"Theo."
"Delia. Pleasure to meet you."
" Likewise. Hey listen, I don't want to come off as a creep or anything, but do you party?"
"I smoke the good stuff if that's what you mean."
"Yeah that's what I mean." I chuckled, trying to look as innocent as I possibly could.
"Right on."
"I got some on me if you're interested. I just don't want to smoke it alone."
"I'll smoke with you."
"Cool."
In my head I was thinking, of course you will, because you are nothing but a stupid ass whore. I managed to keep my composure.
"So Delia, I got a bag in my van around the corner. If you wanna come with me, we can smoke and chill out."
She seemed to get a little nervous then. I held out my hand to try and calm her nerves. She looked at it for a minute, and then decided to take it and hoist herself up off the ground. I knew that free weed would get her up off her ass.
We walked around the corner to where the van was parked. I went around to the driver's side and opened the door.
"Go ahead and hop in the back, I just gotta get it outta the front."
I started to get hard as she opened up the sliding door to find Dale waiting for her. I heard her gasp as Dale grabbed hold of her hand and planted his fist right in the middle of her face. The blood started gushing out of her nose like someone had turned on a damn faucet.
Dale dragged her into the back, and then hopped into the driver's seat as I climbed in behind her. I took some rope and tied up her hands before she came out of her daze.
"What the fuck?" She said as she came to.
"Woah, now. How about we watch our language?"
Just then, she spit right in my face, a mix of saliva and blood. I was shocked at first, but then I started laughing. She looked even more scared.
I told her that she was really going to pay for that one. When I flicked her in the nose with my index finger, she started screaming again.
"Shut her up!" Dale yelled from the front seat.
I took a handful of hair at the top of her head and slammed her skull hard into the wall of the van like Dale did with the last one. I guess I didn't do it hard enough at first, so I kept doing it until she finally went out.
While she was out, I cleaned up her face and took off her clothes. She was a little bit chubby, but not fat. I really like girls with a little meat on their bones. Dale likes them skinny, but I like flesh, not bones. Her skin was white and soft. When I slipped on the red panties, they were a little tight, but the bright red silk just shined against her skin. I was getting so excited that I wanted to take her right there, but I knew I had to be patient. The process was real important.
I put the lipstick on her. There was still a bit of dried blood on her lips, so I wiped it off and then applied very carefully. She looked so beautiful that I really wanted to keep her.
Then I got another flash of that boy slipping his cock between those lips, and that desire was gone. Dirty cock-sucking bitch.
We got to the spot and Dale pulled over. She was still out like a light. I tapped her face to try and wake her, but still nothing.
"Did you kill her?" Dale asked me.
I told him no, she was just out. He helped me hoist her up out of the van and we carried her over to a tree stump. I laid her over the stump face down so that shiny red ass was up in the air. I grabbed a handful of that ass and squeezed. My dick was about to bust out of my pants, so I let it free. Dale had already got his out and was tapping her on the cheek with it. The whore started to moan.
She came all the way awake when I pulled those panties to the side and shoved myself inside her. She tried to kick and flail, but I grabbed the rope around her hands and pulled tight. I swear I pounded that bitch harder than a jackhammer. Dale was knelt down, talking to her real quiet. I saw him flashing the knife back and forth. When he stood up and shoved his cock at her mouth, she took it without any protest. She was sucking his dick like she loved it. Whore.
I didn't think it was possible, but I started fucking her even harder. She was whimpering and crying, but I knew she liked it. I pulled tighter on her rope and she screamed out when I heard the pop noise come from her shoulder.
"Oh shit," Dale yelled out when he finished in her mouth. As he pulled out, he put his hand over her lips, forcing her to swallow. She choked and gagged, unable to breathe through her smashed nose.
Dale looked at me and said, "You ready?"
"Almost," I told him as I pulled out of her and shoved myself in the other hole. She screamed bloody murder when I started ramming her again.
"Ready," I said to Dale as I started to lose it.
He took the knife and started to sink the blade into the back of her neck. I tell you what, that was like a ride at the rodeo! I was done by the time he got the blade to the hilt. Wow.
We finished cleaning her out, took our special souvenirs, and tossed her over the side of the hill.
We'll have to find another spot for the next one. I got back in the van, smelling the lock of hair I had cut off. She was special. Delia with the pretty smile.
Chapter 8
With that entry, I knew exactly what I had done wrong. I needed to get a lure. I needed something to get these whores into my car of their own free will. But, how?
I continued the rest of the night reading the journal of my father and his partner, trying to find any details that would give me a strong idea of what I had done wrong.
I read about Cindy White, a waitress that had caught Dale's fancy when she refused to meet him after she got off work. Dale had shown her that she should have been grateful for his attention. She had met her end in an abandoned barn, after putting a deep scratch in Dale's cheek. Her useless body had been dumped into an old well.
Lydia Cole was a dirty skank that spent her time walking the streets, sucking cock for money and drugs. She had tried to bargain her way out of the fate that my father had planned for her. She had even tried to tell him that she was happy to be there and that she would willingly do whatever he wanted, even if he wanted to hurt her. That had only infuriated him. He had taken his time with her. Her suffering had been immeasurable.
