Texas Chainsaw Masochist

by Markus Fredericks

  “It’s t-too bad that the M-M-Mongol is r-riding a fast b-b-bike,” said Todd. “He d-deserves to d-d-die.”

  About five minutes down the road, they spotted the biker pulled off by the side of the quiet, country road. He looked up when he heard Todd’s truck approaching, and he turned around and flagged them down by waving both of his arms.

  “Say Todd, are ya thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” asked Kyle.

  “Y-yeah!!”

  When Todd pulled up next to the Mongol, Kyle rolled down his passenger window and asked, “What seems ta be the trouble?”

  “My goddamn bike just broke down. I’m visiting some friends in town. Could you please give me a ride? I’d really appreciate it?”

  “You’re not from around here, are you?” asked Kyle.

  The Mongol stared at Todd’s disfigured face, but refrained from making any snide comments since he hoped to catch a ride into town. He answered in a normal tone of voice, “No, sir – I’m from California. I just came to visit some of my associates here.”

  “Well, I happen to be a purdy handy mechanic. Lemme take a peek at yer bike. If I can’t git it up an’ runnin’, we be happy ta give ya ride into town.”

  “Thank you.”

  Todd and Kyle got out of the truck, and they walked over to the bike. Kyle knelt down and acted to be interested in fixing the bike. In the meantime, Todd positioned himself behind the Mongol.

  “Say, when’s the last time ya changed yer spark plugs?” asked Kyle.

  “I did that pretty recently. Why do you ask?”

  “Here, bend over – I need ta show what seems ta be the problem…”

  As soon as the biker leaned forward, Kyle signaled to Todd to bash the biker in the back of his head. After a powerful, overhead smash, the Mongol was out cold.

  “Yee haw!!” said Kyle. “Todd, he’s a purdy good-sized boy. Help me toss his ass into the back of the truck. We’re gonna have some fun with this here sumana bitch who done broke ole Hank’s schnoz.”

  Minutes later, they pulled into the cemetery’s driveway. They were pleased to see that the place was deserted – and they knew that Elmer was gone on a two-week vacation. After they parked by the back door, they carried the biker into the building.

  “Todd, I got this feelin’ that yer gonna git some competition from this tough-lookin’ biker dude. Yer also gonna be happy with a brand new game that’s gonna make it a bit more challengin’ fer ya too.”

  “A new g-game? That s-sounds like f-f-fun,” replied Todd. “Can y-you t-tell me m-m-more?”

  “Now, Todd – I wouldn’t want ya to gain an unfair ‘vantage. I want ya ta win fair n’ square, so yer jus’ gonna hafta wait ‘til the game’s ‘bout ta begin.”

  After tying up the Mongol biker securely to another wooden chair, Kyle doused him with a full bucket of cold water.

  A couple seconds later, the Mongol woke up – coughing at first, since some of the cold water made it to his lungs, but moments later he cussed out loud as he struggled mightily to escape his ropes. However, all his squirming only seemed to make the rope knots tighter than they were to begin with.

  “Where the fuck am I?” asked the Mongol angrily.

  “Dude, yer at our local cemetery morgue,” answered Kyle.

  “Well, cut me loose, you damn motherfuckers,” demanded the Mongol. “There are several other Mongol Nation members nearby, and they’re going to beat the living hell out of you when I tell them that you captured me,”

  Kyle playfully looked all around the morgue room and said, “Are yer other Mongol Nation members invisible? I don’t see no other Mongols anywhere. Todd, do ya see any other Mongols ‘round here?”

  Todd played along by looking in every direction before he said, “N-n-negatory - I d-don’t see any others.”

  “Well, dude – I’m ‘fraid yer all alone,” said Todd, “and by the way, that wasn’t real nice what ya did ta Mr. Schillings’ nose back there at the gas station. It’s ‘bout time Todd an’ I teach ya ‘bout etiquette an’ proper manners.”

  “What the fuck are you saying? You two must be a couple of inbred, Hillbilly faggots. Now cut me loose, and just maybe I’ll let you guys live.”

  “Tain’t no way that’s gonna happen, but if yer as tuff as ya act, ya might just become the first survivor we’ve ever had.”

