The complete “A Glimpse into Hell” series - 5 books, 195 chapters, 1700 pages, 600K words of pure gore

by Garrett, Wade H.

  Wyatt starting laughing. “You had that damn comb in your hair, didn’t you?”

  “No. It was in my back pocket.”

  “Was it the afro?”

  “No. I had removed it and put on a toboggan.”

  “That explains it. You were wearing a toboggan when it was hot.”

  “That’s not it. If you would let me finish you would find out.”

  “Then say it.”

  “A few minutes later I went and sat on a bench that was next to some fans. I was chilling out minding my own business when this black couple stopped in front of me. The woman seemed agitated as she glared at me. “You got sum fuckin’ nerve doin’ that shit around here. Someone needs to kick your ass.” The man shook his head as he told his wife to move on. I knew something must have happened to my disguise, so I pulled out a pocket mirror. I shook my head when I looked at my reflection. The sweat had caused the dye around my eyes and mouth to wash away, causing me to have Blackface.”

  Wyatt interrupted. “What the fuck is Blackface?”

  Seth looked at Wyatt. “I can’t believe you don’t know what that is. Were you locked in a closet your whole life?”

  Wyatt shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry.”

  “It’s an old form of theatrical makeup used by white performers back in the day to represent a black person. They would paint their face black, leaving white around their eyes and mouth.”

  “Now I remember. I’ve seen it on old TV shows.” Wyatt made a hand gesture indicating he didn’t understand. “Why would that piss off the blacks?”

  “Because it’s very offensive. At that point, I decided to leave before I got my ass kicked. On my way out of the park, I noticed a group of punks walking in. There were fifteen of them. I wasn’t sure if they were there to participate in the beat down, but they were throwing air punches and pumping each other up. About the same time that two punks pulled out their cell phones and started recording, another punk walked up to an older Hispanic couple and sucker punched the man in the side of his face. After that, the group went nuts, running towards any white, Mexican or Asian person in close proximity, and began attacking them. I didn’t even think as I went after the closest fucker. He was kicking a man that was balled up on the ground. I cracked the punk in the head with the ball-peen hammer, knocking him to the ground, then I wacked him in the center of his back with the meat cleaver, severing his spinal column. There was a punk recording me. He was standing a short distance away. He seemed confused as he stood frozen, and before he had a chance to realize what was happening, I did the same thing to him. The other punks were spread out and too preoccupied to notice what I had done, so they were easy pickins for me. The next two punks were beating the shit out of an elderly lady. I ran over to them and shouted. “Give me some!”

  One of the punks looked, then did a double take at me. “What the fuck!”

  I smacked him in the head with the hammer, then drove my comb in the other fucker’s neck as he was standing over the lady beating her ground and pound style. He fell to his back while grasping the handle. His eyes were bulging as he gagged and slobbered at the mouth. I took the meat cleaver and started whacking him in the stomach as hard as I could. He was trying to block the blows with his hands and knees, but I didn’t miss a beat. The sharp edge combined with the weight of the cleaver ravaged his hands and kneecaps. There were severed fingers, bone fragments, skin, blood, pieces of intestines and human waste everywhere. I didn’t stop pounding on his ass until I had severed his spine from his front side, meaning I had to mutilate his entire stomach cavity to get to it. By now the others had been alerted. They were standing in shock as I stood covered from head to toe with grotesque body fluids. Several of the punks looked as if they were scared, but two of them started in my direction. I was still standing next to the punk that I had knocked out with the hammer, so I quickly chopped his head off with the cleaver, then stood up holding it. The two punks that were approaching me stopped, looking at me as if I was a fuckin’ savage. I slung the head at them, then motioned with the hammer and cleaver for them to bring it on. All the punks took off out the gate and down the street. I went after them with my silenced .22 pistol. They had a good distance on me, so I stopped, aimed, then began popping rounds into their asses. I was able to get about four of them as the others disappeared into the darkness. I ran up to the four injured thugs and severed their spines, then took off into the dark myself before the cops came. On the way to my car I found another punk that had been shot. He was hiding under a car that was parked a little way from mine. I dragged his ass out. “What the fuck you doin’ under there?”

