The tiny Cyclops did the talking in a high-pitched voice. “Mr. Dedmon?”
“That’s me,” I said in a voice pregnant with confidence. “How may I help you, gentlemen?”
“We’re here to talk to you about the unauthorized disposal of Marie Wilcox.”
“It was him!” screamed Philippe in a shrill, desperate tone. “This bloody cunt has gone off his trolley! I told him not to do it!”
“You will have to excuse my friend, gentlemen, he’s been under a lot of stress lately,” I said. “I’ll take care of it immediately... with the sharpest fucking knife I can find in this house!”
“No need for excuses or self-mutilation, sir,” said the small man. “In any case, in the security footage we have from the Watchers installed in the back room of the Ampu-titties club your… friend there can clearly be heard egging you on and chuckling.”
Fucking biomechanical eyes in the sky. For some unfathomable reason, it had never occurred to me to think that MegaCorp would have a surveillance system in one of its own clubs. Tony didn’t think about it either. A mental lapse that would undoubtedly cost me my life. And possibly Tony’s.
“Son of a bitch!” I said, punching myself in the thigh and feeling anger boiling in my chest. “If you have the footage, why the hell are you asking me about it?” I asked.
“It’s standard procedure, Mr. Dedmon. Also, there are certain protocols followed whenever a MegaCorp employee is involved in an unauthorized disposal.”
“I see. Should I get dressed and accompany you somewhere, gentlemen? Maybe to grab an endorphinated beer and see if we can work something out? After all, I only helped MegaCorp get rid of a nuisance, right?”
The small Cyclops nodded and then shook his head. I got the message: yes, you have to come with us; no, there will be no beer.
“Oh, mate, you’ve really fucked up big this time,” said Philippe.
“Listen, you slimy, yellow, snaggletoothed parasite, I will finish you before they finish me, you got that?” I told Philippe through clenched teeth.
Apparently my voice carried with it enough spite to scare Philippe into silence.
After dressing unhurriedly and walking down with the two suited fellows to their waiting car, I was shoved into the backseat. The tall guy drove while the small one kept his droopy eye on me.
Ten minutes later I was inside a pink cell.
I woke up on my third day of imprisonment and fed Philippe some purple porridge. I got misty-eyed at the sight of the last acidophilus bacterium floating around lifeless in the toilet water. Then I decided to crap into my hand anyway and wait for the guard to come for the breakfast bowl. That small pleasure was keeping me sane and there was no reason to stop. As chance would have it, I never got to throw that last steaming turd at the pointy head of my molluscoid nemesis.
Midmorning had come and the walls were shaking more than usual. A commotion erupted at the end of the hallway and then the giant squid flew by the cell as if caught by an invisible net. I heard mad cackling and stomping feet. Tony arrived at my cell door—all smiles. The huge rat jingled some keys and in two seconds his muscular arms were opening the door that separated me from the outside world.
I was speechless for the first time in my life.
Tony was not. “Get a move on, you fool!”
I ran to the rat and wrapped my arms halfway around his thick chest.
Tony patted me on the back. “We can have this moment later, Gut, now we have to haul ass outta here before that stinky fucker wakes up and gets some more guards in here.”
I nodded and signaled for him to lead the way.
As we ran down the hallway, we heard hissed commands. We hit the end of the hallway and turned the corner to the big processing room. The first sounds of violence reached my ears. A shot went off and my heart stopped. Then I saw what was going on.
Screw had something that resembled a medieval flail in both hands and was swinging it around and knocking squid guards down left and right. Gage was pumping a sawed-off shotgun with his nipple-covered arm. Star held monstrous axes on both hands. Her perfect figure moved around with the grace of a ballerina. Her red tresses spun around and mixed with the brown liquid that spurted from the decapitated guards that fell all around her like snake-tree scale-leaves on a windy day.
The surreal beauty of the scene stopped me in my tracks. Tony pushed past me and jumped into the middle of the action. The rat lifted a guard with his powerful rodent arms and slammed him down with such brute force that its gelatinous body exploded against the floor. A slimy chunk of guard smacked against my cheek and snapped me out of my daze.
I ran up to the first guard I saw and started pounding the shit of his foul, oppressive ass. His flesh felt like hard rubber but it broke under the hardest punches. The guard went down. I kicked his head in. A guttural, primal scream erupted from my throat and I looked for more guards.
