by Tim Miller
"Will you quit being such a whiny little bitch? For real. I liked you better when you were seven. You just did what you were told; now you're all crying and whining. Boo-hoo-fucking-hoo! Come on! Put on your big boy panties and let's go!"
Dusty grabbed his keys, and they got in the car. Once they reached the park, they got out and headed down one of the walking trails. This particular park had tons of trails that wound through heavy woods and hills. Lots of places to hide. Lots of homeless people hung out along the trails also, since it was hidden from typical view. He wondered if that was what they were looking for, or if they were just passing through. They walked deeper into the trails until it was almost dark from the trees above. There was a bench up ahead with someone lying on it.
"There you go. Right there."
"What? A homeless guy is lying there."
"Right. You need to kill him. But no using rocks. Go strangle him."
"What the hell for?"
"Just do it ok? I have to know you can kill someone in broad daylight."
Dusty stood there thinking. What was he talking about? What is he preparing me for? Why am I even listening to him? As he thought these very things, he was moving closer and closer to the homeless guy, unable to stop himself even if he wanted to. Part of him wondered if he really wasn't just a cold blooded killer deep down, and Mr. Socky was bringing that out in him. Before he knew it, he was standing right above the guy. He reached down and put his hands on the man's neck and began to squeeze. The tiny man jumped awake at the contact and began to struggle.
Dusty tightened his grip, pressing his thumbs against the man's windpipe and pushing down as hard as he could. The man was so skinny, Dusty knew snapping his neck would be like snapping a carrot. The frail man clawed and swatted at Dusty's arms trying to break his grip, but Dusty was too strong. After a minute, the man's body went limp. Dusty continued choking him for another minute before he was sure the man was dead. Once he finished he looked up at Mr. Socky, who nodded.
"Very good. I knew you had it in you. How do you feel?"
"Ok, I guess. I'm still pretty high."
"Well good. We need to smoke before we go out. It'll loosen you up."
"So are we done? Can we go home now?"
Dusty found himself less concerned that he'd just killed a man and more concerned they were just hanging around the crime scene.
"We're almost done. Just before you started choking the guy, some lady came jogging by here. We are going to hide out further down the trail. When she comes back, you're gonna rape her."
"Are you out of your fucking mind? We just killed this guy, and now you want me to rape some girl? I'm not a rapist!"
"Not yet."
"What the fuck?"
"Ok. Fine." Dusty doesn't know where he got it, but Mr. Socky took out a whistle and put it in his mouth.
"What are you doing?"
"This is my rape whistle, and I'm going to blow it."
Dusty tried to grab it, but Mr. Socky pulled his hand away and stepped away.
"Are you fucking nuts? Why would you do that?"
"If you're going to be a little bitch, may as well send you back to prison now."
"Ok, ok, stop. Put the whistle away. Where the hell did you even keep that? Never mind, fine I'll do it. Jesus what the fuck is wrong with me."
"Nothing is wrong with you buddy," Mr. Socky said. "Not a single thing."
Chapter 7
Dusty sat in the bushes watching the jogger as she approached. Mr. Socky sat behind him quietly. As she approached, all Dusty could think about is why he continues to listen to Mr. Socky. It's not like he could use it as a defense in court. The truth of it, he was intrigued. He felt as if Mr. Socky held some secret knowledge or truth, and if he obeyed, then he would be the holder of truth, whatever that maybe. Perhaps, it would improve his life. Maybe he was just out of his fucking mind for talking to a sock monkey and killing because of it.
The woman was right in front of him now. She was in her zone, totally unaware of the danger a few feet to her right. Without hesitating, he jumped up and grabbed her, pulling her back into the bushes as he put a hand over her mouth. He held her down as she struggled against him trying to scream, but only coming out as muffled groans; this was the first good look he had of her. She was in her sixties at least. In great shape for an older lady, but it would be like raping his grandma.
"What the fuck man, this lady is old!" Dusty said.
"I don't give a shit; you got her, now do it already!"
"Why?"
"I'm not having this conversation again," Mr. Socky said.
