by Jimmy Pudge
She didn’t want this life. She was forced into it by an asshole pedophile prick of a father and an equally abusive piece of shit boyfriend. Someone had to answer for her death, and there was no one to help her speak except for my sorry ass. I pulled myself free and got up, and out of my trap. I half walked and stumbled over to the safe. Paydirt!
I swung the wide vault-like door open to see what lay inside. Nothing. It was empty except for an assload of dustbunnies. There was also a card on the shelf that had a price list. It was a piece for sale that was it. Fuck. What now? I sat down on the desk chair and shook my head. What the fuck was I gonna do? I looked at the desk, at the pair of twenty inch flat screen monitors and noticed a large device that looked like one of those rotating fancy electronic fans, that look like a tall tube and noticed it was filled with discs. It was one of those industrial DVD burners that can make like fifty discs in a pop and then figured all the shit has to be digital. I moved the mouse and the screens sprang to life.
Problem was there was a username and password to fill in and I was fucked if I knew what it could be. I tried BLACKELVIS and then the birth date of the king, nothing. Tried the same thing with the death date, nothing. I rifled through the draws and didn’t find anything that had a password written on it. I did find an autographed skin picture of Vanessa Del Rio. She still looked hot enough to pork man. She was a porn icon back in the day. She quit the biz during the AIDS scare and then came back. Her career in the industry lasted about twenty five years and she even played herself on NYPD blue. Damn she had the goods. Still does. This guy had good taste, I’d have to give him that at least. I slipped the pick out of the frame and pocketed it. Hey, can never have too many images for that old spank bank right? And this was a good one.
I got up and began pacing.
I listened by the door, and heard some voices.
“Goddamn girl, you are insatiable. That was twice, you still can’t get enough of my Burning Love, can you?”
I walked away and continued pacing. I saw on the wall opposite the desk there was a calendar on the wall. Vanessa Del Rio. Every image in the calendar was another provocative and tasteful shot of her taking it in the mouth, the ass, the sweet spot, even a nice double penetration shot. Damn, that girl had some talent. She retired from the game all too soon. I put it back where I found it and I had an idea. I wasn’t sure about the user name but I knew the password. It was 42 36 28, Vanessa Del Rio’s measurements. I had to play with the Username a bit it was Black_Elvis with an underscore and the password, was in fact correct. Who says being addicted to porn is a bad thing?
The computer opened a world of kink and perversion I never thought humanly possible. I couldn’t bear looking at the snuff. But I looked for anything that may have had Claire’s name, and saw nothing. I’d have to copy as much as I could and get out of here. I looked at some files to see if the cataloging was true. Like water sports were all videos with pissing, scattagories was well, you get the idea, that shit was nasty as a fuck. I copied all the Deader Than Disco, which on the one video I watched was some hot sex starring Mal until he blew a girl’s head off with a shotgun, then kept on fucking. I almost threw up my dried ass chicken all over the keyboard. I found some thumb drives in the drawer, most were used but there was a new one I ripped open the package, 16 gigs, should do it. I copied that whole file, as well as some other stuff for my personal collection.
As the shit was copying to my memory stick, I looked around the drawers and on the rest of the desk for anything that may have a record or a trail of what these sick fucks where doing. I found a few papers about a DVD company called SHAKE YA BOOTY PORN LTD and it had a manifest of titles and shipping information. I snatched that and didn’t really know where this all would lead and didn’t give a fuck aside from getting Mal. I would give this and the videos to Stegman and Fairfax and let them do their jobs, I mean it was another city but this shit looked nationwide, fuck, I saw they were shipping titles to Japan, so it was fucking global.
I looked at the percentage, the folder I needed was almost completely done. I figured fuck the other stuff, I had a nice collection of my own at home and didn’t need any of this shit, I got what was important.
After a while, I ejected the thumb drive, logged off, and put my gun back in my jacket. I thought about how I was going to get out, how I was going to get Sugar out of the front and said fuck it.
I walked right out of the office onto the floor and slammed the door. Jerome was getting a blowjob, or at least it looked life she was trying to breath some life back into a tired and spent pornographer.
He sat up. “Hey, what the fuck?”
“Sugar. Bite it.”
She smiled at me, winked and turned her attention back to him and took his hard penis into her moist and warm mouth and bit down and twisted her mouth like an angry, hungry dog attacking a piece of meat. I thought Jerome may actually make a good singer at that moment, because he sure hit the fucking high note as I walked out of the store into the welcoming night.
Chapter 15
I walked into the police station like a fucking professional, moving real smooth and casual, the snuff films in my hand. I walked to the front counter, rang the bell, and watched as the office clerk swiveled around in her chair. From the back, she appeared to be a gorgeous blond. From the front she was actually a middle-age man with a mustache.
“Can I help you, pal?” the man asked. “You here to pay a speeding ticket?”
“Hell no, I’m not here to pay a speeding ticket,” I said. “I’m involved in the Dollar Inn murder case, working it, and have found some important evidence. You tell Stegman and Fairfax to bring their donut eating asses out here.”
