by Peter Sacco
And who did she claim to be?
Oh yes, she was from hell and I traded my soul in exchange for everlasting life. I slapped myself gently and told myself to get a grip. I thought my mind might finally be experiencing some burn out. What really had happened is the night before, Trish caught me with another woman and she packed up and abandoned ship. I thought I should get dressed and do something with the rest of the day. If the red-headed chick was real, I’d hear about it at work tomorrow from Roger and the boys. If not, then it was all a dream. A good one I might add. As I got up to get myself together, I noticed dry blood in the fold of the thumb and index finger of my writing hand. It looked like the ink from the pen I had used to sign the deed. I also noticed a little cut on the palm of my hand. Quickly, I dispelled the myth of the bleeding pen. It was just a dream.
At work the next week, my colleagues, especially Roger, did not in any way dispel their partaking in this devious plot for getting even. By the end of the week, I had so much work on my plate, and inter-departmental meetings, I lost sight of the entire episode which happened on Sunday morning. That was until two weeks later.
I was entertaining in the penthouse once more, with an anthropology major whom I happened to meet in the school’s pub during lunch break. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, we were back at my place. Since Trish caught me, I hadn’t heard from her, or her lawyer. Until now! Tanya, my latest flame, and I were engaged in a water sports in my hot tub. I had the tunes on. Nothing like good sex and a little jazz. We were having one hell of a splash, until Trish walked in unexpectedly. It seemed she had used her key to drop off the divorce papers, however, she was intrigued by the moaning which came from the spa. Engaged in a wicked blow-job, I noticed the door fly open.
The draft sailed over my shoulder and was enough to send shivers down my spine until I saw the look of contempt in Trish’s eyes. Not even a Grizzly’s vengeance could have matched her look of rage.
Tanya and I were speechless. Finally, Tanya opened her mouth and sarcastically asked if the angry-looking bitch was my ex-wife. I could see the red in Trish’s eyes now. Before I knew what hit me, she tossed the radio, still plugged in to the wall socket, into the tub. Sparks flew everywhere. I could smell flesh cooking in the boiling water. Tanya’s pain was briefly extinguished with the popping out of her eyeballs from their sockets. Her mouth appeared to weld shut like vice-grips. The sweet and sickening smell of death filled the room.
Tanya’s body was tossed to one side of the tub arms draped over the sides. Her body stopped jolting from the electricity once a major circuit in the building’s main fuse panel blew. Oh yeah, I was in the tub the whole time with Tanya, and did not even feel a jolt of electricity, let alone a shock. The only shock I got from this entire experience was the surprise of what Trish had done. I couldn’t believe she had it in her. I also could not believe I was still alive. What the hell happened?
The next time frame was somewhat of a cognitive blur. I do remember the maintenance man and security guard standing over Tanya’s body as it floated in the hot tub. I was seated on my bed still in my skivvies when the police arrived. Trish was in total shock babbling on and on about how she killed Tanya and how I was the devil. Needless to say Trish was eventually charged. But the poor girl was a basket case and she would probably never be fit to stand trial. The police, not to mention the coroner, were very interested, as well as puzzled, as to how I walked away from the incident unscathed. I concocted a story which had me just barely getting out of the tub as Trish was tossing the radio into it. They told me how lucky I was to be alive, and in the future how I shouldn’t have electrical appliances too close to water. I sarcastically replied in the future I would avoid any similar circumstances by my never remarrying. The case was an open and shut case and I went on with my life. An infinite life, which I might add.
I could not believe it! I had signed my soul over to an incredible red-head claiming to be the devil. Was it all a dream? Was I going crazy? At least that is what I thought was happening in the beginning, until I started to gradually test the limitations of my mortal body.
The first occasion was much the same as my shocking experience in the hot tub. I had a very long day at work and the guys did not feel like going out after work for our customary ale. Come to think of it, they all seemed quite aloof after the incident with Trish. I think some of them believed I was a real prick and provoked the entire incident. I was surprised at the support offered me by the university and the media.
