A TASTE OF SICKNESS: UNCUT AND UNCENSORED VIOLENCE AND GORE

by Nelson Samuels

  A TASTE OF SICKNESS

  NELSON SAMUELS

  FOR THE FANS

  BEAST OF BURDEN

  BY NELSON SAMUELS

  Ashley stands adjacent to the massive beast of an ass, she smiles in a slight reluctant acceptance of what is about to happen to her. She’d gracefully tried to accept her fate long before today, at eighteen, it had been made known to her that this was her birthright long before now.

  “Are you ready?” her Father asks as he stands behind her.

  “I am Father. I am ready to serve my purpose,” she replies, gently closes her eyes and places her hands upon the fence post to her front. Her Father leads the donkey behind her, guiding it into a mounting position. Ashley arches her back as the asses massive girth is inserted into her anus. She moans in pain, but remains still, in hopes that the beast doesn’t penetrate her too deeply, and tears her internally before her purpose has been served.

  “Take it in now Ash,” her Father instructs. “Take it all in. It’s almost time.”

  “With this sacrifice, we honor you,” the Father says as he gently caresses the ass on it’s head.

  “Praise be!” Gerald says.

  “Yes praise be.”

  “What do you want me to do with her body Hank?” Gerald asks.

  “Bury it deep under the large oak tree out back of the barn. She’ll return to us soon enough.”

  “And the rest of the blood?”

  “Feed it to the pigs,” Hank instructs.

  “Yes sir,” Gerald says as he grasps Ashley’s body by the leg and begins to drag it out of the barn door. Night has fallen, the moon is bright, and as Hank leaves the barn, he smiles in satisfaction. He begins to walk up the drive and toward his home. He notices the light from the living room is still on. He assumes his wife Lorie is awaiting his return. There wouldn’t be a need to explain to her where her Ashley was, as she was fully aware of what was happening in the barn tonight. The events had been planned since the moment of Ashley’s conception. It was the way it had to be. Ashley was to be their savior. The world’s savior. She’s always had a purpose, and tonight was only the beginning.

  As Gerald begins to dig a shallow grave, he stops for a moment and glances over at Ashley’s naked, lifeless body as it lies on the ground beside him.

  “Fuck it!” He says as he begins to unzip his pants, removes his now erect penis, kneels on the ground, and begins to fuck Ashley’s remains. Even dead, she remained moist, and the sensational pleasure he felt as he slid his organ into her pussy caused him to blow his load quicker than he intended to. He stands, and removes the small amount of remaining love juice from the tip of his penis with his finger, and places it into his mouth. He closes his eyes as he slowly passes it through his lips, savoring the taste of himself. He was satisfied.

  Finishing up the hole, he places Ashley’s body in, and covers it.

  “How’d it go?” Sarah asks her husband.

  “It went as expected,” Hank responds. She focuses her attention back toward her reading. Getting involved in the latest Edward Lee nightmare had grown to be an obsession of hers, and she kept her head in a book nightly. “Did you make supper?”

  “It’s on the stove.”

  “Anything good?”

  “The usual,” she responds.

  “Fuck Sarah! I’m tired of that shit! Same goddamn thing every fucking night!”

  “It’s not my fault you cheap fucker!” she says, never removing her focus from her book.

  “Fucking liver and biscuits. Jesus Christ!”

  “Where’s Gerald?” she asks as Hank begins to fix his plate.

  “I’m skipping the fucking liver this time...shit!” he turns and glares at his wife. “What did you ask?”

  “I asked where Gerald was.”

  “Out by the barn burying Ashley,” he responds. “Goddamn liver again..fuck me!” Sarah rolls her eyes, doing her best to ignore him. “Could you at least do something besides fry the damned shit for once?”

  “What would you like me to do with it?” she asks.

  “I don’t know! I’m not a cook!” he yells.

  “Then stop trying to make suggestions like a cook!” Hank frowns, clearly frustrated with her response, has a seat at the table, and begins to eat his buttered biscuit. Gerald walks through the door.

