Edward Lee - Header 2

Case Piece heard very little of the clinical explanation, the visual horror before him all too corrupting. “So-so-so…so that’s what you do? You stick a dude’s head in her cooch? ”

“Dude, chick, whatever we want,” Paulie bragged. “Like I said, we use her for the sick-flicks, but also for hardcore vendetta. Say a judge steps hard on one of my crew. We ask him politely to lay off, and if he don’t?” Paulie chuckled. “Then we ask him not so politely. And say this judge has a 5-year-old kid. We snatch some other 5-year-old kid out of the ghetto, pack the kid’s head in Melda’s pussy and smother him to death. Then we send the video to the judge with a note that says, ‘Stop stepping on my guy or next time it’ll be your kid who gets the action.’ Works every time. One time this RICO agent killed one of my lieutenants, then bragged about it in the paper. We nabbed his 19-year-old princess daughter right off the campus at NYU. Tied her up, taped her mouth so she can’t bite, then plugged the bitch’s head right into Melda’s slot. And while she’s smotherin’ in there, Argi and Cristo are takin’ turns fuckin’ her. We’d plug her head in, fuck her some, then right before she’s about to croak, we pull her out. Did that shit for like a half-hour. In, out, in, out. Finally we left the bitch in and she suffocated, then we haul her out and Cristo fucks her dead body one more time for…what’s the word, Doc?” He snapped his fingers. “Prosperity?”

“ Posterity, sir.”

“Right. Then we Priority-Mailed the video to the fed. Fuck him. But he sure as shit learned his lesson.” Paulie nodded. “Shit, I’ll bet we’ve snuffed a dozen folks in Melda’s pussy, right Melda?”

Melda—evidently possessed of some enduring vaginal muscles, more than likely through sheer practice —remained with her massive legs pulled up, still displaying the enlarged orifice of horror. “Oh, no, Paulie, more like fifteen, sixteen.”

“And, boss,” Argi urged. “Don’t forget to tell Case Piece about the Parsall job.”

Paulie gave the thumbs up. “Oh, yeah, that was beautiful. Brand-new police chief got elected in Oneida County couple of years ago, cocky fuck named Parsall, and the fucker had the balls to put all our pictures in the paper and a headline sayin’ some shit like ‘It’s All Out War Against the Mob.’ Guy starts bustin’ our numbers nets, fucks with our casinos, turns half our fuckin’ street dealers into informants, even sends DEA all our profiles, like that. Well, I didn’t dig it, so… Shit, Argi, it was your work so you get the honors.”

Argi bragged, “The chief, see, his wife just had a baby, so like a day after, me and my crew dress up like doctors and sneak into the maternity ward and we snatch the one-day-old kid.” Argi winked. “Get it?”

Case Piece stared. His mouth fell open.

“We packed the whole baby right up Melda’s cunt and smothered it to death—”

“—then sent the video to the chief,” Paulie finished. “Melda makes for the best vendetta ever, I’m tellin’ ya. We found her in the Newark slums, had a brother-in-law who ran markers for us. What a find, huh, Case Piece?”

Case Piece could make no response.

“All right,” Paulie announced. “It’s party time.”

The muffled screams that exploded within Highball’s taped-shut mouth sounded more like bad brakes. Cristo, in the meantime, opened up a tub of I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter, scooped out a handful, and slathered it all over Highball’s head, after which he and his confederate picked the ill-fortuned woman up, held her parallel to the floor in the fashion of a battering ram, then—

The muffled screams shot round and round the room.

—eased her head into the gaping abysm of flesh that was Melda’s vagina.

Highball’s restrained body, quite reasonably, vibrated. Her screams were now barely audible yet the sound was somehow more disturbing. She shuddered and quaked, flipped and flopped, quivered and shivered.

Case Piece just stared.

“Shit, this is fun!” Paulie enthused. “Can you imagine that? Havin’ your head crammed in a box like that? And the stink? See, that’s why we don’t let her wash, Case Piece. The grosser the pussy, the harder the party, huh?”

Hmmm…

After a minute, Argi and Cristo pulled Highball’s head out, and from that head the most wicked stench fumed. “It’s your call, boss?” Agri pointed out. “We give her a break, or we stick her back in?”

Paulie made a studied expression as he contemplated Highball’s fate.

Even Cristo, the most sociopathic of the lot, lent these words of leniency. “You know, boss, sure—she gave us some hard lip but like Case Piece said, she didn’t know who we were. I mean, fuck. You wanna smother her to death in a giant pussy just ’cos of that? ”

“Not sure,” Paulie said, still thinking. “What about you, Doc?”

Dr. Prouty took a handkerchief away from his mouth. “I think, sir, that this is perhaps one of those instances when forgiveness and compassion are in order.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Paulie considered. He looked at Highball’s terror-twisted faced.

Beneath the duct tape, the muted plea could be heard: “Please! Please don’t kill me!”

Paulie tapped a foot, winced, then said “Fuck it. I just don’t like the bitch’s face. Put her back in, guys.”

“Back in?” Argi asked.

“Back in. Kill her.”

Now the muted screams sounded anything but human as—

“One…two…three…”

—Higball’s head was reinserted into Melda’s vagina, the blond prostitute’s face slowly but surely swallowed.

“Aw right, Melda. Batten down the hatch. I want the bitch smothered.”

“Oh, right away, Paulie,” the hideous woman complied, and the preposterous rim of her vulva constricted.

“See, Case Piece,” Paulie explained. “Just ’cos Melda’s got the biggest, sloppiest cunt in the world, she’s done this so many times that her pussy muscles are…are—” Paulie snapped his fingers. “Doc, what am I tryin’ to say?”

“Perhaps…gymnastically adroit, sir?”

“Yeah, that’s what I meant. Melda, she can lock that cooch down. Like a kid suckin’ a jawbreaker, I ain’t kiddin’ ya.”

The near-death-throes of Highball reached up into Melda’s body like some heinous form of conduction, to the point that the obese woman began to quiver as well, mounds of cellulite-stricken fat oscillating rather spectacularly. But it was Case Piece who finally snapped out of his utter incogitation and made this final plea to Paulie: “Shit, man! This is fuckin’ awful, Paulie! She really deserve ta die like this? I mean,” and he leaned over. “You ain’t even had time to peel-eye her bone-covers, man.” Case Piece quickly unbuttoned Highball’s overcoat, revealing all of the girl’s sexual attributes at once: the desirous curves, the unflawed implants, the trim stomach and sleek white-trash legs.

Paulie took one look and gulped. “Holy shit! That’s a brick-shit-house body if I ever seen one—Argi, Cristo! Pull her out!”

‘Pull her out?” Argi questioned. “But you just said kill her.”

“ Don’t kill her! Pull her out!”

The sound of the withdrawal was akin to a booted foot lifting up from ankle-deep mud. Highball was pulled out, and she was dropped to the floor. Argi peeled off the tape.

“Today’s your lucky day, bitch,” he said.

Highball heaved upward, cock-eyed and gasping for breath. Her eyes looked fit to jettison.

Argi nudged her with his foot. “The boss decided to let your sorry ass live. So what do ya say?”