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author. codes: M+f+/ SM / humil / viol /
caution / anal / nc
WARNING: This story delves into aberrant sex
practices that might well offend you. If so, please leave. Some of
the sex depicted is consensual, some not. I don't condone it. I'm
not advocating it. I may or may not even like it. It's simply a
fantasy, a product of my imagination, and thus, completely fictitious. Peace, brothers
& sisters.
Before you read it, please note the following:
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The ol’
Switcheroo
(An Erotic Horror Story)
by
Bad
Robot
(aka Hunsi)
Book cover Picture
Click to meet the players
/files/Authors/HumblePie/fishin.jpg
Part I
Focusing in on a childrens park in downtown 'Nowhere-Ville'
----
"All rise," the Court Bailiff announced. “Let it be recorded that at
"Please be seated," the right
honorable justice Mopple said upon taking his seat
behind the Bench. "Now then, this afternoon we’ll begin the sentencing
phase of the trial of Mr. Pudge Maplethorpe. And as Mr. Maplethorp
has admitted to his guilt upon taking the stand in his own defense this morning,
all that remains is for me to determine the sentence he shall receive."
"The Laws specific to those previously
found guilty of performing an indecent act before a person below the age of
majority vary only in the amount of time to be served. And while Mr. Maplethorpe
does admit to his guilt, just as he had in his five previous appearances before
for this court, I would think a sentence on the higher end of that scale would
certainly be in order."
"However, given that this is his fifth such
conviction for the exact same crime, I truly believe
another solution need be found.
Leastwise I fear this court will again find this menace to society right
back here in court pleading guilty to the same crime in the future, and the
future after that."
"Now, if you’ll allow me, I’d like to take a
moment to pose a question to this court.
Is it just me, or does anyone else see a problem here?”
“For men such as Mr. Maplethrope,
this whole crime and punishment process amounts to nothing more than a revolving
door. It serves neither him, nor the
prisons and asylums whose job it is to make a good citizen of this irredeemable
reprobate. Institutions
that are already bulging at the seams as it is, and yet, we expect them to
transform this human lump of coal into a sparkling diamond of a god- fearing,
trustworthy citizen in but a few short months.”
"That is, of course, a tortured analogy, but
to me, it does speak to the failure of our judicial system. It doesn’t reform, and may well even
contribute to the rate of recidivism. A
man gets caught with a child at play in the park with his hand inside her
panties and a few months in jail later, he’s free to go out and do so again,
and again, and again.”
“My fellow citizens, this is lunacy when what we
need is change. Therefore, I have taken
it upon myself to reach out to Dr. Jonathan Snivel, a doctor of some note in
the world of Criminology, to help me find a better solution. And what he has come up with is a solution that
adheres to all we’ve come to learn about human behavior over the last quarter
century.”
“Mr. Snivel calls his new approach, ‘The modern man in the premodern
world: An approach to criminology that adheres to the actual mechanics of the
minds of men’.”
“And me?
Well, I simply call it a tool, a new tool, something that can affect the
kind of change in men that punishment alone does not. Men like Mr. Maplethrope
who would otherwise continue on through life revolving around and through that crime
and punishment door."
"So, in rendering judgement,
I have asked Dr. Snivel to make a study of Mr. Maplethorpe,
and find a way to do what this court, and in way of extension, its prisons and
infirmaries have been unable to do - Make a proper citizen of this monstrosity
of a man."
---
A crowd of reporters rushed up the 'Nowhere-Ville'
In their rush to get their bylines into the evening
edition, the crowd of reporters spared neither life nor limb to get the news directly
from Dr. Snivel himself.
“Dr. Snivel, Dr. Snivel, is it true what they say?”
He heard one reporter shout out above the profusion of others.
“Is what true?” he stopped to ask.
“That you’re going to free every mother-raper and father-stabber we’ve got lockup? Again turn our parks, our playgrounds and our
streets into a terrorist zone?"
“Oh my, and you call yourself a reporter,” he
replied with disgust as yet another question was thrown his way.
“Doctor, Doctor, tell me, are you prepared for
what’s likely to happen should the radical changes to our legal system you’ve
proposed not work? And if they don’t,
are you prepared to lose the pound of flesh the public is going to demand of
you?”
“Oh, merciful heavens, what newspaper do you write
for? “The Angry Mob Gazette?” he asked,
again in disgust.
“No, he works for the Daily Chronicle just as I do,”
the reporter standing beside him answered for him.
