Jeff Strand - Graverobbers Wanted - No Experience Necessary

"Hmmmm...letme see if you're scaring me yet." The Apparition pretended to think that over."Nope, not yet. I'll let you know if things change."

"Fine," I said, motioning toward the recliner with the gun. "Why don't you have a seat?"

"Nah, I'm pretty comfortable here on the floor."

"I said,why don't you have a seat?"

"And I said I'm pretty comfortable here on the floor."

"Do you honestly think that after watching a guy being tortured to death with aspork I'm going to hesitate in shooting asicko like you?"

The Apparition nodded. "Yeah, I do."

I hate confident people.

"Listen to me, you piece of shit," I said, hoping that profanity would indicate exactly how serious I was. "If you don't get up right now and park your ass on that couch, I'm going to push this gun against your kneecap, pull the trigger, and hope that our neighbors are heavy sleepers. Do you understand?"

"I understand, but I stillain't getting' up."

This wasn't fair. I had the gun, so I was supposed to have the upper hand.

"I'm not kidding," I said.

"I never said you were."

Damn, damn, damn! Now I either had to make good on my threat or be seen as a nothing-but-talk weenie. And I didn't think I could work up the nerve to actually blow a hole through his knee.

Okay, if intimidation wasn't going to work at the moment, I'd just have to rely on good old fashioned brute force. I walked over, grabbed The Apparition by his shirt collar, and yanked him to his feet. Then I clamped my hand on the back of his neck and forced him into the dining room, where I slammed him down onto a chair.

"Stay there," I said.

I walked into the kitchen, keeping the revolver pointed at him at all times. He didn't move, so he obviouslyhadsome doubts about my unwillingness to shoot. I searched through some drawers until I found what I was looking for. Duct tape.

"Sure you don't want to talk?" I asked, twirling the spool of tape around my index finger. "You're about to become a lot less comfortable."

"You know,I'mtryin ' to get scared, but for some reason I just can't. Idunno what it is."

Fine.The cheeky bastard was getting taped to the chair. I set the gun on the counter and prepared myself in case he should make any sudden moves. I punched him in the stomach to keep him from squirming,then wrapped the tape around each of his hands, fixing them to the arms of the chair. Once that was done, I wrapped the tape around his chest until the spool was empty.

"Comfy?" I asked.

He didn't respond. I went back to the drawers and picked up a meat cleaver. I wished I could do some fancy moves, tossing it in the air like a master chef, but I figured that accidentally chopping off my own hand would cost me some intimidation points.

"Okay, we're going to play a little game," I said. "It's called Tell Me What I WantTo Know Or I'll Cut Off Your Fingers One By One You Psychotic Bastard."

"I'm not a psycho, I only work for one," The Apparition corrected.

"You're not taking this very seriously. Don't you like your fingers? Haven't they provided you with many years of service? Think about all the times you've had the convenience of being able to hold objects or wear rings. If you don't cooperate now, you'll never be able to flip the bird at a lousy driver ever again."

"I'll have to deal with it."

Why did he have to be so difficult? If I had to resort to genuine torture to get the information out of him, well, I'd do it! To save five innocent people I could certainly bring myself to sadistically torture one scumbag.

"Okay," I said. I pressed the blade of the meat cleaver against his little finger. "Say goodbye to Mr. Pinky."

"There'sgonna be a lot of blood," he said.

"I've seen blood."

"Then don't let me stop you."

I applied a little more pressure to the cleaver, not enough to even break the skin, let alone chop through the bone. My stomach was beginning to churn, but I had to be strong. One finger gone and this jerk would tell me anything I wanted to know. I balled my other hand into a fist and raised it above the cleaver, preparing to slam it down.

"Last chance," I said.

"I consider myself fully warned."

I brought my fist down. But right before striking the cleaver I quickly changed direction and slammed my hand over my mouth. I darted over to the counter and promptly vomited in the sink. It was not a grand moment for my dignity.

The Apparition began to laugh loudly.

I wiped my mouth off on my sleeve and gave him the most evil look of which I was capable. It would probably have been more evil if I hadn't been positively sick to my stomach. I can pretty much handle snuff videos and people ripping their eyes out, but being the instigator of gruesome violence myself was way too much.

"Nice show, Mayhem," The Apparition sneered. "Glad to see I didn't misjudge you! Maybe for an encore you can piss your pants!"

I coughed a few times, and then turned on the faucet to rinse away the evidence of my inability to handle the rough stuff. I retrieved the meat cleaver from where it had fallen on the floor and placed it back against his finger. "Let's try this again," I said, my voice squeaking in a mostunmasculine manner.

"Oh, give it up," The Apparition suggested. "What do you care if those people die, anyway? Faceit, youain't got what it takes to stop this. You're a loser."

"You think I'm a loser?" I asked, raising the meat cleaver. "Is that what you think? We'll see who's a loser after I slam this cleaver right through your skull!" I began to pace back and forth, swinging the cleaver wildly through the air. "I've had it with your bullshit! I've had it! You don't want to talk, that's fine! I don't care anymore! I'm done being your boss'sfreakin ' puppet!"

I kicked one of the chairs as hard as I could,knocking it over. "You think I'm a loser, myparents think I'm a loser, my wife thinks I'm a loser, fine! You hear me?Fine!" I slammed the cleaver into the table, imbedding it in the wood. I started to pry it out, but it was stuck pretty firmly and I didn't want The Apparition to see me struggle with it. Instead I pulled open the top drawer with so much force that it popped all the way out, scattering utensils all over the floor with a huge crash. I reached down, but grabbed a piece of a broken plate rather than a fork or knife.

"I've had it!" I nearly shouted. "I'm ending this whole thing right here, right now, starting with you!" I raised the broken plate like a dagger, and then smashed it against the side of the chair so that splinters of glass sprayed up onto his face. Then I pushed the tip of the remaining chunk against his throat, hard enough that a small trickle of blood ran down his neck.

The Apparition had gone completely pale. Apparently he'd decided that I was starting to become a threat to his personal safety.

He stiffened, made a soft gasping sound, and then slumped forward, motionless.

"Uh..." I said.

I reached over and pressed my fingers against his neck. No pulse. It looked as if I'd given the old guy a fatal heart attack. I was getting a little tired of watching these.

I stood there in shock for a long, long moment. Then I reacted.

"You son of a bitch!"I shouted at him."You miserable prick! Where do you get off dying on me?" I resisted the urge to kick his chair over and settled for kicking the refrigerator instead. That hurt, so I quit.

I returned to the living room and plopped down on the recliner.Great.Just great.Wonderful. Super.Dandy.Delightful.Peachy.

Shit!

Reverse Snowflake walked into the room and hissed at me. I told him to shut up and go away.

Okay, technically I wasn't much worse off than I had been before I'd broken into the house, except that I was directly responsible for a dead body in the kitchen, and when the police eventually became involved I was going to have a bit of difficulty explaining it. The self-defense argument doesn't quite hold water when the victim is tied to a chair with duct tape.