Wyatt interrupted. “Were you there gambling?”
“No. I was there with Missy to see some of the shows.”
“What did you see?”
Seth looked at Wyatt. “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 had a strange look. “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 real thin, almost crack head skinny, and wearing baggy pants and a wife-beater tank top. His two buddies looked like Kid Rock wannabes. 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 looked at the small device first. 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 looked at the belt. He noticed it was about six inches wide and made of thick material. It resembled a weight lifter’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 had a don’t-give-a-shit expression. “Nice doin’ business with ya.” She looked at 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 walked 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 looked at my gun, then 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 towards 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 looked at me. He knew I was serious. “Alright, alright. 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 any more!”
“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 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 looked 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 started 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 started 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 looked 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 walked 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 towards 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 looked at me and shook his head side to side. I thrust my finger angrily towards 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 looked 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 started 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 started pr
essing 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 walked 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 started 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 looked 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 looked 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!”
The complete “A Glimpse into Hell” series - 5 books, 195 chapters, 1700 pages, 600K words of pure gore Page 81