Anyway, I tested my latest hypothesis, that maybe the redhead was really who she claimed to be and maybe I was indestructible. Actually, the last little while, I required less sleep and felt so ambitious. I climbed into the hot tub, first turning on my new radio. After about an hour of debating whether this was sane or whether I was cracking up I decided to put the radio into the water. What the hell? If I fried myself, I deserved it for what happened to Tanya, not to mention my wife. I tossed the radio, which blared an old Van Halen tune, into the water. Instantly, on contact with the water, there was a zap sound, and the lights flickered again. This time the cord blew apart at the outlet. I was alive, not a burn, or any hair standing on end. End of story.
However, the tenants, not to leave out the maintenance man, must think I have some sort of death wish with the radio and the hot tub. My next trick was overdosing on tranquilizers. Like I said earlier. I had not needed as much sleep lately, if this was going to kill me, well, it would be a relatively painless end. I still could not grasp the notion that I was indestructible. Perhaps the laws of physics had changed and I was an exceptionally poor conductor for electricity. If the guys at work only knew what the hell their pompous colleague was doing in his spare time, while his wife rotted away in some loony-bin they’d certainly shoot me.
I had taken the whole bottle of tranquilizers and had a really deep, and sound sleep. I did, however, wake up the following morning bright and early, refreshed and ready to go. No signs of vertigo, not as much as a slight hangover.
I felt so alive and energetic, that today, on this Saturday morning, I was going to jump off the roof of my building. What the heck? It was only thirty-five stories high. After a quick cup of coffee and a bagel, I was off to play Superman.
I made it onto the roof around ten forty-five a.m. and I was on the street two minutes later. It took me a few moments to survey the area and make sure no one was in the vicinity. What a jump! I have never experienced anything so wild and exhilarating. I actually passed a damn seagull on the way down. I even caught a glimpse of the hot blonde on the ninth floor stepping out of the shower. I was quite proud of myself. For it only being my first jump, I landed on my two feet, stumbling just a bit. I was sure with a little practice I would be much better at leaping tall buildings in a single bound and landing with a perfect score. Now, I thought, how else could I try to get myself killed?
By the end of the day, I had thrown myself in front of the subway, got hit by at least eight vehicles, jumped through a bay window, jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge, stabbed myself through the heart, hung myself, tried to drown myself, and shoved my head in a five hundred degree oven. I must admit things did get a little messy when I stabbed myself, but the wound instantly cauterized. I kept thinking to myself what the folks at work would think, not to mention the papers. “PROFESSOR TRIES TO KILL HIMSELF TEN DIFFERENT WAYS ON SATURDAY, BUT WALKS AWAY UNSCATHED!” Gee, what does he do on his Friday nights for fun? I was like a kid in a candy store not knowing where to go next. I was definitely having fun.
***
I had it made. I could not be harmed in any way, shape or form. I could have really taken advantage of the situation and knocked off every corner store, not to mention bank and walked away even if they shot me. Wouldn’t ‘t that have been something if I got caught committing some heinous crime and they sentenced me to life in prison. I sure as hell would have been screwed for life!
Right now, for the most part, I had the world by the balls and really could get away with murder; my murder.
This new-found power of mine changed me in ways which are difficult to explain. It wasn’t like I was becoming more arrogant than I already was. Rather, I was growing more aloof from life, no longer considering the consequences. I was no longer savoring the moment. Time was a commodity I would possess forever, so why get wrapped up in a happening, when I would always be making things happen?
This new life I was living was also affecting my sex life. I had a totally insatiable appetite for sex. I could never get enough of it. It was like a constant marathon. At one point I did eleven different women in one day. For the first time in my life I even paid for the services of a prostitute. It was one Wednesday, in the wee hours of the morning, when I got this incredible appetite for pussy.