  “What’s for dinner?” he asks.

  “Don’t even fucking ask!” Hank says. Gerald frowns.

  “Really? Again?” Gerald asks as he walks over toward the stove.

  “Fuck both of you!” Sarah says as she storms off into her bedroom.

  “Could she at least do something besides fry the shit for once?” Gerald asks. Hank throws his hands up into the air.

  “I know right? That’s what I fucking asked!” Gerald fixes his plate and has a seat next to Hank. They half heartedly enjoy their unfortunate dinner in silence.

  “Since the dawn of mankind…”

  “Nah, fuck that shit Hank!!”

  “Dammit Jerry, let me tell the story like I want to!” Hank demands as he stands before a group of men and women in an abandoned barn on Benjamin Simpson’s old farmstead. This was the moment of their groups weekly meeting. Every Saturday, 9:00 p.m. sharp, and you’d better not be late. “Or else!” Empty threats as usual, as no one late was ever actually punished for being so.

  “Alright, alright. Proceed then,” Jerry responds to Hank’s obvious frustration with his remarks.

  “As I was saying, before so rudely interrupted, since the dawn of mankind, we have walked this land in…” Hank begins again.

  “Who’s we?” asks a young girl as she interrupts his speech.

  “Us, humans. Men, women, and beautiful children like all of you sitting in this room here today. We have walked this land in protection of all that inhabits it. Plants, animals, the earth itself, have all benefited from us being here, as we have it. However, it has also been destroyed by our own hands. We’ve destroyed the very things that have enabled us to sustain the comfortable life that allows us to in return protect what does the sustaining. We are all beast of burden, and the burden of life, all life, lies deep within each and every one of you, in me,” Hank has a seat in a chair situated near the front of the crowded room. He continues to address the group. “We can’t keep sitting around letting the things around us that we love, continue to be destroyed. I’ve taught you tolerance, love, and patience. The world has taught you hatred, pain, and suffering. Our time to rise up and take back control of what’s ours is here. The hour of our salvation is quickly approaching my Friends! As you wait, take this time to reflect, pray, and thank the mighty beast for the life that he continues to allow us to freely live,” Hank walks over to an ass tied to a post on the side of the wall. He gently strokes it, and smiles. “Soon, everything will reveal itself to us. Soon, we can live in the peace of knowing we are safe and free at last. This beast, this magnificent creature,” he leans in and kisses it on the nose, “will usher in a new life. Our savior. Amen?”

  “Amen!” the crowd of people says.

  “Let’s sing a verse or two. Sister June, will you lead us in song?” Hank asks as a woman stands, walking before the group. They begin to sing, clapping, smiling, and dancing in the makeshift isles. It was not unlike any other service.

  “Daddy?” Hank awakens to the voice of his daughter Ashley by his bed. He wasn’t startled because he was expecting her.

  “Hey Baby! You’ve came back to us, just as I knew you would,” he sits up in bed and takes her by the hand. She places her hands onto her stomach.

  “How long was I gone?” she
asks.

  “Long enough baby girl. Long enough. You should be due any day now.”

  “I feel him kicking you know. Ever since I crawled out of the hole,” she smiles.

  “That’s great,” he stands. “Now go and get you a nice shower. You smell like the back side of a cow.” Ashley lifts her arm and sniffs the pit. She laughs.

  “I guess that’s what being dead will do to you huh?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Daddy?”

  “Yes darlin’?”

  “Where’s Momma?”

  “At your Aunt’s house,” Hank says.

  “Did y’all get in an argument again?”

  “Same as usual,” he says.

  “Liver again?” Ashley asks. Hank sighs.

  “Yep.”

  “Push Ashley!” Hank screams at his daughter as she cries out in pain.

  “I’m trying!”