She was dispatched slowly in the middle of a cornfield and dropped down a hill into an old rock quarry.
Put out like trash, every one of them, as it should be. Story after story, I studied to try to find the one thing that would guarantee my success. While it seemed that my father and his partner took most of their conquests by force once they got within arms-reach, I needed to figure out how to get them that close to me.
After reading about Lydia Cole, I found a loose paper nestled in between two pages. It was a note from my dad.
***
The only thing I worry about being out on the road, is that I'm not there for my boy. He needs a man to take care of him and show him how to be a man himself.
I'm worried that that bitch is going to turn him into nothing but a pussy. She's probably filling his head with all manner of bullshit pertaining to me. I never should have left him, but this is no life for a young boy. Maybe when he gets a little bit older I can collect him and show him the truth about life. I can show him the beauty of what we are doing here.
He can carry on my legacy of cleansing this world of the shitbag whores that roam the streets. This place is going to hell in a hand basket.
We need to get a new generation; a generation of girls that know their place. All of these cunts think that they are in charge of things and that they can do whatever they want, just because they have the pussy.
Well, if I want pussy, I will take it. Simple as that.
My boy, Dale and I can work together to accomplish our goals. As soon as he gets older, I'll go back for him.
As a bonus, I'll slit that whore's throat. Better yet, I'll let Tim do it. We'll call it his initiation.
I know how it is to have a Mother that's nothing but a two bit whore. My father did what was right by me whe
n it came to my mother, so I'll do what is right by my boy.
***
I read over that paper at least ten times.
I had a new determination to work out what I was going to do.
Once I had a few ideas, I went to sleep. My dreams were filled with memories of my father, and I slept like a very contented baby.
Chapter 9
I sat in front of a TV set, watching Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd plot and plan against each other. The silly rabbit was tricking Elmer into either shooting at Daffy Duck, or shooting himself. I ate my bowl of generic corn flakes and watched intently.
I could hear my dad shouting at my mom in the other room, but it was no more than white noise to me by the age of eight.
Dad had come home from his work a day early and had found one of Mom's special friends in the bedroom with her. I guessed that they were playing in there when Dad got home, because there was an awful lot of noise. Maybe they were wrestling around.
I didn't know anything except that Mom had told me to watch TV and not move a muscle until she said it was okay. I knew better than to move. The last time I had disobeyed, I got a whipping that left me standing up for three days.
When Dad came in and asked where mom was, I pointed to the bedroom without looking up from my cartoon. He walked past, ruffling my hair and headed to the source of the noise. I heard some yelling and a loud thump.
Mom's friend ran out of the room wearing nothing but his boxers and holding onto his bleeding nose. He bolted out the front door without saying a word. I laughed to myself, thinking about that man running around outside with no clothes on.
After Bugs Bunny had ended and my cereal bowl was empty, I had nothing to do. The yelling in my parent's bedroom had died down, and I knew that with my dad home, my mom wouldn't be mean to me.
I got up from the floor and walked towards the hallway leading to the bedroom. I heard only some low whimpers coming from behind the door as I approached. When I got close enough, I could hear my mother's voice.
"Please don't. Please. I won't do it again, I promise."
"Same thing you said last time. Why do you want to hurt me? Why are you just like her?"
"Please," she cried, louder. "I'm not like her, baby."
I peeked around the door and saw my mom sitting in a chair with her hands behind her back. She was wearing nothing but a pair of red, silky panties. My dad stood above her, holding her face with one hand while he put bright red lipstick on her lips. It was smeared across her cheek from her struggling.
"If you want to act like a whore, I'll treat you like one. Just like her, the cock-sucking bitch." My dad sounded so sad.
"No, baby. No. Please. I'll do better. I promise."
I watched in secret as my father took a small folding knife from his pocket and began making an incision across the top of her leg. She screamed out as blood began flowing down her thigh.
"Shut up," he growled at her. "Why do you make me do this? Why do I have to keep reminding you like this? Why do you make me hurt you?"
He reached up and ran the blade against her face, leaving a long red cut through the smeared lipstick on her cheek.
"Try getting anybody to fuck you now."
My mother sat there, bound to her chair, begging her husband to stop hurting her. He turned towards me and as our eyes connected, I thought that I saw the glimmer of tears on his cheeks. He held out his hand and motioned for me to come into the room. I didn't want to, but I did as I was told.
"Son, I want you to look at this. I want you to see what your mother made me do. "I tried not to look, but he turned my head towards her. "You see, son?"
"Yes, Daddy." I felt like crying or throwing up, I wasn't sure which.
"I would never hurt her if she didn't make me. You know that, right?"
I nodded my head, just wanting to leave that room more than anything else in the world.
"When a woman acts like a whore, you have to let her know that you will not tolerate it. You need to clean the world of that type of filth. Now, this is your Momma, so I wouldn't take her away, but whores are no good, son. No good for anything in this world. You remember that, boy."