I left my apartment, with one hell of a hard-on and wandered the streets until I found something worthwhile. The streets were relatively barren at four in the morning. On my way back to my pad, I came across some hooker heading home from work. I asked her if she would like to come back to my place, but she did not speak English very fluently. She looked like some babe that just jumped ship from Mexico. My Spanish wasn’t the greatest, but I could get by. We made small talk for a while and she kept telling me I should find some other whore because she was sick. She said she felt like she was coming down with the flu. I told her it did not matter. What the hell, just a couple of weeks ago I popped one of my students who had a terrible case of herpes. I imagine I have also slept with a lot worse in recent weeks, but hey, I’m immune to pain.
I even tried to catch rabies by going into the lab at school and injecting myself with the disease. I did not even salivate the slightest. After about five minutes of forceful persuasion, I pulled out a hundred spot and we were off to my place. Sex with her wasn’t the greatest, but it was a piece of ass. The broad wasn’t kidding when she said she wasn’t feeling well. She vomited violently all over the ceramic tile on the bathroom wall, and once more on the carpet in the hallway. The skin around her eyes also seemed to look very tight and leathery. She also said her teeth had been bleeding a lot lately.
Before she left my place, I noticed a charm that must have fallen from her purse. It was really quite strange looking. I asked her what it was and she said a friend gave it to her to ward off evil spirits. She was about to tell me about the cult she belonged to when I abruptly told her good night and pushed her out the door. The last thing I needed to hear about was evil spirits.
The walls started to cave in almost immediately after I met that damn whore. Almost two weeks later I felt like I was coming down with the flu. I thought maybe all of the students coming in and out of my office, leaving their germs behind, were finally wearing at my immune system. After further thought, that shouldn’t have been the case, because let’s face it, I’m Dr. Immune To Pain. Perhaps my luck was changing and no longer was I going to live forever. Maybe the red-headed she-bitch had reneged on her offer. So I put my hypothesis to the test and threw myself off the top of the penthouse building that night. I still had to work on my landing, but other than that, I was all in one piece. What the heck was going on here? My body felt like it was undergoing some sort of metamorphosis within. I finally concluded, maybe it was all part of my eternal package and this was my body’s way of replenishing itself after all of the stress I had been putting it through.
The flu-like symptoms persisted, as well as my insatiable sexual appetite. I was still scoring with the chicks an awful lot. This kind of kept my mind off the illness I was experiencing. Then things really began to get worse health-wise one night. It happened after some really good sex I had with one of my coeds.
We had just finished having great sex and rolled over onto my stomach to catch a brief nap. You know how women are after sex. They find it imperative to cuddle. Barbara, that was her name, started to rub the nape of my neck and I screamed at her to stop because the pain was excruciating. It felt like a huge throbbing lump was trying to squeeze itself through my skin. After several attempts to prevent Barbara from seeing what it was, she finally pushed my hair back and caught a glimpse of the mutation. I honestly thought she was going to puke, from the look on her face. She moved away from me like I was a leper.
Finally, she showed me a little compassion, and handed me a compact from her purse so I might see it for myself. When I caught a glimpse of it, I thought I was going to puke. Whatever the hell it was looked like something that crawled out of my nose the last time I had the flu. It was a sickening greenish, red lump, the size of a golf ball, that appeared to be throbbing. Ever so compassionate, once more, Barbara suggested I have it looked after by a doctor and then hooked it out the door. So much for the great pillow-talk after sex.
The next morning when I awoke, the first thing I did was go over to the mirror. I had put ice on the lump last night which really made it throb like a bitch. The ice must have worked because the swelling was down somewhat and the pain was much more tolerable. Something else startled me as I gazed into the mirror. The skin around my eyes appeared to be growing wrinkles. The skin was no longer elastic but appeared to be cured, almost like leather. Suddenly I remembered the whore I brought home a few weeks ago. Her eyes had been leathery looking, like a lizard’s. What else about her? I tried to remember in more detail. I remember she had vomited. And yes! I remember her teeth had bled. So here went nothing. I smiled my pearly whites into the mirror, and almost crap myself. Several of my teeth were bleeding. Whatever the hell she had, she had given it to me!