The woman tried to bite Dusty's hand, but he punched her in the face until she was lying motionless but moaning lightly. Blood ran from her nose and mouth as he pulled off her shorts and undid his pants. He was having trouble getting hard. Killing a homeless bum and violating a grandma weren't the most arousing things he'd done.
"What's taking so long?" Mr. Socky asked.
"Give me a minute, I'm trying to get hard."
"You can't get it up?"
"This isn't my thing, ok? Now shut up, your voice isn't helping any."
He closed his eyes and stroked his dick harder and harder attempting to recall the porno he'd watched last night. It was some amateur porn, he didn't know the girl's name, but she fucked like a beast and made some awesome sounds. The thought of her got through to his dick, as it grew hard until his dick was finally throbbing in his hands.
He shoved it inside her even though her pussy was dry as hell. She let out a cry as he kept thrusting in and out of her. Dusty put his hand back over her mouth as he humped away while she tried struggling against him, but he was too strong.
"Shh!" he said. "I'm sorry, ok? Just please be quiet. I don't want to have to hit you again." He realized how ridiculous it sounded, but he had to say something. None of this felt good, but he was doing what Mr. Socky told him.
"Hurry up already." Mr. Socky said from behind him.
Dusty closed his eyes and started thinking of the porn star again. Within a minute he was aroused enough he ejaculated inside her. It felt ok, not great, but a nut was a nut. Once he was finished, he pulled out and pulled his pants back up. The women laid there crying and looking up at him in horror.
"Good, now finish her off," Mr. Socky said.
"What? Why?"
"So she doesn't go to the cops and ID you."
"Dude, I just fucking came inside her. My DNA is all over her."
"You got your knife on you? Your pocket knife?"
"Yeah."
"Good, just cut her pussy out."
The woman started to scream again, but Dusty lost his cool and began wailing on her, hitting her in the fast with a hammer fist until her face was a bloody lump of flesh and bone. Her eyes were swollen shut, and her nose was shifted dramatically to one side. She was breathing, as bloody bubbles blew from her mouth. He took out his pocketknife and stabbed her through the windpipe. She gasped and twitched as air and blood escaped through the new hole. Her body thrashed around for about a minute before going still.
Once he was done, he began the weird surgical procedure.
"What do I do?"
"Just cut her insides out, I don't know. I'm not a doctor," Mr. Socky said.
Dusty took the knife and began cutting around the labia, trying to be surgical, but it wasn't working. Out of frustration, he took the knife and began stabbing at her pussy until blood and fluid were gushing from the enlarged hole. Dusty looked at his blood soaked hands, then at Mr. Socky.
"Or you could do that," Mr. Socky said. "You made quite a mess."
"Yeah, no shit."
"Come on. Let's get out of here. Try to keep your hands in your pockets or something."
He picked up Mr. Socky and carried him in front of him back to the car. That way people wouldn't see a sock monkey walking around, and it kept his hands hidden. Once in the car, he drove back to the house where he got cleaned up. Finally, he changed clothes and sat down,
hoping they were done doing terrible things for the day.
After an hour or so, his dad came walking in the door and saw him sitting on the couch with Mr. Socky.
"Hey Dusty, how was your day? Where'd you find that thing?"
"He was in some of my boxes. Not sure what to do with him."
"Looks like you two are old pals. Might want to keep it in the box, though. A grown man playing with dolls and all," his dad said.
"Yeah, just makes me think of a lot of things, you know?" Dusty wasn't sure what else to say. He felt weird his dad caught him with the toy sitting out next to him.
"I'm sure. Just don't kill anyone if he tells you to this time."
Chapter 8
Dusty lie in bed half-asleep when someone jumped on his back, knocking the wind out of him. He tried to shift around, but they kept bouncing up and down.
"Come on! Wake up! You slept in!" Mr. Socky was yelling.
"What the hell man? Get off me!"
"Sorry, just excited, today is a big day!" The toy jumped off him and onto the floor, walking around to face Dusty.
"My big day? What the hell day is it?"