“He’s my under study who unfortunately asked a
stupid question. I believe he’d have been
better serviced had he asked just how much money you expect to make off this
crazy scheme of yours. Further more,
have you asked yourself whether that amount, or any amount, is worth the public
condemnation you’re going to face once you fail?”
----
Jonathan Snivel entered the
Entering the jailer’s office, he was immediately
sucked into the human vortex that was Reggie Franklin, the shift commander, a
man of humongous proportions with equally huge grin, and a hand shake that
could rattle your teeth.
"Hi’ ya, doc! You come
to try your hand at fixing another one of them loons I got locked up back
there?" He asked with a grin that glistened
as brightly as did his smoothly shaven and polished slate black head.
"That's how Judge Mopple's
release order reads," he said, as he held up the order for him to
read.
"Aye, I can see that," he said upon giving
it a glance. "Well, it ain't much my business to be asking or nothing, but seeing
as though I've seen not a wink of change in any one of those scoundrels I keep
locked up back there, I find myself wondering how long it's going to take' ya to give up on the ghost?"
"Not while I still have a breath to breathe,"
he replied, firmly and confidently.
"I truly believe I know how to effectuate change in those caught up
in the endless cycle of crime and punishment, as does Judge Mopple."
"You could say we are of like minds in that
regard. Just as we are of likes minds about
where the solution lies. And I’m here to
tell you the answer lies not in prayer or the cut of the surgeons castrating
blade. Rather, it's simply a matter of
unlocking the mysteries of the mind that compels a man to choose doing wrong
over right no matter how tight you turn the screw on the rack."
"Huh!
Well, I can't say I know much about that, but if you think you can keep
picking at that scab without causing some scoundrel to bleed, so be it."
"Now, if you'll give me a moment, I'll go
round up that scab-riddled scoundrel you be wantin’ to take."
"Thank you, and please, no irons this go-round."
“No shackles?”
“No, he’s just a man in need of help, not a murderer.”
---
A few minutes we find Dr. Jonathan Snivel and his
guinea pig, Pudge Maplethorpe,
stepping into the coach in waiting.
"Where we be
headed," Pudge final spoke once seated on the
coach seat.
"My office, your new place of residence for as
long as needed"
"Needed?
Me? For
what?"
"Well, it's no for me to say," he said as
the carriage lurched forward with the crack of a whip. "Allow me to just say I need me somebody
to talk to."
"Talk to?
You mean you ain't fixing to cut off me balls
like the other doctor who come visit me?"
"No, absolutely not. I'm
not that kind of doctor."
"You're a talk doctor?"
"No, no," I'm not a ‘talk doctor,’
whatever that means. Although I guess you
can say I'm a sort of listening doctor.
I want to hear what you have to say."
"About what? You
want me to tell about that sweet lil' Janey I done fingered in the park while I beat me sausage
with her panties?"
"Well yes, I suppose so, though mind you, only
by way getting to know as much about you as there is to know. The good, the bad, the ugly,
all in equal measure."
"Huh! I
see. You've got a spur in your saddle
for little girl's too, huh? If that
being the case, you and me we got us lots to talk about," he gleamed a smile, while licking his lips. "Tell me, doc, you like yours with lil' gumdrop titties, or do like
them like peaches instead?"
"Stop that," Jonathan bristled. I haven’t given you any reason to speak to me
like that."
"What?
You changed your mind already?
You said you were a listening doctor.
Well, I be talking, and now you’re telling me to shut up?"
"No, no, you're right, I spoke out of
line. Please, feel free to speak as you
wish."
"Thanks, doc, I most surely will. There's a lot folks be saying about me, but
not speaking me mind ain’t one of them.
“Now, as was saying, that lil’
dolly I done in the park was a sweet lil’ tidbit to
be sure, but not me best. Oh know, me
best, would have been lil’ Annie b’cuz
she didn’t so much mind beating me porker while I sucked her titties. But then
again, Rosy, liked doing that too, only she was always coughing up me spooge when I had her suck me."
"Now, what' yah got say about that, Mr. Listening
Doctor?"
"Yes, well, I’m not here to pass judgement. It's
important that you trust me on that.
Although, I think I need mention that while you were talking, you seemed
to have developed a peculiar facial tick."
"A what?"
"A tick, you know, your right eye droops down,
and your cheeks begin to twitch. Does
that happen often, or just when you’re talking about your conquest?"
“Me Conquest?” he puzzled.
“Yes, well, that’s meant to mean the sweetheart whose
graces you won over in the park.”