Within the next week, I was falling apart. My eyes looked like they were ready to be made into a handbag. I tried some of those wrinkle creams but they were as effective as a band-aid for a gunshot wound. My teeth were all aching and bleeding. I was having one hell of a time eating and had all but lost my appetite for food. On the other hand, my sexual cravings were still very much intact. In fact, they appeared to be growing more intense. I had tried to have sex a few times with different women over the last week but they were slightly turned off by the drooling blood from the corner of my mouth. I still was getting my fair share of ass anyway.
The following week I was really getting worse. I was starting to lose my hair in clumps. Every morning when I woke up, balls of hair would be lying all over my pillows. When combing my hair, you would swear I was thatching dead grass. I also lost a couple of teeth in the process. Other changes were also shocking the hell out of me. I was developing some kind of cysts all over my body. They were especially predominant on my ass and my penis. Damn they hurt like a son of a bitch. I still wanted to screw like a dog in heat though.
Desperate times called for desperate measures so I did something that I do not normally do. I went to see a doctor. It had been at least ten years since my last examination. Needless to say he was quite surprised to see me, and even more shocked to see me in my current state. He gave me a complete physical. He told me my blood pressure and heart rate were normal if that was any consolation. My temperature was also surprisingly normal. Further examination, he concluded there could be a couple of things affecting me. Dr. Harris said there was no point in guessing. He sent me down to the lab for tests and scheduled me for a follow-up in a few days. As I left the building, I remember a peculiar question he asked me. He had asked me if I had been to Africa recently and if I had been bitten by any snakes. Who’s got time for Africa when you have the jungles of New York?
The cysts on my body were now becoming open blisters. They very much resembled the large growth I once had on the back of my neck, which was now completely gone. At least something had healed. Another tooth went missing in action in the meantime. I was growing more and more disturbed each time I looked in the mirror. I was beginning to resemble a survivor from some sort of nuclear fallout. You’ve heard those commercials that ask, “Are you experiencing hair loss? Then try New Growth!” My scalp was melting away! I dou
bt very much New Growth was going to do the trick. The doctor finally called me three days later and told me I had better get to the clinic, now! He sounded quite troubled on the phone. In fact he sounded extremely troubled. I asked him to tell me what he had found. He kept telling me I better come there now.
I went to the clinic and after hearing what he had to say, I wish I hadn’t. As it turns out, yours truly has blood that has never been seen under any microscope, ever. As a matter of fact, the boys in the lab thought my blood sample was some sort of joke. Who has ever heard of green blood? My blood was red, like anyone else’s, but when coagulated it turned a very striking shade of green. My doctor told me I should take an indefinite leave of absence from the school and have myself checked into the hospital for a battery of tests. I had already taken the last two weeks off from school, so what the hell, what’s a couple of more years. My sarcasm was growing to a feverish pitch.
After listening to the doctor’s advice, I was more depressed than ever. My self-esteem was definitely taking a shit-kicking. I went out and roamed the streets. I met up with some prostitute at a nearby bar and made small-talk. All she wanted to talk about was how sick I looked and death was probably right around my corner. This did not boost my confidence, nor did the fact she found me so repulsive. For the next couple of months, I wandered the streets of New York looking for the whore. I had taken an indefinite leave from the school. I thought I might get some flak but when the Dean caught a glimpse of me, he couldn’t sign the papers fast enough. Hell, if I saw myself on the street, I, too, would turn and run the other way. From the time I met that whore until now, I had shed forty-five pounds from my once athletic, well-kept one hundred and ninety pound frame. I began to sport a baseball cap to hide my almost bald head, and learnt to keep my mouth shut, so as not to lose any more teeth. I was definitely the specimen. As for what species, I can’t imagine.