"Come on, get dressed. We got a lot to do."
Fuck. That means Mr. Socky is going to want him to kill more people. One thing that shocked Dusty is why the cops haven't come for him yet. He didn't do much to conceal any of his crimes. They were all sloppy and unorganized. A rookie detective could figure him out within a few hours; at least that's what he assumed. Yet, there was nothing. No cops, no anything. Not that he was complaining it just all seemed so odd.
"You need to tell me what we are doing."
"Dude, you need to pull the stick out of your ass. Have I ever steered you wrong?"
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
"You're still mad about going to prison. Look, that wasn't my fault. We were both kids. Things are different now," Mr. Socky said.
Dusty pulled his pants on shaking his head.
"I think I need to have myself committed."
"I don't recommend that."
"Why? What would you do?" Dusty asked.
"Hey, we are best buddies for life, remember? You made a promise. You don't want to break your promise with me."
"Whatever," Dusty said as he pulled on his shoes and stood. He wasn't afraid of threats made by a talking sock monkey. "Ok, so where we going."
"Let's get in the car and head to the grocery store. The one on fourth and Marion Street."
"Why? You out of maxi pads or something?" Dusty asked.
"Very funny. Come on."
They got in the car and headed to the store. It was a Friday afternoon, the busiest time of the whole week. The parking lot was packed. After driving around in circles repeatedly, Dusty finally found a parking spot. Once he stopped, he looked at Mr. Socky.
"Ok. Now what?" he asked.
"Look in the back seat. There's a present for you."
Dusty reached in back and found a long machete with a curved blade.
"Oh no. What the fuck Mr. Socky?"
"Don't be so dramatic, this will be fun! All you have to do is run in there and hack up as many people as you can until you hear sirens. As soon as you hear the police, get the hell out of there?"
"What? Why?"
Dusty couldn't believe he was asking this. Killing the homeless guy was one thing, even raping and killing the old jogger lady he could somewhat live with. Here, this toy wanted him to go and hack up a grocery store. If he didn't kick this deranged toy out of his car now and get on with his life forever, he was seriously fucked in the head. There was just no denying it.
"Because you need this Dusty. Despite all the fun we've had, you're still uptight as hell. You can just go in and cut loose, literally! Hahaha!" Mr. Socky clearly amused himself. Dusty looked at the blade before getting out of the car and closing the door. The best thing here would be 'don't think', just go in there, 'do it', and get the hell out.
Looking at the ground, he marched inside as fast as he could without running. Walked into the store where and an elderly man stood there smiling just inside the doorway.
"Welcome to Smarty Mart! Have a great shopping experience!"
Dusty raised the machete and brought it down in the middle of the man's skull. The old man slumped to the ground as the machete stuck in his head. Dusty put a foot on the man's face and pulled it free. A woman nearby saw what happened and screamed, so he turned around and hacked her head off in one clean swipe.
From there he ran from person to person hacking and slashing away. Blood sprayed like a perpetual fountain as he ran through the store. He got bag boys, cashiers, a manager, women, and children. No one was immune to his rage. Once the adrenaline began flowing, he moved even faster. He couldn't see himself, but he was sure he was smiling as he tore through the hapless shoppers.
In one instance, a woman ran past him. He slashed at her chest, not realizing until it was too late that she was holding a baby. He caught the baby in the back, slicing it in half. The woman fell to her knees screaming holding her baby's upper body in her arms as its tiny entrails dangled over her hands. Dusty reared back and hacked her head off in one hard swing. He stood there for a moment taking in the fact that he just killed a baby. Surveying the carnage, Dusty noticed there was a trail of death complimented by the wounded who were crawling around. One man sat up against the shelves trying to hold in his bowels. Just to his left, a woman was on all fours coughing up blood; in fact, the entire floor entire floor resembled a shallow pond of pure red blood. It was standing in puddles in some areas.
He ran through the frozen food aisle and hacked through the fleeing shoppers. He followed them to the front where they were trying to pile out of the doorway. There was a mob scene trying to get out allowing him to race through, hacking and slashing is way through. A few turned to fight back. One grabbed his arm, and another punched him in the face. He hadn't seen it coming as he saw stars for a few seconds.
