TYBEE ISLAN
ISLAND
Continued from the September 2020 Beachcomber.
Catch up @ http://tybeebeachcomber.com/magazine
CHAPTER 38 - THE PORK PECKER
DAY 11
“My fingers!” Brian shouts in shock. “What the hell man?! You cut off my
damn fingers!”
“You’re lucky I don’t cut something else off,” Richie says calmly. “What
did you think I was feeding Joe-T anyway?”
“Damn you are one sick f…”
“What did I tell you about your language? It’s not nice to upset Joe-T
before he gets a chance to have his supper.”
“AAAAAHHHHH! Dammit Richie!” Brian shouts as he struggles against his
bindings. “I swear to god when I get out of here…”
“There’ll be no swearing in here my friend. Unless you want me to take
the rest of the fingers on your left hand. As it stands now, you still have a
thumb, pointer finger, and middle finger to flick off the police with.”
“AAAAHHHHH! It hurts!”
“That’s why I put some ibuprofen in the water you drank earlier. It’ll take
a few minutes for it to kick in.”
“Ibuprofen? Are you freaking kidding me?”
“It’s a pain killer after all,” Richie says.
“First of all, it’s weak as hell. Secondly, IT’S A BLOOD THINNER!”
“Actually, at the academy, they told us it was more of an anti-coagulant.
It slows the process of blood clotting.”
“What the hell man?”
“There’s a bucket under your hands behind the chair. I’m making
smoothies for Joe-T as a nice dessert later.”
Brian grits his teeth and mumbles under his breath. “Damn zombie
apocalypse and I get captured by a sadistic, zombie loving, insane ass
COP!”
Richie leans toward Brian and grabs the bridge of his nose. “Nose still
broke Brian?” He squeezes. “Does that hurt?”
Brian groans in pain.
“Respect, Brian. Have a little respect.”
Blood is flowing from Brian’s nose once again. Joe-T sees it and begins
to grunt and stir.
“Hold on there Joe-T, your meal is almost ready.” He turns and looks at
Brian again. “He likes a nicely plated meal. Presentation can turn a good
meal into a great meal. I’ll be right back.”
When he reaches the kitchen door, he turns around and looks at Joe-T
and Brian. “Okay boys, I’ll be just one minute. No fighting while I’m gone.
You two get along, you hear?”
Once he goes through the door and is out of sight Brian says under his
breath, “No fighting? I’m going to murder your crazy ass.”
Brian leans forward in his chair and looks toward the undead Joe-T.
30 TYBEE BEACHCOMBER | OCT 2020
By By Paul Paul Cales Cales & Becca
“This blood making you hungry, huh? Well it’s also making my hands very
slippery. I think I can slip my hands… out… of…these…ROPES.” Brian
works the knot to the rope that’s around his chest. He re-ties it so it will slip
off him when he stands up. He does the same to the rope that is binding his
feet together. “Don’t you say a single damn word to Richie about this either
you sick undead heathen!” He finishes setting up the rope around his wrists
just as Richie comes back into the bar.
“Okay boys! It’s dinner time!” Richie says as he walks behind the bar
with two plates. On one plate are Brian’s two fingers neatly placed on a bed
of arugula lettuce with a balsamic glaze drizzled stylishly on the top. On the
second plate is three small pickled pork sausages with toothpicks sticking
out of each one.
“You’ve got to be kidding me Richie! You’re seriously sick.”
“Don’t worry Brian, I can feed you both at the same time.”
“I’m not hungry asshole!”
“Don’t be like that. Watch. I’ll show you how this is supposed to go.”
Richie waves the plate of fingers under Joe-T’s nose. “There you go buddy.
Smell those delicious fingers.” Joe-T squirms and snarls at the sight and
smell of the disembodied fingers. Richie picks up Brian’s pinky and holds
it above Joe-T’s head. “Here you go buddy. Open wide.” Joe-T stretches
his neck toward the impending meal. Richie drops the finger into Joe-T’s
awaiting mouth. He chomps down on the finger, snapping the bones. Brian
can almost feel his finger snap under the pressure of Joe-T’s jaws. “Look
at him Brian. Just look at him! See? He’s happy Joe-T again! Now it’s your
turn!”
“Oh god! You’re freaking demented!”
Richie grabs one of the pickled sausages and holds it out toward Brian.
“This one’s for you.”
“What the hell is that? Is that your tiny pork pecker, ya stinking PIG?”
“Fine, if you don’t want it I’ll eat it,” Richie says, and pops the sausage
into his mouth. He turns back to Joe-T. “Ready for the second half of your
meal?” Richie dangles Brian’s ring finger above Joe-T’s head.
Brian slips his hands back out of his bindings, pulls the rope off his chest,
and kicks the rope from around his ankles.
Richie’s attention is on Joe-T. “Ready buddy? Here comes the airplane…
The hanger door is open…”
Brian grabs a bottle of gin by the neck from the well liquor rack and
raises it above Richie’s head. When Richie begins to make airplane noises
for Joe-T, Brian crashes the bottle into Richie’s head. Glass and gin fly in
all directions. Richie slumps forward into Joe-T, knocking him and his chair
over backward.
He grabs the key ring off of Richie’s utility belt, grabs the pistol and a
bar towel off the bar, and heads toward the door. As he reaches the door he
turns around and looks at the scene. “I hope he eats your sorry ass. And I
hope you get indigestion from eating that, doughnut eating cop bastard, ya
undead asshole!”
He closes the door and walks toward the police cruiser.
To be continued…
Where the Paranormal is the Normal
/magazine