  The Mongol watched quietly as Kyle set a few tools on a table, including: pliers, garden shears, a hacksaw, a small hammer, and oddly enough – a whole walnut still in its shell. However, the biker broke his silence when Todd placed his pa’s chainsaw up on the table…

  “What the fuck is that chainsaw for?” asked the Mongol in an angry manner, although inside he was feeling a great deal of concern.

  “I don’t wanna spoil the fun jus’ yet. Yer gonna hafta wait ta find out.”

  Next, Kyle brought out a stack of post-its, and wrote some notes on several of them, before folding them over and placing them in a plastic bowl.

  “OK, listen up guys – here are the rules of the game – yer going head-ta-head against my friend, Todd. If ya beat him, yer free ta go. The loser is the first one who cries out in pain. Ya can take turns drawing out one paper at a time from the bowl. It’ll tell ya ‘xactly what ya need to do.”

  The Mongol gazed up at Todd. He figured that Todd must be tough from all his scars, but he knew he was extremely tough himself. The Mongol acted confident by saying, “OK – I’ll play your sick little game, but this big monster ain’t half as tough as me. Even my other Mongol Nation friends call me ‘Cujo’.”

  Todd enjoyed the anticipation of some stiff competition. As was customary, Kyle told Todd that he must start the game…

  Kyle held out the bowl and asked Todd to take a paper. Todd did as he was told, and he showed the note on the post-it. Kyle unfolded it and read, “Ya must use the garden shears to cut off one of yer nipples.”

  Todd eagerly unbuttoned the front of his shirt, and grabbed the rusty pair of garden shears. He grimaced as he squeezed the handles to successfully cut off his left nipple. Blood streamed down the front of his torso, but he stood up and didn’t utter a sound.

  “Bravo, Todd,” said an applauding Kyle. “That was well-done. OK, Cujo – now it’s yer turn.”

  “This game is so fucking stupid, but I’ll play along if you promise to set me free when I win. OK – give me the damn bowl of papers.”

  Kyle unfolded the paper which the Mongol had selected and read it out loud, “Use the hammer to smash yer thumb with a hard blow… Ya know, Cujo – since yer all tied up, allow me ta help ya out. Say, are ya right handed?”

  “Yeah – why do you ask?”

  “Well, then – I’ll be nice an’ smash up yer left thumb. Don’t move or I’ll hafta hit it a second time.”

  Cujo gritted his teeth hard as Kyle squashed his thumb with a medium-sized, ballpeen hammer. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, but he didn’t make a sound.

  “I’m very impressed,” complimented Kyle. “Well, Todd – ya got some stiff competition after all. Now it’s yer turn again.”

  Todd pulled out another post-it. Kyle unfolded it and began to laugh as he said, “Oh boy, Todd – ya picked a real humdinger. Yer next task is to hold a whole, shelled walnut in yer teeth and use the chainsaw to cut it in half.”

  For the first time in his life, Todd was worried about his physical well-being, and the Mongol quickly pointed out,” OK – if this bozo utters a sound, he loses the match, and you agree to let me go. I just want you to immediately shut off the chainsaw after he tries to cut the walnut so we can all hear him cry like a baby.”

  “That sounds fair ‘nuff,” replied Kyle as he yanked on the ripcord, and revved up the chainsaw.

  Todd placed the walnut in his mouth and slowly moved his face towards the spinning chainsaw blade while Kyle operated it. Kyle held it as steady as he could. The Mongol just stared in amazement as Todd nervously moved his face perilously close to it.

  Todd’s main difficulty was
that he was too close to the action to actually see the cutting blade. He could only hope that his aim was precise.

  After a moment of hesitation, Todd lunged forward. His head jerked back as most of his front teeth were chipped, and he sustained an ugly laceration by the corner of his mouth. Kyle instantly turned off the chainsaw motor so they could hear any sound that Todd might make. However, Todd just stood there quietly as blood dripped off the point of his chin.

  A moment later, Kyle looked at the floor and said, “Wow, Todd – ya did it! Ya cut the freakin’ walnut in half. That was fuckin’ awesome – and ya didn’t utter a sound. OK – now it’s Cujo’s turn.”

  “Wait just a minute. This self-mutilation game is pure bullshit… So, big guy – I guess your name must be ‘Todd’. Why don’t we play a brand new game to really see who’s the toughest? Ask your whimpy friend to untie me, and why don’t we have a little fistfight to the finish? You can act tough with a fucking chainsaw all day long, but if you can’t beat me in a hand-to-hand fistfight, then you’re nothing but a big pussy. Hell, you’re way bigger than I am – if I beat you up, I deserve to go free.”

