three cops standing next to her.  To make the situation worse, the cops were posing with their weapons same as hunters pose next to their kill.  “Hold up!  Why are the fuckin’ cops just standing there!?!  They should be arresting her and bringing my dick to the hospital.”

“I know, man.  That’s really fucked up.”

Grief came over Jeff as his eyes filled with tears.  “That means I’m not going to get my dick back.  How can I go on living without it?”

Being a man himself, Randy knew how devastating it would be to lose his manhood.  “I’m sure the doctors can give you a prosthetic or something.”

Jeff began sobbing like a baby as he covered his face.  “You know that won’t be the same.”

It's Only Make Believe

A couple of days later, Seth drove a wheelchair-accessible short bus to a secluded ranch house in Dripping Springs, a small town located on the west side of Austin, Texas.  He parked inside a barn, then glanced to the back where Barry sat sulking in his mechanical contraption.  “Are you comin’ in, or you gonna stay out here and pout?”

“I’m not poutin’.  You’re just a sorry motherfucker for what you did to me.  I hate you so bad right now.”

“Stop whinin’.  It’s what you get for actin’ like an asshole.”

“Whatever, dude.  And I’m not leavin’ this fuckin’ bus.  And speaking of bus, you got some balls drivin’ me around in this thing.  And you might think it’s funny now, but you’ll be the one whinin’ after some Karen calls the cops.”

“Are you comin’ in or not?”

“No.”

“Suit yourself, pouter.  And you will be part of show and tell later, so get your attitude in check.”  Seth went into the house, finding Justin, also known as the Milkman, or more recently as Otis, sitting at a computer.  “How’s it going?”

He handed Seth a piece of paper with a list of names and times.  “I’ve got these perverts coming at those times.”  Over the last several months, Justin pretended to be a kid, portraying a boy or girl depending on the predator’s preference, on social media websites, chat rooms, and gaming apps, where he engaged with pedophiles.

Seth scrutinized the paper, noting six names.  “Good, and I see you were able to get Johnny Moore.  Spanky is gonna be pissed.”

“I’m sure he will be.”

Seth laughed when he read the fourth name on the list, Billy Ray Monroe.  “I’m glad to see you were able to lure Panty Man here.  I told that stupid fucker I’d be turning his ass into a monster.”

“And he’s driving all the way from Monte Vista, Colorado.”

“Yeah, you fuckin’ perverts never cease to amaze me.”

A saddened expression came over Justin.  “You know I’ve changed.  I’m not that person anymore.”

“That’s because you have an udder instead of a dick, otherwise, you’d still be out there fuckin’ kids… and cows.”

“That’s not fair.  And how long are you gonna hold that against me?”

“Just be glad I’m lettin’ you make up for what you did instead of the alternative.”

“I am.  I swear.  You’ve taught me a lesson and made me a better human being.”

“Don’t patronize me.  If you didn’t have that explosive collar around your damn neck, you would have already gone to the police.”

“That’s not true.  And speaking of my collar.”  He grasped a thick, metal ring encircling his neck that incorporated not only explosives, but also a GPS tracking device, a microphone, and cameras.  “How much longer do I have to wear this?”

“Probably until you’re dead.”

Outside, Kenneth and Wyatt pulled into the barn.  When Kenneth stepped out of the car, he shook his head as he scrutinized Seth’s yellow short bus.  “What the hell?  I can’t believe he’s drivin’ that shit around.”

Wyatt chuckled upon noticing hand-painted block letters on the side of the bus that spelled out RETARD BUS.  “That crazy motherfucker.  He must have done that to piss off Barry.”

Kenneth frowned.  “Fuck Spanky.  I ain’t in no mood to put up with his shit today.”

“Just ignore his ass.”  Wyatt glanced at his watch.  “We better get on in there.  We’re already twenty minutes late.”

Once inside the house, Seth handed them the list of names.  “Otis was able to get six pervs for this evening.  The first one will be here at four PM, which is in about two hours.”  Since Justin fucked a cow, resulting in Seth giving him an udder, the moniker “Otis” was bestowed upon him and based on the character Otis the cow from the television series Back at the Barnyard.

Kenneth analyzed the list for a moment.  “So, what’s the game plan?”

“It’s simple.  As these fuckers arrive, Otis will lure them into the house with the voice generator.  Once inside, I’ll fuck with them for a little bit, then when I say they’re on the show Scumbags Gone Wild, you can take their ass out.  After we have them restrained, I need you to get their keys and move their vehicle to the barn.”  Seth glanced at Wyatt.  “And you need to get their phone and put it inside the Faraday bag to block the signal.  And make sure they don’t have more than one phone.  When these fuckers come up missing, we don’t want the cops tracking them here.”  Seth scrutinized the list of names.  “The first three to show up will be Shawn, Luke, and Toby.  We’re gonna fuck them up here.  But I’m not sure yet what I’m gonna do with the last three, Billy, Gloria, and Johnny.”  Seth handed Kenneth a photo of a man.  “That’s Shawn O’Brien.  He’s the fucker coming at four.”

Kenneth observed Shawn appeared to be an older slender man, the top of his scalp devoid of hair with gray locks cascading down the sides and back.  His elongated face featured a scruffy beard, and his eyes exuded a deep and pensive darkness.  “What a creepy lookin’ fucker.  And how old is this dude?”

“Sixty-three.”

“Seriously?  He’s comin’ to hook up with a thirteen-year-old?”

“Yep.  He’s just beggin’ for it.”

At that moment, the doorbell rang.  Wyatt’s eyes widened, a look of apprehension sweeping over him.  “Oh, shit!  Someone is here.  Should we hide?”

Seth peeked out the window.  “It’s fuckin’ Spanky.”

“Spanky?  Why is he outside?”

“I left him in the bus because he was pouting.”  Seth jerked open the door.  “Get in here before someone sees you, dumbass.”

Barry displayed a look of irritation as sweat dripped him his face and body.  “Dude!  I can’t believe you left me in the fuckin’ bus.  It was hot as fuck in there!”

“That was your fault.  I told your ass to come in, but you were pouted up.”

When he drove through the door, Wyatt erupted into laughter.  “Holy shit!  What the hell did you do to him?”

Barry’s eye narrowed as his mechanical one zoomed in and out.  “Yeah, yeah.  Get it out of your system.”  Perched atop Barry’s head sat a pair of butt cheeks adorned with a red thong.  Fresh stitching ran around the newly transplanted body part where it joined with the skin on the sides of his cranium.

A surge of disbelief washed over Kenneth as he beheld the unsettling scene.  His gaze then shifted to the butthole situated in the center of Barry’s forehead.  “Damn, Seth.  That’s fucked up.”

“That’s what he gets for actin’ like an asshole the other night.”

As Barry’s mechanical contraption held his limbless torso in the upright position, Kenneth glanced at his rear end, observing it was flat like a pancake and covered in long hair.  “Is that his freakin’ scalp?”

“Yep.”

“How does he take a shit?”

“See that plastic cap in the center of his bald spot?”

Kenneth noticed a white cap protruding from a bald area in the center of the hair.  “Yeah.”

“That’s a colostomy port.”

“That’s fuckin’ nasty.”

Barry drove over to a window AC unit and began taking in the cool air.  “You guys are a bunch of assholes.”

Seth lit a cigarette.  “Don’t start talkin’ shit.”

“I told you I didn’t want to come, you fuckin’ prick.”

“Keep running your mouth and see where it gets you.”

“There’s nothing else you can do to me, so fuck you.”

“I can reroute your colon to the pucker hole on your forehead.”

“That’s impossible.”

“You wanna find out?”

Barry gritted his teeth as he looked down.  “You’re such a fuckin’ prick.”

“What was that?  I didn’t quite hear you.”

“I said, I’m sorry for being such a fuckin’ dick.”

“That’s what I thought, Butthead.  And when the perverts get here, you better be ready for show and tell.”

Wyatt erupted into laughter.  “Butthead!  That’s funny as shit.”

“That’s his new nickname.”

Barry glared at Seth as his eye narrowed in anger.  “I hate you so much right now.”

“It’s better than being called Shitface.  And if you keep runnin’ your pie hole, I’ll show you what I mean.”

Not wanting his colon redirected to his forehead, Barry turned his back toward Seth, and as he sulked, he grumbled under his breath.

“I can still hear you bitchin’.”

He began making a growling sound.

“You’re worse than a damn kid.”

Shortly before four PM, a late eighties, faded red, Volkswagen Jetta slowly crept by the house.  Seth lowered his binoculars from the window and glanced back at the others.  “Shawn is here.”

Kenneth peeped through the blinds and watched as the car slowly inched down the road.  “What the fuck is he doin’?”

“He’s patrollin’.”

“What does that mean?”

“He’s tryin’ to figure out if this is a setup.”

Kenneth laughed as he sung the lyrics from the song Ridin’ by Chamillionaire.  “They see me rollin’, they hatin’, patrollin’, and tryna catch me ridin’ dirty, tryna catch me ridin’ dirty.”

A moment later, the car pulled into the driveway and parked.  Seth motioned to Justin.  “Get ready.  The fucker is approaching the house.”

With a sense of caution, Shawn made his way towards the house, balancing a pizza box and a bottle of wine.  His attention was drawn to the front entrance, where he observed the main door ajar, while a screen door remained shut.  He approached the door and peeked in through the screen.  “Hello!”

A young female’s voice echoed out.  “Come on in!”

He cracked the door open and cautiously surveyed the inside, observing nothing seemed out of the ordinary.  “Where ya at?”

“I just got out of the shower.  I wanted my pussy to be extra clean for you.  And I took a laxative and cleaned out my ass in case you wanted a little anal action.”

Originally, Shawn felt anxious, knowing it was a common practice for the cops to lure sex offenders into traps, but after her crude, and somewhat disgusting remark, he not only felt at ease, but was fully aroused.  “Heck yeah, baby!  I’m down for that.”

He strolled into the kitchen and sat the pizza box and wine on an island counter.  “So, have you had anal sex before?”

“No.  But I want to try it.  My friends say it makes them cum so many times.  I hope you know how to fuck, because you’re gonna be in this ass all night long.”

Shawn’s dick was so hard that it appeared as if it could burst through his jeans at any moment.  Without delay, he peeled off his clothes, and as he stood butt naked in the kitchen with his erect penis sticking out like a flagpole, Seth casually emerged from a hallway, clad in a grim reaper costume, his face painted to resemble a skull.  “How’s it going, pervert?”

Shawn’s eyes grew huge as saucers as he quickly covered his genitals with the pizza box.  “Who are you?”

Seth laid a scythe on the countertop, the blade making a screeching sound as it slid against the granite.  “Relax.  We’re just gonna talk for now.”

“Uh…”  His gaze darted around the room, fully aware that he had been caught red-handed, especially after watching TV shows that busted sex offenders after luring them to a house.  “It’s not what you think.  I was just comin’ here to make sure Beth was safe.  I’m not sure if you know, but she’s been chattin’ online with older guys, and somethin’ bad could happen to her.  I just wanted to explain to her how dangerous that is.”

“And you needed to be naked to do that?”

“Uh…  I…”  He thought for a moment.  “I’m also meetin’ up with her mom.  She wanted me to do this, because she’s real kinky.”

“You’re an idiot.”  Seth pointed across the room.  “You can pick one now, or later.”

Shawn’s eyes traveled to where Seth indicated, then a wave of confusion came over him when he saw a row of coffins leaning upright against a wall.  They varied in type, crafted from materials such as wood, wicker, or metal, ranging from traditional toe pinchers to more modern designs.  With Seth dressed as the grim reaper, and now observing the coffins, Shawn didn’t know what to think.  “Are those Halloween props or somethin’?”

“Is it Halloween?”

“What?”

“Don’t watt me, you’re not a fuckin’ light bulb.”

“Uh, you lost me.”

“I asked you if it was Halloween.”

“Oh.  And no, it’s not.”

“Then you have your answer.”

“I don’t understand.  Is this a joke or somethin’?”

“No, there’s nothing funny about an old man wanting to fuck a thirteen-year-old, especially in her ass all night long.”

“Hold up, man.  I don’t know why she was saying that.  I already told you I came here to make sure she was safe and to hook up with her mom.  I’m not into kids.  I like older women.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah.  I’m not a pervert.”

Seth held up several documents.  “Then why did you rape your daughter and get busted three times for child pornography?”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Sure, you do.”  He slung the documents across the countertop.  “That’s your criminal record, jackass.  And the worst part is, your daughter is mentally retarded, you sick fuck.  And you got her pregnant when she was fourteen.” 

“You must have me confused with someone else.”

Seth tossed a white card next to the documents.  “You can fill that out now, or later.”

Shawn scrutinized the rectangular shaped card, observing a string dangled from one end.  “What the hell is that?”

“A toe tag.”

Between Seth’s costume, the presence of coffins, and now the addition of the toe tag, a feeling of unease washed over Shawn.  “You’re startin’ to freak me out.  Can I leave now?”

“Your ass ain’t going anywhere.”

“Hold up.  You can’t keep me here.  I know my rights.  And I know the cops are waitin’ for me outside, so I want to get the hell out of here.”

“First, let me explain who I am.”

“I already know who you are and what’s going to happen, so I want to get it over with.”

“I’m Seth Coker, also known as the Angel of Death.”

About that time, Justin came out of a doorway, butt naked, holding a large camera on his shoulder, followed by Barry with a microphone boom gripped in his robotic arm.  Shawn expected cameramen to reveal themselves, but the likes of Justin and Barry completely caught him off guard.  “What the hell?”

“What the hell is right, pervert, and you’re on Scumbags Gone Wild.”

On cue, Kenneth came barreling out of a hallway wearing a stocking over his head while wielding an axe.  Filled with panic, Shawn dropped the pizza box and made a dash for the front door.  Upon discovering Wyatt on the other side of the screen door, wielding a machete and donned in a goat man costume, he swiftly pivoted towards the back door.  A flood of relief surged through him as he forcefully swung it open.  However, the moment he stepped into the backyard, a mix of disbelief and horror came over him.  Before him stretched a row of newly dug graves, each accompanied by a mound of dirt and a tombstone.  The urge to escape coursed within him, yet a chain-link fence, adorned with concertina wire, encircled the backyard.  Before he could react, a tranquilizer dart stuck him in the neck, then his vision faded to black.

As Seth and Wyatt dragged Shawn into the house, Barry eyed Kenneth and laughed.  “Was the stocking the best you could come up with?”

“What are you babblin’ about, freak?”

“That was lame.  He wasn’t even afraid of you.”

“Bullshit.  He took off runnin’ scared.”

“That’s because he saw Otis.”

Justin shook his head.  “Naw, man.  When he saw your disgustin’ ass, he took off like a bat out of Hell.  And don’t call me Otis, Butthead.”

“Fuck you.  That’s not my name.  And I’m not disgustin’.”

“You’re sure in the fuck not handsome.”

“You got a lot of room to talk with that udder hangin’ from your crotch.”

While hog-tying Shawn, Seth grumbled.  “Y’all don’t start arguin’.”  Then he laughed.  “And both of you freaked him out.  You should have seen his eyes.  They opened wide as fuck when he saw y’all.”  He glanced at Kenneth.  “And that was lame.  I left you a bunch of costumes to choose from.  Why did you pick the stockin’?”

He shrugged his shoulders.  “I’m not wearin’ that dumb shit.”

“Come on, man.  Have some fun.”

Aggravated, Kenneth grabbed Shawn by the legs.  “Where do you want me to hide his ass?  Luke will be here in about twenty minutes.”

Seth pointed to a door.  “Stick him in that closet.”

Wyatt released the window blinds and glanced at Seth.  “He’s already here.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, unless it the cops drivin’ a Nissan Cube.”

“Well, hell yeah, then!  Let’s get into position.”

When the doorbell rang, Justin spoke in his voice changer, mimicking a twelve-year-old boy.  “Come on in!”

Luke Wagner, a forty-two-year-old heavyset man with long, black hair and a thick mustache, eased the screen door open and glanced in.  “Jimmy?”

“I’m in the back gettin’ dressed.  I just got out of the shower.”

Wearing basketball shorts, flip flops, and an old Pearl Jam t-shirt, he cautiously stepped inside the house.  “Are you here alone?”

“Yeah.  I already told you my parents are in France on vacation, so chillax.  And I hope you know how to fuck, because you’re gonna be in this tight virgin ass all night long.”

With his dick throbbing, Luke began jerking off his clothes, tossing them to the floor, as he headed across the room.  “Hell, yeah!  I’m down with that!”  He plopped on a couch, and as he lay butt naked, Seth strolled out of a hallway wearing his grim reaper costume.  “How’s it hangin’, pal?”

Luke quickly sat up and covered his erect penis with a pillow.  “Oh, shit!  This isn’t what you think.”

“Really?  You’re not here to fuck a twelve-year-old boy in the ass?”

“Naw, man.  I just came to play video games.”

“Well, I see you brought your own joystick.”

“It’s not like that.  It’s just really hot in here, and, uh, you know.”  Luke studied Seth’s costume as he sat bewildered.  “Who are you, and why are you dressed that way?”

“It’s for our show.”  As Justin sauntered into the room nude, Seth added, “Scumbags Gone Wild.”

“Show?”  He scrutinized the camera perched on Justin’s shoulder.  “Oh, hell no.”  Then his eyes traveled to Justin’s udder.  “What the fuck?  Is this a joke?”  When Barry came rolling up in his contraption, Luke leapt from the couch and began retrieving his clothes strewn across the floor.  “I’m outta here, you fuckin’ weirdos.”

Seth raised his voice and repeated, “I said, it’s for our show Scumbags Gone Wild.”

Letting out primal roars and brandishing a club, Kenneth burst out of the hallway clad in a bigfoot costume from the neck down, complete with a shaggy brown wig.  Without hesitating, Luke made a beeline for the nearest exit.  He forcefully kicked open the screen door and, in a seamless motion, punched the person wearing the goat man costume in the face as he dashed across the front porch.  Before he made it to his car, Seth shot Luke in the back with a tranquilizer dart, sending him nosediving into the dirt.

Irate, Wyatt pulled his mask off and clutched his nose.  “Son of a bitch!  The bastard popped me good.”

Seth holstered his tranq gun.  “Yeah, that didn’t go quite as planned.”

Kenneth laughed as he stood in the doorway.  “That’s ‘cause I scared the shit out of him.”

Seth shook his head as he scrutinized Kenneth’s costume.  “I doubt that, Cha-Ka.”

“Who in the fuck is Cha-Ka?”

“The creepy fucker from the Land of the Lost movie.”

“I haven’t watched it, so I don’t know who you’re talkin’ about.  And I thought this was a bigfoot costume.”

“It would be if you wore the correct mask with it instead of that damn wig.”

“That shit was itchy.”

“Well, I doubt he was scared of Cha-Ka, unless he thought you were going to rape him.  Next time try somethin’ more intimidating.”

“Rape him?  Why in hell would you say that?”

Barry sarcastically popped off.  “Because you look like a rapist.”

Justin laughed.  “If you saw the movie, you’d know what we’re talkin’ about.”

A look of aggravation came over Kenneth as he glared at Justin.  “Fuck you, punk.  I’ll snap your fuckin’ neck.”

“Hold up, man!  Why are you pissed at me?”

“I’m not gonna take any lip from your creepy ass.”  He nodded toward Barry.  “I already have to put up with his bullshit.”

“Okay, man.  Chill out.  I didn’t mean to upset you.”

After Seth and Wyatt hog-tied Luke and placed him in the closet with Shawn, everyone gathered in the kitchen.  As they lingered around, waiting for the next man to show up, Seth handed Kenneth a photo.  “That’s Toby Furguson.  He’s the jackass comin’ next.”

Kenneth examined the photograph, observing that Toby appeared to be in his early thirties, sported a tall and slender build, fiery red hair, and a slim face adorned with a thin mustache.  “What did this fucker do?”

“He molested his three-year-old daughter and spent the last seven years in prison for it.  But the sick fuck also molested his four-year-old sister when he was fifteen.”

Reviewing Toby’s criminal record, Wyatt lowered the folder, his face reflecting a perplexed expression.  “His record doesn’t say anything about him molesting his sister.”

“I know.  He never got caught.”

“Then how do you know he molested her?”

“Because she told me.”

“She?  You talkin’ about his sister?”

“Yeah.  She contacted me on my website and told me what happened.  If he could violate his own sister and daughter, no tellin’ how many other kids he’s already molested, or will molest.”

Kenneth’s eyes narrowed as he scrutinized Toby’s photo.  “What a fuckin’ dirtbag.”

“Yep.  He’s the reason I put this operation together.”

At that moment, the sound of a slamming car door echoed from outside.  Wyatt rushed over to a window and peaked out the blinds.  “He’s here.”

“Damn, he’s an hour early.”  Seth motioned to Barry and Justin.  “Y’all get into position.”  He glanced at Kenneth as he sat at the kitchen table eating a sandwich while wearing only underwear and a t-shirt.  “Try to be more intimidating this time.”

Kenneth grumbled to himself as he lumbered away.  “I got somethin’ for this asshole.”

Seth laughed as he spoke with a British accent.  “That’s the spirit, ‘ol chap.”

A moment later, Toby rang the doorbell as he peeped through the screen door.  “Yo, girl!  You in there?”

Justin’s voice box echoed out, mimicking a fourteen-year-old girl named Jess.  “Yeah, I’m gettin’ out of the shower.  Come on in and make yourself at home.”

Toby strolled through the door and over to the kitchen, taking a seat on a barstool.  “You sure got a cool place.  And I like how you live way out in the middle of nowhere.”

“Yeah, it’s nice not having any neighbors.”

“The privacy is gonna be nice.”

“Speaking of privacy, did you bring any condoms?”

“Of course.”

“You can toss ‘em in the trash, ‘cause I want you cummin’ inside my ass.”

“Oh, hell yeah.  I’m down with that.”

“Good.  And I hope you can go all night long.”

“I sure can.  And have you had anal sex before?”

“No.  You’re gonna be my first, so I hope you know how to fuck.”

Without delay, Toby began pulling off his clothes.  “Oh, hell yeah, girl!  I’m gonna give it to you so good tonight.”

Seth casually walked out of a hallway, donned in his grim reaper costume.  “What are you gonna give her tonight?”

Toby sighed as his shoulders dropped.  “Aw, fuck!  I knew this was a set up.”

“But you still came anyway in hopes you could fuck a fourteen-year-old girl.”

“Naw, man, it’s not like that.  I knew there was a sting operation going on.  I just came to see if y’all needed any help bustin’ the pervs.”

“And you needed to do that naked?”

“It’s not what you think.  I was just doing it to break the ice.  And I swear to God I wasn’t going to touch her.”

“Do you still want to meet Jess?  I’ll even let you fuck her in the ass.”

A wave of confusion swept over him.  “Naw, man.  I just want to leave.”

Seth turned his head and yelled, “Jess!  Come out here!”

Toby’s eyes widened as Justin casually strolled out of a hallway, a camera perched on his shoulder.  “What the hell?”

Seth motioned toward Justin.  “Do you still want to fuck Jess in the ass?”

He scrutinized Justin’s penis shaped arm, then his eyes traveled to his udder.  Between Seth’s costume and Justin’s vulgar prosthetics, which he concluded were fake, he now assumed they must be having a costume party.  “Are y’all havin’ some kind of sex party?”

“It can be.”  Seth yelled to Barry.  “Butthead!  Get your ass out here!”

He didn’t respond.

“Hey, Butthead!  I said get your ass out here!”

A voice echoed out from down the hallway.  “That’s not my fuckin’ name.”

“I’m not tellin’ you again!”

“I’m not comin’ out until you stop callin’ me that.”

“One…  Two….”

Frustrated, Barry came rolling up in his contraption.  “Really?  You’re gonna count to three?  I’m not a fuckin’ kid.”

“Then stop actin’ like one.”

Toby leapt from the barstool, then stood dumbfounded as he gazed at Barry.  “What the fuck?”

Barry frowned.  “Take a picture, asshole.  It will last longer.”

“Are you real?”

“Naw, I’m fuckin’ make believe.”

Seth pulled out his cell phone, connected to a home stereo via Bluetooth, then began playing the song, It’s Only Make Believe by Billy Fury, originally written and sung by Conway Twitty.  “I love this fuckin’ song.”  As the music played, Seth retrieved the microphone from Barry’s robotic arm and began singing along with the melody.

A surge of disbelief and bewilderment washed over Toby while he swiftly got dressed.  In his vicinity were two men who had undergone a strange transformation that could only be characterized as utterly perplexing, and to make the situation even more bizarre, a person clothed as the grim reaper melodically sang along to a romantic love song.  Across the room, he spotted someone wearing a goat mask peering in through the screen door.  It was a very odd and peculiar situation he found himself in, and he wasn’t sure if they wanted to kill him or fuck him.

Suddenly, Kenneth burst out of the hallway completely nude, wielding a chainsaw that tore through the air, its blade gleaming, while its two-stroke engine emitted a jarring, high-pitched whirring noise.  In a panic, Toby took off running, and as he tried to open the back door, Kenneth quickly caught up to him, and in a single fluid movement, he amputated both of Toby’s legs just below the knees.  As Toby lay on the floor screaming at the top of his lungs, Kenneth began mutilating his hands as he tried to defend himself.

Seth couldn’t believe his eyes as he rushed over.  “Don’t kill his ass!  I have plans for him!”

Kenneth shut off the saw, and as he stood butt naked while covered in blood, he grinned wickedly.  “Was that scary enough for you fuckers?”

“What the hell, dude!?!  I hadn’t given you the cue to come out yet.”

“Yeah, you did.  You sang out, now you can go.”

“No, the phrase was, how much I love you so.”

He laughed.  “My bad.”

Seth glanced at Wyatt.  “Go grab the medical kit before this fucker bleeds out.”

After they patched up Toby, placing tourniquets around his limbs and covering his bloody stubs with bandages, everyone convened in the kitchen.  Seth slid a photo of a man across the countertop.  “That’s Billy Ray Moore.  He’s coming next.  I came across this dumbass when I was aborting Zac.”

Wyatt laughed.  “Oh, yeah.  Panty Man.”

“Yep, that’s him.”  Seth glanced at Kenneth.  “And I need him alive, so no more chainsaws.”

Kenneth observed the man appeared to be in his early sixties, the top of his head was bald and surrounded by long, wispy gray hair, a red mustache adorned his chubby face, his left eyebrow hosted an array of studs, a loop hung from his lip, and large gauges decorated his earlobes.  “This guy just looks like he’s beggin’ for it.”

“I said the same damn thing.  And I have somethin’ special planned for his ass.”

“Are we not doin’ the tombstone thing with him?”

“Nope.  And I might be savin’ Johnny too, depending on how the reunion goes.”

“Reunion?”

“You’ll find out later.  It’s a surprise I have for y’all.”

Around 9 PM, Billy Ray Moore, AKA Panty Man, discreetly approached the house on foot, having left his car parked about a quarter mile down the road.  His intent was to meet up with Abby, a fourteen-year-old girl he met on Facebook.  Being a two-time convicted child molester, he was acutely aware of the repercussions should he be caught, and with the night in full sway, darkness pervaded, evoking a greater sense of unease.  At the age of sixty-two and possessing more shrewdness than his younger days, he intended to initially assess the house’s surroundings.  Should anything seem amiss, he could effortlessly retreat back into the darkness.

As he crept up the steps of the front porch, he began to hear the song, It’s Only Make Believe, softly resonating from inside the house.  Peering through the screen door, he caught sight of an interior dimmed to near darkness, with the exception of flickering light escaping from a doorway.  “Hello!  Anyone there?”

A young girl’s voice resonated from the shadows.  “Come on in.”

“Abby, is that you?”

“Yes, I’m in the bedroom.”

Remaining vigilant, Billy gently creaked the door open and slipped inside, and as he stood in the darkness like a creeper in the night, he surveyed the living room with caution.  “Are you here alone?”

“Yeah, I already told you my parents are in Italy, so relax.  And I hope you like anal sex, because you’re gonna be in this ass all night long.”

After that comment, Billy dropped his guard as his dick began to stiffen.  “Oh, hell yeah.  I’m down for that.”

“Well, what are you waitin’ for?  I’m already in bed.”

Approaching a doorway, Billy directed his gaze into a bedroom.  The soft candlelight delicately traced the contours of Abby as she lay sprawled across the mattress, fashioning an ambiance of romance.  The song, It’s Only Make Believe, added to the atmosphere, enveloping the room in a tender melody.

Abby softly spoke as the candlelight cast a subtle glow over her.  “I hope you know how to fuck, because I want you inside me all night long.  And you don’t have to wear a rubber while you’re fucking me in the ass.”

With his dick throbbing and hard as steel, Billy quickly peeled off his clothes and approached the bed.  “Girl, I’m gonna give it to you so good tonight.”  Without delay, he settled onto the bed, and as his wandering hands made contact with her, a surge of bewilderment washed over him when he found two bodies.  “Is someone else with us?”

“Yes, I wanted to have a three-way.”

“What the fuck?”  He sprang from the mattress, worrying it might be a man.  “Is it another dude, or a chick?”

“Does it matter?  Ass is ass.”

Overwhelmed by confusion, Billy moved to the wall, found a light switch, and upon flicking it on, a wave of horror engulfed him as he observed a disturbing sight.  As Toby lay on his back in the bed with tears streaming down his cheeks, bloodstained bandages concealed the end of his stubs, a result of the chainsaw amputating his legs below the knees and his arms at the elbow.  Beside him, Barry lay with his head gently nestled on Toby’s chest, and on the other side of the bed stood Justin holding a microphone.

Paralyzed by disbelief, Billy muttered, “Is this a fuckin’ joke?”

Being displayed like a carnival freak, a look of aggravation came over Barry as he grumbled, “No, it’s only make believe, asshole.”

Billy’s brain couldn’t process what he was seeing, and as he stood paralyzed, Justin spoke into the microphone, his voice altering to imitate that of a young girl.  “Do you still want to fuck me in the ass?”

When Billy turned to run, he found Seth standing in the doorway.  “What the hell is going on!?!”

“I told you I’d be turning you into a monster, Panty Man.”

The color drained from his features as his eyes opened wide as saucers.  “Seth?”

Before he could react, Seth shot him in the face with a tranquilizer dart.

A Teachable Moment

While Seth hog tied Billy, Wyatt took note of his peculiar appearance.  “This dude sure is a creepy lookin’ fucker.”

“Yes, he is.”

“And I can’t believe Justin was able to trick him into coming here, especially after seeing what you did to Zac and Lindsay.  I would figure his guard would be up after that.  And you even warned the dumbass what would happen if you found him.”

“Fuckin’ child molesters never cease to amaze me.”

Still lying next to Toby, Barry grumbled as he glared at Seth.  “That was sorry makin’ me do that.”

“It was funny as fuck.  And it freaked the shit out of Panty Man.”

“It wasn’t funny to me.  And it’s humiliatin’ how you’re treatin’ me.  I’m not your personal side show freak.”

“That’s exactly what you are, so stop bitchin’ and whinin’.”

“You’re such a fuckin’ prick, and I hate you so much right now.”

“You’re worse than a damn kid.  Just lay here next to your buddy and be quiet.”

“One day you’ll get yours.”

“Keep talkin’ and see where it gets ya.”

“Yeah, yeah.  I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

Kenneth approached Seth and Wyatt.  “Someone is slowly drivin’ past the house.”

Seth glanced at his watch.  “It must be Gloria.  She’s thirty minutes early.”

“Gloria?  What the hell is a woman doing comin’ here?  Is she fuckin’ kids too?”

“I’m not sure if she is or not, but she did spend twenty years in prison for sex trafficking.  She was busted during a sting operation and had three young girls locked in a cage.  And she thinks there is a thirteen-year-old girl here alone, but I don’t know what her intentions are.”  Seth glanced at Justin as he stood next to the bed.  “Is she comin’ here to fuck you, or abduct you?”

“I’m not sure, but she’s wantin’ me, or I should say, Zoey, to go cruisin’ with her.”

“That’s freakin’ weird.  She’s a fifty-year-old woman.”

“I know.”

“Just lure the bitch in here like you did with Billy, and I’ll shoot her ass with a tranq dart.”

“Okay.”

Barry’s eye opened wide.  “Hurry up and put me back in my rig.”

“We don’t have time for that.”

“Come on, man!  I don’t want anyone else to see me like this.”

“Then hide.”

“How in the fuck am I supposed to do that?  I don’t have arms or legs, dumbass.”

Seth shut off the bedroom light, ignoring Barry, as he regarded Kenneth and Wyatt.  “This bitch is crazy as fuck, and she might be carrying a gun, so I want y’all to hide in the other bedroom.”

As everyone quickly scrambled into position, Gloria Castillo, a forty-nine-year-old Hispanic woman, approached the front door.  She possessed a tall and slightly heavyset stature with large breasts, her long black hair cascaded past her shoulders, and gang-related tattoos covered her face, neck, arms, and hands.  Her attire consisted of a flannel shirt buttoned only at the top over a white t-shirt, loose-fitting khaki pants, and white tennis shoes.  Glancing through the screen door, she caught sight of flickering candlelight emanating from a doorway across the room.  “Yo!  Anyone there?”