Not long after, we stood victorious among a sea of dead and squirming tentacles. The stench was unbearable and we left without a word.
Outside, Gage hopped on the Amanda-bike, Star climbed on her Fugu fish and Screw, Tony and me climbed on Screw’s most prized possession: a super-antique 1955 Cadillac El Dorado. With the grey, looming MegaCorp prison behind us and the orange sun sinking into the horizon in front, the most beautiful and victorious group of system-fuckers in recent history rode off hooting and hollering.
“You guys are fucking awesome,” I said. “I guess this means we’re starting a revolution!”
“Are you out of your mind?” asked Tony.
“No, but now that I know you’re all pissed off at the system and willing to crush some heads, I thought we could...”
“Yeah, the system is a piece of shit, but we didn’t get you out of there to start a revolution,” said Tony. “Hell, if I had a death wish, I’d slap Bella’s ass on one of her bad days.”
“Then why did you get me out? Why did we kill all those guards? What about being on camera? You know that your siege had to be seen. You’re outlaws now!”
“Gut, you’ve seen the things we do to people who try to grow their own vegetables or forget to pay their bills,” said Tony. “What do you think they’d do to you for killing a consumer? As soon as they started dipping your balls in flesh-eating bacteria and pumping rabid maggots into your colon, you’d tell them how you got the puddle-maker. When you gave them my name, they’d come for me. You know what I’d end up confessing? Some of the times I’ve let Screw and Gage off the hook. You see what I’m trying to tell you here, buddy? If you went down, we’d all go down with you. And as far as anyone seeing our liberating you goes, do you think we’re that stupid?”
“I see...” was all I could say. Despite Tony’s explanation, I knew they loved me and that their friendship was what really drove them to risk life and limb to get me out.
Gage managed to add four extra inches to my height and looking in the mirror is still a tad confusing for me. My new bald scalp and blue eyes still throw me off every morning. It will definitely take some time to get used to my new looks.
I now have Amanda’s stomach and Gage and Screw were able to fully remove Philippe. I have a smaller stomach and a little scar where the mouth used to be.
I think about Philippe a lot. The British bastard comes to me in horrible nightmares in which he has become a giant mouth with no body. He screams at me for killing him and then chews me up.
Star and I have started dating and she sometimes cuts off her leg right before we make love. The feeling of her bloody stump against my skin is both pleasurable and scary. I’m is still trying to figure out exactly how I feel when she does that, but she loves fucking while we’re are both high on Algolagnix and stabbing each other with ice picks, so I mostly just enjoy the moment and go with the flow. Dancing a little tango at the edge of death has certainly turned me into a much more mellow cat.
According to Tony, he only put the whole rescue mission together because he wanted to avoid the investigation that
would arise if enough people saw the footage of me shooting what he calls the puddle-maker. As it stands right now, MegaCorp is half-heartedly looking for the old me and nobody else. A guy that owed Tony a few favors managed to put a virus inside the prison that gave all the Watchers cataracts and they shut down before the squid massacre. They’re probably wondering how I managed to take care of two dozen guards all by myself and disappear. Let them wonder.
The plan now is for me to learn how to do skin grafts and penis splits from Star and join Screw’s crew as the new me. I’m still deciding on a different name. I want it to be cool and dangerous sounding.
And revolution? Well, you need an army for that. Where better to recruit than the poor souls who come to mutilate themselves in order to feel something? I don’t know, we’ll see what the future brings, right?
Gabino Iglesias was born somewhere, but then he moved to a different place. He has worked as dog whisperer, witty communications professor, and ballerina assassin. Now he hides near a dumpster in Austin, Texas, where he works as a freelance journalist and impersonates a PhD student. His nonfiction has appeared in rags like The New York Times, El Nuevo Día and Z Magazine. The stuff that’s made up has been published in places like Bizarro Central, Paragraph Line, Divergent Magazine and a few horror and bizarro anthologies. When not writing or fighting ninja squirrels, he devours books and regurgitates reviews that are published in places like HorrorTalk, The Magazine of Bizarro Fiction, Zouch Magazine, Chiaroscuro, Black Heart Magazine, Horrorphilia, Buzzy Mag, The Lovecraft eZine and a few others. He’s currently working on overcoming his crippling hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia. This is his first book.
Table of Contents
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
Gutmouth Page 8