  “Well try harder!” her Father says as her face turns a bright apple red. A baby’s cry is heard throughout the room and cheers of joy quickly follow. Hank holds the baby into the air before the congregation that’d gathered to witness the birth. “Behold, our savior!” he says as the newborn with the head of an ass and the body of a male boy is quickly swaddled in a blanket and placed into his Mother’s arms.

  “He’s beautiful ain’t he Daddy?” Ashley asks her Father.

  “He sure is baby!” Hank says as he strokes the newborn’s head. Ashley closes her eyes, and drifts into the darkness of death once more. Hank removes the baby from her arms.

  “What’s his name?” asks a little girl.

  “We shall call him Keen!”

  “Keen, dinner!” Sarah calls out to her grandson.

  “Fucking dog!” Keen says as he places a knife’s blade into the socket of a behind a live puppy’s eyeball. The puppy yelps out as Keen pulls the eye from the dog’s head, places it into his mouth, and begins to chew. “I’m already eating!” Keen responds back to his Grandmother. He was fifteen, and thought he knew what was best for himself. He’d been told he was the savior his entire life, so who better to know what was best for him he thought.

  “That pup’s not going to sustain you!” Sarah says as she stands on the porch and finally notices what he’s doing.

  “It will if I eat the whole thing Grandma!”

  “Get in here and eat your dinner!”

  “What are we havin’?” Keen asks.

  “Liver!” Sarah says.

  “Fuck! Again? I’d rather eat the dog!” he says. Hank walks up by his side. “Hey Grandpa, can I ask you a question?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “What’s up with all of the damn liver we eat around here?”

  “Beats the hell out of me kid. Beats the hell out of me. You’ll get used to it. Now come on inside,” Hank places his hand gently on Keen’s shoulder.

  “Alright,” he says as he stands and begins to walk toward the front door. “I swear though, when she dies one day, I’ll never eat another piece of liver!”

  “You and I neither one!” Hank says as they laugh. Inside the home, they all have a seat at the table and begin their meal.

  “He’s going to kill everyone Hank! This isn’t how it was supposed to go!” Sarah exclaims to her husband.

  “I know, I know!”

  “He butchered the neighbor, and now Mrs. Jacobs. Gerald last week. It’s getting out of hand!”

  “Well, to give him the benefit of the doubt, he was brought into this world as a result of violence,” Hank says.

  “It’s our way. It always has been. I thought this time would be different. I thought he would be the one. I thought we finally had it right!”

  “Well I fucked up! What else do you want me to say?”

  “Yeah, you fucked up alright! Just like your Father fucked up, and his Father, and his Father! Not one of you has brought forth our savior into this awful world!”

  “At least I tried. At least I fucking tried!” Hank has a seat on the couch in the living room.

  “What now? How do we end this?”

  “We can’t just kill him,” Hank says.

  “Why not? I could poison him. He won’t see that coming!”

  “With what? He won’t eat your cooking any longer. He got tired of the goddamned liver and biscuits just like I did!”

  “That’s all my Momma ever taught me to cook. So I’m sorry!” She has a seat next to Hank.

  “But…” he begins.

  “But what?”

  “What if you just try to cook something else?”

  “I’ve never tried,”

  “But can you?”

  “I might can. Do you think he’d eat it?” she asks.

  “It’s almost a guarantee!” Hank appears to think for a moment. “Do you think you can make eggs? Scrambled perhaps?”

  “I don’t even know how to crack an egg!”

  “Well you’d better watch the Food Network all fucking day then dear, because tonight you’re cooking some goddamn eggs!”

  The night came, and after an intense day of watching the Food Network, Sarah had mastered the art of egg cracking enough that she’d managed to scramble what appeared to be somewhat edible eggs. Keen walks through the front door and immediately notices the smell of something different.

  “What is that?” he says with a smile.

  “Why it’s eggs!” Sarah says.

  “No liver?” he asks.

  “Not tonight! I thought I’d try something new for once. Do you want some?” she asks. Keen stares at her for a moment. He wasn’t sure what to make of his Grandmother cooking something different. Sarah became nervous that he was growing suspicious.