Justin spoke into his voice generator, mimicking a thirteen-year-old girl.  “Yeah!  I’m in my bedroom.”

“Zoey?”

“Yeah?”

“Are your parents here?”

“No.  I told you they won’t be back until next week.”

“Is anyone else here?”

“No, it’s just me.”

“Are you ready to go?”

“Not yet.  Still gettin’ dressed, but you can come in.”

Gloria strolled into the house, maintaining caution as she looked around.  “We need to get rollin’.”

“What’s the rush?”

“I just wanna go cruisin’.  And I got some Bacardi Hard Lemonade in the car, so I hope you’re down with partyin’.”

“Heck yeah.  And before we go, can I eat your pussy?”

“Naw, chica, I’m not into girls.”

“Oh.  Then why do you wanna hang out with me?”

“I just wanna be a big sister to you.”

“Sisters can eat each other’s pussies too.”

“After we cruise around for a bit, I might change my mind, so let’s get rollin’.”

“Before we go, can you come in here?  I wanna show you somethin’.”

Gloria approached the bedroom, and when she peered in, she observed the candlelight softly caressing Zoey as she lay in bed.  “What do you wanna show me?”

“I wish you were into girls, ‘cause I’m really horny right now.”

“After I get a few drinks in me, I might be down for it, so let’s head out.”  Her hand extended towards the light switch, and upon toggling it, a surge of bewilderment washed over her as her mind struggled to grasp a bizarre sight.  Resting on the mattress was Toby, on the opposite side of the bed stood Justin, and down on the floor lay Barry.  As Barry displayed a wide-eyed expression like a deer caught in the headlights, he squealed out, “Oh shit!” before rolling under the bed, disappearing out of sight.

Gloria stood befuddled as she tried to grasp what her eyes were seeing.  “What the fuck!?!”

Justin raised his microphone and spoke into it.  “Can I still eat your pussy?”

She gazed at his nude body in disbelief, first observing the Got Milk? tattoo etched across his chest, then her eyes traveled to his udder.  “What the hell!?!”

Suddenly, something struck her in the back, followed by a stinging sensation, then her vision faded to black as she collapsed to the floor.  Seth holstered his tranquilizer gun and laughed as he peered at Justin.  “Damn, boy.  You almost got your ass shot.”

“What are you talkin’ about?”

Seth reached down and retrieved a derringer from Gloria’s hand.  “I knew this bitch would be packin’.”

“Oh, shit!  I didn’t even notice she had that.”

Barry rolled out from under the bed.  “You stupid ass.  I could have been shot too.”

“Well, at least she would have put you out of your misery.”

“I’m being serious, asshole.  And your shenanigans are gonna get someone killed.”

As tears flowed down Toby’s cheeks, he whimpered out, “Please get me to the hospital so I can get my legs and arms sewn back on.”

“I told you not to make a peep.”

“Come on, man.  Look what you fuckers have done to me.  You’ve destroyed my life.”

“Your job is to lay there and be quiet.   Now shut the fuck up before I give you somethin’ to cry about.”

Wyatt approached Gloria and began rummaging through her pockets, finding her keys, phone, and a small baggy containing a white powder.  He stuck her phone in a Faraday bag to block the signal, tossed the keys to Kenneth, then handed the small baggy to Seth.  “I found that in her pocket.  I think it’s cocaine.”

Seth held up the baggy and scrutinized the powder, observing it contained blue speckles.  “I think this is Rohypnol.”

“What is that?”

“The date rape drug.  You know, roofies.”

“Seriously?  That that means she was planning on druggin’ Zoey.”

“Maybe.”  Seth filled a glass with water and proceeded to sprinkle a portion of the powder into it.  The resulting reaction turned the mixture into a shade of blue.  “Yep, it’s Rohypnol.”

Anger swept over Kenneth.  “So, the bitch is still abductin’ kids.”

“It looks like it.”  He retrieved her cell phone from the Faraday bag.  “Let me see if I can get into her phone.  Maybe we can find out more about her intentions.”  Upon the appearance of a biometric verification screen, Seth casually strolled over to Gloria and began positioning her fingers on the phone.  Moments later, his excitement evident, he exclaimed, “Hell, yeah!  I’m in her shit now, boy.”  With a knife in hand, he swiftly severed her right thumb, placed the detached digit inside his front pocket, then walked back over to Kenneth and Wyatt.  “Let’s see what she’s been up to.”  As he flipped through her phone, his eyes narrowed with anger.  “The bitch has pictures of young girls on here.”

Confusion clouded Kenneth’s expression.  “What kind of pictures?”

“They’re of random girls, but some of them are tied up, and some are in cages.  And she has text messages discussing how some of the girls are virgins and will fetch a higher price.”

“So, the fuckin’ bitch is still snatchin’ kids for sex trafficking.”

“Is that a question, or statement?”

“A question.”

“It definitely looks that way.”  As Seth scrolled through her texts, he came upon a photo of a young girl he recognized.  “She even has the picture of Zoey on here, the one Justin uploaded on our Facebook page.  And she’s discussin’ how she’ll be pickin’ her up tonight.  So yeah, she’s still abductin’ kids.”

Having a daughter of his own, anger swept over Wyatt.  “We need to find out who her connections are and make them pay.”

“I agree.  Child sex traffickers are the lowest of the low.”

Barry emerged from the bedroom, slithering like a slug on the floor, his expression etched with frustration.  “Hey, motherfuckers!  Did you forget about me?”

Seth ignored him as he glanced at his watch.  “Johnny should be here in about an hour, but these fuckers have been showing up early.”  He eyed Kenneth.  “Go ahead and move Gloria’s car while Wyatt and I get her restrained.”

“Will do.”  As Kenneth approached the front door, he spotted headlights coming down the driveway.  “Oh, shit!  The dude is already here.”

Seth quickly dragged Gloria to the closet, then scooped up Barry and tossed him next to Toby.  “Stay on the bed this time.  I want Johnny to see you.”

“Come on, man.  This is bullshit.  I’d rather be dead than be treated like this.”

“Hush!”  Seth glanced at Toby as he lay with a distressed expression.  “And you better not make a sound.”  He changed his focus to Justin.  “You know the routine.  Just lure Johnny in here like you did with the other assholes.  And remember, he’s here for Tommy.”

“I got this, dude.”

Seth exited the room and motioned for Wyatt and Kenneth to quickly gather around.  “This fuckhead has spent the last nine years in prison for molesting his son and just got out a few months ago.  And he’s an ornery motherfucker and will probably be packing, so I’ll take his ass out like I did with Gloria.”

Barry’s voice echoed out as candlelight slightly illuminated his face.  “You fuckin’ asshole.  You’re crazy if you think I’m gonna lay here and risk gettin’ shot.”

Seth glanced into the room as he stood in the doorway.  “You better not move if you know what’s good for you.”

“You are such a fuckin’ prick.”

“Not another peep.”  Seth motioned to Kenneth and Wyatt.  “Y’all go hide in the other bedroom while I get into position.”

A few minutes later as Johnny approached the front porch, he caught the sound of You Sexy Thing (I Believe in Miracles) by the band Hot Chocolate emanating from within the house.  He eased to the screen door and peered in.  “Anyone there?”

The voice of a fourteen-year-old boy echoed out.  “Yeah, I’m in my bedroom.”

“Are you here alone?”

“Yeah, I told you my parents are out of town.”

Johnny entered the house, and upon noticing the gentle, flickering glow emanating from a doorway, he proceeded to carefully inspect his surroundings.  “Why do you have it so dark in here?”

“I thought it would be more romantic.”

“Oh, hell yeah.  I can dig that.  And I like this song.”

“Yeah, since this will be my first-time having sex, I wanted a special song to remember this night.  And I hope you know how to fuck, because you’re gonna be in this ass all night long.”

Like the previous perverts that showed up, Johnny remained unperturbed by the crude and inappropriate remark from the young adolescent.  In fact, his penis began to stiffen as he approached the doorway.  Upon peering into the bedroom and witnessing Tommy’s figure gently bathed in candlelight, he began undressing.  “Hell yeah, boy.  And I hope you like it bareback.”

Recognizing the man’s voice in conjunction with the bareback comment, Barry exclaimed in a high-pitched voice.  “Johnny!?!”

Taken by surprise, Johnny swiftly hoisted his underwear back into place.  “Who else is in here?”  He searched for the light switch, and upon toggling it, a wave of confusion mixed with horror swept over him as he observed Barry lying in bed next to Toby.  “What the fuck!?!”

Barry’s eye widened with disbelief.  “Oh, my God!  It is you!”  He quickly rolled off the bed, producing a thud as he plopped onto the floor, then promptly rolled underneath it.

Justin spoke into his microphone as he stood on the opposite side of the room.  “I guess he doesn’t like it bareback.”

While Johnny retrieved a revolver from his pants lying on the floor, a dart struck him in the buttocks as he bent over.  After he crumpled to the floor unconscious, Seth strolled up laughing.  “What’s wrong, Butthead?”

Exhibiting a look of bewilderment, Barry cautiously poked his head out from beneath the bed.  “What is going on?  Why is he here?”

“It’s a teachable moment.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You tell me.  You told Kenneth that back at the slaughterhouse.”

“Hold up, man.  You brought that dude here because I ran my mouth to Kenneth?”

“No, I brought him here because you raped Kenneth, and when he asked you about it, you said it was a teachable moment.”

“You are such a sorry bastard.”

Kenneth walked up, observing the anger etched across Barry’s face.  “What’s going on?  Why is Butthead pissed off?”

“Because Johnny cornholed him while he was in prison.”

“You’re fuckin’ with me.”

“Nope.”

As Wyatt rummaged through Johnny’s pockets, he paused as he glanced back at Seth.  “Don’t tell me this is Johnny Sausage.”

“The one and only.”

A confused expression came over Kenneth.  “Johnny Sausage?”

Seth laughed.  “That’s what he was known as in prison, and Butthead was his bitch.”

Blushing with embarrassment, Barry promptly refuted the accusation.  “No, I wasn’t.  He never touched me.”

“You lyin’ motherfucker.”

“I’m not fuckin’ lying.”

Seth pulled his cell phone from his pocket and pulled up a photo.  “Check that out.”

Kenneth frowned as he observed Barry, wearing eyeshadow, blush, and red lipstick, laying nude on a cot inside a jailcell.  “What the fuck?”

Wyatt laughed.  “Holy shit!  That is so messed up.”

Barry’s eye narrowed in anger as he glared at Seth.  “You are such a fuckin’ prick.  I hope you die a slow and miserable death.”

Seth pointed to Johnny as he lay on the floor unconscious.  “Let’s get Barry’s butt buddy and Panty Man moved to my bus.  I’ve got plans for them later.  And we need…”

Furious, Barry blurted out as he lay on the floor.  “He’s not my fuckin’ butt buddy, you prick!”

“I changed my mind.  Just take Panty Man to the bus.  And we need to have Gloria lure Zane here before he realizes she is missing.”

As Kenneth tied up Johnny, he glanced back at Seth.  “Who in the fuck is Zane?”

“He’s her main contact in her phone, and it looks like he’s the one who picks up the kids she abducts.”

How Shit is Made

As Randy, Jeff, and Mack sat in the emergency room watching the news, a reporter came on the T.V.  “I’ve just received a video from Seth Coker and will be playing it to our audience.  Please keep in mind the opinions in this video do not reflect the opinions of Goodwin Broadcasting or our affiliates.”  When the video began, the opening scene showed the same type of doll sent to numerous child molesters with the caption that read, How Shit is Made.  The next scene showed a small factory with people operating different types of machinery.  All the workers donned orange jumpsuits with SEXUAL PREDATOR printed on the back, a steel collar encompassed their necks, and a chain ran between each person’s leg to their workstation.  Between the workers’ restraints and their poor working conditions, it appeared the people were being forced to work in a sweatshop.

The video then showed a woman pouring melted plastic into molds as a male voice narrated the manufacturing process.  The next worker was opening molds and removing doll parts, such as torsos, heads, legs, and arms, while another person trimmed and sanded the parts.  At another workstation, the video showed a worker making latex pocket pussies and pocket anuses.  The video moved across the room to where a worker was soldering circuit boards while another person installed the electronics, mechanical parts, and pocket pussies and pocket anuses into the torsos of the dolls.  A third worker was installing sensors and speakers into the heads. 

The video then changed to a long table where numerous people were attaching the arms, legs, and heads to the torsos.  After the dolls were assembled, they moved to another area where workers attached a toe tag with the recipient’s name, and depending on the recipient’s sexual preference, the tag was affixed to either a girl or boy doll.  At the next workstation, some of the dolls were being painted a different skin tone while others were outfitted with bonnets and BDSM masks.

The dolls were then tested at a quality control area before being packed into shipping boxes with the recipient’s personalized set of instructions that also included a detailed account of their sexual assault against a child, and in some cases, multiple children.

The camera panned out, showing the entire factory floor, then on the closing scene, Seth walked into the video wearing a white lab coat, safety glasses, and yellow hardhat.  “Child molesters are a plague to our society.  Our judicial system fails to protect our children while the human rights advocates fight for the rights of these predators.  Child molesters are even a protected people under the Hate Crimes Act, and a small portion of our society is also attempting to reclassify the term child molester to Minor Attracted People.  To counteract this absurd movement of protecting these sexual predators, I’ve sent 28,471 dolls to the homes of convicted child molesters across the country.  These dolls have been equipped with a chemical that will eliminate their male reproductive organ so they can’t victimize future children.”

Seth held up a doll.  “These dolls were purposely crafted to appear young in nature to ensure only child molesters would engage in sexual intercourse with them.  If someone received one who isn’t a child molester but still had sex with it, then you’re a special kind of pervert who also deserves to lose your means to reproduce.  Once a doll has been latched onto its predator, all attempts to remove it will result in a penectomy.  Leaving the doll in place will also result in a penectomy.  In the end, a penectomy is inevitable.

There’re almost eight-hundred-thousand registered sex offenders in the United States.  Due to the cost of manufacturing and shipping, unfortunately, only a small portion of these perverts received a doll, and even that was a daunting undertaking.  I personally handpicked these parasites, primarily basing my decision on their victim’s age and the surrounding circumstances.  I could have euthanized these predators, but I thought it would be more entertaining to see them humiliated in front of the world while making an example out of them to the rest of the child molesters.”

As Seth concluded his speech, a man in an orange jumpsuit began sneaking up behind him with a large wrench.  Without pausing his speech or flinching, Seth held up a remote control and pressed a button.  The collar around the man’s neck exploded, and as his head rolled across the floor, blood squirted from his neck as his lifeless body plunged to the floor like a felled tree.  Seth approached the camera.  “Remember, perverts.  I have eyes everywhere and will be watching you.”  He motioned toward all the workers with his hand.  “Made by child molesters for child molesters.  This is how shit is made.”

Flabbergasted, Mack shook his head as the video ended.  “What a fuckin’ asshole.  I can’t believe the news actually played that bullshit.”

Randy boiled with anger as he watched the ending credits.  “That was insulting as fuck.  I can’t believe the news is helping him spread his hate.”

Still sullen over the loss of his penis, Jeff displayed a pouted expression as he slouched in his wheelchair.  “I don’t understand why the police can’t catch his ass.  That prick should have been locked behind bars a long time ago.”

Irritated, Mack glanced at Jeff.  “It’s because they don’t give a shit.”

“I know.  And because of their incompetence, my life has been destroyed.”

“It’ll be fine, man.  The doctors can give you a transplant from an organ donor.”

A small amount of relief came over him.  “Are you being serious?  They can do that?”

Mack nodded.  “Yep.  It’s a new procedure in the U.S.  They just have to match up your blood type and skin color.”

“That’s good to know.”

“And I say, who cares about skin color as long as your cock is bigger than what you had.”

The thought of having a larger penis excited him.  “I’m gonna talk to the doctors about that.”

Randy’s eyes narrowed as he stared at his phone.  “This is fuckin’ bullshit.”

Jeff and Mack glanced over at him and spoke at the same time.  “Now what?”

He turned his phone so they could see it.  “Seth released the pictures of everyone who received a doll with a description of what they did.”

Jeff noticed the screen displayed Randy’s mugshot.  “Oh, shit!  Am I on there too?  What website are you on?”

“I haven’t looked for your name yet, but it’s called, Predators Gone Wild.  I think that asshole made this shit.”

Jeff quickly found the website, and when he saw his picture with the accompanying write up, anger engulfed him.  “What a fuckin’ prick.  He has no right putting my personal information on the web.”  His anger intensified as he read the detailed account of his sexual assault involving the five-year old boy.  “I was falsely accused of this shit, and now everyone is going to believe I actually did it.”

Randy frowned as he read about himself impregnating his twelve-year-old niece.  “I know, man.  This dude fucked us good.  Now everywhere we go, people are gonna think we’re child molesters.”

“I can’t believe this shit!  The motherfucker listed my address, where I was born, what high school I went to, and he says I’m a freeloading scumbag living off government handouts.”

A look of frustration came over Mack as he read his description on the Predators Gone Wild website.  “The fucker wrote I’m an Uber driver working here in Jacksonville.  He even described my car and listed the license plate number.  How in the fuck am I supposed to make a living now with this shit out there?”

Emotionally broken, Jeff fell into a melancholy state as he began rolling his wheelchair toward the exit.  Randy quickly rolled up next to him.  “Hold up, bro!  Where are you going?”

He paused for a moment.  “I’ve lost everything, and no one cares.”

“That’s not true.  Me and Mack care.  And we’ve already told you the doctors can give you a prosthetic or a transplant.”

“I don’t want a fake dick, or someone else’s dick.  I want my dick back, but that’s not gonna happen because the police don’t give a shit.”  He glared at the T.V. as it displayed a man being chased by a mob.  “That fucker has already destroyed my life, but I don’t have to sit here and watch that garbage on the news any longer.”  He glanced around the room as all the dolls wailed child molester.  “And these dolls are getting on my fuckin’ nerves.  I can’t listen to this shit anymore.”  He took off out the exit.

Mack rolled up next to Randy.  “Where is he going?”

“I think he’s having a mental breakdown or something.”

“I’m sure he is.  This is a fucked-up situation.  Never in a million years would I have thought I’d be sitting in the E.R. with my dick stuck inside this evil ass doll.”

Randy started to respond, but a doctor came out into the waiting area and yelled over the sound of the dolls.  “Can I get everyone’s attention!?!”

All the men in the room became quiet as a nurse turned down the volume on the T.V.  “I’m Dr. Stokes.  I have good news and bad news.  I’ll start with the bad news first.  We haven’t been able to find a way to remove the dolls without causing severe damage to the male reproductive organ.”

Someone in the group blurted out, “Are you talking about our dicks?”

“Yes.”

Random men began asking questions.  “Why can’t you remove them without causing damage?”

“Unfortunately, the dolls are equipped with a defense mechanism that injects formaldehyde into the penis.  This organic compound destroys living tissue.  The damage is irreversible and will result in a penectomy.”

“What is a penectomy?”

“It’s the surgical removal of the penis.”

A gasping sound engulfed the room, followed by a man exclaiming, “You’re a doctor.  You guys are supposed to be smart.  I can’t believe you can’t find a way to remove them.”

“We have a team of medical specialists, including mechanical and electrical engineers, examining some of the dolls that have been separated from its person.”

“Separated from its person?  Does that mean you have been able to remove some of the dolls?”

“These were unsuccessful separation attempts.  Unfortunately, these men had to undergo a penectomy due to formaldehyde contamination of their penis.”

“How many men have lost their penis so far?”

“Thirteen.”

Everyone became upset and started speaking at the same time.  Half of the men were asking questions while the other half suggested ways to remove the dolls.  The doctor held up his hands, indicating for everyone to calm down.  “I’ll explain what we have found so far.  We have disassembled and studied all the dolls that have been removed.  During our examination, we discovered that the internal layout of their electrical and mechanical components differentiate.  We have also found there are randomly placed pressure sensors that detect drilling and cutting, or any kind of disassembly of their external casing.  If any of these pressure sensors are triggered, the defense mechanism is activated, resulting in the formaldehyde being injected into the penis.  If all the dolls were built to the same specifications, we could bore a hole at a predetermined location and use a surgical microscope to disable them.  The random placement of the internal components is an obvious design feature to prevent us from doing this type of procedure.  The dolls are also equipped with sensors that detect X-rays, magnetic resonance imaging, ultrasounds, infrared, CT and CAT scans, and if any of these imaging devices are detected, the defense mechanism is activated, so this prevents us from seeing their internal layout.  We’ve also attempted to go into opening between the doll and penis and cut the needles, but the needles are part of a closed electrical circuit.  When any of the needles are severed, it activates the defense mechanism.  We’ve also tried to gain access by cutting through latex insert, but there’s an embedded steel mesh that also triggers the defense mechanism.  The dolls are also equipped with sensors that detect temperature, moisture, impacts, vibration, and radiation, and even proximity sensors that prevent the dolls from being concealed.  At this point, we have not determined a safe way to remove the dolls, so for now, everyone will have to leave them in place.  Fortunately, the dolls do allow urination through a tube that exits the mouth, so there is no concern for urinary retention.”

A man yelled out, “What about an EMP blast?  That might disable the circuits.”

“We have already subjected some of the dolls to a burst of electromagnetic energy, but the electronics are shielded, and the test triggered the defense mechanism.”

Another man sarcastically popped off.  “You said there is good news.  What the fuck is it?”

“As long as we leave the dolls in place, no one’s life is in danger.  But there is a health risk if the formaldehyde is injected into the penis and it gets into the bloodstream.  If the defense mechanism is triggered, you need to alert a nurse so we can perform an emergency penectomy as soon as possible.  In the time being, I need everyone to relocate to a holding area until we can find a solution to safely deactivate the dolls.”

Randy raised his hand.

“Yes.”

“What about the countdown timers?”

“We still have plenty of time.”

“I’m already past the four-hour mark.”

“Like I said, you still have plenty of time.  The timers are set between twelve hours to five days.”

“Mine is set between four hours and three days.”

“How did you determine that, sir?”

“It’s listed on my schematic diagram.”

“I need to verify that.  Do you have the schematics with you?”

Randy pointed at a nurse standing off to the side.  “I gave it to her.”

Dr. Stokes glanced at the nurse.  “Do you have it?”

She nonchalantly strolled over to a trashcan and retrieved it, then handed it to the doctor.  “Sorry.  I thought they were all the same.”

The doctor held it up as he regarded Randy.  “I’m going to take this to the team that’s assessing the dolls.”

As the doctor walked away, Randy observed two paramedics as they pushed an injured man on a gurney across the waiting room and through a set of double doors.  Glimpsing the man had red hair and a white beard, a feeling of dread came over him as he quickly rolled up to the same nurse who threw away his schematics.  “I think that was my friend on the stretcher.  Can you go check to see if it was him or not?  His name is Jeff Blackmore.”

She glanced at his doll as it wailed child molester, then frowned as she walked away.

“Hey!  I was talking to you!”

A Hispanic man with a doll in his lap came rolling up in a wheelchair.  “Yo, homie.  That dude you came in here with just got hit by a bus.”

“Are you sure it was him?”

“Yeah.  Red mohawk, white beard, has a Smurf tattoo on his neck.”

“Oh, shit!  That was him?  How in the fuck did he get hit by a bus?”

“I was outside smoking a cigarette when I saw the shit go down.  The dude rolled his wheelchair right in front of it.  And it looked like he did it on purpose.”

“Thanks for letting me know.”  Randy quickly rolled up to the reception desk.  “My friend just got hit by a bus.  Can you go check on him for me?”

“What is his name?”

“Jeff Blackmore.”

Mack pulled up next to Randy.  “What’s going on, man?”

“Jeff just got hit by a bus.”

“Is he alright?”

“I don’t know.  They just brought him in here.”

“How in the hell did he get hit by a bus?”

“Some dude told me he saw it happen.  He said it looked like Jeff did it on purpose.”

“I knew he was upset, but I didn’t think he was suicidal.”

“I didn’t think he was either.”

About that time, a fat man lunged from his wheelchair as his doll began counting down from twenty.  “Oh, my God!  What’s happening!?!”

Thinking it was a bomb, everyone backed away from him as his doll counted, “Eighteen, seventeen, sixteen, fifteen…”

In a panic, the fat man scurried to the reception desk.  “Please go get a doctor!”

The receptionist lunged from her chair and quickly disappeared through a door.

As his doll counted, “Twelve, eleven, ten, nine...”  He ran back to the center of the room and exclaimed, “Will someone please help me!”

Half of the men leaped from their wheelchairs and took off running as others crashed their wheelchairs into each other as they desperately tried to get away from the blast zone.  When the doll yelled, “time’s up”, the man fell to his knees as a horrific pain engulfed his penis.  “Oh, fuck!  I think it injected my dick with the formaldehyde!”

As everyone watched in horror, several doctors helped the man back into his wheelchair, then rushed him through a set of double doors.  Several minutes later, Dr. Stokes came into the waiting area.  “I need everyone to listen up.  We originally thought the timers were set at a minimum of twelve hours, but after reviewing the documentation…”  He motioned toward Randy.  “…provided by this man, some of the timers do have a setting of four hours to three days.  This is what happened to the individual that was just taken back to the operating room.  His timer went off and the formaldehyde injection system was activated.”

Randy raised his hand.

“Yes.”

“Do you know how my friend is doing?  He was hit by a bus and taken into the back just a few minutes ago.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t.  I’ve been too preoccupied with this situation.”

Another man raised his hand.

“Go ahead.”

“What’s going to happen to the guy that had his timer go off?”

“He’s currently undergoing an emergency penectomy due to formaldehyde contamination.”

Everyone became upset and began asking questions at the same time.

Dr. Stokes raised his hands, indicating for everyone to calm down.  “At this point in time, everyone needs to make a choice.  You can continue waiting to see if we can find a way to safely remove the dolls, or move forward with a penectomy.  If you decide to wait, you are at risk of formaldehyde getting into your bloodstream, which can be fatal.”

A man blurted out, “If I have my dick cut off, can it be reattached later if you guys find a way to remove it from the doll?”

“Unfortunately, the dolls have a pulse monitor that will activate the formaldehyde injection system when the blood flow to the penis is interrupted.  At that point, the tissue is destroyed and the organ is no longer viable.”

As everyone became upset, Randy raised his hand.  “There might be another option.”

“What is it?”

“Since the dolls count down from twenty, couldn’t we wait until that happens before we have our penis cut off?”

“There’s no way we can perform a penectomy in twenty seconds.  And keep in mind, the dolls are designed with different variables, and the twenty second countdown might not be the same for everyone.  Some of the dolls could have a shorter duration.”

“I know you guys wouldn’t have time to do the surgery, but we could do it ourselves.  That way it buys us more time.”

A black man with a white doll spoke up.  “No one’s gonna cut off my shit.”  He glared at Randy.  “I’d rather die as a man than be a dickless motherfucker.”

“I don’t want to lose my dick either, but I also don’t want to die.  So, I’m gonna wait as long as I can, and if my timer does go off, I’m gonna do what it takes to survive.”

A fat man with an Asian doll perched in his lap glared at Randy.  “I’m not cutting off my dick, asshole.  And the doctors aren’t gonna do it either, so keep your idiotic ideas to yourself.”

Randy noticed the man’s doll kept repeating the phrase, “Wěi xiè ér tóng zhě”.  Being aggravated by the man’s rude behavior, he popped off in a sarcastic tone, “What the fuck is your doll saying?”

“The same shit yours is saying.  And I’m not a child molester if that’s what you’re thinking.  My roommate did this to me while I was passed out drunk as a joke.  But I can see you’re into fucking little kids.  You even put a sex mask on your doll.”

“I didn’t put the mask on it, or fuck it.”  Knowing his excuse of accidentally getting his dick stuck inside it didn’t sound believable, he opted to come up with a different lie.  “My girlfriend is real kinky.  She stuck the doll on me when I was tied up and blindfolded.  It latched onto me before I even knew what was going on.”

After reviewing several of the schematic diagrams, Dr. Stokes knew the dolls wouldn’t latch onto the penis unless the man ejaculated, meaning all the men in the room had sexual intercourse with their doll.  “Gentleman, we don’t have time for this.”

The fat man laughed as he glared at Randy.  “That sounds like a load of horseshit.  Everyone knows you fucked the doll.  You even look like a child molester.”

Randy’s eyes narrowed in anger.  “You’re just mad because everyone knows you like to fuck little Asian boys.”

Aggravation swept over Dr. Stokes.  “You two need to act like adults or leave.  We have a serious problem we’re trying to deal with, and we don’t have time for the name calling.”

The fat man lowered his head.  “Sorry, sir.”

The doctor eyed Randy.  “And I cannot recommend you cutting off your own penis.”

“Why not?”

“You could bleed to death or get a severe infection.”

“But I’m willing to risk it if it gives me a chance to keep my penis.”

The doctor addressed everyone in the room.  “I cannot support this course of action as a viable option.”

Suddenly, the Asian doll began yelling, “Shí, jiǔ, bā…”  In a panic, the fat man lunged from his wheelchair.  “Oh, shit!  Does anyone know Chinese!?!  Is it counting down!?!”

“…qī, liù, wǔ…”

“How long do I have!?!”

“…sì, sān, èr...”

Horror-stricken, he glared at the doctor as he held onto his doll.  “Please help me!”

“…yī.  Shí jiān dào le.”

When the doll said, “Time’s up”, the sound of a motor humming echoed out as a stinging sensation emanated from the man’s penis.  “Oh, my God!  I think it just injected my dick with the formaldehyde!”

Dr. Stokes motioned to several nurses.  “Get this man back to the O.R.!”  As they dragged him away, the doctor addressed everyone in the room.  “As you can see, this is a time sensitive situation.  Each of you need to make a decision as soon as possible.  We have a team of surgeons waiting, and the procedure is fairly straightforward.  Since time is of the essence, we’ll also be utilizing a local anesthetic instead of employing general anesthesia, same as when getting a vasectomy.”

Possessed

Upon regaining consciousness, Gloria’s attention was immediately drawn to the syringe in Seth’s grip.  Then, her gaze shifted to the blood-soaked bandage concealing the side of her hand.  “What the fuck!?!  What happened to my thumb?”

“I cut it off so I can access your phone whenever I want.”

Bound in a wheelchair, fury engulfed her as she jerked at her restraints.  “Do you know who you’re fuckin’ with, pendejo!?!  You’re a dead man, you motherfucker!”  

Seth held up her cell phone.  “I need you to call Zane and have him meet you here.”

“You can go fuck yourself!”

“I figured you would say that, so let me show you the consequences if you don’t.”  He spun her around to give her a view of what was behind her.  “I’m into making monsters now, so if you don’t want to wind up like them, then I suggest you cooperate.”

Her eyes opened wide as she took in a disturbing sight.  Bound to a recliner, Johnny cradled Barry in his arms, and despite Barry’s expression of repulsion, Johnny spoke in a soothing, baby-talk manner as he gently caressed him, much like a parent comforting a young child.  Next to them stood Justin, chugging on a gallon of milk, as Barry nursed one of his udders.  “Oh, my God!  What the fuck is that?”

“It’s what you’re gonna be turned into if you don’t cooperate.”

She took a moment to study Seth, taking in his grim reaper attire and makeup that gave his face a skull-like appearance.  Then she turned her attention to Kenneth and Wyatt, who were standing nearby dressed in normal attire, before her gaze returned to Seth.  “Who in the fuck are you?”

“I’m Seth Coker.”

“Bullshit.”

“You can believe it or not, but if you don’t do what I want, I’ll turn your ass into a monster.”

“Okay, man.  Go easy.  I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I need you to call Zane.  Tell him while you were pickin’ up Zoey, you found a large safe.  I downloaded a picture of a Damascus Chronos safe on your phone that I’ll send him.  If he knows anything about safes, he’ll know that one costs around a hundred grand, so he should assume the owner must be protecting something very valuable.  Also, tell him it’s not mounted because you were able to slide it across the floor.  Then suggest that y’all can load it up and take it somewhere else to be opened.  And if you warn him or use a safe word that prevents him from coming, then you know what the consequences will be.  I’ve been wantin’ to make a human urinal, so it’s not gonna hurt my feelin’s if you refuse to lure him here.”

“Whatever, man.  Just give me the damn phone.”

Seth sent the photo of the safe to Zane.  “I hope you took acting lessons.”  He dialed Zane’s number, selected the external speaker, then held it close to Gloria.  “Start off by asking if he got the text.” 

A moment later, a man with a deep voice answered.  “Yeah?”

“Did you get the picture I sent you?”

“Yeah, and where did you find that?”

“Here at Zoey’s house.  I need help openin’ it.”

“Shit.  That thing is like Fort Knox.  I can open it with a torch, but that takes time.  And trying to do that at someone’s house will be too risky.”

“I was able to slide it, so it’s not secured to the floor.  Can we take it to the warehouse and open it there?”

Zane remained silent.

“Well?”

“I’m thinkin’.”