  He was holding a knife. “Get the fuck away from me, man! I will cut your ass.”

  I went after him with the meat cleaver, cutting his arm off at the shoulder. He stared in horror as I stood over him holding his arm by the wrist. He started begging. “Please don’t kill me! I didn’t mean to do it.”

  I started beating him with his arm as I shouted, “Why you hitting yourself, why you hitting yourself, why you hitting yourself?” I didn’t stop until he was a bloody pulp and the arm was nothing more than a skin bag filled with broken bones. For the final touch, I flipped him over and severed his spine so he wouldn’t feel left out. There were a few people standing down the street staring in horror. I knew I had fucked up. I should have hauled ass when I had the chance to make a clean get away. Now I was going to have to get in my car with people watching.”

  Wyatt was shaking his head. “I’m surprised the cops didn’t take you down back at the fairgrounds.”

  “I know. But the actual cleavering of these assholes only took about two minutes in the park, and less than a minute on the street. The punk that was hitting himself took several minutes. That’s where I spent too much time. I could have been busted by the cops for hanging around too long. I allowed my excitement in getting to fuck up these assholes to get the best of me.”

  “Yeah, but it turned out okay.”

  “As far as with the cops it did, but I wasn’t happy with how the news portrayed it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It was all over the news about how these innocent black kids had been barbarically assaulted by a white racist disguised as Blackface.”

  Wyatt shook his head. “Nice job there, pal.”

  “Well, the makeup thing was an accident. And as far as kids, they were young adults who preyed on the innocent. The youngest one was twenty-two. The media always makes things worse than it is. But they did get the barbaric part right. For weeks, the media had a field day talking about the brutal and sadistic beating that these fuckers took. All the ones that I was able to catch were paralyzed and they are sitting in a wheelchair or lying in a bed right now, not being able to feel their dicks.”

  Wyatt held his hand out to get Seth’s attention. “Wait a minute. What about the punk that you cut off his head?”

  “Oh yeah. He got off easy.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “Death is better than being a paraplegic or quadriplegic.”

  “That would suck.” Wyatt looked at his notes. “What about the fucker that you stabbed in the neck with the comb? Didn’t you cut him up pretty bad with the meat cleaver?”

  “Yeah, I chopped his guts into pieces, but somehow the fucker lived. Not only is he paralyzed, but he gets to sport around a colostomy bag as well.”

  “Good. That’s what he gets for beating an elderly person.”

  Seth smiled, feeling proud that Wyatt was starting to understand. “You’re coming along.”

  “I’m just sick and tired of these fuckers, I suppose.”

  “That didn’t take long.”

  Wyatt looked at Seth. “You’ve given me a heck of a crash course over the last several days. It’s really opened my eyes.”

  “Good. That might come in handy later.”

  Wyatt looked confused. “What does that mean?”

  “You never know. There might be a time that you will n
eed to take vengeance on someone. And now you are acquiring the skills and attitude.”

  Wyatt shook his head. “Like I have said, this is your thing, not mine. But I do enjoy the stories. With that said, what was the outcome? Did the police know you did it?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “What about Jim? He could have covered it up.”

  “I’m not sure if he knows or not, but a recording of the first attack had been uploaded on YouTube. Numerous media outlets copied it, edited it to a more PG version, then played the shit out of it so the whole world could see how mean ol’ Blackface the racist treated these poor, misunderstood kids.”

  Wyatt was shaking his head.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You disguised as Blackface. That’s the most racist shit that I’ve ever heard about.”

  “I told you I didn’t do that on purpose.”

  “Maybe so, but you still do some borderline racist shit sometimes.”

  “What the fuck have I done that was racist?”

  “You used the N-word with Skin and Tink.”

  “You serious?”

  “Yes. It was derogatory.”