  Todd spewed out some more blood and then said, “He’s r-right. We need ta f-f-f-fight.”

  Kyle shook his head disapprovingly, but nevertheless proceeded to untie the Mongol. As soon as all the ropes were loose, Cujo quickly sprang up, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a hidden switchblade.

  “Burn in hell,” said the Mongol to Kyle as he plunged his knife deep into his belly, and then twisted the blade to inflict some extra damage.

  Todd wasn’t far away when he saw a mortally wounded Kyle collapse to the ground. The biker quickly turned around and said, “You’re next.”

  He slashed at Todd who tried to protect himself with his left hand. The knife made a deep gash in the palm of his hand, but just as the Mongol reared back to slash him again, Todd grabbed the hammer from the table with his right hand, and knocked the switchblade out of the biker’s grasp.

  Todd charged him and tackled the Mongol to the ground. Todd sat down on Cujo’s chest, straddling him with his legs, and subdued the feisty biker by ramming the back of his skull onto the concrete floor a couple times – and then he grabbed the switchblade which had fallen to the floor nearby.

  Todd’s immediate instinct was to simply stab him to death, but he was very upset that he had hurt his only friend, Kyle. Instead, Todd began to slowly slice off pieces of flesh from his face until his skull was almost completely exposed. Cujo’s blood curdling screams slowly faded to whimpers – which was followed by motionless silence.

  When the biker was clearly dead, Todd openly cried – not for the biker, but for the death of Kyle, who now lay dead on the floor next to the mauled Mongol.

  This was the first time that Todd felt no urge to hurt himself. Instead, he wrapped up his bleeding hand, and shoved some paper towels between his torn cheek and gums. Todd was too depressed to care about doing any cleanup, so he just grabbed his father’s chainsaw, and climbed into the truck and drove away…

  CHAPTER 7

  By the time Todd made it back home all of his adrenalin had dissipated, and he experienced raw pain throughout his face and body. He was surprised how acutely tender his chest was right where he cut off his nipple with the garden shears.

  By now, Todd had plenty of experience in dressing his self-inflicted wounds. His medicine cabinet was fully stocked with first aid supplies which he used on a regular basis.

  After cleaning and bandaging his fresh wounds, Todd changed out of his blood-soaked clothing and slouched on his living room couch. He contemplated his options, “What can I do now? My only friend, Kyle, is gone, so there won’t be any new games to play – and what ‘bout the mess at the morgue? At least, Elmer won’t be back from vacation for another week. I can heal up here for a couple of days, and then I better go clean up the place and incinerate Kyle and the biker.”

  Todd dosed off for a couple of hours until he was awakened by a rude knock on the door. As Todd got up from the couch, he wondered, “Who can it be? I don’t think it can be the cops yet – I think I’ll just ignore it, and hopefully they’ll just go away.”

  However, the knocking on the door continued non-stop for at least two or three more minutes before it suddenly became quiet. Todd silently placed his eye up against the door’s peep hole. He saw an average-looking man in his forties doing something on the porch. He wore a cardigan over a white shirt and tie – he definitely didn’t look like a policeman.

  The man was startled when the front door suddenly opened up. He stared at Todd’s mutilated face for several seconds before he asked, “Are you Lucas Waddington?”

  “N-no. He was m-my d-d-dad. He’s d-dead.”

  The man handed Todd his business card and said, “Good afternoon – I’m Barney Wallace. I’m employed by the great State of Texas – Department of Revenue. Apparently, your father, Lucas Waddington, hasn’t paid his property taxes for well over four years. The State of Texas is reclaiming this here property, and you are hereby required to vacate this house in 72 hours, unless you are able to come up with fourteen thousand and thirty-one dollars to bring your property tax current.”

  “I d-don’t have fourteen thousand d-d-dollars,” said Todd.

  “Actually, I need fourteen thousand and thirty-one dollars to be exact – and I need it today, or else you’ll be evicted. If you remain on this property beyond 72 hours, the police will charge you with criminal trespassing.”

  “I d-don’t have that m-much m-m-money,” explained Todd.

  “Well, I have orders from the magistrate to post this eviction notice on your door, so don’t blame me. You wouldn’t be facing this headache if your father wasn’t such a loser.”