“We should be able to use the flatbed truck and some dollies.”

“When are her parents comin’ back?”

“Next week.”

“What about nosy neighbors?”

“There are none.  The house is way out in the boonies.”

“And where is this place located?”

“Dripping Springs.”

“Damn.  That’s like three hours from Houston.”

“It might be worth it.  The safe looks expensive, so they probably have a shitload of cash or gold inside it.”

“Yeah, it’s a Damascus Chronos.  Anyone who spends that kind of money on a safe usually does.  But it’s odd that they don’t have it bolted down.”

Seth muted the phone and quickly uttered, “Tell him there must have been a water leak under the slab and they had to move the safe over to get to it.  Say the concrete has been busted up and you can see new plumbing pipes in the hole.”

When he unmuted the phone, Gloria did as instructed.  “It looks like they had a leaking pipe under the slab.  There’s like a hole in the concrete and I can see a new pipe.  I bet they had to move the safe over to get to it.”

“Wow.  That’s some bad timin’ on their part.”

“So, what do you think?”

“I’m gonna round up some tools and head that way.  It’ll probably be five to six hours before I can get there.  Also, text me the address.”

“Will do.”

“So, I take it you were also able to get Zoey?”

“Yep.  She’s already in my car sound asleep.”

“Good.  My clients will be pleased.”

“I’ll keep an eye out as I wait.  If someone shows up, I’ll let you know.”

“Sounds good.  Be there in a few.”

Seth hung up, then stuck her phone in his pocket.  “Perfect.”

“I did what you wanted, now let me fuckin’ go.”

“I didn’t say anything about lettin’ you go.”

“What the fuck, man?  What else do you want from me?”

“I want to know more about your organization and the fuckers you work with, and I want to know how many girls you have abducted and where they’re at.”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“We’ll see about that later.”  He rolled her over to Barry and Justin.  “For now, just hang tight with these twisted fucks and stay quiet.”

Barry popped his lips loose from Justin’s udder and glared at Seth.  “I’m not a twisted fuck.  You’re the one makin’ me do this, so you’re the twisted fuck.”

“Don’t start whinin’.”

“This is fuckin’ sorry what you’re doin’ to me.”  He glared at Johnny as he caressed and baby-talked him.  “You can stop touchin’ me, asshole.  And stop talkin’ like that.  I’m not a fuckin’ infant.”

Worrying Seth might punish him, Johnny continued stroking the buttocks perched on top of Barry’s cranium as he spoke in baby gibberish.  “This is such a wittle little boy.  He’s my wittle munchkin.  Are you coochie-coo?  Yes, you are!”  Johnny grasped one of Justin’s udders and pulled it forward.  “Are you ready for some more nummy-wummy?  Yummy, yummy in your tummy.”

As Gloria watched the unsettling scene with a look of apprehension and disgust, Seth casually strolled over to join Kenneth and Wyatt.  “While we’re waitin’ for Zane to show up, let’s have some fun with Shawn, Luke, and Toby.  I’ve got plans for Panty Man and Gloria, so they’ll just be spectators.  And Johnny Sausage is Butthead’s new babysitter, so he won’t be participating either.”

Barry grumbled from across the room.  “Bullshit!  He’s not my fuckin’ babysitter.”

Seth glanced at Johnny.  “If he makes another peep, start fingering his bunghole.”

Kenneth shook his head as he watched Johnny tap his finger next to the anus on Barry’s forehead, daring him to utter a word.  “Damn, Seth.  That’s fucked up.”

“It’s a bit of payback for what he did to you.  That’s the reason I brought Johnny here in the first place.  Sometimes, it might seem like I don’t care because he’s still breathing, but I assure you, being turned into a monster is worse than anything else I could inflict upon him.  And as long as he continues to entertain us, I’ll keep him around, unless, of course, you have an issue with that.”

“I don’t have a problem with that.  It’s funny watchin’ him bitch and moan all the time.”

“And he’s also good for show and tell.  When the scumbags see him, they tend to be more cooperative.”

Kenneth laughed.  “Yeah, Gloria didn’t hesitate givin’ up Zane’s ass.”

“Exactly.”

While Seth dragged Toby from the bed and into the kitchen, Kenneth and Wyatt extracted Shawn and Luke from the closet and proceeded to immobilize them by affixing a ball and chain to each of their ankles.  Additionally, they fastened a chain around their waists, complete with hand shackles.  With their hands confined by these short chains and the weighty steel balls tethered to their legs, the men found themselves unable to flee or put up any resistance. 

As Shawn and Luke stood next to the kitchen island butt naked, and Toby’s nude and mutilated body occupied a baby highchair, Seth proceeded to direct their attention to a stack of documents.  “These are death certificates.”  His finger then pointed to a group of rectangular cards equipped with strings.  “These are toe tags.”  Seth moved his hand to a pile of plastic bags equipped with zippers.  “And these are body bags.”  He gestured towards the caskets propped against the wall.  “We also have a selection of different coffins to choose from, and we’ve already prepared several graves outside, complete with blank tombstones ready to be engraved.”  Seth motioned toward all the items laid out.  “This is a complete funeral package we’ve put together for you guys.  So, who wants to go first?”

Shawn scrutinized the objects for a moment.  “Go first for what?”

“Isn’t it obvious, dumbass?”

“No sane person would go along with this shit.”

“First off, you’re not sane because you fuck kids.  And we’re gonna let you choose the way you want to die, but if you refuse’...”  Seth retrieved a raffle ticket drum from the floor and sat it on the countertop.  “We’ll pick for you.”

Luke’s eyes flew open, widening with an unsettling intensity, a palpable tremor coursing through his heavy-set frame.  “Die?  I don’t understand.  Why are you doing this?”

“Because you’re a sexual predator.  And before the sun rises, each of you will be six feet under the ground.”  Luke started to speak, but Seth raised his hand, interrupting him.  “I don’t want to hear how you’re innocent, or that you were falsely accused, or that you served your time, and I especially don’t want to hear you bitch and moan about how you’re being mistreated or that your rights are being violated.  Each of you showed up this evening to have sex with a kid, so you’ve forfeited your rights and credibility.”

Tears streamed down Toby’s cheeks as he sat in the highchair.  “But you have already gotten me back.  Look what you’ve done to me.  You’ve cut off my arms and legs.”

“Then that means you’ll just have to pick a smaller body bag.”  Seth dug through a trashcan and retrieved a severed leg.  He laid it on the countertop and proceeded to tie a tag around its big toe.  “Since you don’t have any hands, I’ll fill this out for you.  So, how do you want to die?”

“Come on, man!  I swear to God I didn’t come here to have sex with Jess.”

“Even if that was true, you still molested your daughter.”

“I was falsely accused of that.”

“I told you I didn’t want to hear that shit.  And you also molested your four-year-old sister, you sick fuck.”

His eyes widened, and his expression betrayed a sense of dishonesty.  “What the hell are you talkin’ about?  I didn’t touch my sister.”

“Sure, you did.  She told me all about it.”

“What do you mean she told you about it?”

“Do you not understand English, dipshit?”  Seth nodded toward the raffle drum as he regarded Wyatt.  “Go ahead and give that a spin.”

Wyatt spun the drum a few times, then started to reach inside, but Seth held his hand up, indicating for him to pause as he glared at Toby.  “Are you gonna choose, or do we need to pick somethin’ for you?”

“I don’t give a shit about that.  I wanna know what my sister told you.”

“She told me everything.”  Seth repeated his question.  “Are you gonna choose, or do we need to pick somethin’ for you?”

“Whatever she said was a lie.”

“Bullshit.  I can see your guilt etched across your face.”  Seth nodded toward Wyatt.  “Go ahead and pick somethin’ for this sister fucker.”

Wyatt retrieved a piece of paper and unfolded it.  “Possessed.”

“Excellent choice.”

A worried expression came over Toby.  “Possessed?  What does that mean?”

Seth displayed a small wooden box adorned with cryptic symbols.  He carefully placed it onto the countertop and, with a deliberate touch, lifted the lid to reveal an antique syringe, featuring a glass barrel and brass finger loops.  Resting on a pillow of cotton, the syringe’s interior emanated an eerily dark substance, casting a disquieting glow.  “I’m gonna inject you with a demon.”

“That’s impossible.  Demons aren’t real.”  He scrutinized the syringe and its sinister contents.  “I don’t know what the fuck is inside that, but you’re not injecting me with it.”

“You don’t have a choice in the matter.”

“Come on, dude.  That shit might kill me.”

“That’s the intent, dumbass.”

Kenneth’s face twisted into a perplexed expression as he gazed at the syringe, its interior filled with an ominously dark substance that emitted an eerie aura.  “Hold up, man!  I hope that isn’t one of your damn concoctions, like that Liquid Agony shit that turned Andrew into a zombie.”

Seth gently closed the lid.  “Nope.  This is pure evil.”

“Oh, hell no!  I ain’t stickin’ around for this shit.”

“It’ll be fine.  You can have your chainsaw back.”

“Fuck that.  If that shit is gonna turn his ass into a demon, nothing will kill him.”

“It will when you cut off his head.”

With a knowing smile, and fully aware of Kenneth’s gullible nature and his tendency to believe just about anything, Wyatt struggled to suppress his laughter.  “Don’t worry, man.  I’ve got your back.”

“You better.  I don’t want him bitin’ me and turning me into a damn demon.”

“You’re thinkin’ of vampires.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.  Demons possess you.  It could jump from Toby into you if you’re not careful.”

“Oh, shit!”  He peered at Seth with a troubled expression.  “Fuck this.  I’m outta here.”

“Hold up.  I’ve got somethin’ for you.”  Seth unclasped a chain adorned with a cross from around his neck and passed it to Kenneth.  “If you wear that, you can’t be possessed.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.  So, stop worrying.”  As Kenneth fastened the chain around his neck, Seth started completing Toby’s toe tag, which dangled from his severed leg resting on the countertop.  “Since you don’t have any hands, I’ll fill this out for you.”  He cast a quick glance at Shawn and Luke as they stood beside Toby’s highchair, their faces marked by expressions of fear.  “But you two fuckers will be fillin’ out your own shit.”

Overcome by a sudden wave of terror, Toby began to panic.  “Please don’t do this!  I swear to God I wasn’t coming here to have sex.”

After Seth completed the toe tag, he started filling out a death certificate, adding Toby’s name and today’s date as the day of death.  “For your cause of death, I’m writing decapitated by a chainsaw due to being possessed.”

“Come on, man.  You’re startin’ to freak me out.  Let’s talk about this like two rational people.”

“Rational?  You fucked your three-year-old daughter and your four-year old sister.  There’s nothin’ to discuss.”

“I served seven years for something I didn’t do, and I’ve already told you I didn’t touch my sister.”

“And I told you I didn’t want to hear your lies, and that’s your final warning.”  Seth arranged the body bags evenly across the countertop.  “Which one do you want?”

“I’m not gonna play along with your twisted game.”

“You can pick one the easy way or hard way, I don’t give a shit.”

“Fuck that.  I’m not doin’ it.”

Seth grabbed a propane torch and approached Toby.  “I’ll burn off your fuckin’ dick if you don’t.”

Kenneth chuckled.  “Damn.  You ain’t messin’ around.  You’re going straight for their junk.”

“We don’t have time for their bullshit.”

A wave of horror came over Toby as he gazed at the flame with wide eyes.  “Okay!  I’ll do it!”  He scrutinized the body bags, then nodded.  “I guess that one.”

Seth placed it beside his death certificate, then motioned toward the caskets leaning against the wall.  “We have a variety of coffins to choose from.  Wood, metal, and wicker, and two different styles, traditional and toe pinches.  Which one do you want?”

A suffocating sense of impending doom consumed Toby as he fixated on the caskets, leaving him in agonizing uncertainty about Seth’s intentions.  He remained uncertain whether Seth truly intended to end his life, or if it was all part of a twisted game designed solely to terrify him.  “You can’t do this.  People have rights in this country.  And you’ve already destroyed my body.  Isn’t that enough?”

“Not even close.  Now, pick a casket so we can move on to your tombstone.”

“You’re gonna die in the electric chair if you do this.”

“Lethal injection.”

“What?”

“Texas hasn’t used the electric chair since 1964.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Pick a coffin, or I’m gonna burn your dick.”

“Come on, man.  Please don’t do this.  I didn’t touch my daughter or my sister.”

“I warned you, asshole.”  Seth began burning Toby’s penis and balls, filling the air with the putrid odor of burning hair.

As Seth scorched his genitals, Toby wailed at the top of his lungs as he desperately fought at his restraints.  “Okay, okay!  I’ll do it!  Pleases stop burning me!”

Seth pulled back the flame.  “Then get to it.”

After Toby regained his composure, he stared in horror at his groin, discovering that his hair had been seared off, revealing skin now fiery red and marred by agonizing blisters.  “Oh, my God!  Look what you’ve done to my dick!”

“Choose a damn coffin before I cook it like a hotdog at a weenie roast.”

Fearing that Seth might inflict further burns, he gestured with a nod toward a traditional metal casket.  “The silver one on the left.”

“Sweet.”  Seth seized a dolly and positioned it behind Toby’s highchair before wheeling him out to the backyard.  “Which tombstone do you want?”

As portable, stand-mounted work lights illuminated the darkness, a sense of dread gripped him as he gazed upon numerous open graves, each marked by an array of eerie tombstones in distinct, unsettling styles.  The sheer effort required to dig the graves left him with a disconcerting certainty that this wasn’t merely a scare tactic.  “Oh, shit!  I can’t believe you actually dug graves.”

“Yep.  This is a complete funeral package.”

“You’ve made your point.  If you let me call the cops, I’ll confess.  I’d rather go to jail then die.”

“Confess to what?”

“You’ll hear my confession when I’m tellin’ the cops.”

“That’s not happenin’.  Pick a damn tombstone and stop tryin’ to weasel your way out of this.”

“I’m not.  I swear to God, I’ll tell them everything.”

“That’s not an option.  You’re gonna die tonight and there is nothing you can do about it.”

“Okay, okay!  I did it.  I was coming here to have sex with Jess.  I confessed.  Now can I call the cops?”

“I already knew why you were comin’ here, and no, you can’t call the damn cops, so choose your tombstone so we can get it engraved.”

“Come on, man!  I confessed.”

“So, what?  Now choose before I lose my patience.”  Seth held up the torch and ignited the flame.

In the back of Toby’s mind, he clung to a glimmer of hope that Seth was merely attempting to terrify him.  Yet, a haunting certainty lingered; if he refused to partake in Seth’s twisted game, he would only subject himself to further agonizing torment.  As he surveyed the tombstones, he mustered the courage to gesture with a trembling nod.  “The one with the rounded top.”

“Good choice.”  Seth motioned to Wyatt and Kenneth as they stood in the doorway.  “He wants the third one from the left.”

After Kenneth and Wyatt lugged the tombstone into the house and positioned it on a set of sawhorses, Seth began writing on it with a marker, adding:

Toby “The Child Molester” Ferguson

Fucked his Four Year Old Sister

And Fucked His Three Year Old Daughter

Decapitated by Chainsaw for Being Possessed

Died 9-18-2023

After making a few adjustments to ensure everything was aligned, Seth held up an electric engraving tool.  “I’ll let Shawn and Luke engrave this for you since you don’t have any hands.  And do you want anything else written on it?”

Toby scrutinized the crude description for a moment, then his eyes narrowed.  “That shit isn’t funny.”

“It wasn’t meant to be, jackass.”  Seth handed Shawn and Luke the engraver as they displayed troubled expressions.  “Take turns so y’all can get some practice before havin’ to do your own.”

Shawn glared at Seth as he tightly clutched the tool.  “You’re not going to get away with this.”

“I’ve already heard enough whinin’ and cryin’ from Toby, and I’m not gonna listen to your bullshit too.”

“What gives you the right to be the judge, jury, and executioner?”

“I usually respond to that question by saying, I use the same one you used when you violated your victim’s rights, but I’m not in the mood to explain that shit tonight, so, I’m just gonna say, because I have a Custom Kimber 1911 strapped to my side and you don’t.  Now get your ass over there and start engravin’ the tombstone.”

Shawn held out his arms, showing how his restraints kept his hands close to his waist.  “Then you need to release my hands.”

“There’s plenty of slack in the chains.”  Seth observed Shawn’s firm grasp on the engraver.  “And thatta be a big mistake, so I suggest you do what you’re told and stop plottin’.”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”

“I know what you’re thinkin’.  Try it and see where it gets ya.”

He relaxed his grip.  “I wasn’t plottin’ anything.”

“Get your ass over there before I stab you with that engraver.”

“Can I at least get my clothes back?”

“No.”

“Come on, man.  It’s degrading being nude in front of everyone.”

“I don’t care.”

As Shawn lumbered over to the tombstone with a frustrated expression, Luke started to speak, but Seth interrupted him.  “I’m not gonna listen to your shit either.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“As long as it only pertains to engraving.”

His shoulders dropped as he lowered his head.  “You’re not even givin’ us a chance to prove our innocence.”

“Not another word.  Now get over there and help Shawn.”  Seth exchanged a nod with Wyatt, then they both disappeared down a hallway.  A moment later, they reappeared in the kitchen, dressed in white lab coats, hair nets, medical face masks, goggles, and latex gloves.  While Wyatt cradled the wooden box adorned with cryptic symbols, Seth started wiping the side of Toby’s neck with a moist cloth.

Detecting a cold sensation, Toby flinched and shifted his body in the highchair.  “What the hell are you doin’!?!”

“Rubbing alcohol on your skin so you don’t get an infection.”

Kenneth scrutinized the box in Wyatt’s hands, then peered at Seth, his expression darkening with a frown.  “Seriously, dude?    You’re really gonna turn his ass into a demon?”

“Of, course.  That’s what he chose.”

“Then why in the hell are you worried about an infection?”

Seth shrugged his shoulders.  “They do it during lethal injection.”

“You’re crazy, man.”  Kenneth scurried to a closet and quickly returned with his chainsaw.  “As soon as that motherfucker turns, I’m gonna cut off his fuckin’ head.”

“You better.  I don’t want him bitin’ me and turnin’ me into a demon.”

Kenenth glared at Wyatt.  “Dude!  You fuckin’ lied.  He can turn us into a demon if we get bitten.”

Toby’s eyes widened in terror as he peered at Kenneth and the chainsaw, then his gaze shifted to the box in Wyatt’s hands.  “Y’all can’t do this to me!”

With caution, Wyatt gingerly opened the wooden box, and then Seth delicately lifted the syringe from its cotton bedding, its unsettlingly dark contents emitting an eerie glow.

In a state of panic, Toby frantically rocked back and forth, desperately trying to topple the highchair.  “No, no, no!  Please don’t inject me with that!  I’m beggin’ you!”

Seth approached Toby from behind, securing him in a headlock, and then proceeded to carefully insert the needle into his jugular vein.  “This might sting a little.”

“Please don’t do this!  I don’t want to die!”

As Seth methodically injected the ominous substance into his vein, Toby’s senses were overwhelmed by a scorching agony that radiated from the side of his neck.  Panic seized him as he cried out, “Oh, fuck!  It’s burnin’ me!  Please, stop!”

Seth shoved the plunger to the bottom of the syringe, then quickly stepped back.  “Everyone get ready!  He’s fixin’ to turn!”

Kenneth’s eyes widened as he tugged on the chainsaw’s pull cord.  “Oh, shit!  It’s not startin’!”

Seth peered at Kenneth with a worried expression.  “What the hell are you doin’, man!?!  Get it started before it’s too late!”

“I’m tryin’!”

Toby’s horror intensified as he sensed the chemical coursing from his neck down to his chest.  When it reached his heart, an incinerating fire ignited within him, rapidly spreading throughout his entire body.  He unleashed a bone-chilling scream, a piercing cry that tore through the air.  His eyes morphed into an ominous shade of blood-red, while his veins swelled, emerging from beneath his skin like dark serpents crawling across his face and body.  His muscles and tendons convulsed, coiling in an unnatural tension that contorted his entire being.

Consumed by horror, Kenneth frantically yanked on the pull cord as blood began running from Toby’s eyes, nose, ears, and mouth.  “It won’t start! What are we gonna do!?!”

With every fiber of his being radiating with unbearable torment, Toby violently thrashed about, his wails of agony reverberating through the room.  In the midst of this frenzied outburst, the highchair suddenly plummeted to the floor with a resounding crash.  In a nightmarish display, his body began unnaturally contorting as he flopped around on the floor, his capillaries swelled and darkened, weaving an eerie, spiderweb-like pattern throughout his form. 

To Kenneth’s sheer terror, Toby began crawling toward him on his stubs, his voice unleashing a spine-chilling scream, as blood gushed from every orifice.  “Oh, my God!  He’s comin’ after me!”  Panic-stricken, he hurled the chainsaw onto the floor and bolted out the front door, quickly vanishing into the darkness.

Seth retrieved the chainsaw, reinstalled the plug boot back onto the spark plug, and then gave the pull cord a quick tug.  As the chainsaw whirled into action, he shoved his foot into Toby’s back, and as he held him in place, he cut into his neck.  The sharp blade sliced effortlessly through his flesh, spewing a crimson mist and white bone fragments into the air.  As Toby’s head rolled across the floor, Seth shut off the chainsaw and laughed as he regarded Wyatt.  “I can’t believe Kenneth thought I could actually inject a demon into someone.”

“I know.  And he’s probably halfway home by now.”

“I’m sure he’s just hidin’ outside somewhere.”

Wyatt studied Toby’s body and severed head, taking note of how his veins appeared to have disintegrated, allowing blood and body fluids to seep from every orifice and discoloring his skin with a bluish hue.  “What the hell was in that syringe?”

“Just some random shit I mixed up, like hydrochloric acid, synthetic histamine, formaldehyde, and phosphate esters.”

“I don’t know what some of that stuff is, but it sure looked like he was in a lot of pain.”

“He was.  The chemicals were dissolving his blood vessels.”  Seth pulled out his cell phone and dialed Kenneth’s number.

A moment later, Kenneth answered with a labored breath.  “Yeah?”

“You can come back now.  Toby is dead.”

“What about the demon?  I don’t want it jumpin’ into me.”

“It’s gone.”

“Where in the fuck did it go?”

“It took off out the front door and disappeared into the darkness.”

“Oh, shit!  I’m out of here!”

“Then you better get your ass back inside the house.”

“Can you come get me?”

Seth casually walked out the front door and peered into the shadows of the night.  “I’m on the porch.”

“I’m not at the house.”

“Where in the fuck are you?”

“About a mile down the road.”

“Then drive back.”

“I’m on foot.”

“Why are you walkin’?”

“I left my keys in the house.”

Seth laughed.  “Alright.  I’ll come get you.”

A few minutes later, Seth pulled up next to Kenneth in the short bus.  “There’s not a front passenger seat, so you’ll have to sit in the back.”

Kenneth displayed a frustrated expression as he stood next to the driver’s window.  “I’m not ridin’ in that shit.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.  You fuckin’ wrote retard bus on the sides.”

“That’s for Barry.  And it’s not like anyone is going to see you.”

“It ain’t happenin’.”

“Then you can drive.  I’ll sit in the back.”

Brain Surgery for Dummies

When Seth and Kenneth arrived back at the house, Seth ambled up to Toby’s tombstone, finding the engraving incomplete.  “Why isn’t this shit done?”

Shawn wore a troubled expression as he sat on the floor while leaning his back against the wall.  “I can’t believe you did that to him.”

Beside Shawn, Luke lifted his head, tears welling up in his eyes.  “That was brutal as fuck, man.  He didn’t deserve that.”

Seth lit a cigarette and took a long drag.  “Why in the hell would y’all care what happened to him?  You didn’t even know his ass.  And I told you fuckers that you were going to die tonight.  So, when it’s your turn, I’d suggest you pick something less fucked up.”

“He didn’t choose to die that way.”

“Maybe not, but he knew the rules.”

“What rules?”

“Choose a way to die, or let the drum determine your fate.”  Seth pointed at the tombstone.  “Now, get your asses back over here and finish it.”

As Shawn and Luke took turns engraving the tombstone, Seth could hear them whispering amongst themselves.  “You fuckers better be discussing how you want to die.”

Luke glanced up with a pouted expression, similar to chastised child.  “Please don’t do this to us.  We’ve learned our lesson.  There has to be something else you can do instead of killin’ us.”

“I can turn y’all into something like that.”  Seth gestured toward Barry as Johnny affectionately caressed and cooed him.  Then he pointed toward Justin as he stood next to Gloria.  “Or something like him.  I can always use another milkman, or a human urinal.”

Luke lowered his head and resumed engraving, while Shawn gazed at Seth with a sincere expression.  “We’re even willing to turn ourselves in.”

“That’s not happenin’.  And I don’t want to hear another word about it from either one of you.”

“If you’re not willin’ to hear us out, then we’ll stop engraving.”

“That’s fine.  I’ll engrave the shit myself after I cut off your dicks.”

Shawn took a deep breath, then went back to work.

“That’s what I thought.”

When they completed the engraving, Seth examined their work, then nodded.  “Good enough.  Now grab it and follow me.”  Seth held the back door open as they lugged the heavy tombstone down the rear steps, then led them over to an open grave.  “This is the one Toby wanted, so set it here.”

Sweat flowed from the men’s nude bodies as they placed it in the upright position.

“Perfect.”  Once back inside the house, Seth tossed them a body bag.  “Toby chose that one, so go ahead and get his ass bagged up.  And don’t forget his arms and legs, or his damn head.  When you’re done with that, stick him in the silver coffin on the left.”

Luke and Shawn felt their stomachs churn as they manhandled the mutilated torso, even gagging while averting their faces to escape the putrid stench.  When they dropped the body inside the bag, blood puked out from its neck, splattering Luke in the face.  His eyes opened wide with disbelief.  “Oh, shit!  I got some of his blood in my mouth!”  He gazed at Seth with a terrified expression, worrying the deadly substance injected into Toby could be transmitted to him.  “Is that shit going to kill me like it did him!?!”

He shrugged his shoulders.  “Depends on how much you swallowed.”

In a moment of panic, Luke turned to the side and thrust his fingers into his mouth, triggering his gag reflex.  After he vomited, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he glared at Seth with a hateful expression.  “You better hope it doesn’t kill me.”

“You’re gonna die tonight anyway, so who gives a shit?”

“This is so fuckin’ wrong what you’re doin’ to us.  Don’t you have any compassion?”

“Not for child molesters.”  Seth snatched Toby’s leg from the countertop, still bearing the toe tag, and casually dropped it into the bag alongside his body, then he pointed to a trash can.  “Don’t forget his other leg and his arms.”  Seth cast a quick glance in Shawn’s direction as he stood off to the side with a dumbfounded expression.  “Instead of just standin’ there with your thumb up your ass, go drag his coffin over here and open it.”

As Luke placed the severed limbs inside the bag, Seth kicked Toby’s head toward his direction, sending it across the floor like a bowling ball.  “And toss that shit in there too.”

When the head struck his leg, splattering blood on his skin, Luke stood tall and took several steady breaths to regain control over his anxiety.  “I can’t believe you kicked the man’s head.  Has was a human being and deserves respect.”

“Fuck him.  He molested two innocent children.  Toss his damn head inside the bag so we can move on.”

Luke clutched the head by the hair and laid it inside the bag, then zipped it closed.  “You are one relentless bastard.  And you’re never going to get away with this.”

“Maybe, but your ass will be six feet under before that happens.”

As Shawn and Luke placed Toby inside the coffin, Seth stapled his death certificate to the inside of the lid.  “That should do it.”  He closed the lid and latched it.  “Carry his ass outside and toss him in his hole.  And there are two shovels back there too, so go ahead and get him covered up.”

As the work lights illuminated Toby’s gravesite, Shawn and Luke shoveled dirt into the hole, while Seth, Wyatt, and Kenneth sat on the back porch drinking coffee.

Around three AM, Shawn tossed the last shovel load of dirt onto the grave.

Seth stood from his rocking chair and stretched.  “Good job.  Now, who wants to go next?”

Neither man spoke as they tightly grasped their shovels, their nude bodies covered in sweat and dirt.

“You fuckers really want to bring shovels to a gun fight?”

Abruptly, they abandoned their shovels, seized the steel balls chained to their legs, and bolted into the darkness.

Seth shook Kenneth as he snored in his chair.  “Wake up.”

He flinched as he startled awake.  “What’s going on?”

“Beavis and Butthead took off on us.”

Kenneth sat forward and rubbed his face.  “Butthead?  Who cares if he runs off.”

“Not our Butthead, Shawn and Luke.”

“Oh.”  He glanced to his right, observing an empty chair.  “Where did Wyatt go?”

“He’s in the house sleepin’.”

Kenneth stood to his feet and began stretching.  “So, where did they go?”

“Somewhere in the backyard.  It’s surrounded by a chain-link fence with concertina wire, so they’re just hidin’ in the dark somewhere.  I know you like the hunt, so I figured you’d want to go after them.”

“Hell, yeah.  Did you get the chainsaw workin’?”

“Yep.”

“Fuckin’ A.”  Kenneth quickly ran into the house and snatched a set of night vision goggles and the chainsaw, then promptly returned to the back porch.

“Don’t fuck them up like you did Toby.  I need them to fill out their own death certificates and toe tags.”

“I got this shit, man.”  With a brisk yank on the pull cord, he brought the chainsaw roaring to life, then swiftly vanished into the darkness.

Seth eased into his rocking chair, and as he smoked a cigarette, he relished the cacophonous symphony of the chainsaw reverberating in the night.  Within no time, terrified screams pierced the air, then a moment later, Shawn and Luke came staggering back toward the house in a frantic hurry, each struggling with the weight of their heavy steel ball.  Seth leaped from his chair and flung open the door, and when the men stormed in through the doorway, he shook his head when he saw bloody gashes slashed across their buttocks.  “Get back in the house, you dumbasses.”

Wearing a sinister grin on his face, Kenneth emerged from the darkness and approached Seth with a leisurely stroll.  “I bet they won’t try to run off again.”

“I’m sure.”

Once inside the house, Kenneth sat the chainsaw on the countertop as Seth eyed Shawn and Luke.  “If you fuckers try that again, I’ll let Kenneth cut off your fuckin’ legs.”

In a panic, Luke began examining himself.  “Oh, my God!  I need to go to the hospital!”

Equally terrified, Shawn cried out as he observed blood running down the back of his legs.  “Oh, shit!  This is bad!  Real bad!”

Seth tossed Shawn a box of Band-Aids.  “Put one of those on your boo-boo.”

His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the box.  “Boo-boo?  I have deep gashes cut into me.  This shit ain’t gonna work.”  About the time he finished his sentence, he realized Seth was being sarcastic.  “This isn’t funny.  I need medical attention.”

“You’ll be fine.”

Luke’s face twisted with panic as he examined his deep gashes.  “Come on, man!  Stop playin’ around and call an ambulance.”

“Seriously, dude?  You just saw what happened to Toby.  If I was going to call anyone, it would be a hearse.”

With a weary look etched into his face, Wyatt emerged from a bedroom.  “What’s going on out here?”

Seth laughed.  “Sorry for interrupting your beauty sleep.”

He scrutinized the bloody gashes carved across Shawn and Luke’s butt cheeks.  “Oh, shit!  What happened to them?”

“The dumbasses thought it was a good idea to escape, so Kenneth went after them with his chainsaw.”

In a state of sheer panic, Luke cried out, “I’m bleeding pretty bad!  Please do somethin’!”

Seth gestured toward the stack of rectangular cards resting on the island countertop.  “I guess you can write, bled to death, on your toe tag.”

“Come on, man!  Please don’t do this!  I need help!”

“First off, those are just minor flesh wounds, and they’re already startin’ to clot, so chill out.”

“Minor?  They’re like three inches deep.  And I might get an infection if I don’t get medical treatment.”

“I didn’t know a corpse could get an infection.”

Despite witnessing Toby’s demise, Luke remained in denial about a similar fate befalling him.  “Come on, man.  Please stop messin’ around.  I need help.”

“I don’t know why you think I’m messin’ with you.  You saw what happened to Toby.”  Seth glanced at his watch.  “It’s gettin’ late, and I said you fuckers would be dead before the sun rises.”  He slid a toe tag across the countertop toward Luke.  “Write on there how you want to die so we can wrap this up.” 

“I’m not fuckin’ doin’ that.”

“We don’t have time for this shit.”  Seth nodded toward the raffle drum as he regarded Wyatt.  “Pick something for the boy fucker.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed, his fists clinched tightly.  “I’m not a boy fucker.”

“You came here to fuck a twelve-year-old boy.”

“I’ve already told you I was only comin’ here to play video games.”

“Regardless, you still molested your seven-year-old nephew, so you’re still a boy fucker.”

“Stop calling me a boy fucker.  And I was falsely accused of that.  I never touched Aidan.  I swear to God!  I love my nephew and would never do anything like that to him.  And frankly, it’s insulting that you’re accusing me of such an atrocious act.”