"Yes, sir."
My father knelt down next to me and put his hand on my shoulder.
"I know that you have it hard, son. My Momma was nothing but trash and I had hoped that yours would be better. I wish I had done a better job at picking a woman who was pure; if there even are any like that left in this shitty world. I'm sorry that I failed you."
I was suddenly filled with sorrow that my dad was so sad. I had never seen him like that and I never wanted to again. I leaned in and put my arms around his neck, hugging him tight.
"Don't be sad, Daddy."
My father hugged me back. I felt good and safe knowing that when he was there, the whimpering thing in the chair wouldn't do anything to hurt me.
As he pulled away, he placed both hands firmly on my shoulders and looked me directly in the eyes.
"Son, I want you to take a good long look. Don't you ever let a woman make a fool of you. I have never found a one of them that isn't a dirty whore deep down. They might seem good on the surface, but inside they are all rotten. You got that?"
I nodded my head, not entirely sure what he was talking about.
"Now, you go get yourself dressed. I am going to take you out to the park, and maybe we'll get some ice cream."
"Is Mom coming?" I asked, hoping with all of my heart that he would say no.
"Nope. Just us men today. I think your mother is going to sit there for a while and think about what she's done wrong. So, go get dressed. I need a few more minutes alone with Mom before we go."
I ran out of the room to get dressed and grab my old baseball mitt. As I sat down on the floor to tie my shoes, I could hear my mother crying in what sounded like terrible pain.
As I looped the rabbit ears on my left shoe, I couldn't help but smile wider at each agonized scream.
I woke up in the hotel room with that same grin spread across my face, ready to start my day.
Chapter 10
I drove around the next day, looking for the shadiest car lot I could find. Once I pulled up to City Deals Auto Sales, I knew I had come to the right place. The Italian looking guy that almost tripped on himself to get to me was like a walking stereotype.
He wore a blue tracksuit with bright white slip-on tennis shoes. His thick, gaudy gold chain was tangled in a mess of dark chest hair. He wore mirrored sunglasses, and he looked as if there was enough grease in his slick backed hair to fry a whole chicken.
I think they refer to guys like him as "Goombas".
He came up to me with a big artificial smile, his pinky ring gleaming as he removed his glasses.
"Hey, how you doin'?" He asked, only furthering the perception.
It took all I had not to laugh in his face, but I restrained myself.
"I need to trade this car."
"Alright, fella. Whatcha lookin' for?"
"I need a van, and I want a straight across trade."
"Ah, a fella that knows what he wants! I like that. Let's go run the numbers, whaddaya say?"
"Whaddaya say we cut the shit, Carmine? You take my car, I take that van," I said as I held out a one hundred dollar bill. "I know that bucket is worth less than my car."
"Hey, Fella…"
"You call me Fella one more time and I am gonna choke you to death with that fake chain around your neck," I said with what I hoped was a menacing smile on my face.
He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, with an uneasy smile of his own.
"Ok, Ok, Fel…, Sir. Come inside and we can get all the paperwork done." He had suddenly lost his fake accent, and his shoulders slumped a bit. He looked over the car, memorizing the plate number.
We walked into the office and he pulled out a thick stack of papers as he sat behind the scarred metal desk.
"Now you don't seem to be understanding me, I said I wanted to do an even trade."
"Well, we still have to fill out the paperwork for the DMV even I can't get around that."
I stood up, reached into my pocket and pulled out a small stack of cash. I threw another hundred-dollar bill down in front of him.
"So, how many of these does it usually take for the trade to be even?" Another bill on the desk. Another.
"Well, Mr. Smith that seems about right." He picked up the small stack of hundreds and slid them quickly into his pocket.
"Good. I think we're going to do just fine, Fella."
That greasy guy with too much gold looked at me with what I thought might be actual hatred.
What he did not realize is that he was just one more steppingstone for me to reach my goal. I was just that much closer.
After he finished filling out all of the paperwork, I took the keys to my new van and handed over the keys to the brown Ford that I had stolen from my dead mother. I drove off the lot knowing that there were only a few more pieces of the puzzle to fit together. The next time was sure to be a success.
Chapter 11
After my adventure at the car lot, I drove straight down the street to what looked like "Crack Central". I searched for someone who looked extra jittery. It did not take long to find.
I parked my van across the street from a guy who looked like he had spent more nights sleeping on that corner than he ever had in an actual bed. I plunged my hands in the pockets of my jeans and walked towards him.
"Hey friend, you think you could spare a cigarette and maybe some change?" The broken down old black man asked. He was constantly adjusting the lapels of the torn brown sports coat he wore, and adjusting his withered old cock inside of his, no doubt, filthy underwear.
As I approached, I could smell old booze and stale cigarettes on top of some very bad body odor.
"Sorry friend, I don't smoke, but I do have something you can do for me that will earn you some extra change."
"Oh no, hey man... now I don't swing that way." The filthy drunk held up his hands in a warding off gesture as he backed away.
Prodigal Son Page 3