  “My d-d-dad is not a l-loser!!” said an enraged Todd. Although Todd wasn’t in the mood to torture anyone, he felt the onset of his inner rage once again. Todd grabbed Barney by the cardigan and crudely tossed him against the wall. The thud of his skull caroming off the siding was enough to knock him out cold.

  Todd looked around to make sure there were no witnesses around – fortunately, the coast was clear. Todd thought to himself, “I’m probably going to jail, but first I’m gonna torture this asshole if it’s the last thing I do.”

  He hoisted up the limp body, and flung him over a shoulder. He carried him inside and threw him down onto his father’s bed. After retrieving some rope from the basement, Todd securely tied Barney in spread-eagle fashion to each of the four, corner bedposts. He sat down on an old lounge chair, and patiently waited for his captive to wake up.

  “Since Kyle is gone, I’m gonna hafta make up my own games. Let’s see – way back when, I use to like to play a game called, ‘Rock-Paper-Scissors’, but I think it would be more fun to play a game called, ‘Rock-Chainsaw-Scissors’. I wonder if Barney is any good at games. We’ll find out as soon as he wakes up.”

  Todd rounded up the three necessary items for the game, and set them on a table in the bedroom. They included a round, smooth rock about the size of a baseball, a sharp pair of scissors, and his father’s chainsaw. Todd patiently sat in the lounge chair all night waiting for Barney Wallace to regain consciousness. Todd began to nod off occasionally since his captive showed no signs of regaining consciousness at all throughout the night. Finally at daybreak, the bright, morning sunlight hit Barney squarely in his eye, and he finally woke up. He quickly discovered that he was tied up.

  “Holy mother of Jesus, why am I tied up?” asked the frightened, government employee.

  Oddly enough, Todd was already having second thoughts about torturing the man. He knew that even if he killed him, the State of Texas would keep sending new representatives to his house. Thus, sooner or later, he would be evicted or sent off to jail. He asked him in the clearest voice that his speech impediment would allow, “If I c-cut you f-free from the ropes, will you p-please just l-l-leave?”

  Barney began to freak out as he shouted, “Oh, Lord Jesus Christ, pr
otect me from the hand of evil. I am being kidnapped and tortured by the son of Satan himself – the Anti-Christ. Lord Jesus, please take me to your Kingdom of Heaven, where I may be your eternal servant. I just ask for salvation and protection from the incubus that stands before me, ready to desecrate my flesh with his evil devices for his sordid pleasure.”

  “Excuse m-me, I jus’ wanna c-cut you loose an’ l-let ya g-go.”

  However, the religious, hard-core Christian, Barney Wallace, just stared at Todd’s nightmarish face and continued to speak, “According to Matthew 5:29, ‘if thy eye offend thee, strike it out’ – surely, I am being threatened by none other than the evil son of Lucifer. Lord – yes, it’s true – my eye does offend me all the way to the heart of my soul – so strike it out, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost – strike out my eyes now so that I may never see the face of evil again!!”

  By now, Todd’s heart was pumping hard, and adrenalin surged through his veins. All the accusations of evilness inspired Todd to live up to the name. He grabbed the scissors, and snipped away at all the flesh surrounding each of his eyeballs, without damaging the eyeballs themselves. Meanwhile, Barney continued to alternate cries of agony with more biblical passages. A crazed Todd plunged the point of the scissors behind the eyeball and severed the optic nerve, and then carefully plucked out the eyeball with his fingers. Barney continued with his prayers out loud as Todd did the same to his other eyeball.

  After Todd set both eyeballs side-by-side on the dresser, the sickening Barney continued to preach a sermon at the top of his lungs, “Oh, son of Satan, repent thy wicked ways and send me off to the Kingdom of God.”

  In a state of hysteria and confusion, Todd could not stand Barney’s preaching any longer. He yanked hard on the chainsaw’s ripcord and revved up the motor. The fanatical church goer still kept on muttering his prayers until Todd plunged the spinning chainsaw blade right into the base of his throat, and began cutting downwards through his sternum, all the way to his crotch. Next, he made another, very deep cut across his chest right at the base of his pectorals to form a crude crucifix. Blood and guts had flown up to the ceiling, and now were slowly dripping down onto the bed and floor as though it was a sticky, red rain from hell.