“We really don’t have time for this, but...”  Seth sat a laptop on the counter and opened it.  “Since you’re so adamant that you didn’t do it, even swearing to God, I have somethin’ to show you.”  He brought up a video clip captured by a nanny cam.  He quickly scanned forward, then paused the footage that displayed an image of a heavyset man with a bald head and goatee, his pants around his ankles, a young boy in his arms.  “Can you explain this?”

Embarrassment washed over Luke like a tidal wave, prompting blood to rush to his face, turning his skin crimson red accompanied by a sensation of heat.  “That’s not me.”

“Sure, it is.  That’s why you’re red as a beet.  And that’s the same video they showed at your trial, jackass.”  He closed the laptop and slid it to the side.  “Not only are you a lyin’ sack of shit, but you’re also a fuckin’ child rapist.”  Seth motioned to Wyatt.  “Pick something for the boy fucker.”

“I already did.”  He held up a piece of paper.  “Turned into a rawhide loincloth.”

“Fucking A, Bubba!  That’s a good way for this boy fucker to die.”

Luke gritted his teeth as anger swept over him.  “Stop calling me that.”

Seth smacked a pen down on top of a blank toe tag.  “Write that shit on there, boy fucker.”

“Fuck you, asshole!”

Seth gave a subtle nod in Kenneth’s direction.  Acting on an unspoken cue, Kenneth swiftly moved behind Luke and applied a standing side headlock.  As Luke fought to get free, Seth pointed at Shawn as he regarded Wyatt.  “Keep an eye on his ass.”  Then he approached Luke from behind with a four-foot pole.  The device incorporated a braided steel cable loop on one end and a twist handle on the other.  As Kenneth held Luke in a bent forward position, Seth kicked his feet apart, placed the loop around the top of his ball sack, then twisted the handle, snugging up the cable.  “You can let him go.”

Upon Kenneth releasing Luke, he turned aggressive and began shouting.  “You motherfuckers are going to pay for this!”  He tried to grasp the pole, but the chains securing his wrists limited his reach.  “Let go of me, asshole!”

Standing behind Luke, Seth resembled a dog catcher using an animal control pole as he fought to keep him restrained.  “Calm down, you fuckin’ prick, before I rip off your balls.”  He twisted the handle, tightening the cable even more. 

Luke dropped to a knee as he moaned out.  “Okay, okay!  You’re gonna fuckin’ tear my skin!  Please stop!”

“Then get over there and fill out that fuckin’ toe tag before I castrate your ass.”

Worrying Seth would follow through on his threat, especially since he could see blood trickling down the inside of his legs, he scrambled over to the countertop and picked up the pen.  “And what am I supposed to write on here?”

Seth jerked on the pole, inflicting additional agony.

“Okay!  I’m doing it!”  He quickly scribbled, Turned into a rawhide loincloth.

“That’s what I thought, jackass.  Now grab one of the death certificates and fill it out.”

“Come on, man!  Please don’t….”

He gave the pole a quick jerk.  “Shut the fuck up and do what you’re told.”

“Okay!  I’m doing it!”

“And put today’s date as your date of death.”

Luke became emotional, his eyes welling with tears, and his hand trembled as he held the pen, making his writing almost illegible.  “I don’t want to die!  Please don’t do this!”

“I said shut the fuck up!  And when you get done with that, pick a body bag.”

After he completed the certificate, he snatched a bag from the pile and laid it next to his death certificate and toe tag.

“You sure that’s the one you want?  You didn’t even check out the others?”

“I don’t want any of them, but you’re making me do this.”

Seth pushed the pole to the side, forcing Luke toward the caskets leaning against the wall.  “Which one do you want?  We have wooden, wicker, and metal.  Traditional and toe pinchers.”

A wave of apprehension swept over him, followed by nausea.  “I think I’m going to throw up!”

“I don’t care.  Pick a damn casket.”

His finger trembled as he pointed at a wicker one.

“I knew you’d pick that one, you faggot.”

“I’m not a faggot.”

“Sure, you are.  You fuck little boys.”  Seth shoved the pole forward.  “Let’s go outside so you can pick your tombstone.  And don’t forget the dolly.”

Luke bent forward and rested his hands on his knees.  “Hold up, man!  I’m not feelin’ good.”

“You better get movin’ if you want to keep your beanbag.”

“I think there’s somethin’ wrong with my heart.  It’s beatin’ really fast and it’s makin’ me dizzy.”

“I don’t give a shit.  Now get your ass movin’.”

“You’re a relentless bastard.”  He took a deep breath, then with trembling hands, grabbed the dolly and rolled it outside.

“Which one do you want?  We have a rounded top, square top, oval top with ogee shoulders, a cross, and a gothic one.”

Consumed by an overwhelming sense of dread, his knees gave way and he collapsed to the ground.  “I can’t do this anymore!  Just kill me and get it over with!”

Seth glanced back at Kenneth as he stood in the doorway.  “Bring me the weed burner.”

Luke began to hyperventilate as he lay on the ground shaking.  “I can’t breathe!  I think I’m havin’ a heart attack!”

“You’re just havin’ a panic attack, dumbass.  But you’re fixin’ to be burned to a crisp if you don’t do what you’re told.”

A moment later, Kenneth strolled up with the weed burner.  “You gonna burn him, or do you want me to?”

“You can light his ass up.”

Kenneth ignited the burner, and after he tested the flame, sending fire shooting across the ground and consuming a patch of weeds, Luke staggered to his feet and quickly pointed at the square-topped tombstone.  “I want that one!”

Seth laughed.  “Splendid.  Now go get it.”

Luke stayed silent as he loaded the tombstone onto the dolly and proceeded to transport it into the house.  After Shawn and Luke sat it on a pair of sawhorses, Seth handed the pole to Kenneth.  “Keep his ass in line while I layout his stone.”

“Will do.”

Seth retrieved a black marker from his pocket and began writing on the tombstone.  When he was satisfied with the layout, he handed Luke the engraver.  “Hurry up and get that engraved so Shawn can bury your ass.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed when he glimpsed the writing:

Luke “Boy Fucker” Wagner

Raped His Seven Year Old Nephew

The Faggot Was Turned Into A Rawhide Loincloth

Died 9-18-2023

“You sorry bastard.  I’m not engraving that shit.”

“You can do it with or without balls.”

“I’m not doin’ it, so you can go fuck yourself.”

Seth grabbed his own balls with one hand while running his thumb across his neck with the other.  Without being verbally instructed, Kenneth began twisting the handle on the pole.  Luke let out a piercing wail as he frantically grasped at the cable, only to find it buried deep inside his skin.  Then to his horror, his ball sack splatted to the floor.  “Oh, my God!  You cut off my balls!”

Before Luke could react, Kenneth moved the pole forward and latched the loop around the base of his penis.  Perched on the countertop with a don’t-give-a-shit expression and a cigarette dangling from his lips, Seth pointed at the tombstone.  “Now you can do it with or without a dick.”

Luke gritted his teeth as he scrutinized the cable around his penis.  “You ruthless motherfuckers!  Y’all aren’t going to get away with this!”

Seth glanced at Shawn as he sat on the floor with his back against the wall.  “I hope you’re not going to be this hardheaded when it’s your turn.”

He remained silent as he kept his head down.

“Your buddy here is fixin’ to be turned into a Ken doll.  And if he still refuses to do what he’s told after that, I’m going to start pluckin’ out eyeballs and removin’ teeth.  Then I might pull out his intestines before I skin him alive.  And in the end, he’s still going to engrave his damn tombstone.”  Seth held up a spoon as he glared at Luke.  “Have you ever had an eye popped out with a spoon?”

“Does it look like I have, smartass?”

“You’re just cruisin’ for a bruisin’.”

“Fuck you and your mouthy comments.”

Seth grabbed his own dick with one hand while running his thumb across his neck with the other.  Before Kenneth could respond, Luke rushed over to the tombstone and began engraving it.  “One day karma is going to catch up to you fuckers.  And I hope y’all die slow and painful deaths.”

“Karma definitely caught up with your faggot ass for fucking kids.  Now shut the fuck up and get done so I can cut you into pieces.”

He laid the engraver down, and as his shoulders slumped, he lowered his head, releasing a sigh from his lips.  “Just kill me and get it over with.”

“Be patient.  We have to get your tombstone engraved first.”

“Please stop with the mind games.  Just do what you’re gonna do to me and get it over with.”

“You have three seconds to get back to engraving.  One…  Two….”

“Don’t treat me like a fuckin’ kid.”  Luke knew if he refused to play along with Seth’s twisted game, it would only lead to more suffering, so he reluctantly picked up the engraver.  In the depths of his mind, a glimmer of hope remained, a hope that he might find a way out of this nightmarish ordeal.

“You’re not as dumb as you look.  And make sure you engrave it deep enough so it will stand the test of times.  A thousand years from now I want folks to know you were a boy fucker.”

Mentally exhausted, Luke remained silent as he engraved his tombstone.  He’d been on an emotional roller coaster and now found himself feeling utterly numb inside.  The relentless and antagonistic provocation from his captor, coupled with the loss of his testicles, became too much for him to bear.  With each passing minute, he felt himself drawing closer and closer to an ominous conclusion.  Even as the engraver’s tip etched degrading words into the limestone, he remained devoid of any emotion.  It felt as if he were an observer, peering in from a detached perspective.

When he inscribed the final letter, his heart seemed to stop as a sense of impending doom swept over him.  He sat the engraver down, then took a deep breath as he glanced up at Seth.  “Please….”  Suddenly, something struck him in the face, followed by an overwhelming surge of pain.  “What the fuck!?!”  He gripped the object, pulled it out, and as he realized it was a tranquilizer dart, his vision faded to black.

Luke regained consciousness atop the kitchen island countertop, feeling disoriented and confused.  In a panic, he raised his head and began looking around.  “What’s going on!?!”  His eyes then traveled to a mirror mounted on the ceiling.  A wave of horror came over him when he saw ratchet straps securing his torso and ropes binding his arms and legs.  “Why am I tied up!?!”  Then he noticed an I.V. stand holding numerous bags of various colored liquids, and a large diameter hose ran from the bags to his neck.  At that moment, the events of the night came rushing back to him.  “Oh, my God!  This can’t be happening!”

About that time, Johnny came walking up nude with Barry suspended from his chest within a leather harness.  Both of Johnny’s arms had been amputated at the elbows, and bloodstained bandages concealed the end of his stubs.  Displaying an aggravated expression, Barry grumbled, “I’ll let the master know you’re awake.”

A wave of horror flooded Luke as he gazed upon Seth’s twisted handiwork.  With Barry standing in close proximity to him, he could clearly see the scars where the transplanted body parts seamlessly melded with the skin on his face and head.  “Oh, shit!  I thought that was a mask!”

“Does it look like a fuckin’ mask?”

Luke examined Barry’s crotch for a moment, observing his missing genitals, then scrutinized the penis and ball sack hanging from his face and the ass cheeks perched on top of his head.  “That’s impossible.  There’s no way that can be done.”

As irritation swept over Barry, his mechanical eye started zooming in and out at a faster rate.  “Stop staring at me, asshole.”

“I’m not tryin’ to be rude.  I just can’t believe he did that to you.”  Luke glanced around, noting that Gloria was bound to a recliner while Justin lay asleep on a couch.  “Where’s everyone else at?”

“Out back makin’ somethin’ for your ass.”

He gazed at Johnny and Barry with a terrified expression.  “Listen, guys.”  He nodded toward his restraints.  “If you untie me, we can escape together.”

Barry frowned.  “How in the fuck am I supposed to untie you, moron?  I don’t have fuckin’ arms.”  He nodded toward Johnny.  “And this dumbass already tried to escape while you were gettin’ your beauty rest, and now he doesn’t have any hands.”

A scowl came over Johnny as he muttered, “Don’t call me a dumbass, you little prick.”

Barry ignored Johnny as he continued.  “Do you see these collars around our necks?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re explosive and can be remote detonated, so we can’t fuckin’ leave.  And because this jackass tried to escape, I got punished too, even though I didn’t have shit to do with it.”  He nodded downwards.  “Check out what the bastard tattooed on me.”

Luke noticed a fresh tattoo on Barry’s chest, featuring a red heart with Butthead written above it and Johnny Sausage written below it.  Instead of an arrow, a penis pierced through the heart as it spewed jizz across his chest and down his belly.  “I’m sorry he did that to you.  He’s fuckin’ demented.  If you can figure out a way to release me, I’ll have the cops come and rescue the both of you.”

“That shit ain’t happenin’ either.”

“Come on, man.  He cut off my balls, and look what he’s done to the both of you.  He needs to pay for what he’s done to us.”

Johnny nodded in agreement.  “He’s right.  We need to find a way to release this dude so he can get some help.”

Barry shook his head.  “You’re fuckin’ nuts.  You know what Seth will do to us if we let him go?”

“I don’t give a shit.  The fucker is gonna pay for what he’s done to me, and I’m sure in the hell don’t want to stick around and be fucked up like you.”

“Try to escape again, or let this dude go, and that’s exactly what he will do to you.”

“I ain’t scared of him.”

“Sure, you are.  That’s why you’re only talkin’ shit when he isn’t around.”

“I told you I ain’t scared.  I’ll kill that motherfucker the next time I see his ass.”

“How?  You don’t have any hands, you fuckin’ retard.”

Johnny began slapping Barry on the side of his head with his stubs.  “No one talks to me like that, you little bastard!”

In an act of retaliation, Barry latched onto Johnny’s stub with his mouth, sinking his teeth into the bloody bandage.

“Let go of me before I break your fuckin’ neck!”

Luke couldn’t believe what he was witnessing as he watched Barry and Johnny engage in a heated argument, exchanging insults while their nudity only exacerbated the already fucked up situation.  It felt as though he had stumbled into a bizarre episode of The Twilight Zone.  “Come on, guys!  We don’t have time for this!  Please let me go before it’s too late.”

Suddenly, the back door squeaked as Seth came strolling into the house, followed by Kenneth, Wyatt, and Shawn.  “Before it’s too late for what?”

Barry released Johnny’s stub and grumbled.  “Luke is wanting me to let him go so he can bring back the cops.”  He nodded toward Johnny.  “And this fucker has been talkin’ a lot of shit about you.  He even said he’s going to kill your sorry ass the next time he saw you.”

“Really?”  Seth glared at Johnny.  “Well?  Here I am.”

Johnny’s eyes grew large as melons.  “That’s not true.  I didn’t say anything.”

“FYI, your collar is equipped with cameras and a microphone, so I can see and hear everything you do.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.  And it also has GPS, so I can keep track of you no matter where you’re at.”  Seth pulled a hunting knife from his waistband.  “So, what do I need to cut off next to make you mind?”

“Hold up, man!  I was just joking around.  I’d never try to attack you.  I swear.”

“That’s what I thought.  And I’m not sure what I’m going to do with you yet, but I’m thinkin’ about turnin’ you into a human stroller for Butthead.”

Kenneth grumbled with discontent as he clutched a long pole, while Wyatt held onto a box filled with supplies.  “Where do you want this shit?”

Seth pointed to the kitchen table.  “Put it on the table.”

Barry grew irritated as he dwelled on Seth’s comment.  “That ain’t happenin’!”

“What are you whinin’ about now?”

“The stroller.  That’s not gonna happen.”

“Like you have a choice.”  Seth pointed across the room with his knife as he regarded Johnny.  “Go stand in the corner before I cut out your tongue.  And I better not hear another peep from either one of you.”

Johnny didn’t utter a word as he stomped over to the corner while Barry continued to provoke the situation.  “This shit ain’t right what you’re doin’ to me!  I don’t deserve to be treated this way!”

Seth snapped his fingers.  “Johnny!  I said I don’t want to hear either one of you.  Make Butthead be quiet before I come over there.”

“Yes, sir!”  Johnny began whacking Barry in the head with his stubs.  “Shut the hell up!”

“Stop hittin’ me, you fuckin’ prick!”

Johnny thrust his body forward, ramming Barry into the wall.  “I said shut the fuck up!”

“Okay, okay!  I’ll be quiet!”

He leaned forward and whispered into Barry’s ear.  “Why didn’t you tell me about the microphone and cameras, you jackass?”

“Because you’re a fuckin’ asshole.”

“That’s alright, you little bastard.  You’re gonna pay for that shit later.”

Seth snapped his fingers again.  “No whisperin’ either.”

Kenneth shook his head as he glanced at Johnny’s nude backside while he stood facing the corner.  “Shit is gettin’ more fucked up by the minute around here.”

Wyatt laughed.  “You said that dude was a badass in prison, but he’s actin’ like a little bitch.”

“After seeing Butthead and Otis, he knows what the consequences will be if he doesn’t cooperate.”  Seth observed tears welling up in Luke’s eyes as he lay in silence. “What the fuck are you cryin’ about?”

“I’m sorry for comin’ here.  Can I please go home?  I swear to God I’ll never do anything like this again.”

“Your new home will be the hole you picked in the backyard.  And speaking of hole, we need to get you tanned and skinned before sunrise.”

“Tanned and skinned?  What does that mean?”

“If I’m gonna turn you into a loincloth, I need to tan your hide first.”

“Please don’t do this!  I don’t want to die!”

“I didn’t say anything about dyin’, silly goose.  I’m gonna tan your skin while you’re still alive, or at least try to do it.”

“What?  You can’t be serious.”

“And I’m also gonna use the same technique the Indians used, which includes using part of your brain and some of your body fat for the softening agent.  But of course, they did it to animals that were already dead and skinned.”

“My brain?  But that will kill me.”

“Don’t worry.  I’ve got this.”  Seth tossed a medical book on the countertop.  “I’ll be using that to guide me.  That way I’ll know which parts I can cut out that won’t adversely affect your mental process or body functions.”

Luke scrutinized the title of the book, Brain Surgery for Dummies.  “This must be a joke.”

“If it was a joke, would it be funny?”  Seth thought for a moment, then chuckled.  “Well actually, it would be funny, so ignore my attempt at being sarcastic.”

“Come on, man.  I’ve learned my lesson.  Please let me go.”

“You saw what happened to Toby.  And you’ve seen Butthead and Otis, so why do you think I should treat you any different?”

“Because you’ve helped me see my evil ways.”

“You’re so full of shit.”  Seth motioned to Shawn.  “Get your ass over here.”  When he approached, he handed him a straight razor and a can of shaving cream.  “Shave all the hair from Luke’s body, including his head, eyebrows, and that damn fag-stache.  And make sure you shave his crotch and between his ass crack.  I don’t want my new loincloth smelling like burnt hair.”

Shawn scrutinized Luke’s nude body for a moment.  “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.  Is there a problem?”

“I’m not gay.”

“Being gay or not has nothing to do with it.  Someone needs to shave his ass down, and you’re at the top of the shit list.  But Luke will probably get a boner since he is a fag.”

“Uh, if I do it, will you give me another chance?”

“What do you think?”

He lowered his head and sighed.  “Can I go ahead and pick the way I want to die?”

“Seriously, dude?  You’d rather die than shave down another man?”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with it.  You’re gonna kill me regardless, so I just want to get it over with.”

“You’ll get to die later, so be patient.”  Seth pointed at Kenneth as he held the pole with the loop.  “You can shave him with or without balls.”

“How can y’all can be so cruel?”

“It’s what you get for being a child molester.  And if you say another word, you’ll be shaving the boy fucker without a dick and balls.”

Luke glared at Seth, his eyes narrowing in anger.  “Stop calling me a boy fucker.  And I’m not a fag.”

“Have you ever heard the expression, sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me?”

“Whatever, man.”

“My comments should be the least of your worries, dumbass.”  Seth yelled at Justin as he lounged on the couch.  “Otis!  Come over here and help this faggot shave down this other faggot.”

He shuffled up with a look of disgust.  “Are you serious?”

“You’re not doin’ shit, so yeah.  And if Johnny Sausage and his bitch had hands, they’d be helping too.”

Barry popped off as he faced the corner.  “I’m not his fuckin’ bitch, asshole!”

Seth laughed.  “You were in prison.”

“That’s a lie.  He never touched me.”

“Johnny?  Did you cornhole Butthead?”

Embarrassed, he shrugged his shoulders as he faced the corner.  “I don’t know.”

“I’m not askin’ you again.  And you better not lie, because I might or might not have a video of it.”

“You know what happened.”

“But I want to hear you say it.”

“Yeah, we hooked up.”

“That’s a creative way of sayin’ you buttfucked someone.  And how many times did you hit that ass?”

“Just a couple.”

“Did Butthead like it?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Did you like it?”

“Naw, man.  It wasn’t like that.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I’m not queer.”

“But you fucked another man.”

“That kind of shit happens in prison, but it doesn’t mean I’m into dudes.”

“Did you cum?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s a yes or no type of question.”

“I guess so.”

“I didn’t say it’s a, I guess so or no type of question.”

“Then, yes.”

“Did Butthead cum?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Why not?”

“Why are you askin’ me all these weird questions?”

“Because it’s funny.  Now answer my question.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did he not get to buttfuck you?”

“Of course not.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve already told you that I’m not into dudes.”

“If you say so, pal.  And you could have at least given him a reach around, you stingy bastard.”

Fuming, Barry lashed out, “I already knew you were a sorry motherfucker, but now I know how sorry you really are.  And I hate you so bad right now.”

Seth laughed.  “Who are you talkin’ about?”

“I’m talkin’ to you, asshole.”

“Listen here, you little prick.  You deserve everything that you got, and will get, for what you did to Kenneth.”

“Yeah, yeah.  Cry me a river.”

“Keep running your mouth and see where it gets you.”

“Fuck you!”

“Hey, Johnny.”

“Yeah?”

“When I attached Butthead’s ass to his cranium, I made sure to leave about twelve inches of his colon attached to his anus, meaning, he can still be cornholed in the forehead.”

Barry and Johnny both remained silent.

“Yeah, that got y’all’s attention.”

Kenneth started walking toward the front door.  “I’m outta here.”

Seth held out his hands.  “Hold up.  Why are you leavin’?”

He paused and glanced back.  “I know where this shit is going, and I ain’t stickin’ around for it.”

“Really, dude?  Don’t you wanna see Butthead pay for what he did to you?”

“You’ve already turned the motherfucker into an abomination.  We just need to put him out of his misery.”

“When you think he’s paid his debt for what he did to you, then end it.”

He gritted his teeth as he thought about it.  “Fuck it.  You can do whatever you want.”  He plopped on the couch and picked up a remote control.  “I’m gonna watch TV for a while.”  As he flipped through the channels, he came upon a fight.  “Hell yeah.  MMA is on.”

Seth glanced at Shawn and Justin as they stood dumbfounded.  “What the hell are y’all waitin’ for.  Get to shavin’ his ass down.”  He strolled over to Gloria as she sat bound in the recliner, and after he locked an explosive collar around her neck, he removed her restraints.  “Come with me.  I have a job for you.”  He then glanced at Johnny.  “Johnny!  You and Butthead are comin’ too.”

Johnny Load

Thirty minutes later as Seth, Kenneth, and Wyatt relaxed in the living room watching TV, Shawn and Justin shaved Luke while quietly griping amongst themselves.  In the bedroom, a cacophony of curse words, threats, and insults reverberated as Johnny fucked Barry in the forehead.

Slouching on the couch with his arms behind his head, Seth glanced at Gloria as she stood in the doorway to the bedroom.  “How’s it going in there?”

Uncertain about her own fate, her mind was consumed by anxiety and dread as she bore witness to the bizarre and horrifying events unfolding around her.  “They’re doin’ what you told them to do.”

“Good.  And let me know if they stop, or if they start fakin’ it.”

“Uh, okay.”

Kenneth shook his head as he listened to the unsettling sounds emanating from the bedroom.  “Damn, Seth.  You’ve done some sick shit before, but this is really fucked up.”

“Butthead needs to learn to keep his mouth shut and be remorseful for what he did to you.”

About an hour later, Justin came lumbering up with a sullen expression.  “It’s done.”

Seth stood up and stretched.  “Well, hell yeah.”  He glanced at his watch, then looked at Kenneth and Wyatt.  “We need to wrap it up.  We only have a few hours left before sunrise.”

Hearing the faint sound of Johnny grunting intertwined with Barry’s moans of agony, Kenneth pointed toward the bedroom.   “You need to end that shit.”

Seth motioned to Gloria.  “Shut the door.”

Kenneth shook his head as he arose from the couch.  “That’s not what I meant.  And I can still hear their ass.”

Seth pulled out his cell phone, picked a song, and when he pressed play, the sound of ‘70s-style porn music began reverberating from inside the bedroom, drowning out Barry’s moans and Johnny’s grunts.  “Is that better?”

Kenneth laughed.  “That motherfucker ain’t never gonna talk to you again.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice.  But you know he won’t be able to keep his mouth shut for very long.  In fact, I bet he starts talkin’ shit within five minutes after he comes out of the damn bedroom.”

“I’ll take that bet.”

“A hundred bucks?”

“I’ll do that.”

Wyatt pulled a hundred dollars from his pocket and tossed it on the countertop.  “I want in on this.  You said he’ll pop off within five minutes, but I think he’s going to be pouted up for longer than that.”

“Alright.  I’ll take your hundred bucks too.”  Seth strolled over to Luke, then frowned when he noticed small cuts riddled his body.  “Dammit!  You dumbasses fucked up my rawhide.”

Justin lowered his head as he shrugged his shoulders.  “Sorry, man.  He wouldn’t hold still.”

“You better hope I can sand them out.”

“Dude, who gives a shit?  You’re probably gonna fuck up his skin anyway.”

“Go stand in the corner, smartass.”

“What?”

“If you’re gonna act like Butthead, I’m gonna treat you like him.”  As Justin stomped away, Seth’s aggravation transformed into amusement as he observed Luke’s bald head and hairless face.  “You look like a damn cue ball.”

Kenneth chuckled as he added, “If he was wearin’ a turtleneck, he’d look like roll-on deodorant.”

Luke scowled as he gazed at his reflection in the mirror above.  “It’s not funny!  You have no right doin’ this to me!”

Seth lit a cigarette, took a long drag, then exhaled the smoke in Luke’s direction.  “I’m not in the mood to hear your complaints, so keep them to yourself.  And being shaved should be the least of your worries.”

“Don’t blow smoke in my face, asshole!  And you did a lot more than just shave me.  You’re holding me against my will, and you cut off my fuckin’ balls.” 

“It’s not like you’re gonna need them anymore, so stop bitchin’ about it.”

“Wow!  You are a ruthless bastard.”  He glanced at the I.V. bags, observing they contained various substances, including red, clear, and green liquids.  “And what the fuck are in those bags?”

“Just some random shit I mixed up in my bathtub.”

“What the hell?”  He scrutinized the hose as it ran from the bags to a catheter in the side of his neck.  “Get this fuckin’ needle out of my neck!  That shit could kill me!”

Seth began securing Luke’s head to the countertop with a ratchet strap.  “That shit is going to prolong your life and keep you from passin’ out, so you should be grateful.”

“Hold up, man!  Why are you strapping down my head?”

“I can’t have you movin’ around while I’m cuttin’ into your brain.”

“Cut into my brain?  What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“I’ve already told you, since I’m using the same technique the Indians used for tanning hides, I need brain matter and body fat for the softening agent.”

“There’s no way you’re actually going to do that, so stop tryin’ to scare me.”

“You saw what happened to Toby.  Does it look like I’m tryin’ to scare you?”

“But that could give me brain damage.”

“I’m willin’ to risk it.”  He held up a scalpel.  “This might sting a little.”  Luke belted out an ear-piercing scream as Seth began cutting around the top of his scalp with the blade, slicing him across his forehead, above his ears, and across the back of his head.

Experiencing an overwhelming amount of agony, every muscle in Luke’s body tensed up as he wailed in agony.  “Stop, stop, stop!  You’re fuckin’ killin’ me!  Please stop!  I’m beggin’ you!”

After Seth peeled the skin from his cranium, tossing the detached flesh into a trashcan, he used a Dremel oscillating tool to cut through the bone.  After he ran the vibrating blade completely around his head, he pried the top of his skull loose with a screwdriver, exposing the thin layer of dura mater.

Breathing heavy and panting like a dog, Luke cried out, “I can’t take the pain!  Please stop hurting me!”

“Chill out.  I’m done for now.”

Luke began to hyperventilate as he gazed into the mirror, observing his exposed brain.  “Oh, fuck!  I can’t believe you removed the top of my head!”

“You need to calm down before you have a heart attack.”  Seth tossed the top of the skull to Kenneth.  “Wash that out in the sink.”

“For what?”

“It’s my new ashtray.”

He didn’t respond as he tossed it into the trashcan.

“Hold up, man!  I was being serious.  Dig that shit back out.”

Kenneth shook his head as he retrieved the skull.  “You’re fuckin’ crazy.”

After Seth carefully removed the dura mater, arachnoid layer, and pia membrane, exposing the top of Luke’s brain, he glanced at Wyatt.  “I need you to hold the book for me so I don’t cut out the wrong shit.”

Wyatt snagged the book, Brain Surgery for Dummies, from the countertop and opened it.  “Which page?”

“I got it marked with a tab.”  After Wyatt flipped to the section, Seth scrutinized an image of a brain while comparing it to Luke’s brain.  “Damn!  Everything looks the same.  This is going to be harder than I thought.”  He poked Luke’s frontal lobe with a needle.  “Can you feel that?”

“Feel what!?!  What are you doin’!?!”

“I’m tryin’ to figure what parts I can cut out.”

“Hold up, man!  You can’t cut into my brain!  That could kill me!”

“Then you’ll get off easy.”  Seth studied the diagram in the book for a moment.  “I think I’m going to start with the parietal lobe.”  Using the scalpel, he began delicately slicing into the cerebral tissue.  “Since the brain doesn’t have pain receptors, you won’t be able to feel anything as I cut into it.  But you do need to let me know if it affects your breathing, heart, eyesight or hearing, or if you feel any kind of weird sensations.”

“Oh, shit!  My fingers are tingling.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re gonna fuck up my brain!  Please stop!”

Seth removed a small section of his parietal lobe and tossed it into a blender.  “Answer my question.”

“Come on, man!  Stop cuttin’ into my brain!”

“If you don’t answer my question, I’ll start cuttin’ out larger sections.”

“Okay, okay!  It feels like my fingers are asleep.  You know, like when you wake up in the middle of the night and your fingers are numb.”

“That’s good.  Nothing too dramatic then.”  He cut out another small segment.  “Did that do anything?”

A wave of horror came over Luke as he watched Seth toss the brain tissue into the blender.  “Oh, fuck!  My body just went cold!  Please don’t cut out anymore!”

He sliced off another piece.  “How about now?”

“Somethin’ is wrong!  What the hell did you do!?!”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t stop my hands from shaking.”

“Damn.  I might be cuttin’ out sections of your frontal lobe instead of your parietal lobe.”

“What the hell, man!?!  Don’t you know what the fuck you’re doin’!?!”

“Of course, not.  I’m not a fuckin’ brain surgeon.”

“You stupid ass!  You’ve fucked up my brain!”

“Stop being so dramatic.”

“Dramatic?”  Realizing he was facing an impending doom regardless of how much he pleaded or begged, Luke’s mindset shifted to one of rage.  “I hope you get the needle for this, you worthless piece of shit!”

Seth laughed.  “That’s funny comin’ from a child rapist.  And since I can’t risk cuttin’ out any more of your brain and turnin’ you into a retard, I’ll need more of your fat for the softening agent.”

“Do whatever you want, you twisted fuck, ‘cause I don’t give a shit anymore.”

“Splendid.”

“Fuck you and your smartass comments.”

“Let me know if this hurts.”

Luke wailed at the top of his lungs as Seth sliced open his belly, and as he cut out his adipose tissue, he tossed it into the blender on top of the brain matter.  When the container was almost full of the white tissue, he nonchalantly sliced off Luke’s penis.

Drenched in sweat and gasping for breath, Luke’s eyes widened as he watched Seth toss his severed organ into the blender.  “What the fuck!?!  I can’t believe you cut off my dick!  Karma is gonna get your ass for this, you sorry motherfucker!”

“Right now, karma is gettin’ your ass back for fuckin’ kids.”

Kenneth grabbed his own crotch as he exclaimed, “Damn, Seth!  That’s brutal as fuck.”

“It’s not like he’s gonna need it anymore.”

A blank expression settled upon Luke as he calmly uttered, “I hope you die a slow and miserable death.”

“Now, that wasn’t a very nice thing to say.”

“Fuck you.”

As Seth’s hand inched toward the blender’s start button, a wave of panic washed over Luke.  “Hold up, man!  Please don’t start it!”

“Why?”

“Because the doctors can sew my penis back on.”

“You mean the mortician?”

“Come on, man.  I’ve learned my lesson.  You’ve scared the shit out of me, and I swear to God I’ll never do this type of stuff again.”

“Do what type of stuff are you referring to?”

“You know.  To play video games with someone younger than me.”

“Really, dude?  You’re facing an impending death, and your final plea to save your life is to be dishonest?”

“I’m tellin’ you the truth.  And will you please put my penis and ball sack on ice?”  He glanced into the mirror, searching for the top of his skull.  “And where’s my skull?  I need to take that to the hospital too.”