“Oooh, that’s what the
word be meaning, huh? Well then, sure, I
admit I do get me a bit twitchy when I get thinkin’
about them hearts I done won over in the park, and them I done in the woods,
and down by the lake and the playground too.”
“Yes, sir, I got me plenty of them sweet lil’ conquest stories to be telling yeah, Doc. So don’t you go worrying none,”
he beamed brightly while his right eye drooped and his cheeks were twitching up
a storm.
“Well, thank you for sharing that with me. If you have something else you’d like to add
to that, please feel free to speak as you wish?”
As Pudge Maplethorpe was mauling over his response, the coachmen
called out from above. "We’ve
arrived, Sir. A minute more and I’ll be
stopped to open the gate."
Looking out the window, Pudge
watched as the coach made its way down the estate road, sizing up the vastness
of the estate as he did. But what truly
captured his attention was a swing hanging from a tree, and beside it, a
bicycle and a dollhouse for a child to play in, and all sitting but a hop,
skip, and jump away from the mansion’s front entrance.
"We've arrive, Mr. Maplethorpe,”
the coachmen called out upon bringing the horse to a halt.
“Fine, thank you, Mason. Now,
if you’d kindly show my guest to his room.”
"I got me a room? You ain't takin’ me back to jail?"
"No, of course not, I told you, I need me
someone to talk to. Now, come along . . ."
As they disembarked the coach, Pudge
took another look at the swing hanging down from a branch of a nearby
"Yes, it's my daughters. Now, just follow Mr. Mason and keep your nose
in the direction we are going. You need
be introduced to Mr. Smitty, my
"Mr. Smitty, I’d
like you to meet Mr. Maplethrorpe," he said
while turning to point, only when he did, Pudge was
gone, moved on, now standing beside the girl's bicycle, bend over sniffing the
seat.
"Mmm, mmm," he said breathing in deeply. "I can still smell the scent her sweet lil’ puss done left behind when rubbing along this long neck
seat. And by the richness of the smell,
I’d say the lil’ devil weren’t wear no panties, and
on purpose, so she be getting her jollies while peddling.”
"Stop that, Sir,” Jonathan erupted, angrily,
“Your language is so base as to be inflammatory. Now kindly come here and leave Lilly's
bicycle alone."
"Lilly, is it?" he said as he walked the
distance over to shake the hand of the rather stiff looking butler, Mr. Smitty.
"Lilly!
Mmm, that be a sweet
name. Fits well with the smell too,
leastwise I be thinkin’.”
“What do you have to said about that, Smitty?” he turned to ask.
“Is I right or is I wrong? I ask b’cuz I just
be knowin’ you be sniffing those pink panties of hers
the day long, and beating off at night with the blue ones you keep hid under
the pillow.”
“Ain’t that right, Smitty, huh?” He asked with a nudge, and more in the form
of a statement than a question.
Something that Smitty, that rod-stiff butler
didn't much take a liking to.
"Sir! Dr.
Snivel, is this cretin to stay with us?"
He asked, while peering at Pudge, the cretin,
with a snarling upper lip!
"Yes, Smitty,” Doctor
Snivel replied. “I must ask you to please
indulge me the favor.”
“Important, is it?”
“Direly so,” he replied, as he looked down at his
feet. “You might say I’ve a lot to win,
but far more to lose.”
“So you see, it’s
important we extend him every courtesy, and that would include providing him
with the Garden suite in the West wing."
"But, sir, that's reserved for family, and your Office is but a short walk down the
hall."
"Yes, of course, but that is how I wish it to
be. For the duration of his stay, Mr. Maplethorpe is to be treated as family. I want him to feel comfortable, relaxed,
feeling as though he were family. Is
that understood, Smitty?"
"Yes sir," he replied grudgingly, shaking
his head as he did."
"Well that is quite good of you sir," Pudge, 'the cretin', expressed his appreciation, while spittle
dripped down in dangly strands from out his mouth, and for which Jonathen, the shrink, handed him a hankie.
"Thank you, good sir,” he said wiping his
mouth.
“It’s true, sometimes I be spittin’
me some, but don’t you worry none. If it is a good talker you wish me to be,
then a riot of words shall ring through your ears." He said with a grin,
snidely crooked to the side. Not so much
by the generous offerings that’d just been handed to him on a silver tray, as
it was a result of the conclusions he’d drawn as to why!
He had something the good doctor wanted, and it
wasn’t his good company, and definitely not for his oratorical skills.
