Wyatt interrupted. “You have friends?”
“Yes, and I also have a normal social life.”
“Do they know what you do?”
Seth looked over at Wyatt. “Of course. Most of them help me.”
Wyatt’s eyes got 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 he looked back at the road. “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 looked at his phone directory and found Pat’s number. I also looked at 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 looked around for Steve and the inspector. I closed the basement door, then secured it by tying a rope between the door knob and a hand railing. 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.”
Wyatt looked disturbed. “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 you just sitting there?”
I walked 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 looked 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 towards 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 looked at me. “Your ass is going to go down for this.”
“I wouldn’t be making any threats in the position you’re in.” I pulled out a pocket knife. “I could just slice off your little wiener and be done with ya.”
Pat looked worried. “I… Uh…” He nodded towards Steve. “He’s a liar. I told him not to do that to my renters.”
Steve kicked Pat in the stomach, then they both started kicking each other and yelling curse words and threats back and forth. Steve started getting very loud and I needed a way to shut him up. 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 towards him. “You got something to say?”
He looked down. “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. 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 looked over at me with a look of disgust. “Oh my God! Please get me out of this thing!” He started 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 started 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 looked 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 started 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. Pat started kicking back defensively, then they both became angry and started kicking each other. They were covered in so much human waste they looked like they had been mud wrestling.
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 tug boats.”
The complete “A Glimpse into Hell” series - 5 books, 195 chapters, 1700 pages, 600K words of pure gore Page 59