“Sure thing.  I’ll get right on that.  And speakin’ of your ball sack…”  Seth glanced around the kitchen.  “Where’s his sperm bag?”

Wyatt pointed to the trashcan.  “I threw it away.”

Seth dug through the trash and retrieved the scrotum, then flung it into the blender.  “That should make it extra creamy.”

“Okay, man!  You made your point.  I didn’t come here to play video games.  If I tell you the truth, will you give me another chance?”

“I really don’t care what you have to say.”  He opened a baggy filled with tree bark and roots and dumped it into the blender.  “That should do it.”

“Please don’t turn it on!  I’m begging you!”

As the blender whirled into action, Luke watched in horror as his penis and ball sack were instantly sucked into a swirling vortex of fat, brain matter, bark, and roots.  “Oh, my God!  I can’t believe you did that!  You have destroyed my life!  Just kill me and get it over with.”

“Speaking of killin’.”  Seth glanced at his watch, then looked at Shawn as he sat on the floor with his back against the wall.  “I said you would be dead before sunrise, but it looks like it’s gonna happen late mornin’ thanks to Luke.  I hope you’re okay with that.”

Mentally broken and overwhelmed by a crippling amount of anxiety, tears welled up in Shawn’s eyes.  “I just want this to be over with.”

“As long as you don’t drag it out like Luke, then maybe we can get you in the ground before sunrise, so when it’s your turn to pick, choose something less time consuming.”  Seth motioned toward Kenneth.  “Let’s get the boy fucker mounted and carried outside.”

After Seth and Kenneth strapped Luke to a steel pole, he glanced at Shawn as he sat on the floor with a deadpan expression.  “Grab the container from blender and follow us.”

Once outside, they placed the ends of the pole on a pair of sawhorses equipped with roller bearings, positioning Luke’s body above a bed of smoldering coals.  Feeling like a pig on a rotisserie, he began to panic as Seth used a large paintbrush to coat his body with the concoction from the blender.  “What the fuck are you doin’, man!?!”

“This is part of the tanning process.  The brain and fat contain oils that will help soften and preserve your hide.  The tree bark and roots contain natural tannins.  They will create a chemical reaction with the proteins in your skin, making it resistant to decomposition.”

“Please don’t burn me!  I’ll do whatever you want if you give me another chance!”

As Wyatt added wood atop the hot coals, Seth mounted a crank handle on the end of the pole next to Luke’s head, then motioned to Shawn.  “Come here.”  When he approached, Seth grasped the handle and gave it a spin, rotating Luke’s body.  “When the fire gets going, I need you to rotate this handle so his skin will be evenly smoked.”

“Uh, okay.”

Seth replaced Luke’s I.V. bags with a single, large bag filled with a clear liquid, then handed it to Shawn.  “He’s going to lose a lot of fluids from the heat, so I need you to hold this as well.  And as you rotate him, make sure the tubing doesn’t get tangled or kinked.”

Shawn felt nauseated as he gazed at Luke’s exposed brain and missing genitals.  Fearing his own fate might mirror the horrors he had witnessed—Toby’s brutal demise, Barry’s and Justin’s grotesque body transformations—he fixed his trouble gaze on Seth.  “Do I really get to pick the way I want to die?”

“Of course.”

“No matter what it is?”

“I’ve played this game before, so if you’re hopin’ to come up with somethin’ that’s impossible, you’ll end up disappointed.”

“I wasn’t plannin’ on doin’ anything like that.  I just don’t want to suffer.  And do you swear that I get to pick whatever I want?”

“Yes, you get to pick, I swear on your life.  But make sure you’re clear about what you want so there’s no confusion.”  At this point, the searing coals had set the wood ablaze, forming a smoky inferno that consumed Luke’s body.  “Start rotating your buddy so his skin will be evenly dried out.”

As Shawn rotated the pole, the thick smoke burned Luke’s eyes and lungs, prompting him to cough as he cried out, “I can’t breathe!  I can’t breathe!  I can’t breathe!”

“Calm down, dude, before you give yourself a heart attack.”

“Please don’t do this!  I don’t want to die!”

“You’re not going to die.  I’m just smokin’ your skin to dry it out.”

“But the flames are burning me!”

“Stop being a drama queen.  You’re only feeling the heat from the fire.”  Seth glanced at Shawn.  “Even though his outer body will lose all its moisture, I don’t want his insides to become dehydrated, so make sure his I.V. hose doesn’t get kinked.  And when the bag gets low, let me know so I can swap it out.”  Seth casually walked up to the back porch, where Kenneth and Wyatt were unwinding in rocking chairs.  He settled into his own chair, propped his feet up on a railing, and lit a cigarette.  “Let me see where Zane is at.  I don’t want the fucker showin’ up early and surprising us.”  He pulled out Gloria’s phone and sent a text that read, Where ya at, big dick?

Shortly afterward, he received a response.  HA!!!  You know it, baby.  3 hours away.

Seth glanced at Kenneth and Wyatt.  “Zane will be here in about three hours, so we might have to kill Shawn later in the morning.  Hopefully, the fucker won’t pick somethin’ that’s too time consuming so we can get the fuck out of here.”

Overhearing Seth’s comment, Shawn sighed as he rotated Luke above the fire.

Seth glanced in his direction.  “Did you say somethin’?”

“Naw, man, I didn’t say shit.”

“Good.  I didn’t want to hear your bitchin’ and moanin’ anyway.”

A few minutes later, Gloria cracked open the back door and peeked out.  “They stopped.”

“Go tell them fuckers I said they better get back to it.”

“I’m not sure if they can.  The little dude is bleeding pretty bad, and the other guy’s penis isn’t hard anymore.”

“Bleeding where?”

“All over.”

“What do you mean all over?”

“All the way around his head.  You know, where you stitched him together.  And that hole in his forehead is bleeding also.”

“Dammit.  I told Johnny not to be rough with him since his stitches were fresh.”

“The little dude was fighting with the big one the whole time.”

“I’m sure he was.”

“I tried to make them stop, but they wouldn’t listen.”

“Go strap his ass back to Johnny and tell them to stand in the corner.”

Around an hour later, Seth sauntered over to Luke and observed his skin had taken on a rich, golden-brown hue.  “Oh, hell yeah!  That looks good.”  Then he detected moans of agony emitting from Luke as mucus dripped his face.  “Damn, boy.  I’m surprised you’re still alive.”

Luke’s eyes were swollen shut, and he could barely utter a word as he emitted a haunting groan.  “Please kill me!”

“Be patient.”  Seth pointed toward the end of the pole as he regarded Shawn.  “Help me carry him into the house.”

Once they positioned Luke on the kitchen island, Seth unstrapped the pole from his body, extracted the catheter from his neck, and injected him with a combination of epinephrine and morphine.  As the adrenaline surged through Luke’s veins, an overwhelming and terrifying wave of panic consumed him.  “Oh, my God!  Please get me out of this bag!  I can’t stand being confined!”

A confused expression came over Wyatt as he looked at Seth.  “What’s he talkin’ about?”

“I’m not sure.”  He glanced down at Luke.  “Dude.  You’re layin’ here naked.  You’re not inside anything.”

“Yes, I am!  Please get me out!”

Seth examined Luke’s body for a moment.  “I think his skin has detached from his underlying muscles, so it feels like he’s trapped inside something.”

Kenneth cringed as he rubbed his own arm.  “What the fuck?  How is that possible?”

“I guess when the heat dried out his skin, it became loose from the rest of his body.”

A grimace of horror came over Luke.  “What do you mean my skin has come loose!?!”  Horrified, he lifted his head, his swollen eyes cracking open, and with blurred vision, he stared into the mirror above.  In that reflection, he observed that the skin on his face and feet remained untouched by the tanning process, retaining a pale white color.  However, from the base of his neck down to the tops of his ankles, his skin had taken on a brown hue akin to rawhide.  “Oh, my God!  This is bad!  Real bad!”  As he scrutinized his hands and arms, they felt alien, as though he were staring at another being.  “What have you done to me!?!”

Suddenly, an angry voice resonated from across the room. “You’re a sorry motherfucker!  And I hope you die of lung cancer, you fuckin’ prick!”

Seth erupted into laughter as he glanced at his watch.  “He couldn’t keep his mouth shut for more than three minutes.”

Kenneth glared at Barry as he stood in the corner.  “You stupid ass!  You cost me a hundred bucks.”

“Fuck you!”

“Johnny!  Bring that little bastard over here.”

He quickly scurried over to Kenneth as Barry dangled from his chest.  “Yes, sir?”

“Don’t yes sir me, I’m not your fuckin’ daddy.”

Seth frowned when he saw blood and sperm oozing from Barry’s swollen and inflamed anus.  “Damn, Johnny!  How many times did you cum inside him?”

A wave of disgust swept over Kenneth as he observed the disgusting mixture running down Barry’s face before dripping to his chest.  “That’s fuckin’ nasty.”

“Yeah, it is.”  Seth scrutinized the blood seeping from the stitches that held Barry’s buttocks to his head.  “Dammit Johnny!  I told you to go easy on him.  You almost ripped off his ass hat.”

“Sorry, man.  He wouldn’t hold still.”

“You can treat him like a pocket pussy once he’s fully healed.  And your new name is Johnny Load.”

Barry’s face contorted into an expression of seething rage as he fixed a piercing glare upon Seth.  “Your whore of a mama should have killed your sorry ass as soon as she squeezed you out of her filthy cunt!”

Kenneth’s and Wyatt’s eyes opened wide as they exclaimed in unison.  “Oh, shit!”

“It’s all good.  He’s just trying to goad me into killin’ him.  But unfortunately, he gets to be Johnny’s boy toy until he dies of old age.”  Barry started to respond, but Seth promptly silenced him by zipping his lips shut.  “I don’t want to hear it.”  He glanced at Johnny.  “Go stand your nasty ass back in the corner.”

“Hold up, man.  You’re the one who told me I had to do it.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t actually think you’d bust a nut, much less several times.  Now get your ass movin’ before I make Butthead toss your salad.”

As Johnny stomped away, Kenneth frowned.  “I hope you’re jokin’ about him tossin’ his salad.”

“Not at all.  He can do it when they get back to your house.”

“Them nasty motherfuckers aren’t comin’ to my house.”

“But that’s were Butthead’s been livin’.”

“Not anymore.  They can live with your ass.”

“I guess they’ll have to stay with Wyatt.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “Bullshit.”

“Fuck it.  I’ll figure somethin’ out.”  Seth glanced down at Luke as he feverishly examined himself.  “What the hell are you doin’?”

“Something is wrong.  My body feels numb and I’m cold.”

“That’s because the heat destroyed all your nerve endings.”

“There’s no way I’d be alive if this was my skin, so I know you’re just fuckin’ with me.”

“I’m not fuckin’ with you.  And I’m surprised you’re still alive too.”  Seth placed a pattern of a loincloth on Luke’s chest, then, after outlining it with a marker, he shifted it down to his stomach and traced around it once more.

“Come on, man!  Please get me out of this thing!  I’m claustrophobic!”

“It’s not a thing.  It’s your skin.”

“Bullshit!  You made this just to scare me!”  An overwhelming sense of entrapment consumed Luke, unleashing a tsunami of adrenaline that propelled him from the countertop.  In his frenzied desperation to get free from what he perceived as a body suit, he savagely tore at his skin, tearing it open from his neck to his bellybutton with a spine-tingling rip.

“What the hell are you doin’!?!  You’re fuckin’ up my rawhide!”

“I have to get out of this!”  In his continued state of panic, and as he feverishly yanked his arms free from his skin, the fibrous connective tissue known as fascia produced a gruesome ripping sound as it tore loose from his underlying muscles.  Once his arms were free, and the tanned portion of his skin separated from the normal skin at his neck, he then proceeded to push it downward as if he were struggling to escape from a pair of coveralls.  As the pile of golden-brown skin enveloped his feet, resembling a pair of pants around his ankles, his eyes were drawn to the dark red, striated fibers that covered his body.  “What the fuck is this!?!”

“It’s your muscles, dumbass.”

A wave of confusion came over him as he examined his body.  “That’s impossible.  This must be another trick.”

Wyatt displayed a puzzled expression as he watched the bizarre sight.  “What the hell, man?  How is he still alive?”

“A person can live without their skin for a while, maybe even up to a month or two, as long as they don’t bleed to death.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep.  And as you can see, the heat cauterized most of the capillaries supplying blood to his skin, so he’s not going to bleed out.  But he will eventually die from an infection or sepsis.”

Sitting on the countertop, Kenneth couldn’t believe his eyes as he observed Luke’s raw muscles and exposed brain.  “Damn, Seth.  If I wasn’t here to see this shit, I wouldn’t believe it.”

“Yeah, it is kind of mind blowin’.”

A wave of horror came over Luke as he listened to their conversation.  “Y’all are just trying to scare me.  I’d be in pain if I didn’t have any skin.”

“You’d normally be right, but the heat destroyed most of your nerve endings, plus I gave you some morphine.”  Seth pointed at Luke’s hands.  “Check out your fingers.  Does that look fake?”

As he scrutinized his fingers, observing white tendons and exposed bones, his eyes widened in disbelief.  “Oh, my God!  This can’t be happening!”  He gazed at Seth with a terrified expression.  “Please call an ambulance!”

Seth couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, a smile breaking across his face.  “You mean a hearse?”

“It’s not funny, asshole!”  In a state of panic, he quickly pulled his skin up to his waist like a pair of sweatpants, then sprinted out the front door.

Still laughing, Seth glanced at Kenneth.  “Go get his ass.”

Shaking his head, Kenenth leapt from the countertop and grabbed a flashlight.  “This night is gettin’ more fucked up by the minute.”

Potty Mouth

Seth glanced at his watch, then eyed Shawn as he sat on the floor with his back against the wall.  “Do you wanna pick how you wanna die now, or wait until later?  If you don’t choose somethin’ too time consuming, we can have you in the ground before sunrise.  Also, Zane should be here in about an hour and a half, so you need to make up your mind pretty fast.”

Shawn fixed his eyes on Luke as he stood next to the kitchen island.  With his detached skin sprawled across the countertop like a macabre tapestry, he displayed a grave expression as he cut it into various patterns.  Shawn couldn’t fathom how a man with no skin and an exposed brain could still be alive, much less being willing to perform such a degrading act of making garments out of his own flesh.  Amidst his ruthless captures and the unspeakable horrors he’d witnessed, Shawn realized that begging for mercy would prove futile.  To avoid suffering the same fate as those who came before him, he gazed at Seth with a somber expression.  “You said I can choose the way I want to die.”

“That’s correct.”

He started to speak, but the words deemed to be more difficult to say than he expected.

Seth nodded toward Wyatt as he stood next to the raffle drum.  “Go ahead and pick somethin’.”

As Wyatt brandished a piece of paper, an eerie stillness fell over the room.  Before he could catch a glimpse of its ominous message, Shawn’s voice, quivering with fear, abruptly blurted out, “I want to be shot in the head!”

“That’s fuckin’ lame.”

Shawn pivoted toward Seth, his demeanor reflecting a clear sense of surrender, and then, taking a deep breath, he lowered his head as he muttered, “Just do it and get it over with.”

“First, you need to fill out your toe tag and death certificate, and you need to pick a body bag, casket, and engrave your tombstone.”

“Please stop with the mind games and just do it.”

“The sooner you cooperate, the sooner this will be over.”

Overwhelmed by anxiety, he sank down to the floor.  “I’m not feelin’ good.  Please just do it and get it over with.”

Seth glanced at Wyatt.  “What’s written on the paper?”

“Strangled with his own intestines.”

Shawn lifted his head and glared at Seth.  “Hold up, you liar!  You said I get to choose!”

“These aren’t filled out yet.”  He held up a blank toe tag and death certificate.  “So, it’s not final yet.”

He scrambled to his feet and jerked the tag and document from Seth’s hand.  “You’re a ruthless motherfucker.”

“It’s what you get for fucking kids, pervert.”

“Whatever, man.”  Rage engulfed him as he began filling in his information.  “Karma is going to get you for this.”

“Maybe, but right now she’s gettin’ your ass back for fuckin’ your daughter.”

He forcefully slammed the pen onto the counter.  “I’m tired of hearing your mouth, so shut the fuck up!”  He snagged the top body bag from the stack and hurled it toward Seth, then marched over to the caskets leaning against the wall.  With a swift and forceful motion, he grabbed a wooden toe pincher, slamming it to the floor before storming out through the back door.  Moments later, he returned to the house, wheeling in a flat-topped tombstone on a two-wheeled dolly.  “Give me the fuckin’ engraver.”

Seth held up a marker.  “Slow your roll, pal.  I need to outline it first.”

“Hurry up and write your bullshit on there so I can get it done.”

After Seth outlined the tombstone, Shawn’s eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the inscription:

Shawn “The Child Rapist” O’Brien

Raped His Mentally Retarded Daughter

Shot In The Head And Buried Alive

Died 9-18-2023

“That’s real funny, asshole.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

Kenneth wore a puzzled expression as he stood over Shawn, observing him as he diligently engraved the letters.  “How in the hell is he gonna be buried alive if you shoot him in the head?”

“I’m sure he’ll live for a while until he bleeds out.”

Enraged, Shawn muttered angrily as he forcefully worked the graver against the limestone.  “You’re not going to get away with this.  Someone will find out what you did here.”

“Of course, they will.  If it’s not documented, it didn’t happen.”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”

Seth pointed at a wall-mounted camera.  “Everything is being recorded.  After I edit the video, I’m going to upload it to the internet for the whole world to see.”

“What the fuck!?!”  He laid down the engraver and covered his genitals as he scrutinized the camera.  “You better not be recording me.”

“That should be the least of your worries, dumbass.  Now get back to engraving before I strangle you with your own intestines.”

“Fuck you, dude.”

Seth pulled a knife from his waistband.  “I’m not tellin’ you again.”

Shawn clenched his teeth, gripping the engraver with one hand while using the other to hide his genitals.  “One day you’re gonna get yours.”

“Maybe, but today you’re gettin’ yours, so shut the fuck up.”  Seth glanced at Luke as he leaned forward against the countertop, his head bowed in a meditative posture.  “Luke!  Stop daydreaming and get back to it.”

“Somethin’ is wrong.  I don’t feel good, and I’m starting to hurt really bad.”

“Your adrenaline and morphine must be wearing off.”

“It feels like I’m dying.”

“I’m sure you are.  You don’t have any fuckin’ skin, and your brain is sticking out of your damn head.”

Tears welled in his eyes.  “I don’t want to die.  Please let me go to the hospital.”

“There’s nothin’ they can do.”

“They can put my skin back on.”

“Dude, your skin is toast.”

“Then they can give me skin grafts or something.  You know, from like a donor.”

“All you need to be worried about is gettin’ those loincloths done.”  Seth tossed a syringe onto the countertop.  “Inject that.  It’ll give you a little boost and help with the pain.”

As Luke injected himself in the arm, a surge of euphoria came over him.  “Oh, yeah!  That’s better.”

“Good.  Now get back to it.  The loincloths aren’t gonna make themselves.”

“Fuck that.”  He folded up his detached flesh like a beach towel and placed it under his arm.  “I’m going to the hospital.”

“Your ass ain’t going anywhere.”

“Try to stop me, asshole, and see what happens.”

Kenneth shot a puzzled look at Seth.  “Why is he actin’ this way?”

“It’s the combination of morphine and adrenaline.  It’s making him feel indestructible.”

Luke began scanning the kitchen.  “Where’s the top of my skull?”  When he spotted it perched on the countertop filled with cigarette butts, an aggravated expression came over him.  “You stupid fuck!”  He flipped his skull over, dumping the butts and ashes onto the floor.  “I’m outta here.  And if any of you fuckers try to stop me, I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”

Seth raised a spray bottle and pointed it at him.  “Your ass ain’t going anywhere.”

Luke scrutinized the bottle for a moment.  “What the fuck is that shit?”

“Isopropyl alcohol, bleach, and salt.”  Seth turned the bottle so he could see the label that read, Faggot Spray.

“That’s real funny, you prick.  And it’s gonna take a lot more than a fuckin’ spray bottle to stop me.”

“You sure about that?”  Seth squeezed the trigger, propelling a stream of liquid to splash across Luke’s torso.  Within mere seconds, it felt as if his body was being consumed by an invisible, scorching inferno.  Overwhelmed by excruciating agony, Luke hastily discarded his skull and skin as he began frantically patting his raw muscles.  “Oh, my God!  It feels like I’m on fire!”  When his skinless fingers made contact with the liquid on his chest, they too began to sear and burn, adding to his torment.  “Oh, fuck me!  It’s spreading!  Please make it stop!”

Seth sprayed him again.  “Loincloths, asshole.  They’re not going to make themselves.”

Luke fell to the floor and began rolling around as he wailed, “Please stop!  It’s fuckin’ burning me!”

He doused his back with the liquid.  “I’m not tellin’ you again.”

Experiencing an overwhelming amount of pain, Luke began crawling across the floor like a wild animal.  “Okay!  Okay!  I’ll do it!”  He hastily seized his detached skin and rushed over to the island, where he started dancing in place, writhing in pain.  “It’s still burning!  Please make it stop!”

“It’ll wear off in a minute or two, so chill out.”  Seth handed the bottle of Faggot Spray to Kenneth.  “Keep his ass in line.”  He strolled over to Shawn, then frowned when he glanced at his tombstone.  “Dude!  You didn’t engrave the part about you raping your mentally retarded daughter.”

An angered expression came over him.  “Fuck you.  I’m not doin’ it.”

“Not only are you going to do it, but you’re gonna like it.  And now you get to add that you got her pregnant too.”

“To hell if I am, smartass.”

“You wanna bet?”

“You might as well go ahead and kill me, because I’m not….”

Seth struck Shawn in the head with the butt of his knife, knocking him to the floor.  As he lay dazed, he shoved his foot into his back to hold him in place, then rammed the blade between his ass cheeks and began aggressively slicing into his flesh.  After he cut all the way around his anus, he pulled out about six feet of his large intestine, then wrapped it around his neck.

Amidst the excruciating pain and the suffocating sensation of being strangled, Shawn’s voice barely escaped his lips as a chilling whimper.  “I’ll do it!  I’ll do it!  Please stop choking me!”

Seth released the intestine and stepped back.  “Then get to it, asshole.”

Uncertain of what had occurred, Shawn moaned in agony as he rose to his feet.  When he inspected the searing pain radiating from his rearend, a wave of terror washed over him when he noticed blood covered the back of his legs and his entrails were sprawled across the floor.  “Oh fuck!  Is that my intestines!?!”

“No, it’s your fuckin’ tail, jackass.  Now get back to engraving before I strangle you with it.”

“I can’t believe you did this to me!”

Seth started to reach for the intestine.

“Okay, okay!  I’m doing it!”  He rushed over to the tombstone.

“And don’t forget to add that you got your daughter pregnant.”

Feeling mentally drained and pushed to his limit, Shawn longed for his harrowing nightmare to be over.  “You are a ruthless motherfucker, you know that?”

“Stop flappin’ your lips and get the shit done.”

“I am, you fuckin’ prick.  I’m workin’ as fast as I can.”

“Good for you.”

When he completed the last letter, he tossed the engraver to the floor.  “I believe what goes around, comes around, and one day you will get yours, you demented fuck.”

Seth pulled his Kimber 1911 from his holster.  “Anything else you want to say before I bury your sorry ass?”

“Yeah.  Fuck you!  And I hope you die a miserable death, you fuckin’ cocksucker!”

“Wow!  What a potty mouth.”

“Fuck you and your mouthy comments!”

Seth aimed between Shawn’s legs and pulled the trigger, the .45 caliber bullet obliterating the end of his penis before leaving a long gash on the inside of his right leg.

Shawn fell to his knees while cupping his bloody stump with his hands.  “Oh, my God!  You shot off my dick!”

“No, I shot you in the head, just as you requested.”

“You sorry motherfucker!  You know that’s not what I meant!”

“That’s your fault.  You should have specified which head.”  Seth nodded toward Kenneth, and without being verbally instructed, they dragged Shawn over to his wooden coffin and forcefully shoved him inside it, then nailed the lid closed.  As they carried the coffin through the back door, Shawn’s frantic kicks and punches echoed from within the box, accompanied by his agonized cries.

After they lowered him into his grave using ropes, Seth glanced at Wyatt.  “I saw some corrugated metal inside the barn when I first checked out this place.  I need three of them.  And there’s a bunch of cedar fence pickets in there too.  Bring about thirty of them as well.  And see if you can find some nails and a couple of door hinges.”

“What are you planning on making?”

“It’s a surprise for Shawn since he’s such a potty mouth.”

As Wyatt gathered the materials, Seth retrieved some tools from his bus, then descended into Shawn’s grave with a jigsaw.  After he cut a six-inch hole in the lid of his casket right above his head, Shawn pressed his face against the opening and yelled, “Please let me out!  I’m begging you!”

“Hush!  I don’t want to hear it.”

Consumed by claustrophobia, a suffocating fear overwhelmed him as he gasped for air.  “Come on, man!  I can’t breathe in here!”

“I said shut the fuck up!”  Seth wacked him in the mouth with a hammer.

Shawn ignored the pain as he continued holding his face against the hole.  “Oh my God!  I’m going to suffocate!  Please open the lid!”

“You’re not going to suffocate, so chill out.”  Seth struck him in the mouth again, knocking out several of his front teeth.

In an act of desperation, Shawn shoved an arm through the hole and began frantically clawing at the lid.  “Let me out of here, you motherfucker!”

Aggravated, Seth planted his foot against his upper arm, grabbed his wrist with both hands, then bent his arm backwards until his elbow joint hyperextended, tearing ligaments and muscles.  Shawn screamed in agony, and when Seth let go, he quickly jerked his deformed arm back inside the coffin.  “What the fuck, man!  You broke my arm!”

“Stick somethin’ else out here and I’ll break that shit too.”

Becoming emotional, Shawn began crying as he softly whimpered, “I can’t believe you’re doin’ this to me.  I don’t deserve this.”

“Hush!  I don’t want to hear it.”

When Wyatt arrived with the corrugated metal, Seth took one of the sheets, rolled it lengthwise into a seven-inch-diameter tube, then secured it together with duct tape.  While holding the tube upright over the coffin’s opening, Kenneth and Wyatt started filling the grave with dirt.  The haunting echoes of Shawn’s cries reverberated through the tube, creating a chilling and haunting atmosphere in the nighttime air.

After the grave was filled, Seth leveled the dirt, leaving the tube protruding from the ground around two feet.  “That’s perfect.”  He glanced at his watch, then pulled Gloria’s phone from his pocket and sent a text to Zane that read, How much longer, player?

45 min.

Good.  My pussy is soakin’ wet.

???

What’s wrong?

Why are you acting this way?  You know I’m not into women.

LOL.  Just messing with ya.

Your crazy, girl.

You’re.

What?

Never mind.

Seth glanced at Kenneth and Wyatt.  “Zane the fag will be here in about forty-five minutes.  While I finish this up, go ahead and get everyone moved to one of the bedrooms.  The fucker will most likely be carrying, so I’m going to take his ass out before he gets inside the house.”

As Zane pulled into the driveway, the sun revealed a blanket of morning dew that covered the ground, glistening in the early daylight.  Then to his bewilderment, he saw Gloria, butt naked and sprawled out spread eagle across the front steps, fucking herself with a large dildo.  Taken aback, he dropped his guard as he exited his car.  “What the hell are you doin’, Gloria?”  Before he took his first step, a dart struck him in the side of his neck, followed by his vision swiftly fading into darkness.

Seth laughed as he approached Zane while he lay on the ground unconscious.  “I knew that would get his ass sidetracked.”  He glanced at Kenneth and Wyatt as they strolled out from behind some bushes.  “The dildo in the pussy trick gets ‘em every time, even when they’re not into pussy.”

Wyatt’s gaze fell upon Zane, a middle-aged man possessing a chubby physique, attired in a jacquard purple paisley shirt, brown slim-fit trousers, and alligator shoes.  His long black hair cascaded down his shoulders, complemented by a thick handlebar mustache and a hoop earring in his right ear.  Cuban-link chains made of white-gold hung from his neck, gold rings adorned every finger, and white-gold bracelets and an iced-out Rolex watch decorated his wrists.  “This dude sure is a creepy fucker.”

“Yeah, he is.  And out of all the scumbags we go after, he’s the worst type being a sex trafficker.”

“Are we gonna do the burial thing with him?”

“Naw, Missy wants me to bring him and Gloria back home.”

“Missy?”

“Yeah, when she found out about them, she said she wanted to fuck them up.”

“Oh, shit!  That means their asses are gonna get it bad.”

“Yep.”

After Seth and Kenneth bound Zane and Gloria, securing them inside the bus, the group withdrew into the house, congregating in the kitchen.  There, Luke stood motionless, displaying a pained expression.  “Can I have another shot?”

Seth observed his ridged posture and the grimace etched into his face.  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“It hurts really bad when I move, and I can’t sit or lay down.”

“I’m sure.  Your ass don’t have any skin.”

“Like I don’t know that, smartass.”  He repeated his question.  “Can I have another shot?”

“Did you finish the loincloths?”

Luke’s eyes narrowed, and he appeared to be in a peculiar state, wavering between survival mode and a desire for his suffering to end.  “Yeah.  And I can’t believe you made me do that to my own flesh.  It’s fuckin’ degrading.”

“I’m sure your nephew thinks it’s degrading what you did to him.”  Seth picked up one of the garments and examined it.  “Not too shabby.”   He picked up the other one, then frowned when he saw a hole.  “Why is there a hole in this one?”  Upon closer examination, a grin spread across his face as he chuckled.  “Oh, shit!  It’s your belly button.”

“I don’t think it’s funny, asshole.  And you had no right doin’ this to me.”

“Don’t start whinin’.”  Seth strolled over to a closet door and opened it, finding Billy’s face covered in tears and snot as he lay bound and gagged.  “Good.  You’re still alive.”  He opened the door to a bedroom and motioned with his hand.  “Y’all fuckers get out here.”

When Johnny, Barry, and Justin exited the room, Seth got everyone’s attention.  “I’m fixin’ to head out, and I’m taking Panty Man with me.”  He eyed Justin as he stood with his arms crossed while displaying a sullen expression.  “Why are you pouted up?”

“I’m not.  I’m just standin’ here.”

“Somethin’s wrong with ya.”

He uncrossed his arms.  “I’m fine.”

“I’m not askin’ again.”

“I can’t believe you made me stand in the corner.”

“Really?  You’re still pouted up over that?”

“I think I’ve earned some respect.  I’m not a little bitch like Butthead.”

Barry’s eye narrowed as he dangled from Johnny’s chest, yet he couldn’t reply as his lips were sealed shut with a zipper.

“That was your fault for poppin’ off.  And if you’re gonna start actin’ up, we have some extra caskets leftover.”

‘Naw, man.  I’m good.”

“And speaking of caskets.”  Seth glanced at Luke.  “Do you wanna be buried alive, or do you want to pick another way to die?”

A frightened expression came over him.  “Why are you askin’ me that?”

“It’s time to be buried, but your ass is still alive.”

“Buried?  But I thought I was going to the hospital after I finished makin’ the loincloths.”

“I don’t know where you got that shit from, but you’re going in the ground dead or alive.”

Tears welled in his eyes.  “Come on, man!  Please don’t do this!  I don’t want to die!”

“You already have a death sentence, so stop being so dramatic.”

“Dramatic?  Look what you’ve done to me.  You’ve destroyed my life.”

Seth changed his focus to Kenneth and Wyatt.  “It’s been a long night, so y’all can head out too.”  He glanced at Justin.  “You’re gonna stay here and bury Luke.”

“How am I supposed to do that?  I only have one hand.”

“I’ll leave Johnny and Butthead here too.  They can help you.”

Justin briefly glanced at Johnny and Barry before returning his gaze to Seth.  “But they don’t have any fuckin’ arms.  How are they supposed to help?”

“You’ll figure it out.  And make sure y’all use the toilet out back.”

“What are you talkin’ about?  What toilet?”

Seth led everyone out the back door and over to an outhouse.  “This one.”

Wyatt scrutinized the structure, noting it was assembled from cedar fence pickets with a corrugated metal roof, and a cutout of a half-moon decorated the door.  “I was wondering what you were going to build.”  Upon opening the door and peering inside, he observed a bench with a large hole, and he could hear echoing cries emanating from within.  “Is that the pipe that goes to Shawn’s coffin?”

“Yep.  It’s what he gets for being a potty mouth.”

Kenneth chuckled.  “That’s funny as shit.”

Seth smiled.  “Literally.”

Everyone erupted into laughter.

Wagon Train

While Randy sat in the waiting room, he watched as nurses rolled one man at a time through a set of double doors.  A look of horror hung from their faces as they were being taken to an operating room for an emergency penectomy.  As the men were being hauled away, porters were bringing men out of the double doors after receiving the procedure.  As these men were being taken to the patient pickup and drop off area outside, Randy noticed they not only wore traumatized expressions, but some of them were sobbing.