What he wanted, what he needed, was for Pudge, the cretin, to buy into his plan to liberalize the judicial
system. Something he’d heard justice
Clifford Mopple espouse in court when handing down his
sentence.
Not that he thought fixing up the whole jailing
business was a bad idea, of that he felt quit sure. It was just that the good doctor needed his
cooperation to make that happen. Without
it he was lost, perhaps even his reputation ruined for having even suggested
such a thing.
At first, he did find that somewhat troublesome, but
after he got a whiff of that bicycle seat all that changed like the weather
from bad to good.
There wasn’t a storm brewing as he’d feared. It was all bright and sunny with him calling
the shots. If they needed his help,
needed him to stay put, they’d have to tend to his wishes, no matter what, or
else!
And so, one can understand why we find Pudge, the cretin, smiling and listening ever-so
attentively as the good doctor continues to pile on the sweetness . . .
"Thank you, Mr. Maplethrope,
for being so cordial and obliging. Now, Smitty will show you to your room, and provide for your
every need. Supper will be at 5.”
---
That night at dinner, Pudge,
the cretin, got his first real life sniff of that young sweet Lilly. Drawing it
in most deeply when she raised the hem of her flock when offering a curtsy upon
her father's introduction.
And sweet it was too, offering a mouth watering
sight, heightened all the more by a glimpse of her panties beneath a hem of her
skirt.
"Yum-yum, my, but if this lil’
angel ain’t just as scrumptious under as over."
"Lilly!” Jonathan, her father, exclaimed. “Lower that skirt immediately, you are showing
yourself. Now come
sit, your dinner is going cold.”
"No, no,” Pudge, the
cretin, cut in. “She can sit her pretty
little bottom right here on me lap and nibble on mine. And don’t you go worrin’
none, Papa. Me, and me Mister Johnny got
us plenty to share."
Jonathan stared daggers at him,
the sound of his grinding jaw could be heard across the table. But it bothered Pudge,
the cretin, not a wick. Instead he
simply met him eye-to-eye, as he put his hands around Lilly's waist to boost
her up atop his lap.
As he sat there watching Pudge
begin tickling his daughter in every which way but proper, his first thought
was to immediately put a stop to it as any father would. But given that he so desperately needed Pudge’s cooperation, the words of admonishment he need say
were left unspoken, caught in his throat.
So instead, he just sat and watched that slobbering
cretin start licking his daughters face while his hands foraged around beneath
her skirt while remaining mum.
‘Why’? You
might wish to ask. Because he knew to do
otherwise would have most certainly ended with Pudge
walking out on him, and along with him, justice Mopple,
whose support he needed, least he be left along to face the claw back from
those who wanted the current system of crime and punishment to remain as it is. The outcome, no doubt, resulting
in his ruination.
So, yes, he had a lot at stake, and he felt that
pressure. And never more so then when a
moment later, Lilly broke out with a squeal, while Pudge,
the cretin, held up his moist finger to give it a sniff.
“Umm, the smell of Lily,” he waxed euphoric. “It a smell that makes me mouth water, and me
Mister Johnson to stand up to look.”
Now there it was all out in the open, in his face,
the calling of the wolf to warn all that he was on the scent and prepared to pounce. And no doubt would’ve done just that if not
for Jonathan’s sudden awakening.
“Lilly honey, I think it’s time for bed,” he said, with
a darting face, looking off to the side so as not to have to look neither his
daughter nor that cretin in the eye.
“I’m going to bed as well, Mr. Maplethorpe,
and I would advise you to do the same. “You
do have a busy day tomorrow after all, beginning at
“Aye, ‘we’ll’ be there and ready to do us
some talkin’.”
“We, us?”
“Aye, sir, me Johnny n’ me. He ain’t one to be left alone once he’s got a whiff. Truth be said, sir, I think me Johnny would
be growing wings if he thought it would help him stay on the scent.”
---
When Jonathan entered his office early the next
morning, he was immediately greeted by the right honorable, judge Mopple, who had released Pudge
from jail and placed him in Jonathan's care.
"Justice Mopple,
how unexpected. What brings you hear, your honor?"
"Well, Dr. Snivel, I dislike having to be so
direct, but I simply must ask. Have you
make any breakthroughs with our irredeemable reprobate as of yet? I needn't remind you that it's not only my
neck in the noose."
"Yes, your honor, I’m aware of that. Although I think that might apply more so to me
given that it’s my head the naysayers will be going
after. But in answer to your question,
no, your Honor.
I had planned to begin our sessions today, within the hour to be exact. But I can assure you that our time spent together
has thus far not been a waste.”