  “First off, I said nigga. Big difference. And secondly, they called me that first.”

  “Still derogatory.”

  “If it was, black folks wouldn’t be saying it.”

  “That’s not true. It’s derogatory if someone other than a black says it.”

  “Really? Are gook, raghead, kike, spic, jap, chink, cracker and wetback derogatory terms?”

  “Of course, they are.”

  “You’re right; they’re an insult. And that’s why you don’t see other ethnic groups calling each other those names. So, if nigga was such a horrible name, they wouldn’t be using it.”

  “But there is no need for bigotry.”

  “Where in the fuck did that come from? I’m not being a bigot. They’re intolerant of any ideas other than their own when it comes to race, religion and politics.” Seth thought for a moment. “Well, maybe I am when it comes to punishing lowlifes. I am set in my ways in that aspect.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about. You sometimes say insensitive things.”

  “Making fun of a sensitive subject is simply poor taste or dark humor.”

  “Minorities wouldn’t think it was humorous.”

  “People are too damn sensitive these days.”

  “Sensitive? They’ve been oppressed, so they have a reason to get upset.”

  “A lot of people from different races have been oppressed and treated like shit throughout history.”

  Wyatt seemed aggravated. “Yeah, but black people were forced into slavery.”

  “All kinds of people have been slaves from the beginning of time. The white/ black thing has nothing to do with racism or bigotry in modern society. It’s about people disliking people. If all humans were the same in every aspect from lifestyles, beliefs, opinions, physical and mental characteristics and accomplishments, some fuckhead would wind up finding a minuscule difference in another person so they could have a reason to dislike them.” Seth looked at Wyatt. “Sorry if I got you bent out of shape. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you the damn story in the first place.”

  “Whatever. Can I see the video now?”

  “I’ll show it to you on my laptop when we get to the hotel.”

  “Why? It’s on your phone.”

  “It’s better on a larger screen.”

  “Okay. Where’s your laptop?”

  “In the trunk.”

  Wyatt looked at Seth’s bags in the back seat. “Why the fuck is it back there? All your other shit is here in the backseat.”

  Seth could tell Wyatt was still upset. “Chill out. We’re almost there.”

  Pain Before the Cane

  Seth pulled into the hotel parking lot. Wyatt looked at his watch. “Damn. Where did the time go?”

  “I’m going to pay for the room. Hang out here.”

  When Seth came back he noticed Wyatt was standing next to the car, smoking a cigarette. “When did you start that?”

  “I’ve been smoking.”

  “Just with me.”

  “Then, I guess now.”

  “It’s a bad habit.” Seth grabbed his bags from the car. “You might want to bring your stuff in so some asshole doesn’t steal it.”

  Wyatt grabbed his bag and followed Seth into their room. “Show me the video.”

  Seth tossed his bag on the bed. “We just got in here. Give me a chance to get settled in.”

  “Hurry up.”

  Seth shook his head as he opened his laptop. “What’s gotten into you tonight?”

  “Sorry. I get weird when I get tired.”

  “Play it as many times as you want. I’m goin’ to take a shower.”

  Thirty minutes later Seth came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. The entire time he had been taking a shower he had heard a ruckus. “What the hell is going on in here?”

  Wyatt was lying in bed laughing. “I’m watching Cops. It’s my favorite show. They set up a sting operation by leaving an unlocked car in the bad part of town. You wouldn’t believe how many dumbasses got busted for trying to steal it.”

  “Yeah I would. I’ve done all sorts of shit like that myself to catch assholes.”

  Wyatt muted the volume. “What did you do?”

  “I’ll tell you about it later. Let me get dressed first. And try to keep it down—our neighbors are going to think we’re some type of weirdos.” Seth shook his head as he walked off, thinking how Wyatt was probably one of those people who annoyed others at the movies by laughing at everything. When he came back, he pulled the comforter off Wyatt and laid it on the floor. Wyatt had a strange expression. “What am I supposed to cover up with?”

