C. LaSart - Ad Nauseam - 13 Tales of Extreme Horror

“Maybe if you weren’t so fucking high all the time. Never mind. I’ll tell you about it.” Chantal turned her chair so she faced Liza but could still see the computer. “There’s this guy on the internet. He’s always looking for videos and shit. Has some real crazy tastes. Wants videos of bestiality and eating shit and stuff. You know, one of those real sick fuckers. Always wants to watch some chick drinking cum out of a cup or some shit.”

Liza nodded knowingly, though she looked bored, picking at her badly polished nails.

“ Anyways, he’s on here. Always a different last name and email address so no one can find him, but you can tell it’s him from the messages. So I’ve seen him around and apparently everyone says he pays good for what he gets, so he’s on the level.”

Liza rolled her eyes.

“Okay! I’m getting to it. He’s on here yesterday and he says he’ll pay a million dollars for a video of a chick getting it on with a dude who has angel lust.”

“What the hell is angel lust?” The mention of a million dollars instantly cured Liza’s boredom. She leaned forward in her chair, all business now.

“I was wondering the same thing, so I looked it up. I guess sometimes when a guy dies, he gets a boner. Like a permanent boner. The morticians have ways to make it go away so you’re not like staring at uncle Bob in the casket and he’s got a big ol’ hard-on or nothing, but I guess it happens like that.”

“So this dude wants a video of some chick fucking a dead guy? That’s some messed up shit, Chantal”.

“I know it, but a million bucks? Are you kidding me? I’d fuck anything for a million bucks.”

“So why are you telling me about this?” Liza’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Cuz I can’t do this by myself. Someone has to tape the shit.”

“What’s in it for me?” Liza still looked uncertain.

“Half.”

“Half?”

“Yeah, that’s five hundred thousand for each of us.” Chantal seemed pleased, but Liza still looked skeptical.

“Would I hafta pay taxes on it?”

Chantal threw up her hands in disgust and stood, grabbing the bottle out of the other woman’s hand and taking a big swallow before she began to pace the room, gesturing angrily.

“I don’t know why I even bother with you, Liza. Sometimes you’re so goddamned dumb I can’t stand it. Of course you don’t gotta pay taxes on it. Do you pay taxes on your fuck money?”

“Okay, okay. Calm down. I didn’t say I wasn’t in. I’m just wondering why you would even wanna share it with me. You could always put a camera on the dresser or something.” Liza said.

“I know I could. But for a million bucks he’s gonna want something good. And besides, you’re my only friend—my best friend —and I thought this thing might help us both get our lives together. Get us out of these piece of shit motels and away from blowing nasty fucks for food.”

“I don’t mind blowing nasty fucks so long as they got the money.”

“Never mind. I’ll do it myself. I thought you might want a better life for yourself. We aren’t that young anymore and you can’t turn tricks forever.”

Liza grabbed the bottle back and took a swig, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. The cheap vodka burned its way down her throat, warming her belly and making her flush.

“Drop the drama, Chantal. I’m in. So what we gotta do? I don’t think we can just walk into the morgue and ask to check out all the dead dude’s pricks. It’s not Walmart, I doubt they have a lay- away program.”

“Of course not. We can’t exactly get a mortician to let us fuck one of his corpses, either. Well, probably not. The way I see it, we’re gonna have to make a case of angel lust.”

“Make a case?” Liza was confused again.

“Yeah. I’ve been looking it up and there’s certain ways to die that make it more likely.”

“Whoa! Now just wait a minute.” Liza held up her hands. “You mean you think we’re gonna go around offing dudes in hopes they die with a goddamned hard-on? Are you crazy?”

“It wouldn’t be so hard to do. There’s plenty of bums around that won’t be missed and we can split town as soon as we get the money.”

“Yeah, right. And the second the pigs find the body, they come get us cuz we both have records and our prints are on file for hooking.”

Chantal shrugged and smiled, “So we wear gloves.”

“I don’t know. Fuckin a dead guy is bad enough, but I don’t know if I can actually kill someone, Chantal. That’s pretty fuckin heavy.”

“I know it is, Liza. It’s a big deal, but so is half a million dollars. The cops in this town are too busy to put much time into a dead wino or two, and we can be sitting on some beach a gazillion miles away as soon as we get paid. You know, weed is pretty much legal in Jamaica.”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know.” Liza worried at a ragged cuticle. She thought about what it would be like to live in a place where she wouldn’t get picked up for drugs. It would be awful sweet .

“Well I’m gonna contact the perv. You take a couple days and think on whether you wanna be rich or not.”

Three days later, Liza and Chantal huddled under an unused bridge sharing a cigarette. A gym bag and a coil of nylon rope sat on the ground between them. It took Liza one whole day to decide she wanted to be rich. Chantal figured the fact she had been roughed up by a john that same night had helped her decide. It was raining out, a fine drizzle that made their bones ache and reminded the hookers they were getting too damn old for this life.

Soon we’ll be living on easy street , Chantal thought, discreetly watching a bum stretched out under the bridge. He’d been there for at least forty-five minutes. He seemed to be passed out.

“Okay. What do we do now?” Liza’s hands were shaking, more from nerves than the cold. She appeared sober, miserably so. Chantal had insisted she stay as clean as possible for the task. No use making stupid mistakes because she was loaded.

“See that framework on the underside of the bridge? I’ll climb up the side and toss the rope through, then you wrap it around his neck. I read that hanging causes the angel lust more than anything else.” Chantal held up the noose and Liza looked at it in admiration.

“Where’d you learn to tie a knot like that?”

“My Dad taught me.”

“Didn’t your old man used to fuck you, too?”

“Yeah. He taught me a lot of things. Now get ready to put it over his head.” Chantal started to step away, but Liza gripped her elbow.

“Hold on!” She whispered. “Why do I have to do the noosing? How about I do the climbing.”

Chantal rolled her eyes. “Okay, whatever. But you have to be ready to jump down and pull on that sucker with all of your weight if he wakes up. We’re only going to get one shot at this.”

“Okay, but wait!” Liza grabbed her arm a second time, the vibration from her high-strung body making Chantal feel like her teeth were rattling. “What if someone sees us?”

“Look, Liza. We’ve been over this a hundred times. Nobody comes around here this late at night. And if someone was driving by, they can’t see shit that’s happening under the bridge from the road, anyway. Now put on your gloves and let’s do this.”

Liza grabbed her one more time and it took all of Chantal’s control not to punch her square in the nose. Though she wouldn’t admit it, her own nerves weren’t exactly steady, and planning a murder was a whole lot easier than committing one.

“What, Liza?”

“We aren’t gonna—I mean, we won’t actually fuck him under the bridge, will we?”