“Of course, our engagements have only been of an informal
nature, not in a therapeutic setting, but from what I've seen thus far, I
remain just as certain of my original diagnosis; that the repetitive nature of his
crimes, are but the product of an assailed, set upon, man completely lacking
impulse control.”
“A problem that requires immediate
psychological intervention if ever he is to become a citizen of good standing,
and not a danger.”
"Yes, so you’ve said and we’re both committed to
seeing that happen. In providing Mr. Maplethorpe with the tools to effectively manage that
destructive impulsivity we will, in fact, have a new tool to use to bring a stop
to that revolving door, not to mention, make Mr. Maplethorpe
a right honorable man who is no longer a danger to society.”
“Yes Sir, that is correct, and I want nothing more
than to succeed. But should I fail, you'll
no doubt be forced into retirement, while with me, the
naysayers will have their day. My name spoken in infamy at best, and leaving me ruined at worst!"
"Then you best hope you find Mr. Maplethorpe amenable to change, or else . . ." he said
as he reached into his coat pocket to retrieve a kerchief, one he had previously
crafted into the form of a noose. Then
rising up from his seat, he tossed the makeshift noose upon Dr. Snivel's desk as he stalked out of the room.
---
For an abominably long moment, Jonathan Snivel
remained seated, frozen in place, listening to his racing heart throb. For the first time in his life, he felt near
paralyzed with fear.
How did this happen? How did it come to this? All questions he kept asking himself. Was it his fault? Had he been so blinded by his own cause for
celebrity that he couldn't see this train wreck coming? Or was it just that Pudge,
the conductor of that train, was just so damn evil that nothing short of a
lobotomy could have affected change in the man.
It was all so excruciatingly painful to think
about, but he had no choice. Without Pudge's full cooperation his ruination was all but imminent.
And he was in the midst of mentally running through
his catalog of options when he heard a knock on his door, and saw Pudge's head poking in.
"Doctor, sir, good morning to ya. You said to be here at 8 chirps from the
Cuckoo and I be here to start me talkin’
and you can do you some listening."
"Yes, Pudge, come
in. I need to get something straight
with you before we go any further.”
"Yes sir, I be all
ears. But you can’t taking too long on
account of sweet lil' Lilly’s panties are still be
out to dry. And with Bow-wow Bowser out
loose . . . well, sir, you know.
Gentlemen be gentlemen, and hungry dogs be just
that. Hungry dogs!”
"Excuse me?”
"Her panties, sir. You
see, we was outside playing fishy when she slipped in
a puddle."
"Fishy?
We haven't a fish pond.”
"No Sir, of course not, but you got you a
puddle, one with plenty of skeeters and gnats."
"You see, what I do is have sweet little Lilly
coat me pole and me dangling balls with honey so she can go fishing for them
bugs.”
“And the the little devil
she paste it on good and plenty too. Up,
down, all-a-round me 9 inches. That way,
she'll get her fill of honey and me milk when it comes time for her to lick off
her catch."
"But don't you worry none,
Papa. She's already getting quite use to
the taste of them bugs that stick, and a taste me nut too."
"Fact, she spilled not a drop this
morning," he said with a smile that broadened into a sunlit grin.
"No coughing, no hacking, just her cute little
tonsils bobbing up and down. And believe
me, Papa, her breakfast was a tummy filler to be
sure.”
“A real belcher it was too. More bugs in the honey than you can count, and
a pint full of me spooge and a slice of toast.”
“My, my,” he gloated, “What more could a growing
girl need to grow up to be a proper strumpet, worth her callers 50 cents spent,
or dollar, if she be offering up her ass too.”
"But I gott’ta ask a
favor from you. Please, if tomorrow she
should ask you for some more porridge in the morning, I would prefer you hold
off and allow her appetite to linger a little longer. At least until such time as old floppy-eared,
Bow-Wow Bowser, is ready to add his chowder to the
mix."
“After all, Papa, we wouldn’t want her grow up to
be a little chubby now would we?”
“WHAT !!!” Jonathan exploded, his lit fuse finally touching
powder. You monster, you fiend! Go bake in Hell!”
"And to think I believed there was something
in you worth redeeming. That I really didn’t see an irredeemably bad person in you, just a
person lacking the ability to control his chronic impulsivity. A disorder I actually believed I could cure
you of. Imagine that,” he said in
disgust.