Refusing to undergo a penectomy, Randy and Mack gathered with other like-minded men in the waiting room.  These men included: Darnell, the black man with the white doll.  Billy, a brawny man with a large beard and a doll dressed in a baby bonnet.  And Johnny, a slender crackhead with a brown-skinned doll.  Their game plan was simple; to hold out as long as possible in hopes the doctors could find a way to disable the dolls.  In the event one of their timers did go off, they planned on using Billy’s hunting knife to sever their own penis to prevent formaldehyde poisoning.

To Randy’s surprise, a porter came out of the double doors pushing Jeff in a wheelchair.  “Hey, Jeff!  Over here!”

The porter rolled him over to Randy and his group, then sauntered away.  Randy noticed Jeff’s left leg and his right arm were in a cast, a bandage concealed his head, scrapes, bruises, and gashes covered his face, his left eye was swollen shut, lips inflamed, and several of his front teeth were missing.  “Damn, bro.  Are you alright?”

With some of his front teeth missing, Jeff now spoke with a lisp.  “Do I fuckin’ look alright?”

“Hey, man.  I’ve been worried about you.  I’ve been trying to get an update from the nurses, but they’re a bunch of bitches.”

He didn’t respond as he slouched in his chair with a sullen expression.

“What the hell happened, dude?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know you’re upset about your penis, but you can still live a happy life.  If you start to feel depressed again, just talk to me.”

“What the hell are you insinuating?”

“Nothing.”

Anger swept over him.  “I didn’t try to kill myself if that’s what the fuck you’re thinking.”

“I’m not.”

“I just didn’t see the fuckin’ bus.”

“Okay, man.  I believe you.”

Bitterness consumed Jeff and secretly he wanted to see Randy have his penis cut off.  “I heard the doctors are cutting off everyone’s dick because they can’t find a way to remove the dolls.”

“Yeah, man.  Some crazy shit happened while you were gone.  Several dudes had their timers go off and their dicks got injected with the formaldehyde, so the doctors are giving everyone a penectomy.”

“When are they coming to get you?”

“They’re not.  We’re all holding out until the last minute.”

Jeff studied the group of men as they parked close together in a circle with their backs facing each other.  Facing outwards prevented porters and nurses from accessing the push handles on their wheelchairs.  Their formation reminded Jeff of wagon trains from the 1800s that formed a circle to ward off an Indian attack.  In this situation, instead of defending themselves from Indians with bow and arrows, they were protecting themselves from doctors with scalpels.  Jeff didn’t care about Randy’s wellbeing, and out of jealousy he wanted him to lose his penis too.  “You’re gambling with your life, man.  If the formaldehyde gets into your bloodstream, you could die.”

“I know.  That’s why we’re planning on cutting off our own dick if our timer does go off.”

“That’s fuckin’ stupid.”

“You won’t be saying that if our plan works.”

The thought of Randy getting to keep his penis angered him.  “I heard they gave up on trying to find a way to disable the dolls, so you might want to consider gettin’ in line.”

“Who did you hear that from?”

“I overheard some nurses talking about it.”

“Bullshit.”

An aggravated expression came over Johnny, the crackhead with a brown-skinned doll.  “I hope you’re mistaken, dude.”

“Go ask them if you don’t believe me.”

“I will.”

Johnny left the group, and as he argued with a nurse at the reception desk, Randy noticed a porter came out of the double doors pushing a fat man in a wheelchair.  “See that fat fucker?”

Jeff nodded.  “Yeah.  What about him?”

“He’s one of the dudes who got his dick injected.  He’s also a cocky motherfucker who said he wasn’t going to have his shit cut off.”  Still annoyed by the man’s rude comments from earlier, Randy laughed as he shouted, “Hey, man!  How’s it hanging?”

The man grabbed the wheels of his wheelchair and forced it to a stop.  “What the fuck did you say to me, asshole!?!”

“I thought you weren’t gonna have your dick cut off.”

“Keep laughing, you redheaded creep!  Your turn is coming!”

“Speaking of creepy.  Where’s ya little Asian boy?”

“Fuck you, dude!”  He glared at the porter.  “Get me the fuck out of here before I kill that bastard!”

“See ya later, dickless.”

As the porter pushed the man outside, Jeff eyed Randy with a troubled expression.  “Damn, dude.  That was harsh.”

“That guy is a fuckin’ prick and deserved it.”

Seeing Randy making fun of the man enraged him.  “That shit wasn’t funny, dude.”

“Why do you give a shit?”

“Because I know what he’s going through and there’s nothing funny about it.  And frankly, I find it offensive.”

“That had nothing to do with you, bro.  And I don’t think what happened to you is funny.  I was just trying to piss him off since he was running his mouth earlier.”

“You still have your dick, so you have no right making those kinds of comments.”

“Wow, dude!  You sure took that the wrong way.”

Suddenly, Darnell’s doll began counting down from thirty.  Originally, Darnell, the black man with the white doll, declared he’d rather die as a man than be a dickless motherfucker.  Now with an impending doom hovering over him, panic set in.  “Oh, shit!  What the fuck am I gonna do!?!”

Billy, the burly man with the large beard, pulled his hunting knife from its sheath and handed it to him.  “You gotta cut off your dick before the timer gets to zero!”

Darnell lunged from his wheelchair, and as he supported his doll with one hand while holding the knife with the other, his body trembled as he displayed a grimace of terror.  “I…  I don’t think I can do it!”

Everyone in his group began yelling for him to do it as the doll counted, “Nineteen, eighteen, seventeen…”

As his hand shook, he moved the knife close to the base of his penis.  “I…  I can’t do it!”

“…fifteen, fourteen, thirteen…”

Out of desperation, he began stabbing the doll in the chest.

“…ten, nine, eleven, two, eight….”  After the doll wailed out a series of random numbers, it then emitted an electrical buzzing sound right before going silent.

A huge amount of relief washed over Darnell.  “Oh, shit!  I think I killed the fucker!”

Randy couldn’t believe his eyes as he sat on the edge of his wheelchair.  “Holy shit, man!  You did it!  You figured out a way to disable them!”

Billy reached out.  “Give me back my knife.  I’m doing mine next.”

About the time Darnell handed the knife away, a burning sensation erupted from his penis.  “Oh, fuck!  Something’s wrong!  My dick is getting hot!”

Randy recalled how his penis was burned after dunking his doll in the water.  “Oh, shit!  I think you activated the heating elements.”

“What the hell is that?”

“It’s part of the doll’s defensive mechanism.  But it only lasts a short time.”

Darnell exhibited a terrified expression.  “Are you sure, man!?!  It’s starting to burn really bad.”

“Yeah.  For me, it only lasted just a few minutes.”

Suddenly, Darnell’s doll erupted into a fireball, covering the front of his body with flames.  The fire not only burned the front of his torso, but as he held onto his doll, the flames scorched his hands and arms.  Then to his horror, the outer shell of his doll disintegrated, covering his hands in molten plastic.  In a panic, he began frantically stumbling around the waiting room while wailing in agony.  As the flames intensified, melted plastic not only scorched his crotch, but began running down the front of his legs.  During the chaos, he tripped over Jeff, knocking him out of his wheelchair, slathering melted plastic all over his body in the process.

Finally, a security guard rushed over to Darnell with a fire extinguisher as he rolled around on the floor and extinguished the flames.  Experiencing an overwhelming amount of pain, Darnell lay on his back and moaned in agony as the heated plastic continued to burn his flesh.

As Randy and Mack helped Jeff back to his wheelchair, an angered expression hung from Jeff’s face.  “I can’t believe that shit happened!”

Randy nodded in agreement.  “I know, man.  Darnell must have stabbed the battery or something and caused it to explode.”

“I’m not talking about that shit.  He got hot plastic all over me.”

Randy observed white plastic covered parts of Jeff’s face, neck, and left arm.  “Dude.  That was an accident.”

“I don’t give a shit!  Hasn’t enough bullshit already happened to me?”

“Yeah, man.  You’ve been through a lot.”

When the bulk of his pain subsided, Darnell scrambled to his knees and began frantically examining himself.  First, he noticed his hands were covered in white plastic.  He tried to move his fingers, but the plastic became stiff after it cooled down, leaving him with a permanently affixed and rigid pair of gloves.  Then to his dismay, he observed a layer of hardened plastic covered his crotch.  He began frantically rubbing his plastic-coated crotch with his plastic covered fingers as he desperately tried to locate his genitals.  “Oh, my God!  Where’s my fuckin’ dick!?!”

Randy noticed a smooth, flat layer of plastic covered Darnell’s crotch.  It reminded him of a Ken doll since Ken dolls don’t possess a penis.  “Your dick is probably just under the plastic.”

Darnell exhibited a look of trepidation as he examined himself.  “Oh shit!  I think it got burned off!”  In a panic, he began rummaging through a pile of melted plastic and metal components lying on the floor.  As he examined the remnants of his doll, he saw a charred piece of meat lying in the remains.  “Oh, shit!  I found my dick!”

Hearing of the incident, Dr. Stokes and two nurses approached Darnell.  Dr. Stokes immediately spotted the white plastic covering Darnell’s crotch, hands, and the front of his legs.  The skin around the plastic, inflamed and bright red, displayed severe blistering where the molten plastic scorched his flesh.  “Sir!  We need to get you to an exam room and address your burns.”

Darnell glanced up at the doctor as he sat on his knees next to the remnants of his doll.  “What about my penis?  Can it be reattached?”

Dr. Stokes observed the charred piece of flesh intermingled in the pile of melted plastic and mechanical components.  Even though the organ was destroyed, he knew the importance of hope.  “We’ll see, but for now we need to focus on your burns.”

Darnell scooped up the remnants of his doll with his plastic covered hands, then hobbled away with the nurses.  Dr. Stokes then glared at the group of men who refused to undergo a penectomy.  “That was unnecessary what happened to that man and could have been avoided.  Now he has third degree burns and will be spending months undergoing skin grafts and fighting infections.  And for what?  He still lost his penis.  I cannot allow this rebellious type of behavior to continue.  It’s not only dangerous to yourself, but it also puts my staff at risk.  If you’re not willing to receive the necessary medical treatment to prevent this type of incident, then you need to leave the hospital.”

Shocked by the doctor’s demand, Randy’s eyes narrowed.  “What are you saying?  If I don’t get my dick cut off, I have to leave?”

“Yes.  You’re not only putting yourself in danger, but you’re also putting everyone around you at risk, including innocent bystanders and my staff.”  He glanced at Jeff, observing the plastic stuck to his skin.  “We need to take you back to an exam room and address those burns.”  He moved his focus back to Randy.  “You have the right to choose what you think is best regarding your healthcare, but when your conduct adversely affects others, such as what happened to Mr. Blackmore, I cannot allow you to stay in my hospital.”

Becoming frustrated, Randy grumbled.  “You’ve already made that clear.”

Jeff eyed Randy with a look of dismay.  “Yeah.  This shit is your fault.”  He raised his right arm, displaying his cast.  “Including this.”

“Hold up, dude!  It’s not my fault you tried to off yourself.”

“Fuck if it isn’t.  You’re the one who wanted to walk here, and because of that, I got my fuckin’ dick ripped off by that fat bitch.”

“You’re not going to blame me for that shit.  And you’re the one who wanted to go to the hospital in the first place.”

To break up the argument, Dr. Stokes motioned toward Jeff as he regarded a nurse.  “Take Mr. Blackmore to an exam room.”

As she pushed him away, Jeff glared back at Randy.  “You better not be at my apartment when I get there.”

“Don’t worry.  I won’t.”  About the time he finished his comment, Randy’s doll began counting down from twenty.  As terror completely engulfed him, he lunged from his wheelchair.  “Oh shit!  This can’t be happening!”  As he stood horror stricken while supporting his doll, he peered at Dr. Stokes with a look of apprehension.  “Please do something, man!”

Jeff grabbed the wheels of his wheelchair, stopping it, then eyed the nurse.  “Hold up!  I wanna see this shit!”  He spun around so he could watch Randy lose his dick, something he longed for out of jealousy.

Dr. Stokes motioned for everyone to move away from Randy.  “Everyone needs to get back in case the doll erupts into flames!”

Randy’s eyes grew huge as saucers.  “Flames!  Oh fuck!  Do you think that’s going to happen!?!”

Being proactive, Jacob Henry, the security guard, rushed over with a fire extinguisher.  “Don’t worry, bud.  If it happens, I’ll put it out.”  Being a retired U.S. Marine, Jacob usually found his shift boring as he watched sick people come and go while counting the minutes.  Seeing a room full of perverts getting their dicks injected with formaldehyde, dolls bursting into flames, and Seth Coker’s comical video, made the evening exciting.  Jacob wasn’t a sadist—a person who takes pleasure in watching or inflicting pain, punishment, or humiliation on others—he simply lacked compassion for child molesters due to being a father of three young children.

Billy held his knife out toward Randy.  “You have to do it, man!”

“I can’t!  I thought I could, but I can’t!”

Jeff barked out with delight.  “You said you were gonna cut your shit off.  So, be a man and do it before it’s too late.  You’re gonna lose your dick either way.”

As Randy’s doll called out number five, he fell to his knees as a petrifying sense of terror completely overtook him.  “Oh, my God!  I can’t believe this is happening!”

When his doll yelled out, “Times up!”, it made a buzzing sound, then a puff of smoke bellowed out from its mouth and ears.  With no ensuing explosion or fire, Dr. Stokes motioned toward Randy as he regarded a nurse.  “Get him to a surgical room stat.  We need to remove his penis before the formaldehyde has a chance to get into his bloodstream.”

Randy wept as a nurse escorted him to an operating room for a penectomy.  With his jealousy subsiding, Jeff eyed Randy as nurses pushed them down a hallway in wheelchairs.  “Hey, man.  I changed my mind.  You can stay at my apartment as long as you want.”

Randy remained silent as the nurse rolled him into a surgical room.

Snuff Film

Zane awoke, finding himself sprawled out nude on a filthy mattress.  His eyes then traveled to Gloria’s naked body as she lay asleep next to him.  “What the fuck?”  Upon sitting up, he found a collar fastened around his neck, and a braided-steel cable extended from the collar to a winch mounted on the ceiling.  Bewildered, he scrutinized his surroundings, discovering he was in the center of a large room.  The walls were comprised of hyalite blocks, the floor revealed raw concrete, and above, the ceiling showcased the framework of steel trusses and metal panels.  Suspense lingered as work lights, perched on stands, encircled the bed, and a lone camera was positioned atop a tripod, silently capturing the unknown.  Studying Gloria for a moment, he observed that she, too, wore a collar.  “Gloria!” he exclaimed, shaking her shoulder.  “Wake up!”  When she didn't respond, he began yelling, “Hey! Anyone there?!?”

Johnny came sauntering into the room wearing a jacquard purple paisley shirt, brown trousers, alligator shoes, Cuban-link chains, and a hoop earring dangled in his left ear.  “You rang?”

“What the hell is going on?  How did I get here, and why in the fuck am I naked?  And why is this collar around my neck?”

“I’ll let the master explain that to you.”

“Master?  What kind of weird shit is going on?”

“Like I said, I’ll let the master explain it to you.”

Zane scrutinized Johnny’s clothes for a moment.  “What the fuck, man?  Why are you wearing my clothes?”  His eyes then traveled to several gold chains dangling from his neck.  “And those are my chains, you thieving motherfucker!”

Johnny raised his right stub, revealing an ice-out watch.  “And I got your bling-bling on too, boy.”

“Hold up!  That’s my fuckin’ rollie!”

“Finders keepers, losers weepers.”

Enraged, he rose to his feet.  “Do you know who you’re fuckin’ with?”

“Yeah, some faggot who abducts kids.”

“Faggot?  No one talks to me like that, you fuckin’ punk!”  Zane stormed to the edge of the mattress, abruptly halted by his cable.  “I don’t know who in the fuck you are, but you’re a dead man!”

“I’ll let the master know you’re awake.  He can deal with your ass.”

“You do that, motherfucker.  And whoever it is, tell that fucker he’s dead too.”

As Johnny walked toward the door, Barry, dangling from his back wearing a rawhide loincloth, laughed as some of Zane’s gold necklaces hung from his neck.  “Don’t go anywhere, dickhead.  We’ll be right back.”

Zane stood dumbfounded, a wave of disbelief washing over him.  “What the hell?”  In the midst of his confusion, and as he impatiently waited, he jerked on the cable and fought at his collar like a wild animal.  As he struggled to get free, Gloria began to stir, prompting him to kneel beside her, the air in the room thickened with tension and uncertainty.  “Hey!  What the hell is going on?”

She sat up, finding her head spinning.  “Somethin’ is wrong.  I feel like I’ve been drugged.”  She then noticed her bareness.  “Why am I naked?”  She gazed at him with a puzzled expression as she covered her large breasts with her arms.  “Did we fuck?”

“Someone did this to us.  They removed our clothes and put these collars around our necks.”

“What are you talkin’ about?”  In a tense moment, her fingers clenched around her collar, and suddenly, her memories flooded back.  “Oh, shit!  I remember now.”

“Remember what?”

In a frantic rush, she began explaining everything, each word laden with a sense of urgency and suspense.  “Seth Coker lured me to that house.  Zoey wasn’t even real.”

“Seth Coker?”

“Yeah, you know, that vigilante dude that’s always on the news.”

She raised her right hand, showing a bloody bandage concealing her wound.  “The motherfucker cut off my thumb.”

“Oh, shit!  Why in the fuck did he do that?”

“So, he could access my phone.”

Zane thought for a moment, then an angered expression came over him.  “You fuckin’ lured me to that house, didn’t you?  There was no safe.”

“I didn’t have a choice.  He found your name in my phone and made me do it.”

“You fuckin’ bitch.  I’m here because of you.”

“I’m sorry.  He said he would turn me into a monster if I didn’t do it.”

“Monster?  What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“He fucked these guys up really bad.  I mean, like, this one dude had no skin, but he was still alive, and this other dude was possessed or something, and he cut off his head.  And there was this dude that had like this cow udder and a dick for an arm.”

“It sounds like you were drugged and hallucinating.”

“I wasn’t drugged.  The shit was real.  And there was this other dude that didn’t have any arms and legs, and his dick and balls were attached to his face somehow, and his ass was on top of his head.  And he made this other guy with no arms have sex with him.  I mean, like, this dude fucked him in his head.”

“Hold up!  I just saw those fuckers.  They came in here right before you woke up.  That shit was fake.”

“It’s not fake.  I was with them all night.”

“Bullshit.  There’s no way that could be real.  He tricked you so you would lure me to that house.”

In a panic, she began tugging on her cable.  “We have to get out of here!”

“You’re wastin’ your time.  These cables and collars are solid as fuck.  Our only chance to escape is to lure that dude close enough so I can grab him.”

She released her cable and slid to her knees.  “That might work if those other guys aren’t with him.”

“What guys?”

“Some big black dude, and this medium sized white dude.”

“Shit!  I can’t take out three guys.”  He thought for a moment.  “If we can get ahold of a weapon, like a knife or a gun, we only have to grab one of them.  We can use him as a hostage.”

“That might work.  So, how do we lure one of them over to us?”

“We’ll figure somethin’ out.”

She nodded toward the camera.  “I wonder why they set up that camera.”  She glanced at the lights for a moment, then gazed down at the mattress.  “Oh, shit!  Do you think they’re gonna force us to have sex?”

“It kind of looks that way.”

“Maybe we can use that to our advantage.”

“How?”

“If we play along, maybe I can persuade one of them to join in.  And if they don’t have a weapon, you can at least wrap the fuckin’ cable around their neck.”

“Good idea.”

About that time, Missy strolled into the room, casually pushing a TV atop a media cart.  “Are you fuckers ready to make a snuff film?”

Caught off guard, Gloria’s eyes opened wide.  “Who in the fuck are you?”

Missy didn’t respond as Seth entered the room behind her pushing a strange contraption.  After he parked it several feet from the mattress, he motioned toward the device.  “Since we don’t have a script, we came up with an idea to make the action flow.  And it’ll be entirely random, adding an element of surprise and excitement even for us.”

Gloria observed the contraption contained a large spin-wheel about the size of a car tire, a pointer, and twelve pie-shaped sections that were labeled, Zane’s Head, Gloria’s Pussy, Zane’s Cock, Gloria’s Tits, Zane’s Balls, Gloria’s Anus, Zane’s Mouth/Tongue, Gloria’s Fist, Zane’s Anus, Gloria’s Head, Zane’s Fist, Gloria’s Mouth/Tongue.  After she read some of the descriptions, she glared at Seth with a look of disgust.  “What the hell is this perverted shit?”

Missy stepped forward and pointed at the wheel.  “Let me explain how it works.  Y’all will take turns spinning this.  And you’ll spin it twice per turn.  Whatever the two body parts the pointer lands on will be used for that scene.  For example.”  She spun the wheel, and as the pointer made a clicking sound, it gradually came to a stop on Gloria’s Tits.  She spun it again, landing on Zane’s Cock.  “In this outcome, Zane gets to titty fuck you, or you can fuck his dick with your tits, however you want to look at it.”

Anger consumed Zane as he stood with his arms crossed.  “I know you don’t think we’re going to go along with this shit?”

“What the fuck are you cryin’ about?  Don’t you like pussy?”

“No, I’m fuckin’ gay.  And you don’t have any right holding us against our will.”

“That’s kind of being a hypocrite comin’ from a child sex trafficker.  And as far as being gay, just close your eyes and pretend she’s a dude.”

“Who in the fuck are you people?  I haven’t done shit to you.”

“Maybe not, but you are a fuckin’ child predator.”

“Predator?  What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“Don’t play dumb, asshole.  We know that you and this bitch abduct children for sex trafficking.”

“You’re mistaking me for someone else.”

“You can stop the act.  I went through your phone.”

“Bullshit.  You can only unlock my phone with facial recognition.”

“Yeah, and it even works when you’re unconscious, moron.”

“You had no right going through my personal shit.”

“That should be the least of your worries.”

“Fuck you!”  He glared at Seth.  “And fuck you too!  I’m not participating in your twisted game.”

“Sure, you will.”  Seth held up a homemade flamethrower.  “I’ll burn your ass into submission.  You can fuck with or without skin, I don’t give a shit.”

Zane charged at Seth, his cable abruptly halting him mere inches away.  “You’re not going to get away with this, you demented fuck!”

Gloria pulled Zane back and whispered in his ear.  “Remember our plan?  We have to play along to get him to drop his guard.”

“I don’t think he’ll fall for that.”

“We have to try.”

“So, what do you want to do?”

She observed a 1911 sticking out of Seth’s waistband.  “We need to get that gun from him.”

“How?”

“Just go along with it.”  She began kissing him.

Seth raised his hands, palms up.  “What the hell are y’all doin’?  You have to spin the wheel first.”

Gloria got on her knees in front of Zane and began massaging his penis.  “You can come join us if you like.”

“Naw, I’m not into scumbags.”

She eyed Missy, observing a large knife in her waistband.  “What about you?  I’m down for some three-way action.”

“I’ll pass.”

“I thought this is what y’all wanted?”

“No, we want to make a snuff film.”

Gloria was willing to fuck Zane if it gave them a chance to get free.  “Is the camera rollin’?”

“Yep.”

“Okay.  I’m down with that.”  She began sucking Zane’s flaccid penis.

Seth laughed.  “You probably need to grow a mustache to get him hard.”

Recognizing that she needed to adopt a more aggressive approach to lure Seth closer, she decided to intensify her tactics, so she lay on her back, motioning for Zane to come to her.  “Fuck me.”

Zane felt humiliated as he got between her legs.  Though he understood that their actions were merely a performance, it still made his stomach churn.  Since his penis wasn’t getting hard, Gloria began stroking it with her hand as she sucked on his neck.  Normally, he wouldn’t be turned on being with a woman, but he could feel himself becoming aroused as she aggressively groped and kissed him.  It even crossed his mind that maybe she was actually getting into it, provoking his penis to swell.  When he reached down to rub her clit, he found her pussy soaking wet.  His dick was now throbbing and hard as a rock, prompting him to shove himself deep inside her.  To his surprise, she wrapped her legs around his waist and began moaning with pleasure as she aggressively propelled her hips back into him, matching his speed and rhythm.  She began thrusting herself into him with such intensity that he couldn’t hold back his load.  Within seconds, he moaned out in pleasure as pulled out and spewed cum all over her stomach.  Breathing heavily, he sat back on his knees.  “Damn, girl!  You fuck like man.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It’s a complement.”

“That’s fuckin’ weird.”  Gloria noticed Seth and Missy weren’t watching as they both sat in chairs reading a book.  “Dammit!  They’re not even paying attention.”

Blushing, Zane felt embarrassed for his performance.  “I usually don’t cum this quick.”

She peered at him with a stunned expression.  “What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”

“You know.  The way you were carrying on.  It made me cum too fast.”

“Dude!  What the fuck?  You know why I was doin’ that.”

“I’m sorry!  I thought you were gettin’ into it too.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Shut the fuck up.  I don’t want to hear it.”  Her plan of getting Seth or Missy to drop their guard didn’t work, and now she felt humiliated.  “Hey, assholes!  We did what you wanted, so are you gonna let us go now?”

Missy glanced up.  “No, you haven’t.”

“We fucked on camera just like you wanted.”

“No one told you to do that.”

“Bullshit!  You’re the one who said you wanted us to make a porn.”

“I said snuff film.”

“Same difference, bitch.”

“Not quite.”

Furious, Gloria motioned toward the spin wheel.  “If you didn’t want us to have sex, then what the hell is this shit?”

“Retribution for abducting children.”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?  They’re just sex acts.”

“If you say so.”  Missy motioned to Zane.  “You’re up first.  Get your ass over here and spin the wheel before I lose my patience.”

Sitting cross-legged on the mattress, Zane displayed a disdainful expression.  “You can go fuck yourself, lady.”

Seth pulled a tranquilizer gun from his waistband and shot Zane in the chest.  “Watch your mouth, asshole.”

“What the fuck, man!?!”  He gritted his teeth as he extracted the dart from his skin, then a confused expression came over him as he examined it.  “What the hell is this?”

“A ballistic syringe.”

“Did you just inject me with something?”

“Yep.  Stiagra, and some other random shit that I had layin’ around.”

“Stiagra?  And what do you mean by, other random shit?  What the fuck did you put in me?”

“It’s a mixture of adrenaline and methylphenidate hydrochloride to keep you from passin’ out too soon.  It also contains hydralazine to keep your blood pressure from skyrocketing.  Synthetic platelets to prevent you from bleeding out too quickly.  And something similar to Viagra, but on steroids.”

Boiling with rage, he rose to his feet as he pumped his fists.  “You had no right injecting me with that!”

“That’s going to be the least of your worries.  Now get over there and spin the wheel.”

“Fuck you!  You’re gonna pay for this!”

Seth slipped out of the room, and within moments, he briskly reappeared, guiding a cart loaded with an array of knives, scalpels, syringes, hand tools, torches, and medical supplies.

Despite Zane’s anger and reluctance to engage in their twisted game, a sense of apprehension now gripped him.  “Hold up, man!  What are you planning on doing with that shit?”

“It’s motivation in case you refuse to participate.  Now, get over there and spin that wheel before I lose my patience.”

“If I do it, will you let us go when we’re done?”

Missy laughed.  “Sure.  We’ll drop you off at the morgue.”

A deadpan expression came over him.  “Morgue?”

Over the past few years spent with Seth, Missy gained a profound understanding of the importance of hope, and before Zane had a chance to freak out, she swiftly added, “I was just jokin’.  When y’all get done, we’ll dop y’all off at one of those safe places.”

“What the hell is that?”

“You know, they have the yellow sign with the house that says safe place.”

Seth approached the mattress with the flamethrower.  “Stop fuckin’ around and spin the wheel before I burn off that damn fag stache.”

“You know, you’d get more cooperation if you weren’t such a smart ass.”

Seth lit the burner.

“Okay, okay!  I’m doin’ it.”  Frustrated, he halfheartedly spun the wheel, then anxiously watched as the pointer made a clicking sound.  When it stopped, it landed on Zane’s Balls.

“Your balls will be part of the next scene.  Spin it again to see what other body part will be used.”

Sitting on the mattress with her arms shielding her chest, Gloria’s expression conveyed a sense of repulsion.  “I’m not touchin’ his fuckin’ balls, so you’re wastin’ your time playin’ this stupid game.”

Seth ignored her as he eyed Zane while rotating his finger, indicating for him to spin the wheel again.  “Hurry up.  We don’t have all night.”

This time it landed on Zane’s Mouth/Tongue.

Seth glanced at Gloria.  “You were getting’ all upset for nothin’.  Zane has to eat his own balls.”

Zane’s face transformed into a mask of bewilderment, a wave of uncertainty and suspense washing over him.  “What the fuck are you talkin’ about?  How can I eat my own balls?”

Seth glanced at his watch.  “I’m givin’ you three minutes to do it.”

“Do what?  I don’t understand?”

“Two and a half minutes.”

“Dude, I can’t reach ‘em!”  He leaned forward, demonstrating the impossibility of reaching his balls with his mouth.  “Look!  I don’t have the dexterity!  How in the fuck am I supposed to do it?”

“Two minutes.”

Agitation overcame him.  “It doesn’t matter how much time you give me.  I can’t do it, you fuckin’ dumbass!”

“One and a half minutes.”

“It’s not going to happen, so stop fuckin’ countin’, asshole.”

“One minute.”

“It’s not happenin’.”

“Time’s up.”  Seth aimed the flamethrower at Zane and squeezed the trigger, engulfing him in flames for a few intense seconds.  Simultaneously, his long, black hair was set ablaze in a fiery inferno.  As Zane danced around and screamed, Gloria leapt from the mattress and began patting his head.  “Hold still!  I’m tryin’ to put out the fire!”

After she extinguished the flames, he dropped to his knees, his hands instinctively reaching for his head.  “Oh, my God!  My fuckin’ hair got burned off.”

Seth laughed.  “Half of your fag stache is gone too, boy.”

“It’s not funny, you fuckin’ prick!”  Consumed by anger, he surged toward Seth, only to be yanked back by his cable.  “You’re fuckin’ dead, motherfucker!”

“Get to eatin’ your balls before I burn off your skin.”

“Fuck you, man!  I’m going to kill you for this!”

Seth unleashed another torrent of flames, and amidst the lingering cloud of smoke, Zane’s desperate cries echoed, “Okay!  Okay!  I’ll do it!  Please stop burning me!”

He released the trigger.  “Then get to it.”

Zane hunched forward while pulling his sack upwards.  “Please don’t get mad, but I can’t reach them!  It’s physically impossible, man!”

“Then fuckin’ stretch ‘em.”

“I am.”

“Try harder.”

“But I’ll tear my sack.”

Seth engulfed him in flames, showing no mercy as he scorched his flesh.  Zane, enduring more pain than he ever imagined possible, dug his fingers into the back of his ball sack as he danced around screaming.  Then, summoning all his strength, he pulled as hard as he could until his skin tore open, allowing both of his testicles to hang by the spermatic cords.

Seth released the trigger.  “Now, get to eatin’.”

Zane collapsed onto his back, his skin vivid red and blistered.  “Oh fuck!  I can’t believe you made me do that!”

“I didn’t tell you take a nap, jackass.”

Missy retrieved the camera from the tripod and approached the mattress.  “I wanna get a close up of you eating your balls.”

He didn’t respond as his quivering body lay sprawled out across the mattress. 

Seth shot him with a stream of burning fuel.  “Do what she says, asshole!”

“Okay, okay!  Please stop burning me!”

“Then do it.”

Under normal circumstances, a person would pass out in the face of such horrific agony.  However, the drugs coursing through his veins kept him conscious and fully alert.  Knowing he would only suffer additional pain if he didn’t do as instructed, Zane clenched both of his testicles and began pulling on them.  He attempted to rip them from his body, but his vas deferens stretched like rubber bands, causing a piercing pain inside his lower abdomen as they tugged on his prostate.  “I need a knife.”

“That’s not happening.”

“But it hurts when I pull on them.”

“I’m sure it does.  And do you need more motivation?”  Seth aimed the flamethrower at him.

Out of desperation, Zane grabbed his testicles with one hand, the vas deferens with his other, then ripped them apart.  A surge of anger swept through him as he fixated on the two oblong glands as they dripped with blood.  “I can’t believe you made me do this!”

“Stop whinin’ and get to eatin’ ‘em.”

With eyes filled with hatred, he didn’t say a word as shoved his balls into his mouth.

Seth laughed.  “How does your seed taste?”

As he chewed on his testicles, sperm oozed down his chin.  “You’re going to Hell for this.”

“That’s being hypocritical coming from a child predator.”

He didn’t respond as his eyes narrowed, showcasing his hatred.

Missy glanced at Gloria as she sat on the mattress with a horrified expression.  “It’s your turn to spin the wheel.”

Over the last few minutes, Gloria had not only witnessed the brutal assault on Zane, but she had also been scrutinizing the body parts listed on the wheel.  Some of the combinations would be normal sex acts, while others were unthinkable acts of self-mutilation.  She realized that the game held a more sinister design than initially anticipated, and the unsettling revelation struck her; Seth and Missy had orchestrated this from the beginning.