  “Hell yeah I’ll have some!” he says as he has a seat at the table. Sarah places poisoned eggs on a plate in front of him on the table, and he begins to quickly eat them. “Oh my gosh these are amazing!” he glares up at his Grandma and smiles. “Thank you Grandm…” his head falls onto the table and into his plate as it’s detached from his neck with a blade. Sarah screams.

  “What the hell Hank?” she asks as Keen’s body falls over onto the table, his blood flowing into the floor.

  “Damn woman! Did you think some poison was going to kill the boy quickly?” Hank laughs. “You’re dumber than I thought!” Hank steps outside onto the porch and lights a cigarette. As he does, the sky begins to turn black, the ground shakes and splits open, fire falls from the sky. Sarah runs onto the porch.

  “What’s happening?” she asks.

  “Shit!” Hank says.

  “What Hank? What?”

  “I think we just fucked up!”

  “Don’t tell me…” she begins.

  “He was the savior, and we just killed him!” Hank takes a drag from his smoke. “Who knew it’d be that easy?”

  “Oh God!” Sarah cries out.

  “We just killed our God! There’s no need to cry out for him now,” Hank says. “This sucks Sarah. We actually had it right this time, and we fucked it up!”

  “I should have stuck to liver! He wouldn’t have been distracted with liver!”

  “Fuck your liver woman! Fuck your liver!”

  As the world goes up in flames, the ground opens under the home swallowing it whole, the world destroyed by the death of a savior, that was a bit of an ass.

  FORGIVEN

  BY NELSON SAMUELS

  He is an observant man with intense eyes. The type with a stare that could seem to cut right through you if given enough time for direct contact. His prematurely graying hair makes him appear wiser than he actually is, but at thirty eight, James Roven feels he has the entire world figured out and lying gently within the palm of his hands.

  He sits quietly, unnoticed within his blue Mustang Coupe by the curb of Wicker Street, just off Interstate 19. Unfamiliar with this particular neighborhood, the excitement of a new hunting ground always seems to excite him to the point of near erection. James tugs at his crotch.

  “Jesus Christ! I’ll have sat here and ji
zzed myself!” he says under his breath with a slight chuckle. A car begins to approach from the front of him, the lights shining brightly into his vision, and he slides down unnoticed within his seat, tilting his head gently to the side. As they pass, he refocuses his attention on the home he’s watched for the past hour.

  He’d arrived just as the sun was beginning to set. Noticing a young boy playing in the yard, he pulled the car over to watch. James wasn’t a sexual predator. No, he was much more than that. He would never have sex with a child. In his mind, he wasn’t one of the monsters that would do that sort of thing. They were his special projects.

  The lights of the home turn out for the night. He felt that now was the time for him to make his move. Opening his car door, he steps out, gently shuts it behind himself, and begins walking toward the backside of the home. He finds a window and peaks inside. Seeing who he assumes is the Mother lying in bed, he continues to walk until he reaches the next window. This was the one he wanted. There he was…so still. So beautiful.

  James manages to raise the window (he loved it when the homeowners were too ignorant to install proper security measures), and makes his way into the young boy’s room. He attempts to be as quiet as possible, but the young boy notices him. James pauses, but to his relief, the boy doesn’t scream.

  “Who are you?” the boy asks. He appears to be around the age of seven. Just as the age James likes them.

  “Santa,” James replies.

  “But you don’t look like Santa,” the boy replies.

  “Yeah I know.”

  “It’s not even Christmas yet,” he says. Smart kid.

  “I’ve came early, that’s why I don’t have my famous beard. I haven’t grown it yet,” quick thinking James. The boy thinks for a moment and rubs his eyes.

  “Did you bring me any toys?”

  “I sure did, but you’ll have to come with me to my sleigh. Can you do that?” James asks as he motions for the boy to follow him out of the window. The young boy steps out of bed, removes his teddy bear from underneath the blanket, and begins to follow the man he believed to be Santa. James helps him out of the window and leads him to his car.