The clerk looked at me with a raised eyebrow, started laughing. “Sure, pal. I’ll get them for you. You want me to tell Stegman what you said?”
“I don’t give a goddamn,” I said. “I got some smoking hot evidence that’s going to blow this case wide open.”
The man disappeared from the counter, and I noticed again how much he looked like a woman from behind. He actually had a nice ass. It was cute. It would look good in tight sweat pants with the word PINK written across it.
I waited for fifteen minutes before those bastards showed up, laughing and sipping on their coffees.
“Well, well, look what we got here,” Fairfax said. “Why’s he here, Stegman?”
“I don’t know why that little fuck’s here,” Stegman said, cracking his knuckles. “Maybe for some reconstructive surgery.”
“That it, Handy? Did you come here for Stegman to operate on your face? Stegman can change your appearance, pal, but I don’t think it’ll necessarily be for the better.”
“I got evidence on Mal. This thing goes a lot deeper than what we thought.”
“We?” Fairfax said. “Did he just say ‘we,’ Stegman.”
“Fuck yes,” Stegman said, balling his huge hands into fists. I could see fire in his eyes. I could tell he wanted to operate on me.
“There is no ‘we’ Handy. You got that? You can’t be sticking your nose into our investigation and fucking shit up. You hear me? You let the police do their jobs, and you do your job at the motel. Don’t you compromise our hard fucking work, you little prick.”
I tossed a black bag on the counter top. The two dickheads examined it.
“What the fuck is that?” Fairfax said.
“Various snuff films. Mal does a decent sex scene with this babe in one, then blows her fucking head off with a shotgun. And get this, he’s still fucking her while he murders her. He’s still fucking her while blood is spurting out of her neck onto the wall. He keeps fucking her until he screams.”
Fairfax smile turned upside down. “You’re shitting me?”
“I’ll never be able to unsee that footage,” I said. “It will haunt me to the grave.”
Stegman fired a punch to my face.
My hand shot up to my nose. I removed it, studied blood on my fingers.
“Stegman!
” Fairfax, said, “he’s got good reason to be here. No operation for Handy. Not today.”
Stegman grunted. I could tell he was considering whether or not to hit me again.
Fairfax grabbed the bag off the counter. “We’ll look into this, watch these after lunch. You gonna be near a phone today?”
“Sure,” I said, “call the motel.”
“We’ll be calling you soon,” Fairfax said. “Normally, we’d want to sit you down right away and interview you. But truth be told, we’re hungry, Handy. Stegman hasn’t eaten in over thirty minutes and I skipped breakfast. We don’t need to hear this sick shit before lunch. I’m going to need to know where you found these films. But let’s wait about three hours, give me and my partner here time for the food to digest and time for us to watch Mal rape a corpse.”
I nodded. “Alright, I’ll head back to the motel.”
I got inside my car and shut the door. Georgia’s finest right there. I watched the two fuckers head to their unmarked car and get inside. I could still smell the Chinese food on me I’d fallen into last night. I wondered if they were going to eat Chinese.
Probably.
I swung out of the parking lot onto the highway and cruised down the filthy street to the Dollar Inn. I cut a left and pulled into a parking lot space. Opening the door, I observed the sky. Not a cloud in sight. What a beautiful day. You’d think that on a day like this, everything would be peaceful and perfect and wonderful.
You don’t think about psychopaths killing people during sex for a couple of bucks or of your loved ones in the hospital with two or three of their fingers shot off by an Elvis impersonator. And I didn’t even want to think about how Elvis felt after I’d ordered Sugar to bite his dick off. I cringed at that thought.
I put the car keys in my pocket, started whistling the theme tune to the Andy Griffith Show and made it halfway to the motel entrance before Mal put a gun barrel to the back of my head.
“Don’t you fucking move or I’ll kill you right here in front of God and everyone else.”
“Jesus, don’t shoot,” I said, lifting my hands.
“I understand you got something of mine.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah, you play stupid, and see what that gets you,” Mal said, slapping me on top of my head with his free hand. “I got an interesting call from my friend Jerome. Second call of the night. You know what he says to me?”
“No,” I said.
“He says, ‘Mal, I’m in the goddamn hospital. This ho bit my dick off.’ And you know Jerome; the man’s a fucking devout Elvis fanatic. He has the Elvis impersonation going on over the phone when he’s telling me about his dick. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry for the unfortunate bastard. Anyways, he tells me something very interesting after I apologize for his dick being bitten off. He says after he killed the hooker, he dragged himself to the office to call an ambulance. He also noticed several movies I had produced in the past, directed and starred in were missing.
“You wouldn’t know nothing about that, now would ya?”
I swallowed hard.
“I think you know something about it,” Mal said. I heard the hammer click. He applied more pressure to the gun, the barrel boring into the back of my head. “What you know? You can tell me, sonofabitch. I’m a reasonable man.”
“I know about the movie.”
“Where is it?”
“If I tell you, are you going to kill me?”