“Well, I can’t say I much understand a word of
that, but if you be meaning all that bird in the hand bullshit, I’d say, thank’
ya, but only a damn fool would let the two in the
bush get away.”
"There you go,” Jonathan replied, “You just
made my point. A two year old has more
control over their impulsivity that you.
Now matter what the cost, jail, emasculation, thumbscrews, no
matter. You get your eyes set on
something, you’re going to reach out and take it.”
"Yeah, well, so what? Like I done told you, and justice Mopple before you in court.
Only a fool would let them two in the bush get away.”
“Yet, after I done told’ ya
both all that, what do you do? The two of
you go right on scheming on me, wantin’ to make me
your guinea pig anyway.”
“So I figured, okay, I’ll play. Why not? You need me to play your guinea pig, and I
don’t need you for shit. That gives me a
card up to start.”
“A good hand it is too, one that makes the game
pretty damn hard for me to lose, while you on the other hand, have everything
to lose. Your good name for example,
which would surly turn to mush once the public learns how you put public safety
at risk by letting me out of jail before me time.”
“Now, I ain’t no genius or nothing, but it don’t take no genius to figure
out who had the winning hand. I did.
“And I was fixing to play me hand out, too. Me plan: First I get me out of jail, and then I’d hustle
me some money from out your pockets. Not
train-loads of money mind you, just enough so that we can part ways with our
mutual self-respect still in tact.”
“But I got to tell yeah up front. Once I got a whiff of that bicycle seat, I
said to me-self, fuck the small shit! I’m
going to pull me a winning hand out of me back pocket and bust you both right
now.”
“So here’s me cards, read’em
and weep!”
“First, you’ll see the the
King of diamonds. That’s the King that
likes your digs, and wants his share. A
share worthy a king who don’t take to being treated as
a guest.”
“Now have a look at me second card, the King of hearts. That be me heart. The heart Lil’
Lilly is going to be feeling pumping through me cock when I be shooting down
her gullet, up her ass n' when filling her cunt,
five, six times a day depending on me mood.”
“Now look at be third card, the King of clubs. The club you are going to be feeling up your
ass when you show the least hesitation when I tell to open wide to swallow me
piss.”
“Now me forth king, the old spaded fellow who’s
there to remind you not to fuck with me.
Elsewise I be picking
up me shears to make a spade of you too.”
“And last of all the Joker,
the wild card I be holding, the card that make me the winner and you the loser. The loser of your pants, your daughter, everything
you own, but your precious reputation.”
“That you can keep, wear it even, to impress your
public and me ol’ cellmates who are goin’ to be hanging with me, eating your food, sleeping in
your bed, and fucking your lovely lil’ Lilly.”
“That is, whenever Bow-Wow Bowser is just too tuckered
to take his turn! I mean every bloke,
two legged or four, can’t be expected to get it up all the time, ya’ know,” He said, breaking out in a chuckle.
“Now then, with all that out of the way, I want to
come with me to give Smitty, the butler, the
boot. Then you and me are going to go
fish’ in.
“And don’t you worry none,
Papa. Lil’
Lilly is going to teach’ ya what you don’t know. Show you how to handle me pole and me balls
and how to slick me up with plenty of honey.”
Then when I take Lilly fish’in
you’ll know how to bait the poles of me jailhouse pals, and of course, Bowser,
who Lilly will tell’ ya, simply loves a good slick’in and lick’in
. . .”
“Slick’in and Lick’in,
lick’in, lick’in,” he
heard the word following him down into the darkness. The dead empty part of his head, that was now
but an empty, vacant shell of its former self after the full-frontal lobotomy Pudge had just given
him. A process that rendered him numb to all but the feeling of Pudge’s silver spoon dipping into the uncapped gray matter to
enjoy another spoonfull.
And, of course, let us not forget the sound of his
scream as he fell into that darkness, and the sound of Pudge
laughing it up and dancing about excitedly, like a boxer who’d just cold-cocked
his opponent in the twelfth round.
“Pow! I be the winner, I be the winner, and you Doctor,
you had your smarts aplenty, but now you only got your dumbs.”
“Fact, you look to have not a lick of gray matter
left in that hollowed out head of yours,” he said, grinning, while giving the ‘silver
spoon’ one final lick!
Figuratively speaking, of course, because in fact,
my mention of a ‘silver spoon’ is simply an allegorical construct I’ve
used to suggest a deeper meaning, much in the way Fava
beans or
You do
understand that, right? (*_*)
Das ende.
by Bad Robot
aka Hunsi
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Part II
Coming soon to a Book Store near you . . .
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