by Craig McGray
****
It began at that little hole in the wall bar off Highway 39. The place was always packed. James had often visited when he went searching for a new prize. He found it amusing that the lively little honky-tonk served Italian food. They served a decent chicken Parm that he often ordered when he was there, hunting. He sat back and watched as his next little lamb played a solitary game of pool. She was asking for it by wearing that short skirt and those tall boots. She knew what she was doing. They always knew.
He recalled the way the harlot fought, and loving a spirited fight, the corners of his mouth spiked in delight at the thought. He’d grabbed the girl when she went outside to smoke a cigarette. She didn’t know it, but the fight was even more arousing to him than the fun he had planned for them. She threw a fit like a toddler not getting her way, stamping her feet and whirling her arms, but that got her nowhere. He’d pressed duct tape over her mouth and had thrown her, kicking and screaming, in the trunk of his Chevy Malibu.
Hookers were too easy. They’d all but given up on life, so when faced with certain death, they usually just gave up. What fun was that? His mother gave up, and he hated that about her. Redneck whores were different though, full of spunk. When death came to take them, they were more than willing to kick it in the balls.
James drove deep into the woods along Citico Creek Road and came to a stop in a small clearing. Dragging the girl from the trunk, his full intentions became known. After leading her to the front of the car, he bent her over at the waist, and his hands found their mark under her skirt. She kicked backwards, catching him in the soft spot, dropping him to his knees in the dirt.
Unfortunately for James, another guest had arrived to the party. The giant man got there before James struggled back to his feet. The first swing of the two-by-four caught James in the middle of his right arm, the blow sending a shock from his shoulder through his fingertips. While he clutched his then-useless arm, the next blow landed mid-shin, and he once again kissed the ground.
“Git him, Johnny!” the bitch screamed.
While James writhed in pain on the ground, the duo rained down fists and kicks, most of which found their effect on his head. They stood over him once satisfied that they had beaten the fight out of him, but it wasn’t over, it was in their eyes. They weren’t finished.
“You like beatin’ up on helpless gals?” The giant said in an awkwardly high-pitched voice. “You filthy little bastard. You was gonna rape my sister! Wasn’t ya?”
James only managed a muffled groan in response.
“I’ll show you what it feels like, little piggy.”
The girl’s giant brother returned to his truck and retrieved a pool stick from the cab. That’s when James caught a glimpse of his punishment. Johnny grabbed James by the twisted leg and pulled him toward him. He clawed at the dirt, scratching for traction, but Johnny spun around and sat backwards on James’ neck.
“Pull his pants off, Candy. Come on now!” he urged his sister.
Candy struggled to remove the tight-fitting designer jeans and tossed them aside before stepping back.
“Squeal, little piggy! Squeal!” Johnny chanted in his awkward high-pitched shriek.
Now James was the one throwing a tantrum like a toddler. He flailed on the ground as the hillbilly assaulted him in the most heinous of ways. The guttural screams of a tortured man echoed in the darkness.
After Johnny finished making his point, he dismounted James, standing over him while James lay face down, squirming and squealing in the dirt. Unmistakable warmth streamed down James’ legs. Candy approached and slammed the two-by-four onto his head one last time. The soft part of his temple caught the blow, and the lights went out.
Though he must have slipped in and out of consciousness, he remembered Johnny grabbing him by his useless arm and hauling him through the icy creek on the side of the deserted road. Johnny had no idea of the prizes that James had accumulated over the years; the abhorrently rotting prizes.
James watched helplessly while Johnny put the pieces of the devious puzzle together, realizing what the plans were for the evening. Johnny reached the shallow creek and stood near the opening of the culvert. His face wrinkled as he peeked into the metal cylinder, and the stench punched him in the face. When Johnny saw the others, he knew that raping Candy was only part of the plans for the evening.
Johnny returned to where James lay battered in the creek
“You sick little bastard. You was gonna rape her and kill her. Wasn’t ya? Well I got somethin’ for ya.”
He grabbed the rapist by the ankle, dragged him to the mouth of the culvert, and picked him up like a ragdoll. James didn’t have the energy to fight as Johnny shoved him headfirst into the putrid pipe. He continued to push the piggy further into the culvert, and when his arms couldn’t extend any further, he climbed in feet first and kicked James in further still.
“Rot in hell, little piggy!”
He spat on James and backed out where Candy waited at the opening.
“Is he…?” Candy asked.
“He damn sho’ better be. Go on now. Take his car on back to the house.”
The two climbed up the bank to the road before tires spun in the dirt and the noise faded into the distance.
Oh yeah! That’s how I ended up here. Good ol’ Johnny.