As she sat dumbfounded, Seth shot her in the neck with a dart.  “Do what she says, bitch.”

Stunned, Gloria’s eyes opened wide as she pulled it out.  “What the fuck, man?”

“I figured I’d go ahead and get that out of the way.”

“You sorry bastard!”  She clutched her neck and groaned.  “It’s fuckin’ burning.”

“That’s the epinephrine and methylphenidate hydrochloride you’re feeling.   But I’m not sure what the Stiagra is going to do to a woman.”

“You had no right injecting me with that shit!”

Missy’s expression darkened into a frown.  “And you had no right abducting kids, you fuckin’ cunt.”

Seth pointed the flamethrower at her.  “Now get your ass over there and spin the wheel.”

She raised her hands.  “Okay, okay!  You don’t have to burn me!  I’ll do it!”

“Then get to it.”

Reluctantly, she eased over to the wheel and gave it a spin.  As the pointer made a clicking sound, she could feel her heart pounding in her chest with anticipation.  When it stopped on Gloria’s Head, Seth clapped.  “Nice!  Homegirl is gettin’ some head.  Now spin it again to see who’s gonna give it to you.”

When she spun it, it landed on Zane’s Cock.  “Sweet.”  Seth tossed Zane a spoon.

Confusion swept over him as he picked it up.  “What the fuck do you want me to do with this?”

“Pop out one of her eyes and fuck her in the socket.”

“What?  You can’t be serious.”

“Stop acting like a tit bag.  All your whinin’ and cryin’ is messin’ up our movie.”

Missy added, “And now we’re going to have to do a lot of editing.”

“You two fuckers are crazy.”  He scrutinized the camera for a moment, a feeling of humiliation sweeping over him.  “And who’s gonna see this shit?”

“Everyone.  It’s going to be uploaded on the internet.”

“You’re lying.  That would incriminate the both of you.”

“That’s why she mentioned editing, dipshit.  People are only going to see and hear you two fuckers going at it.”

“You sorry motherfucker.  Y’all aren’t gonna get away with this.”

“Sure, we will.”  Seth aimed the flamethrower at him.  “Now get over there and fuck her in the head before I burn you into a crisp.”

Gloria raised her hands.  “Hold up!  I’ll suck his dick!”

“That’s not what you spun.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“No, you landed on head, not mouth.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“It’s our game, and we say it’s not.”

Zane and Gloria became unruly, standing next to each other while holding their fists up.

Seth set the flamethrower down and retrieved two baseball bats.  “You fuckers aren’t gonna like the consequences if you don’t do what you’re told.”

In an act of defiance, Zane raised his middle finger.  “Bring it, you twisted fuck!”

Seth tossed a bat to Missy, and together they charged at Zane and Gloria, relentlessly striking them in the head until both collapsed onto the mattress dazed.  After they secured their arms behind their backs with zip ties, Seth knelt next to Zane.  “Since you’re actin’ like a fuckin’ tit-bag, I’m gonna turn you into one.”  He took his knife and started cutting him around the top of his head just above his ears.

Amid Zane’s piercing screams, Missy commenced cutting off Gloria’s right breast, the echoes of their torment resonating throughout the room.  Seth peeled Zane’s scalp from his cranium and handed it to Missy, exchanging it for Gloria’s severed tit.  After he carved out some of the adipose tissue from the bottom, making it concave, he set it on top of Zane’s skull and began sewing it in place while Missy sewed Zane’s scalp to the gaping wound in Gloria’s chest.  When they were done, Seth and Missy severed the zip ties and casually walked away from the mattress, leaving Zane and Gloria writhing in pain.

Evolution to the Madness

Regaining his composure first, Zane slowly eased into a sitting position.  His hands hesitated for a moment before reaching for his head, then a wave of confusion came over him when his fingers discovered a supple mound of flesh.  “What the fuck did you do to me!?!”

Missy rolled a large mirror on wheels over to the mattress.  “Check it out.”

Zane couldn’t believe his eyes as he gazed at a large, brown tit perched on top of his cranium, held in place with thick, black thread, its pink nipple protruding from his forehead.  By now, Gloria had regained her composure.  Rising to her feet, horror washed over her as she discovered black hair, singed and matted, cascading down the right side of her chest.  “Oh, my God!  You cut off my breast!”  Tears welled up in her eyes as she gently examined the transplanted patch of skin covered in hair.  “Look what you’ve done to me!”

Seth laughed.  “It kind of looks like a Chia Pet with mange.”

“It’s not funny, you twisted fuck!  You’ve destroyed my body!”

“It’s what you get for being a child predator, so take your medicine.”

“Stop callin’ me a child predator.  I haven’t done anything to you, or to anyone else, especially kids.”

“I’m not going to debate it.  You know what you’ve done, and I’m not listenin’ to your lies, or how you have rights, or how you’re being mistreated, so shut the fuck up.”

With a look of disbelief etched across his features, Zane continued peering into the mirror.  His fingers trembled as he explored the stitches securing the breast to his head, each touch sending waves of pain radiating through his skin.  “You sick bastard.  I can’t believe you did this to me.”

Seth laughed.  “Stop playin’ with your tit.”

“I’m not playin’ with it, asshole.”   He cast a glance at Gloria as tears streamed down her face.  The sight of his hair-covered scalp sewn to her chest only intensified his rage.  “You okay?”

“Do I look okay?”

“They’re gonna pay for this.”

As she scrutinized her boob perched on Zane’s head, anger surged through her veins like molten lava, each breath heavier and punctuated by clenched fists.  “Yes, they are.”  She shifted her glare to Seth.  “The people we work for are going to hunt you down and make you pay for what you’ve done to us.”  She glared at Missy.  “And that goes for you too, bitch.”

Seth retrieved a laptop from the cart and held it up.  “I already know who you’re talkin’ about, and we’ll be payin’ them a visit after we’re done with you two fuckers.”

Zane scrutinized the laptop for a moment, then scowled at Seth.  “Hold up!  That’s mine!”

“I know.  I found it in your car.  And I found your child porn on it too.”

“That shit isn’t mine!”

“But it’s your laptop.”

“I let people use it.  Someone else must have put that on there.”

“You’re a lyin’ motherfucker.”

“I’m not fuckin’ lyin’!”

“Sure, you are.  I can see it written across your face.  And I noticed you’re into little boys, you faggot.”

Zane’s temper flared, a sudden storm brewing in his eyes.  His jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared with every heated breath.  “You had no right evading my privacy!  And I’m not a fuckin’ faggot, or a child molester!”

“Speaking of being a faggot ass child molester.”  Seth pointed at Zane’s erect penis.  “The Stiagra has kicked in.”  He retrieved the flamethrower and pointed it at him.  “Get over there and fuck that bitch in the head before I incinerate your dick.”

“Hold up!  I….”

As Seth unleashed a torrent of flames, Zane’s already charred skin intensified his torment, unleashing an agonizing wave of pain that seared through his entire body.  In an act of desperation to end his suffering, he grasped the spoon and began crawling towards Gloria.  “I’m doing it!  I’m doing it!  Please stop burning me!”

Seth released the trigger.  “Then get to it.”

Consumed by terror, Gloria tried to flee, but her cable abruptly yanked her back.  “Please don’t do it, Zane!  I’m beggin’ you!”

To her horror, he forcefully threw her onto the mattress and sat down on her chest.  “I don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, you do!”

“No, I don’t.  Just like you didn’t when you lured me here, you fuckin’ bitch.”  As he locked her head between his knees, he slid the spoon under her left eyeball.  She wailed at the top of her lungs, begging for him to stop, but he showed no mercy as he worked the spoon around, ripping through her optic nerve and connective tissue.

When her eye popped out, Seth tossed a ball-peen hammer next to him.  “Use that to break the bone in the back of her eye socket so you can skull fuck her.”

He didn’t say a word as he retrieved the hammer, and after he wacked her several times, shattering her orbital socket, he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her face forward, and as he held her arms down with his knees, he stuck his hard penis into her bloody eye socket.  As he stroked her, his scorched skin glistened a cherry red, adorned with blisters that oozed a pinkish serum.  With each thrust, the tit on his head bounced around as his spermatic cords slithered across her chest like snakes, leaving bloody trails in their wake.  The horrific sight unfolded like a macabre dance, casting an unsettling aura of pain and suffering.  Normally, a human wouldn’t be able to function with such trauma to their body, but the drugs coursing through Zane’s system granted him a grotesque resilience, allowing him to push past the excruciating pain.

The sound of laughter echoed out, fueling his rage.  He cast a look of seething hatred toward Missy and Seth, the tension in the room escalating with each passing moment.  “You fuckers are going to burn in Hell for this!”

Gloria’s screams echoed through the room, a desperate plea for Zane to stop as he violently thrust himself into her eye socket.  With about three inches of his penis penetrating her skull, Seth knew he could give her brain damage.  “Go easy, dude!  You’re gonna fuck up her brain.”

“Who gives a shit?”

“I do.  I don’t want any fuckin’ retards in my movie.” 

Being defiant, he started thrusting harder.  “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Seth shot him with a burst of burning fuel.  “That’s enough.”

Zane rolled onto his back as he wailed in agony.  “Stop burning me, you fuckin’ prick!”

“Then do what you’re told, pedo.”  His gaze intensified as he observed Gloria, cradling her bloody eye socket, tears and blood carving paths down her anguished face, and guttural moans of agony slipping from her lips.  “Are you okay, you one-eyed bitch?”

She didn’t respond.

“Did you hear me?”

A heavy stillness clung to the atmosphere, her continued silence casting a veil of uncertainty over the moment.

“Dammit, Zane!  You better not have fucked up her brain.”  Seth pointed the flamethrower at her and shot her with a burst of burning fuel.

An inferno of anger engulfed her, propelling her to her feet with a sudden, fierce intensity.  “You ruthless bastard!  I hope you die a slow and painful death!”

“That’s what I thought.  Now get over there and spin the wheel.”

“It’s not my turn.”

“I don’t give a shit.  I need to make sure you ain’t retarded.”

“I’m done playin’ your twisted game.”

“You can do it with or without blisters.”

She glanced at Zane’s charred body for a moment as he lay on the mattress, then eyed the flamethrower.  Knowing she didn’t have a choice, she stomped over to the wheel, her movements betraying a half-hearted effort as she gave it a reluctant spin.  A distinct clicking sound echoed, setting her heart ablaze with a volatile mixture of anticipation and anger.  “I believe in karma, and you sorry motherfuckers will get yours one day.”

“I believe in karma too, and that’s why your ass is spinning the wheel and not us.”

“Fuck you!”

When the wheel stopped, the pointer landed on Zane’s Anus.  “Fucking A!  Zane is gettin’ butt fucked.”

Zane’s expression twisted into a mask of hatred.  “You can go fuck yourself!”

Seth ignored Zane’s outburst as he rotated his finger.  “Spin it again to see whose body part is going up dat ass.”

She did as instructed, this time landing on Zane’s Cock.

“Oh, shit!  The tig bag gets to fuck himself in his ass.  That’s some more karma right there.”

Zane rose to his feet, his fists clenched tightly.  “That’s not happenin’.”

“You can either bring your dick to your ass, or your ass to your dick.”

“I’m not doin’ it, so you might as well go ahead and kill me.”

“Sure, you will.  I’ve already made you eat your balls and skull fuck that bitch.”

With a defiant gesture, he extended his arms, beckoning the flames to embrace him.  “Pull that fuckin’ trigger, ‘cause I don’t give a shit anymore.”

Seth set the flamethrower aside and exchanged it for a remote control.  “I’m gonna try somethin’ different.”  With the press of a button, a ceiling-mounted winch hoisted Zane off his feet.  As he desperately clutched his collar to prevent from being choked, Seth and Missy secured ropes around each of his ankles, then proceeded to stretch his body outwards, ensuring he faced down in a deliberate arrangement.  After they spread his legs wide, Seth tossed Gloria a scalpel.  “Go cut his ass out.”

Remaining silent, she held the instrument in her hand, her gaze fixed upon its sharp blade.

“That would be bringing an X-Acto knife to a flamethrower fight.  And if you’re thinking of cuttin’ your throat.”  Seth nodded toward the cart.  “We have enough medical supplies to save your ass.”

She glanced at Zane as he hung at a forty-five-degree angle, his legs spread eagle, buttocks facing upwards.  “What do you want me to do?”

“Cut out his ass.”

“I…  I can’t do that.”

“It’s either your ass or his.”

Confronted with the stark realization of her lack of alternatives, she made her way toward Zane.  As she neared him, a sense of reluctance lingered in the air, only to transform into sheer terror as she found herself standing there, utterly dumbfounded.  “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Sure, you can.  Just shove the blade next to his butt hole and cut all the way around it.”

In the grip of panic, Zane emitted strained grunts, desperately battling for each labored breath.  “Please don’t do it!  I’m beggin’ you!”

She cast a fleeting glance back at Seth, her gaping eye socket seeping a disturbing mixture of blood and mucus.  “I, uh….”

“If you don’t do it, I’ll have him cut out your ass.  And don’t forget, he popped out you fuckin’ eye with a spoon and skull fucked you.”

She tightened her grip on the scalpel as she turned back toward Zane.  “I’m sorry, but I don’t have a choice.”

A wave of horror came over him as he desperately fought at his collar.  “Yes, you do!  You don’t have to do it!”

“You didn’t show me any mercy.”

“I didn’t have a choice!”

“And neither do I.”

Zane wailed out an ear-piercing scream when she shoved the blade into his flesh, and as she cut around his anus, the pain became so excruciating his body started convulsing.  When she completed the task, Seth’s voice pierced through Zane’s anguished screams.  “Now I want you to pull out his ass.”

Casting a brief, disgusted glance backward, she couldn’t conceal the revulsion etched across her face.  “How am I supposed to do that?”

“Shove your hand into the cut and grab his rectum.”

Zane’s cry of dismay echoed through the air, his gaze fixated on Gloria with a mixture of shock and sorrow as he peered over his shoulder.  “Please don’t do it!  I can’t take the pain anymore!  I’m beggin’ you!”

She began gagging as she thrust her hand into his bloody wound.  Each attempt to extract his rectum was met with frustration as her hand slipped off the slimy organ, intensifying the gruesome struggle.  “It won’t come out!”

“Then use both hands.  And you’re gonna have to tear it loose from the supportive muscles, so give that fucker a hard tug.”

As she compelled her other hand into him, his wound violently tore wide open, unleashing a torrent of blood and feces that cascaded down the insides of his legs.

Zane tossed his head wildly, screams and pleas escaping his lips as he begged her to stop.  Every muscle in his body strained as he was forced to endure the excruciating pain.

Suddenly, his colon unraveled from him, violently flinging her onto her buttocks.  Overwhelmed with nausea, she crawled to the edge of the mattress, doubled over, and began to vomit.  While she continued to dry heave, Seth and Missy released the ropes, then began lowering the winch cable.  The moment Zane hit the mattress, he collapsed onto his side, desperately clutching at his rear end.  Horror washed over him as he discovered several feet of intestine hanging out from between his butt cheeks.  “Oh, my God!  What have you done to me!?!”

“I made it so you can fuck yourself in the ass.”  Seth observed that his penis, once rigid, now hung flaccid.  “Since the Stiagra has stopped working...”  He tossed a large syringe next to him.  “You’ll need to inject that into your dick.  It’s collagen and will make you rock hard again.  And make sure you do it evenly all the way around your shaft from the head to the base, otherwise, it’ll be all distorted.”

“I can’t believe you did this to me!  You’ve destroyed my life!”

“Stop being so dramatic.”

“Dramatic!?!  Look what you’ve done to me!”

Seth scrutinized the tit on his head as it jiggled around, his charred flesh adorned with blisters and peeling skin, his spermatic cords dangling between his legs, and his colon as it ominously trailed from his rear end.  “You look like a sexy beast.”

Missy laughed.  “He looks like a damn monkey with a bad case of scabies.”

Zane’s eyes narrowed.  “You two fuckers will pay for this one way or another.”

“Stop running you mouth and get that collagen injected into your cock.”

“You might as well go ahead and kill me, ‘cause I’m not doin’ it!”

“I’m going to make Gloria cut off your dick if you don’t.”

“Try it and see what happens.”

“You dumbass.  There’s nothin’ you can do to stop it.”  Seth tossed Gloria a pair of scissors, then held up the remote to the winch.  “One… Two.”

Zane’s anger swiftly morphed into panic.  “Okay, okay, you fuckin’ prick!  I’ll do it!”

“That’s what I thought.  Now get to it, jackass”

He scrambled to his knees, and as he held the syringe in one hand while clutching his penis with the other, an amalgamation of emotions flooded his mind, ranging from disbelief, rage, and a yearning for vengeance swirling together.  “I can’t believe you’re doin’ this to me!”

“Stop yapping and get that cock pumped up.”

Zane, exhausted and battered by an overwhelming barrage of mental and physical torment, found himself devoid of the will to fight back.  All he yearned for was an end to his misery.  Seth had achieved his sinister intentions, shattering Zane’s spirit.  After a deep breath, he proceeded to inject himself with collagen.

“And make sure you do it evenly, from top to bottom, so your love muscle won’t be deformed.  I don’t want any crooked cocks in our movie.”

Zane’s hands trembled as he maneuvered the needle around.  His penis swelled progressively with each injection, the once limp organ growing larger and larger.  “I’m doing it, so can you shut the fuck up?”

“Damn!  That shit is makin’ you enormous.  You should be thankin’ me.”

“Leave me alone!”

“It’s going to be hard to conceal that hog in your panties.”

“I said leave me alone, you twisted fuck.”

When his penis was fully engorged, Seth tossed a bottle of lube next to his feet.  “Get to fuckin’ yourself in the ass.”

Missy retrieved the camera from the tripod and approached the mattress.  “I’m gonna get a close up, so try to make it sexy.”

An overwhelming about of humiliation swept over Zane as he pulled the end of his intestine between his legs and slid it over his hard penis.  “I can’t believe you’re makin’ me do this.” 

Missy zoomed in for a close-up, capturing the scene as he stroked his dick.  Shit flowed steadily from his colon, drenching the front of his legs in a macabre display.  Then she noticed that his anus still bore a piece of hair-covered flesh around the end where it had been severed from his body.  “Damn, Seth.  It looks like he’s using a pocket pussy.”

“I noticed that too.”

Zane shot Seth a menacing glare, his eyes brimming with intense hatred.  “How long do I have to do this?”

“Have you cum yet?”

“You can’t be serious.  That’s gonna be impossible.  I don’t have any fuckin’ nuts, you asshole.”

“Just pretend you’re inside your boyfriend’s ass.”  Seth shifted his focus to Gloria, who sat cross-legged on the mattress, her head arched forward.  “I’m gonna let you spin the wheel again since you’re sittin’ next to it.”

Mentally distraught, Gloria stayed silent, neither uttering a word nor lifting her gaze as he reached up and spun it.  When the pointer landed on Gloria’s Anus, Seth erupted in applause, excitement gleaming in his eyes.  “Hell, yeah!  Zane might be gettin’ dat ass.  Now spin it again.”

The clicking sound of the pointer resonated, filling the room with a palpable sense of nervous anticipation.  Upon coming to a halt on Gloria’s Pussy, Seth and Missy shared a swift, meaningful glance.

Taking note of their expressions, Zane halted the rhythmic stroking of his cock, a frown etching itself across his face.  “What’s going on?”  He scrutinized the wheel for a moment.  “That shit better not have anything to do with me.”

Seth advanced toward the mattress and tossed a large butcher knife and some long zip ties next to his feet.  “I need you to cut out Gloria’s cunt.  And I’m not talkin’ about just her pussy lips, but her entire vagina.  And you can use the zip ties to secure her.”

A demented crackle escaped his lips.  “You know you’re fucked up in the head, right?”

“Maybe.  But it’s what you two fuckers get for hurtin’ kids.  Now get to it before I make her cut out your prostate.”

Now armed with a weapon, he rose to his feet as he clutched the knife.  “You can go fuck yourself.  And I’m done playin’ your game.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I do, motherfucker.”  He poised himself in a defensive stance, the knife held in a reverse grip, a sinister glint in his eyes.  “I’ll fuckin’ kill you!”

Seth held up the remote.  “That’ll be like bringin’ a knife to a lynchin’.”

“Fuck you and your arrogant comments!”  He stuck the blade to his own throat.  “Then I’ll kill myself.”

“Do it, if you got the balls.”

“I will.”

“Then what are you waitin’ for?”

After enduring hours of relentless torment, Zane found himself mentally numb, as if he were on the outside looking in.  Not wanting to die, he snagged the zip ties and marched over to Gloria.  In her weakened and distressed state, she didn’t resist as he secured her hands behind her back.  “Please don’t do this!  I’m beggin’ you!”

“Fuck you.  I wouldn’t even be here if you didn’t trick me into comin’ to that fuckin’ house.”

“I already told you I didn’t have a choice!”

“Bullshit.  And look what’s they’ve done to me, you sorry bitch.  This is your fault.”

To his surprise, she delivered a swift kick to his face as she shrieked, “Get away from me, you fuckin’ prick!”

Motivated by a heartless need for self-preservation, Zane exhibited no mercy as he began stabbing her thighs and hips.  Once incapacitated, hindering her ability to move her legs, he forcefully thrust the knife into her crotch.  As she wailed at the top of her lungs, he savagely worked the blade around, and when he severed the outer portion of her vagina from her body, he shoved his hands inside her and began slicing into the supportive muscles, ligaments, and blood vessels.  A torrent of blood and bodily fluids spewed from her wide-open wound as she convulsively writhed, creating a gruesome tableau on the mattress and saturating the air with a nauseating stench.  Displaying a chilling lack of empathy, Zane began pulling out her female organs, starting with her entire vagina, followed by her uterus, pieces of her fallopian tubes, an ovary, and lastly, a wad of ravaged veins.

Unexpectedly, Gloria’s body began convulsing, her eye rolling back into its socket.  Reacting swiftly, Seth pressed the remote, lifting Zane into the air by his neck.  Without a moment’s hesitation, he hurried over to Gloria and checked her vitals.  “The bitch is in cardiac arrest.”  He dashed to the cart and tossed Missy a large plastic cylinder with a T-handle.  “That’s an injectable clotting agent.  Pump that into her wound.” 

As Missy injected foam into Gloria’s gaping hole, Seth administered a shot of nitroglycerin, then proceeded to shock her heart with a defibrillator.  The room crackled with tension as seconds ticked by, and, within moments, Gloria took a deep, life-restoring breath.

Seth sat back on his knees as he held the defibrillator paddles.  “Welcome back, sunshine.”

Struggling to form words, her voice quivered with an intensity of agony, each syllable hanging in the air like a haunting echo.  “Please kill me!”

Seth glanced at Zane as he struggled to breathe.  “Are you ready to fuck her in the ass with her pussy?”

His eyes were huge as he clutched at his collar.  “I can’t breathe!  Please get me down before I choke to death!”

“You’re not gonna choke to death, so chill out.”  Seth retrieved Gloria’s vagina from the pile of ravaged organs laying on the blood-soaked mattress, and with a knife, separated it from the uterus.  After he gathered some items from the cart, he approached Zane as he hung in the air.  “I have a surprise for you.”

“Come on, man!  Please get me down!”

Seth examined Zane’s penis, noting it was markedly swollen and inflamed from the effects of the collagen injections.  “Damn.  Your dick is gettin’ infected.  But that’s what you get for using the wrong shit.”

A worried expression washed over him as he struggled to speak.  “Wrong shit?  What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”

“You used topical cream from the dollar store instead of FDA approved injectable collagen.”

“That’s what you gave me, asshole!”  He contorted his neck to catch a glimpse of his penis, noticing it exhibited a vivid red hue, significant swelling, and sizable lumps protruded beneath the skin at each injection site.  “Oh, fuck!  That’s bad!”

“You’ll be fine.”  Seth slid Gloria’s severed vagina over Zane’s penis.  “Check this out.  It looks like a pocket pussy.”

“I don’t give a shit about that, you demented fuck!  Look what you’ve done to my dick!  You’ve destroyed my life!”

“Don’t be so….”

“Don’t you say dramatic, you fuckin’ prick!  You’ve takin’ everything from me!”  He shut his eyes and began taking deep, measured breaths.  “I can’t believe you did this to me!  You and that bitch ain’t gonna get away with this!”

Seth secured a rope around both of Zane’s ankles, threaded the other end through his collar, and then compelled his feet up towards his rear end, bending them at the knees.

“What the fuck are you doin’?”

“Preventing you from kickin’ me.”  Seth shoved a knitting needle into the vagina, through the shaft of his penis, and out the other side, simultaneously pulling green yarn through the hole.  Zane let out a gut-wrenching wail, his cries echoing at the top of his lungs as he violently jerked around.  “Oh, my God!  You’re fuckin’ killin’ me!  Please stop!”

“Try to hold still, jackass.  You’re fuckin’ up my stitches.”

A wave of horror washed over him as Seth shoved the needle back into his penis.  “Please stop!  I can’t take the pain!”

Ignoring Zane’s pleas, Seth ruthlessly ran the needle through his penis over and over, and with each pass, the yarn cinched the severed vagina tighter onto his manhood.  After a few minutes of agonizing torment, Seth released his legs, then casually stepped off the mattress.  When he lowered Zane back to his feet, he collapsed to his knees and began examining himself.  A sense of dread enveloped him as he scrutinized his penis, discovering around fifty loops of green yarn tightly securing the bloody vagina in place.  “Oh, fuck!  What have you done!?!”

Seth strolled over to Gloria as she lay on her back, groaning in agony, a syringe still protruding from her chest.  With a callous motion, he thrust his foot against her hip and forcefully rolled her over onto her stomach, then eyed Zane.  “Come get you some of this ass.”

“What?”  His eyes snapped open wide as he observed the gaping hole between her legs, the clotting agent stained with blood as it oozed out of her.  “You can’t be serious.”

“For the next scene, she has to fuck herself in the ass with her pussy, so get over here.”

“You’re fuckin’ insane.  I’m not doin’ that.”

“Fuck if you’re not.”

Missy approached the mattress with the camera.  “I’m gonna get a close up of you poundin’ that ass, so try to make it sexy.”

Zane didn’t move as he sat on his knees while cradling his penis.  “Haven’t you done enough to us?”

She shook her head.  “Nope.”

“Come on, lady!  I’m hurtin’ really bad.”  He nodded toward his penis.  “Please get this off.”

“Only thing that’s gonna be gettin’ off is that ass over there, so get to it.”

Seth made a gesture with his fist as if he was jacking off.  “Stop playin’ with your dick and do what she says.”

“I’m not fuckin’ playin’ with it, asshole.  It’s fuckin’ killin’ me.  And my head is throbbing, and my ass feels like it’s on fire.”

“Stop whinin’.”

“Whinin’?”  Enveloped by rage, Zane’s eyes blazed with an intense fire, the muscles beneath his skin taut with tension.  A storm brewed within him, manifested in furrowed brows and a clenched jaw.  “You ruthless motherfucker!  Look what you’ve done to me!”

“Yeah, and it looks like you’re gettin’ off easy.  Now get your ass movin’ before I make Gloria cut off your dick and fuck you with it.”

“Why don’t you just kill us and get it over with!”

“Because you two need to be made an example of.  And I’m not tellin’ you again.”

Zane crawled over to Gloria, then just sat on his knees dumbfounded.  “How am I supposed to do this with this thing on my dick?  It’s fuckin’ killin’ me.”

“I’m sure the girls you abducted and the boys you raped suffered in one way or another, so I don’t want to hear any more bitchin’ and moanin’.”

“Don’t you have any mercy?”

Seth pulled a knife from his waistband.  “Last warning.”

Missy tossed a bottle of lube onto the mattress next to Zane.  “There’s you some mercy.”

Knowing he didn’t have a choice, Zane surrendered to the inevitable and coated the detached organ with the lube.  “You motherfuckers will pay for this.”

“Stop making threats and take your medicine, pervert.”

Feeling deathly ill, Gloria cast a hesitant glance back at Zane.  The air thickened with suspense as she observed her severed vagina for the first time, grotesquely protruding from his crotch.  “Please don’t do it, Zane!”

“I don’t want to hear it.  We’re in this mess because of you, so shut the fuck up.”

“Don’t you touch me, you fuckin’ bastard!”

Displaying no mercy, Zane forcefully pulled her onto her knees and shoved himself inside her.  In unison, they released guttural, agonizing moans as his monstrosity of a penis began stroking her anus, the shared pain echoing in the tense silence between them.

Missy steadied the camera, fixing its lens on him.  “Make a sexy face while you’re doin’ it.”

Pain etched across Zane’s features, his expression revealing the depth of his anguish.  “This is hurtin’ really bad!  Can I stop now?”

“Not until you act like you’re enjoying it.”

Zane’s visage transformed, adopting an unsettling semblance of enjoyment, yet beneath the surface, it betrayed the toll of relentless mental and physical torment.  The weight of suffering had pushed him to the edge, causing a detachment from reality.  His mind, in a desperate bid for survival, had entered a mode of coping with the harrowing horrors that surrounded him.  “This is fuckin’ sick.  I can’t believe you’re makin’ me do this.”

She zoomed in on his penis.  “That’s it, boy!  Pump that ass!”

“You two fuckers are going to Hell for this.”

She panned out, adjusting the camera to capture both of them within the frame.  “What a hot couple.”

Gloria cradled her head in despair, tears carving a path down her face.  Devoid of the strength to muster a fight and yearning to be liberated from the relentless torment, she begged for the solace of death.  “I just wanna die.  Please kill me.”

Missy advanced toward Gloria, positioning the camera to capture the raw intensity of her emotions.  “I need you to make a sexy expression too.”

“Get that fuckin’ camera out of my face!”

“Come, on.  Don’t be like that.”

“Fuck you, bitch!”

“Only bitch in here is gettin’ fucked in the ass with her own filthy cunt.  And if you don’t make me a sexy face, I’ll have that boy rapist fuck you until your guts fall out.”

To her absolute consternation, she forced a fake smile, concealing the turmoil within.

“See, that wasn’t so bad.”

In the midst of faking his own enjoyment, Zane couldn’t help but notice that the large TV on the media cart was now projecting the live footage, intensifying his humiliation and adding an extra layer of discomfort to his already unsettling performance.  His eyes widened in disbelief as he glared at the unfolding scene before him, the tit on his head danced wildly, reminiscent of a court jester’s hat, his colon hung loosely from his rear end, resembling a tail, and his charred flesh emitted a bright red hue, marred by the presence of white blisters.  “Can I please stop?”

Missy shook her head.  “No.”

Zane cast a brief, scrutinizing gaze toward the camera.  “Who in the fuck is gonna see this?”

“Everyone.  We’re gonna upload it on the internet after it’s edited.  And we’re also gonna send a copy to your mother.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

“Please turn off the camera.  This is embarrassing.”

“That’s not happenin’.  The whole purpose of this is to make an example out of you two.”

“I’ve done everything you’ve asked.  Haven’t you’ve done enough to me?”

“Not really.”

Zane exploded into a fit of rage, his eyes ablaze with seething hatred.  “What?  Look what you’ve done to me, you fuckin’ bitch!  You’ve destroyed my body!  You had no right doing this to me!  We have laws in this country!  This is cruel and unusual punishment!”

Missy laughed.  “You’re a fuckin’ idiot.  And that’s funny comin’ from a sexual predator.”

Around that moment, Gloria’s upper body crumpled, emitting a haunting moan that accompanied her release of her final breath of air.

Zane cast a glance downward at her lifeless form, observing she wasn’t breathing.  “You sorry motherfuckers.  You’ve killed her.”

“No, you did when you cut her apart.”

“You made me do it, you fuckin’ bitch.”

“You didn’t say no, and everyone knows, no means no, so you must have wanted to do it.”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?  I did say no.”

She wiggled the camera.  “I have it all recorded.  You might have bitched and moaned, but you never said no.”

“I can’t do this anymore.”  He pulled out of Gloria, and when he released his grip on her hips, her lifeless body collapsed onto the mattress.  “I’m done playin’ your twisted game.”

“Get back on that ass!”

“But she’s fuckin’ dead.”

“You’re not done until we get the cum-shot on camera.”

“Cum-shot?”  He rose to his feet.  “You’re fuckin’ insane.  Even if I wanted to, there’s no way that can happen after what you did to my dick.  And I don’t have any fuckin’ balls, you stupid bitch.”

“Yeah, but you still have your prostrate, which holds the majority of your ejaculate, so you’re gonna keep fuckin’ until you cum, or until your dick falls off.”

“You can go fuck yourself, you crazy bitch.”

Seth pulled his cell phone out and made a call.

A moment later, Johnny answered.  “What?”

“Don’t what me, asshole.”

“I apologize.  How can I assist you, master?”

“And don’t be a smartass.”

“Sorry.  So, what do you want?”

“I need you to round up Otis and Luke and bring them in here.  And go ahead and get Luke strapped up so he can pound Zane in the ass.”

“Will do.”