He pulled back as the mob descended on him. They apparently figured out he has no gun, and they utterly outnumber him. He turned and ran for the emergency exit and burst through the doorway. An alarm sounded as he ran through the door. Once outside, he heard sirens blaring. He ran to the car, jumped inside and stomped on the gas, peeling out of the parking lot. As he sped away, he heard Mr. Socky in the back seat, squealing.
"Yahoo!"
Chapter 9
Dusty came walking into the house quietly hoping his dad wouldn't hear. Unfortunately, he did.
"There you are," his dad said. "I was going to ask if you…what the hell?" He looked at the blood all over Dusty's hands and clothes. "Why are you covered in blood? And why are you carrying that fucking sock monkey around?"
Dusty didn't even realize he was carrying Mr. Socky. The doll wasn't talking or moving now. It was just dangling in his blood soaked hand.
"Um, there was kind of a situation."
"Situation? They just showed on the news some nut attacked a bunch of people with a machete at Smarty Mart. Was that you? Did you kill those people?"
"No, not exactly."
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Not exactly? Jesus Christ Dusty! You just got out of prison. Now you're out hacking people up in a grocery store? Why?"
"Dad, it's not like that ok. Just let me explain."
"Explain? Yes, by all means kid, fucking explain." His dad crossed his arms and leaned against the kitchen counter. "This should be good."
"Ok. So, I got out of jail and went through my boxes and found Mr. Socky. I know you think it's crazy…"
"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, Mr. Socky? Give me that fucking toy."
He walked to Dusty, then grabbed Mr. Socky from his hand and threw him into the sink. He searched under the sink and grabbed a can of lighter fluid and sprayed it all over the toy, lit a match and set it on fire. Dusty stood watching his only friend burn.
"Dad! What are you doing?" He ran over to push his dad out of the way and grab the toy, but his dad blocked him.
Dusty grabbed his dad by the arm and hurled him out of the way, sending him crashing into the table. He turned on the sink letting the water extinguish the fire. The doll was black and burned around the face and arms but not seriously damaged. Mr. Socky looked up at him.
"Kill him," Mr. Socky said.
"What?"
"Kill him now."
"But that's my dad."
"Do it!"
Dusty grabbed a butcher knife from the knife rack and turned to his dad who was just getting to his feet.
"Dusty what are you doing? Don't do this. Dusty!" his dad screamed as his son thrust the knife into his throat. Dave grabbed his throat as blood sprayed through his fingers. He stumbled back and toppled over a chair landing on his back. He kicked and twitched as the life drained from his body. After a minute, he went still. Dusty turned to Mr. Socky.
"I just killed my dad."
"He was going to turn you in. Did you want that?"
"No. I didn't want to kill him either. He's all I had left. He was always there for me. My dad was the only one who believed in me. Now he's dead because I killed him."
"No Dusty. You're wrong," Mr. Socky said. "You have me. I've always been here for you."
"You keep getting me in trouble."
"Do I? Look at all the stuff you've done this week. Are you in jail?"
"No."
"Any cops come to talk to you?"
"No," Dusty said.
"Anyone even remotely suspects you in any of these crimes."
"No. I guess not."
"Ok. Go get cleaned up and get some rest." Mr. Socky jumped down and brushed himself off. "We'll take care of your dad's body later."
Dusty jumped in the shower and washed the blood and sweat from his body. Once he was clean, he put on a T-shirt and shorts as he climbed into bed. He felt like he hadn't slept in days, even though he slept fine the night before. As he drifted off, he soon wished he'd stayed awake.
The dream was all too real. Dusty was back in prison, but not his old jail cell. This one was darker and smaller. There was nothing in his cell except for a bunk and a toilet. His cell door was a thick steel door with a tiny window. Outside the window, there was nothing but a dark hallway. He banged on the door, but there was nothing but an echo. He pounded again hoping someone would respond.