Mal leaned closer to me. I could smell a Burger King whopper on his breath. “If you don’t tell me, I’m most def. going to kill ya. Where’s the goddamn film at, fat boy?”
“I’m not telling you shit,” I said.
Mal laughed, and I felt the gun leave the back of my head. I breathed a sigh of relief. He walked around and face me, looking me in the eyes.
“You,” he said. “You motherfucker. Yeah, you’re a smart one, alright. A real smart guy. But guess what?”
“What?” I said.
“I decided to pay my friend Jerome a visit at the hospital last night, see how he was doing and all, since they had to stitch his dick back on. You know it took thousands of stitches to get that hammer back on there? Anyways, I found something very interesting in the next room.”
“What’s that?” I said.
“I found your goddamn partner watching a cooking show on Food Network. I think it was Rachel Ray, one of those bitches.”
My eyes went wide. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh yeah? Well that’s mighty damn interesting. You see Jerome told me he shot your boy in the hand. Even told me how many fingers he’d left behind. I thought it was a little odd that a fellow was in the next room of ICU with a bandage around his hand. I asked the guy, I said, ‘Man, what happened to you?’”
“He says, ‘This crazy motherfucker shot me in the hand. I lost three fingers.’
“I says, ‘no way! You know something, I’m visiting a friend who just lost his dick. Man, y’all are having one rough night.’
“He laughed, thought it was funny as hell. I talked to him for awhile, found out his name was Ronald and he and his cousin Handy had been looking for this snuff tape in a pawnshop.”
My mouth fell open. I couldn’t seem to close it.
“So anyway, Handy, I got your cousin stashed away right now. I cut off another finger before I realized he didn’t know anything about the snuff film you had found.”
“I don’t believe you,” I said.
“Give me the film and I’ll give you your cousin,” Mal said.
“I can’t give you what I don’t have,” Handy said.
Mal smiled. “Okay, play that game. I tell you what, why don’t you see your cousin, look him in the eyes and let him know you’re going to be the one who got him killed. You tell him you’re not giving me that film. How about that?”
Mal’s arm was fast, and I didn’t see the blow coming until the pistol struck my temple. It hurt like hell. I fell to my knees in the parking lot, the world suddenly blurry.
“Goddamn, you got a thick skull. I’ve never had anyone to remain conscious after I hit them there.” Mal swung the pistol again, and this time I saw black.
Chapter 16
“What’s the matter, boy? Is Timmy in the well again? That Timmy is a fucking retard,
always landing his ass in that well.”
The dog barked again and cocked his head to the side, real cute like, and I reached out to pet her.
She snapped at me and nearly ripped my fucking hand off.
“Son of a bitch, I’ll break my foot off in your ass if you try that shit again.”
The dog barked again. “Wake up asshole!”
“Fuck, you can talk? I can make some money on your ass.”
The dog ran over to me and lifted its leg. I could see it was a boy, and the fucker pissed on me. “I said wake the fuck up!”
I shook and sputtered and coughed and realized I was tied to a chair and had just gotten a gallon or more of warm piss dumped on to the top of my head. I’d rather the dog in my dream had pissed on me instead.
“I’m up, what the fuck, man? That shit stinks. This was a new shirt, well, kind of new.”
“Look around Handy,” Mal said. “See anyone familiar.”
I craned my neck as far as I could, left and right, I was in some sort of garage or somewhere that looked like it hadn’t been used in years, it was probably in the middle of nowhere so no one would hear whatever fucked up shit this guy was up too. Then I looked back at Mal. He stepped aside and I say my boy Ronald. He looked all fucked up. He was tied to a chair as well, but instead of his hands being tied behind his back, they were tied to the arms of the chair. One hand was bandaged up, the hand that had been shot. It looked clean and untouched. The other hand had one finger missing and it looked as though it was gnawed off somehow. I wouldn’t put it past this fucker to have actually bitten off my cousin’s finger. I looked up to Ronald’s face, it looked like he’d taken som
e blows as well. He never was a pretty fucker, but now he had bruises and an eye was swollen shut. Fuck man, this was all my fault. I had gotten him into this shit. I had to make shit right somehow, but tallying up the bill in my head there was no way I could ever even shit out.
“Man, you messed him up good. Leave him alone.”
Mal smiled and walked toward Ronald. He gestured toward the hand with the mangled pinky. “See this? I removed his finger by using a chisel and a pair of hook-nosed pliers. He screamed like one of the ladies in my movies, you know that? I think he can be a scream queen if he tried. I may make him one after what you did to my boy Jerome.”
I was thinking of a way out, trying to come up with a plan to keep him from cutting on my cuz anymore.
“Look, I can get your stuff. I stashed it somewhere.”
“Really? Where might that be?”
“At the motel, before you caught up with me.”
“Nice try. I have had eyes on that place since Jerome called me about your little theft.”
He touched Ronald’s hand, almost sweetly, and Ronald stirred. Mal removed what looked like a cigar cutter from his pocket and stuck Ronald’s index finger into the thing and now Ronald was awake and struggling.