Zane’s features transformed into one of concern, a worried expression settling over him.  “Who were you talkin’ to?”

Seth shoved his phone back into his pocket.  “You’ll find out in a moment, shit talker.”

“Shit talker?  What are you talkin’ about?”

“You know what you said.”

Zane briefly shifted his gaze to Missy, then back to Seth.  “Yeah, I called her a crazy bitch, because she is.  And you’re just as fucked up as she is.  And no one is touchin’ my ass.”

“I don’t know if you’re just hardheaded, clueless, or dumb as a box of rocks.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Look in the mirror, jackass.”

“Oh, I see what you fuckers did to me.  But that’s okay.  You two will get yours in one way or another.”

Several tense minutes elapsed before Johnny casually strolled into the room, still decked out in Zane’s clothes and jewelry, with Barry hanging from his back.  Following him, Justin rolled in Luke, who stood upright on a two-wheeled dolly.  Overwhelmed by a mix of emotions, ranging from shock to apprehension, Zane directed his attention toward Justin first, his eyes lingering on the Got Milk? tattoo sprawled across his chest before shifting to his udder, and finally to his arm, which grotesquely took the shape of an oversized penis.  The air thickened with suspense as Zane changed his focus to Luke.  His gaze swept over his form, noting the bizarre sight of only his head and feet retained skin, the rest of the body encased in cellophane, revealing the raw muscles underneath.  Resting on top of Luke’s head sat a clear serving bowl, positioned upside down to protect his exposed brain.  His eyes then traveled downwards, and strapped to his waist, a large black dildo ominously protruded from his crotch, further heightening the already unsettling scene.

Seth took note of Zane’s facial expression as he stood utterly dumbfounded.  “You’ve already met Johnny and Butthead.  I haven’t decided if they’re gonna join in yet, but if they do, ol’ Johnny here can blow back-to-back loads, and the little one likes to be fucked in his forehead.”

Barry popped off as he displayed a pouted expression.  “That shit ain’t happenin’.”

Seth ignored his outburst as he motioned toward Justin.  “This is Otis.  He’ll be your milkman tonight.”  Seth then gestured toward Luke.  “This is Luke ‘The Boy Fucker’ Wagner.  He was supposed to be buried, but…”  Seth motioned toward the trio.  “These fuckers don’t have a pair of hands between them and couldn’t figure out a way to operate a fuckin’ shovel.  So, Luke will be joining you tonight as well, and since he doesn’t have a dick, I had him equipped with an extra-large strap on for your enjoyment.”

Zane studied the group, uncertainty washing over his features.  “There’s no way this can be real.  You’re just tryin’ to trick me with prosthetics and makeup.”

Seth glanced at Johnny.  “I need you to restrain him.”

Confusion clouded his expression as he held up his stubs.  “How in the fuck am I supposed to do that?”

“You can either subdue him, or be the pivot man.  Your choice.”

“I’ll do what I can, I guess.”

“Perfect.”  Seth nodded toward Missy.  “Help me move Butthead to Johnny’s front.”  While Seth supported Barry’s weight, Missy unfastened the harness, shifted it to Johnny’s chest, and then reattached it.

Seth took a step back and chuckled.  “Now y’all can double team him.”

A shadow of frustration darkened Johnny’s expression.  “What the hell is he gonna do?”

Barry grumbled as he dangled from the harness.  “You fuckin’ asshole.  You’re gonna get me hurt.”

Seth motioned toward Zane.  “Y’all stop whinin’ and get to it.”

Zane clenched his fists as Johnny cautiously stepped onto the mattress, his gaze fixed on the bizarre sight unfolding before him.  “Oh, hell no!  You creepy bastards better stay the fuck away from me!”

Seth and Missy couldn’t contain their laughter as the men began exchanging punches.  Johnny, wielding the ends of his stubs like makeshift weapons, went for Zane’s head, turning the tit into a wild, bouncing acrobat.  In response, Zane unleashed a flurry of his own punches, most of them striking Barry’s face, causing his dick and balls to flop around like small speed bags, adding an unintentional comedic touch to the chaos.

In a desperate move, Zane wrapped his arms around Johnny and tried to throw him down onto the mattress.  However, Johnny, being the larger man, effortlessly maneuvered on top, overpowering him and forcing him onto his stomach.  With Johnny now perched on Zane’s spine, administering whacks to his head with his stubs, Barry seized the opportunity and started biting him on the back.

Amidst the chaotic scene of the men fighting, cursing, and exchanging threats, Seth handed Justin a knife.  “You’re up.”

Justin approached Zane’s rear end, wrapped his prolapsed colon around his penis-shaped arm like a snake, stretched it tight, then using his other hand, severed it from his body with the knife.

Seth glanced at Luke as he motioned toward the mattress.  “Show time.”

Luke stood stationary, resembling a statue as he remained on the dolly.  “I can’t move.  I’m hurtin’ really bad.  And my head is poundin’.”

“Is the ointment not helpin’?”  Seth had coated Luke’s raw muscles with Neosporin before wrapping him in cellophane.  “I even used the triple antibiotic with pain relief.”

“Of course not, you asshole.”

“What did I tell you about runnin’ your mouth?”

“I don’t care.  I just want this to be over with.”

“Don’t be so negative.  Things are lookin’ up.  Yesterday you were about to be buried, but now you’re gettin’ to make a porn.”

Sensing sarcasm, his eyes narrowed.  “You are such a fuckin’ prick.  And the only reason you’re keeping me alive is for your entertainment.”

Seth held up two syringes; one featured a hand-drawn smiley face with drool dripping from its mouth, while the other displayed a face with an upside-down smile and Xs for eyes.  “Which one do you want?”

After being presented with the same options several times over the last twenty-four hours, Luke knew one contained potassium chloride, which is used for euthanasia, and the other a mixture of morphine, benzodiazepine, adrenaline, and methamphetamines.  Behaving like a typical drug addict and not truly desiring death, he hastily opted for the syringe with the smiley face.  “The one on the right.”

“Excellent choice.”  Seth shoved the needle into his neck and began injecting the drugs.  “That should make it all better.”

A cloud of euphoria enveloped Luke, transforming his expression into a calm demeanor, his pupils dilated, casting an ominous shadow over the unfolding scene.  “Oh, yeah!  That’s feels so good!”

“Perfect.  Now get over there and fuck that meat hole.”  That’s precisely what it was—a wide, open hole, Zane’s severed intestine simply lost within his abdominal cavity.

As Luke walked stiff legged like a zombie toward the mattress, Johnny and Justin dragged Zane across Gloria’s hips, elevating his waist as if he were on a sex pillow. 

Tension filled the air as Missy advanced with the camera, capturing the ominous scene.  “That’s it, boy.  Get over there and treat that fucker like your seven-year-old nephew.”

As Johnny sat on Zane’s back, gripping him tightly to restrict any movement, Luke dropped to his knees between his legs.  Zane’s agonized wail echoed through the air as the fourteen-inch dildo pierced his bloody and tender wound.  “Oh, my God!  You’re tearing my insides!  Please stop!  I’m beggin’ you!”

Seth passed a gallon of milk to Justin.  “You’re up, pal.”

He seized the jug, and as he stood in front of Zane, he consumed several large gulps of milk.  Some of the creamy white liquid escaped from the corners of his lips, forming a slow and deliberate trickle down his chest, swathing his Got Milk? tattoo.

Seth gestured towards Justin’s crotch, now adorned with a steady flow of dripping milk.  “I want to get some titty suckin’ on camera, so get to it.”

Johnny whacked Zane in the back of his head with his stub.  “Do what he says!  Eat that titty, boy!”

Displaying a mischievous grin, Barry added, “Yeah, motherfucker!  Suck it like it’s your boyfriend’s dick!”

Zane couldn’t comprehend what was unfolding as he latched onto one of the udders with his lips.  Even in his worst nightmares or the darkest corners of his thoughts, he wouldn’t conjure such a depraved and sadistic scenario.

Missy shook her head as she captured the macabre tableau on camera—an unsettling scene where Luke, under the influence of drugs, skinned and encased in cellophane with an exposed brain, callously sodomized Zane’s ravaged bowels.  Sprawled across Gloria’s lifeless corpse, Zane groaned in agony, his charred skin peeling and blistered, his penis swollen and encased inside a severed vagina, spermatic cords hanging awkwardly between his legs, and the large tit danced chaotically upon his tormented cranium, casting shadows over the ominous spectacle.  Amidst the disturbing scene, a half-man, half-cow hybrid callously flaunted his crotch in front of Zane’s face as he sucked on an udder, a steady flow of sour milk escaping from the corners of his mouth.  Two freaks perched on his back, relishing in the barbaric act, intensified the already fucked up situation by hurling relentless insults.

Missy cast a glance at Seth, her expression etched with pure astonishment.  “I have seen some crazy shit over the years, but damn, Seth.  You’ve created an army of monsters.”

“Yeah, I suppose it’s the next evolution to the madness.”

Misery Loves Company

Early the next morning when the hospital released Jeff, he tried to locate Randy, but he wasn’t in the waiting room or outside.  Assuming Randy still might be in a recovery room, he asked a receptionist and a couple of nurses about his whereabouts, but they refused to disclose any information due to privacy rules.  Not knowing how long it would be before Randy was released, he decided to take a taxi home.  When he hobbled through the front door on crutches, he found Randy in the kitchen making breakfast.  “Dude.  When did you get here?”

“They let me go last night.”

“I didn’t know where you were at, and no one would tell me if you were still in the hospital or not.  I would have called you, but my phone went dead.”

“It’s all good, man.”  He held up a frying pan with eggs.  “You want some?”

“Naw, my stomach is acting up.”  Jeff eased down in a chair.  “How did the surgery go?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know how you feel, bro.” 

Randy studied Jeff’s injuries: a fractured leg and arm, face and head covered with scrapes, bruises, and gashes, swollen left eye, inflamed lips, and missing front teeth.  “How are you feeling?”

“They gave me some pain meds at the hospital, so I feel pretty damn good.”

“What did they give you?”

“I’m not sure, but I’m high as fuck right now.”

“Do you have any extra?  I need something to help me relax.”

“Hell, no.  They wouldn’t give me a prescription or any extras to take home.”

“That fuckin’ sucks.”

“Didn’t they give you some since you had surgery?”

“No.  They said for me to take over the counter shit, like Tylenol.”

“Fuckin’ dopeheads have ruined it for everyone.”

“Especially if you don’t have insurance like me.”

“What happened to Mack and those other guys?”

“Not sure, but I did overhear a nurse talking about it.  Apparently, their timers went off shorty after we were taken back to our rooms, but I don’t know the outcome.  When I left the hospital, I tried to call Mack for a ride, but he didn’t answer.  I also texted him a few times, but he didn’t respond.”

“He seemed like a happy-go-lucky dude.  I’m sure he’s just trying to process what happened.”

“Yeah, that was some fucked up shit.”

“Yeah it was, and it’s been a long night.”  Exhausted and buzzing from the pain meds, Jeff arose from his chair.  “I’m gonna take a nap.”

“I’ll probably crash too after I clean up the kitchen.”

Later that evening around 6 PM, and with his pain meds now worn off, Jeff sat on the couch in a state of dismay while Randy lounged in a recliner.  The previous day, the day they received the dolls, would be a day they would never forget, changing their lives forever. 

Inundated with anxiety and depression, Jeff experienced an agglomeration of emotions ranging from grief, sadness to anger.  But he did find some solace in knowing Randy lost his penis too.  As the saying goes, misery loves company, meaning, people who are suffering and miserable find comfort in knowing others are also suffering and miserable.

Randy didn’t exhibit the same sorrow Jeff possessed as he surfed the internet for child porn on his cellphone.  Observing Randy’s relaxed disposition, Jeff concluded he must be in a state of denial.  “Are you okay, man?”

“Yeah, just reading some articles.”

“What kind of articles?”

Randy lowered his phone.  “About penis transplants and stuff.”

After the wound in Jeff’s crotch healed, the doctors were planning on transplanting his second toe as a penis.  The procedure would involve removing the bone structure from the toe and replacing it with a urethra from a cadaver.  “The doctors want to use one of my middle toes to make me a dick.”

“Yeah, they want to do the same thing to me.”

“And they’re not even gonna use my big toe.  They said I need it for balance.  I also asked about getting a transplant from an organ donor, but they said Medicaid doesn’t cover that procedure, so I would have to pay for it myself.”

“You can save up for it.”

“It’s like a hundred grand.  How in the fuck am I ever gonna come up with that much?”

“You’ll figure it out, man.”

“So basically, I either come up with a hundred grand now, or have a toe as a fuckin’ dick?”

“That’s a lot of freakin’ money, dude, so you really don’t have a choice but to go with the toe option.”

“I know, and that fuckin’ sucks.”

“Yeah, but it’s still better than not having a dick.”

“I guess.  And you’re in the same boat.  You’ll have to go with the toe transplant too until you can save a hundred grand.”

“I’m not sweating it.  I know everything will work out one way or another.”

Anger swept over Jeff as he thought about it.  “I can’t believe that bastard did this to us.  I hope the police catch his ass and he gets the needle for it.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, man.  They’ve been after him for years.”

“Yeah, but he really crossed the line this time.”

“You know the police don’t give a shit about common folk like us.  Even the media doesn’t give a shit.  They’re still playing his ‘How Shit is Made’ video.”

“I know.  It’s pissing me off, and that’s why I’m staying off the damn internet.”

“We just need to lay low until all this blows over.”

“I agree.”  Still having balls, Jeff wondered if he’d be able to ejaculate with a transplanted toe used as a penis.  “Once we get the transplant, do you think it’ll be the same?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you think we’ll have feeling in it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think it will get hard?”

“I don’t know the answer to that either, homie.”

Becoming emotional, Jeff began sobbing.  “It’s bad enough Seth took our penises, but the worst part is, he fuckin’ humiliated us in front of the whole world.  Now everyone will think we’re child molesters.  And no one gives a shit that he robbed us of everything.  They think it’s funny.  And every time I squat like a bitch to piss, I want to kill myself.”

“It’ll be alright, man.  We’ll look back at this one day and laugh.  You just need to take it one day at a time, bro.”

Jeff observed Randy didn’t seem as troubled with their situation.  “Why aren’t you more upset?”

“I am, dude.  Just dealing with it in my own way.”

About that time, something struck the front door as someone shouted.  “Go to Hell, perverts!”

Another person wailed, “How’s it hangin’, you dickless fucks!?!”

Jeff’s eyes opened wide.  “What the fuck was that?”

An angered expression came over Randy.  “That’s like the fifth time that’s happened today.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I never went to bed, and while you were sleeping, people have been yelling shit like that all day.”  He marched to the front door and jerked it open, then looked around.  “They better fuckin’ run.”

“Are you serious?  People have been yelling shit like that?”

“Hell, yeah.”  He reached down and picked up a doll.  “Motherfuckers have also been leaving dolls at our door.”  He shut the door, then tossed the doll in a cardboard box with some other dolls.

“What the fuck, man!  We need to call the cops.”

“They ain’t gonna do shit.”

“But it’s harassment.”

“Do you really want to explain to the cops why they’re doing it to us?  We’ve already been humiliated enough.”

“You’re right, man.  But what the fuck are we gonna do?”

“Nothing.  It’ll blow over in a few days.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“Then we’ll move.”

“Move?  Do you know how hard it is to get into Section 8 housing?  I had to wait almost a year for this place.”

“Then we’ll just have to deal with it.”  Randy strolled into the bathroom and shut the door.

Curious, Jeff hobbled over to the box of dolls on his crutches, then began rummaging through it.  The dolls were of different types and sizes, ranging from Barbie dolls, rag dolls, porcelain dolls, to cheap dollar store dolls.  As he dug through the box, he spotted a torso of a black doll; its head, arms, and legs were missing.  In white lettering, someone wrote his name across its chest.  He picked up the torso to examine it, then confusion swept over him when he noticed a piece of meat covered in dry blood slightly protruded from its anus.  Then horror came over him when he realized it was his severed penis.  Consumed with an array of emotions, he quickly hobbled over to the bathroom and opened the door.  “Randy!  My fuckin’ doll was in the….”  Jeff lost his train of thought when he noticed Randy standing at the toilet urinating.  “How are you standing?”  He spotted something that appeared to be a penis in Randy’s hand.  “And what is that?”

Randy quickly turned his back to Jeff.  “What the fuck, man!?!  Don’t you know how to fuckin’ knock?”

He repeated his question.  “How are you standing?  And what were you holding?  Did the doctors already give you a transplant?”

“Uh, yeah.  It’s one of my toes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you already got the procedure?”

Randy pulled up his sweatpants and faced Jeff.  “I was too embarrassed.”

“I have a million questions about that, but…”  He held up the torso.  “I found this in the box.  It’s my fuckin’ doll.”  He rotated it so Randy could see the bottom.  “And my dick is still in it.”

A look of bewilderment came over him.  “Are you sure that’s yours?”

“It’s got my name written on it.”

With the video of Jeff having his penis pulled off still trending on social media, Randy assumed it was a prank.  “That doesn’t mean shit.  Someone might have made that just to screw with you.”

“I don’t know, man.  It looks like one of Seth’s dolls.”

Randy took the torso and began examining it closer.  When he observed needles were holding the piece of flesh inside a pocket anus, disbelief swept over him.  “Oh, shit!  It is one of Seth’s dolls.”

“I told you.”

“But that still doesn’t mean it’s yours.  I’m sure you’re not the only one who had a black boy doll.”

A small ray of hope lifted Jeff’s spirits.  “But it could be.  And if it is, the doctors might be able to reattach my penis.”

“Even if it is yours, it’s been way too long and probably already decomposing.”

“I’m gonna go to the hospital to be sure.  Do you want to come with me?”

“Naw, man.  I can’t go out in public right now.”

With the possibility that his penis could be reattached, he speculated Randy was being jealous.  “That’s fine, man.”  Jeff quickly hobbled to the kitchen on his crutches, grabbed a Styrofoam ice chest, tossed the torso of the doll inside it, then began covering it with ice.

Randy leapt up and sat on a countertop.  “Why are you doing that?”

“To help preserve it.”

“But it’s already been exposed to the heat for like two days.”

“It’s only been one day, and it’s been cold outside.”

“Only like sixty degrees.  And that’s just at night.”

“Stop being so damn negative.”

Randy searched the internet for how long amputated limbs could last without being on ice.  “The internet says a severed finger must be reattached within twelve hours if not refrigerated.  Maybe with the weather being cooler at nighttime, there is still a chance they can reattach it.”  Then he came across an article of a man whose penis was reattached successfully after twenty-four hours.  “And this article says a dude cut off his own dick during a psychotic episode and the doctors were able to reattach it after twenty-four hours, and it wasn’t refrigerated or on ice.”  He glanced at Jeff.  “Damn, homie.  You might get your dick back.”

With excitement welling up inside him, Jeff hobbled to the front door with the ice chest.  Before he walked out, he paused and glanced back at Randy.  “If they can reattach it, I probably won’t be back until tomorrow, or maybe the next day.”

“Just text me and keep me updated.”

“Will do.”

Two hours later as Randy relaxed in a bubble bath, someone knocked on the bathroom door.  Startled, he exclaimed, “Who’s there!?!”

“It’s me, Jeff.  Can I come in?”

“Sure, man.  I’m just in the tub.”  When Jeff came into the bathroom, Randy observed his solemn expression, knowing he didn’t receive good news at the hospital.  “That was fast.”

“They couldn’t reattach it.”

“Because it was in the heat too long?”

“No.  It was injected with formaldehyde.”

Randy remembered Dr. Stokes’ comment.  “Shit, dude.  The doctor did say if the penis is severed, the doll still injects the formaldehyde to prevent it from being reattached.  I’m sorry, man.”

Sinking deeper into a depressive state, Jeff plopped down on the toilet lid while exhibiting a gloomy and melancholic expression.  “I just want to kill myself.”

“Don’t say that.  Everything will work out.  For now, the doctors will use one of your toes, and when you save up enough money, you’ll be able to get a penis from an organ donor.”  Thinking a larger penis would cheer him up, Randy added, “And you might get a bigger dick, especially if the dude is black.  And who gives a shit about skin color as long as your shit hangs like an elephant trunk.  I would be looking forward to that shit if I was you.”

“I know, man.  I just got my hopes up.”  As Jeff wallowed in self-pity, confusion came over him when observed Randy’s feet as they were resting on the edge of the tub.  “What the fuck, man!?!  You lied to me.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You got all your toes.”

At that moment, Randy realized he made a mistake and quickly shoved his feet under the bubbles.  Knowing Jeff would be upset, Randy didn’t want to tell him when his doll made the buzzing sound back at the hospital, its circuitry had shorted out.  The formaldehyde injection system did not activate, and the doctors were able to safely remove his penis from the doll.  Outside of the seven puncture holes from the needles, the minor burns he received from dunking his doll in water, and a small tear from falling down the stairs, his penis was expected to fully heal within a few weeks.  “I didn’t want to tell you, but the doctors gave me a rubber dick.  It’s just temporary until I can get a toe transplanted.”

“You lying motherfucker!  I don’t know how in the fuck you did it, but you still got your dick!”  Over the last twenty-four hours, Jeff endured an emotional rollercoaster ride.  The overwhelming amount of stress finally took its toll, transforming his sadness, disappointment, and anguish into rage.  Becoming disconnected from reality, Jeff arose from the toilet while displaying a disconcerted expression.

Randy felt uncomfortable as Jeff stood over him while remaining silent.  “What the fuck are you doing, man?  Why are you staring at me?”

Jeff didn’t respond as a clouded sensorium overtook his mind.

“You’re starting to creep me out, dude.”

Without saying a word, Jeff limped out of the bathroom without using his crutches.

“What the hell, man?  You’re gonna fuck up your leg.”  Frightened by Jeff’s bizarre behavior, Randy sat up in the tub, worrying his roommate might be having a mental breakdown.

A moment later, Jeff came back into the bathroom.  A feeling of dread fell upon Randy when he observed Jeff’s hollow eyes and blank expression.  “What the fuck are you doing, man!?!”  He then noticed Jeff was holding his left arm behind his back as he approached him.  “What the fuck are you hiding behind your back!?!”

Jeff didn’t say a word as he unveiled a large kitchen knife.

“Hold up, man!”  To his horror, Jeff thrust the knife downward toward his head using a reverse grip.  Randy’s fight-or-flight response prompted him to lunge to the side.  The blade missed his head, but it did cut a gash into his shoulder before becoming lodged into the side of the acrylic bathtub.  As Jeff struggled to dislodge the knife, Randy leapt from the water butt naked and hightailed it out of the bathroom.  In a panic, he ran to his bedroom, slammed the door closed, then slid a dresser in front of it.  As his heart pounded and his body trembled, he could hear Jeff’s footsteps.  A moment later, Jeff tried to open the door, but Randy stood steadfast as he shoved his body against the dresser.  “What the fuck is wrong with you, Jeff!?!  You fuckin’ cut me, you fat fuck!”

In a calm voice, Jeff replied.  “Let me in.”

“Fuck you, dude!  And I’ve already called the cops, so you better take off before they get here!”

Speaking in a calm voice as if nothing was wrong, he responded, “No, you didn’t.  Your phone is in the bathroom.”  After suffering from extreme depression combined with crippling anxiety, and now experiencing a mental breakdown, Jeff longed for death.  In his delusional state of mind, he planned on killing Randy before taking his own life.  “I’m sorry for cutting you.  I was just upset.  Please open the door.  I just wanna talk.”

“You’re fucking crazy, dude!  I’m not letting you in here!”

In a fit of rage, Jeff began kicking the door.  “Let me in, you redheaded prick!”

Terror-stricken, Randy held the dresser tightly against the door.  “That’s not happening!”

All of a sudden, Jeff stopped thrashing at the door and it became quiet.  A moment later, Randy began to hear the faint sound of cutting, chopping, and sawing.  He listened closer, detecting it sounded like cardboard was being cut.  “What the fuck are you up to!?!”

He didn’t respond.

“I’m not coming out, so you might as well stop whatever you’re doing!”

He still didn’t respond.

Randy started to grab some clothes and get dressed, but a knife blade came slicing through the wall next to the door.  At that moment, he realized it wasn’t cardboard being cut, but the drywall on the other side of the wall.  With Jeff now inside the stud cavity, Randy watched in horror as the blade moved back and forth, sawing through the inside layer of drywall.  In a panic, he quickly rushed around his room looking for a weapon.  Only thing he could find was a pair of nunchucks he stole from a kid.  Now armed, he watched with trepidation as the blade cut through the drywall.  Instead of cutting out a large section of the wall, Jeff cut out a round circle about the size of a paper plate, then peered through the hole.  “I can see your ass.”

“I’ll bash in your fuckin’ head if you try to come in here!”  Randy executed a figure-eight move with the nunchucks. 

Jeff’s eyes narrowed as he watched Randy perform the move while nude.  “Those are made of foam, dumbass.”

Knowing they were indeed made of foam, he continued with his charade.  “No they’re not.  This is a different pair.”

“Okay.  Bring a kid’s toy to a knife fight then.”  Jeff began kicking and punching holes in the drywall.

Randy rushed to a window and opened it.  As he sat on the window ledge, he eyed the ground below, knowing a three-story fall would most likely result in broken bones, but that would be better than being stabbed to death, he concluded.  While he waited until the last moment to make his leap, he could hear people outside laughing and making comments about him being nude while hanging out a window.

Consumed with anger, Jeff obliterated the drywall as he forced himself through the stud cavity.  Randy started to make his jump, but paused when he noticed Jeff seemed to be having difficulty getting through the wall.  Realizing Jeff’s legs were entangled in electrical wiring as his overweight body appeared to be stuck between the studs, he rushed to the door, shoved the dresser to the side, then bolted out of the room.

Jeff quickly backed out of the cavity and spun around.  Covered in white dust from the drywall, he charged at Randy with his knife.  “You’re fuckin’ dead!”

Frightened, Randy ran to the other side of the couch, then grabbed a leg lamp from a table.  The lamp’s base incorporated a woman’s leg wearing a fishnet stocking, and on top sat a fringed shade.  It was also the same type of lamp seen in the 1983 movie A Christmas Story and Jeff’s prized possession.  Holding the leg by the foot with the shade still attached, Randy raised it like a baseball bat.  “I’ll crack your fucking skull if you come near me!”

Jeff’s eyes narrowed as he stood on the opposite side of the couch.  “You better not break my lamp, asshole.”

“Then don’t come near me.”

He shrugged his shoulders.  “Fuck it.  I’m not gonna be around to enjoy it anyway.”  Jeff began pursuing Randy around the couch.

Nude and still brandishing the lamp, Randy maintained his distance while keeping the piece of furniture between them.  “Why are you doing this, man!”

“I’m trying to fix everything.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Life fuckin’ sucks and there’s no place in this world for guys like us.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Jeff?”

“I can give us peace.”

“I don’t wanna fuckin’ die if that’s what you’re talking about.”

“I’ll make it quick and painless, I promise.”

“You’re fucking nuts, dude.”

A blank expression came over Jeff as he glared at Randy with piercing eyes.  “Stop running!”

“No.  I’m not gonna let you do it, asshole.  If you want to kill yourself, do it, but leave me out of your psychotic meltdown.”

Ignoring the pain in his leg, he began hobbling at a faster pace.

“You’re not gonna catch me, you fat fuck.”

To Randy’s horror, Jeff leapt up on the couch and began crawling over it like a wild animal charging after its prey, but with his arm also in a cast, he wound up falling to the floor, landing on his back.  Without hesitating, Randy rushed out the front door.  Being butt naked, he held the lamp in front of his crotch as he scurried down the staircase.  About halfway down the first set of stairs, Jeff came out of the apartment and began chasing after him.

To Randy’s apprehension, he spotted three black men sitting on the second flight of stairs.  They were the same men he came across the day before with his doll.  It felt like déjà vu as he mumbled to himself, “Oh, fuck, me!  Not again!”

One of the men laughed when he spotted Randy’s nude body, red dreadlocks, red mustache, pale skin, and leg lamp.  “What the fuck!?!  Check out this motherfucker!”

Another man exclaimed, “Oh, shit!  It’s the same dude from yesterday.”

A third man added, “I heard he got his dick ripped off cos he fucked that doll.”

Randy paused when he approached them.  “The dude behind me is the one who got his dick ripped off.  And I didn’t fuck the doll.”  He turned sideways so they could see the bloody gash in his shoulder.  “He’s trying to kill me.  Can you call the cops?”

“Hell, no.  We don’t want the fuckin’ pigs around here.”

“But he’s got a knife.”

“Then your ass better get to runnin’, pervert.”

Randy took off, and as laughter erupted behind him, he gritted his teeth in anger.

When Jeff began heading down the second set of stairs, hopping on his good leg, the men noticed a white powder covered his hair, face, and clothes.  “Check out this motherfucker.  Looks like someone rolled his fat ass around in flour.”

Another man laughed.  “Yeah, probably the naked dude with the creepy lamp.”

The third man shook his head.  “Sick motherfuckers.  They were probably butterin’ each other up and shit.”

Jeff sported a don’t-give-a-shit expression as he approached them.  “Shut the fuck up, you fuckin’ jackals!”

“Who in the fuck are you callin’ a jackal!?!”

Jeff brandished his large kitchen knife.  “Three dead motherfuckers if they don’t get the fuck out of my way.”

As Randy hid behind a dumpster, he saw the three black men come barreling from the last staircase.  A moment later, Jeff came limping into the parking area and began looking around.  “Where in the fuck are you, asshole!?!”

Randy crouched down and remained quiet, and as he hid, he heard Jeff ask someone if they saw a naked dude with a plastic leg, then he heard a kid’s voice, followed by Jeff saying thanks.  Randy peeked around the side of the dumpster, finding Jeff heading in his direction.  Knowing Jeff couldn’t catch him with his leg in a cast, he began walking backwards as he taunted him.  “You’re going to prison for this shit, you fat fuck.”

Jeff didn’t say a word as he marched toward him with a death stare.

“You know this is stupid as fuck, right?  And someone has probably already called the cops.”

As the two men acted like buffoons, a mob of people quickly formed and began following them.  Humiliation swept over Randy when he observed the majority of the people were recording the spectacle with their phones.  This was two days in a row now that he found himself in a fucked-up situation while being followed by a mob of people.  Out of desperation, he took off jogging while holding the lamp in front of his crotch.

Jeff approached an obese man sitting on a mobility scooter and brandished his knife.  “Get the fuck off, fat ass!”

To Randy’s dismay, Jeff was now pursuing him on the scooter.  “This shit can’t be happening,” grumbled Randy as he trotted down a sidewalk while being tailed by Jeff, who was being followed by a mob of people.  A few minutes later, a police car arrived.  Relief washed over Randy as he trotted up to him as he huffed and puffed from being out of shape.  “Thank God you’re here!  The crazy fucker on the scooter is trying to kill me!”

The officer, a Hispanic man with a large mustache, displayed a look of disbelief as he observed the bizarre display of a nude man with a leg lamp being chased by a fat man on a mobility scooter.  To make it worse, both men exhibited peculiar appearances with Randy’s red dreadlocks, red mustache, and pallor skin, along with Jeff’s red fauxhawk hairdo, long gray beard, facial piercings, and large ear gauges.  The officer pulled out his taser and pointed it at Randy.  “Drop that fuckin’ weapon, boy!”

Randy slid to a stop.  “Don’t shoot!  I don’t have a weapon!”

“The fuckin’ lamp!  Drop it!  Then get your ass on the ground!”

Randy tossed the lamp on the asphalt, breaking it into several pieces, then got on his stomach.  “Okay, man!  Go easy!”

A high-pitched cry echoed out from down the street.  “You stupid fuck!  You broke my lamp!”  Furious that Randy destroyed his prized position, Jeff aimed the scooter at him like a missile.  “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you, asshole!”

The officer’s gaze fixed on Jeff as he sped down the street on the scooter.  Mistakenly perceiving Jeff as a threat, the officer swiftly deployed his taser, shooting two electrodes in Jeff’s direction.  The barbs embedded in Jeff’s face, provoking his body to violently thrash around on the scooter.  The scooter veered at the last second, missing Randy, and slammed into the rear of the police car, hurtling Jeff through the air.  He crashed into the rear window, shattering it, and landed into the back seat.  The officer snatched Randy up by his ear.  “Get your ass up, dipshit!”

Randy clutched the officer’s arm to reduce the pressure on his ear.  “What the fuck, man!  This is police brutality!”

He jerked the rear door open, shoved Randy on top of Jeff, then sped away.

On the 10 o’clock news, several of the local news stations aired the video of Jeff chasing Randy down the street on the scooter, but that wasn’t the hot topic.  After being arrested, the two men never arrived at the police station, and the identity of the arresting officer was unknown.  The next morning, the police department released a report, stating someone imitating a police officer abducted Randy Moore and Jeffery Blackmore.  Seth Coker was a suspect.

To Be Continued…

If you have any questions, comments, or advice, please feel free to contact me at wade.garrett.777@gmail.com.

Best wishes,

Wade H. Garrett