  Seth laid on the comforter. “Throw me a pillow.”

  “I don’t have anything to cover up with.”

  Seth took a deep breath. “Nor do I.”

  “This sucks.”

  “Well, we’re sure in the hell not going to lay in the same bed and share it.”

  “I’m not fucking gay!”

  Seth sat up Indian style and looked at Wyatt. “Where in the hell did that come from? I didn’t insinuate anything about you being a turd burglar.”

  Wyatt was lying with his arms behind his head. He seemed aggravated. “You should have thought about getting a room with two beds.”

  “I did. They’re full.”

  “We should have gone to another motel. This one is a shithole anyway.”

  “What’s the deal? Were you planning on jacking off under the covers or something?”

  “Drop it.”

  “By the way, I picked this one because it doesn’t have any cameras. And the riffraff coming and going overshadows us. Plus, smoking is allowed.”

  “It’s fine. I’m just tired and have my pet peeves about shit.” Wyatt flipped through the channels on the TV. “Cops is over. Now there’s nothing on worth a shit. Cheap-ass motel doesn’t even have cable.” He turned off the TV. “I’m freakin’ bored.”

  “Damn, you sure get whiny when you’re tired. I would have figured hanging out with me would be enough entertainment.”

  Wyatt rolled on his side, facing Seth. “You’re right. Tell me how you caught some assholes like they did on Cops.”

  Seth went to the bathroom and turned on the exhaust fan, then sat in a chair next to the bathroom doorway. He lit a cigarette. “My operations aren’t quite the same as theirs. The punks that get busted by the police only receive a slap on the wrist, then get set free after they learn how to become better criminals in jail. Our judicial system has no deterrent to crime, unlike the shit that I do. Even my small-scale stuff makes these thieves think twice about stealing your shit.”

  Wyatt looked confused. “I didn’t know you went after thieves.”

  “Sure, I do. Do you like it when some scumbag steals the stuff because they’re too lazy to work for their own
shit?”

  “Of course, I don’t.”

  “That’s why I do it. And it’s fun. It’s kind of a pastime.”

  “I can understand what you’re doing to the assholes that rape, murder and abuse people, but theft is a petty crime.”

  “It’s only a petty crime to the ones who didn’t get their shit taken. These so-called petty criminals have the same attitude as the abusers and rapists; they don’t give a shit about their victims, so I don’t give a shit about them.”

  “So, what did you mean by small scale stuff?”

  “They involve booby-trapped cars, exploding tool boxes and boom boxes and wallets filled with agony. Shit like that. And my sting operations cause pain, disfigurement or an occasional death, unlike our weak-ass judicial system.”

  “What the fuck is a wallet filled with agony?”

  “Exactly that. It’s a booby-trapped wallet, the longer bi-fold type that sticks out of the back pocket. I modify them by installing a CO2 injector filled with embalming fluid, then I glue money to one side of the main pocket and align the needle from the injector on the other side.”

  “Do you just walk around with it, hoping someone will steal it?”

  “Not really. I like to do the wallet trick in New York City because there are a lot of pickpockets there.” Seth smiled. “It’s hard finding enough time to spread around what goes around to all these assholes as it is, so I have to make every minute count.”

  Wyatt picked up his notebook and wrote in it. “I like that statement. So how long does it take for someone to steal it?”

  “If I dress like a cowboy while acting like it’s my first time being away from the farm, not long. I can usually have ten of them stolen within a few hours.”

  Wyatt shook his head. “I take it you carry more than one wallet with you?”

  “A bag full. I try to have as many stolen in one trip as possible. Like I said, I have to make every minute count.”

  “You said the wallets have an injector with embalming fluid. What does that do to someone?”

  “When they open the wallet, they focus on the cash, but it’s glued in place. This causes them to really go after it, and in the process, they wind up sticking the needle in one of their fingers or hand. The needle has a tiny barb on the end, causing it to embed in their flesh. When they pull back on the needle the CO2 injector is triggered, injecting the fluid into them.”