Science of Slaughter
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(Note to Jonathan: Sometimes when you speak of the devil, he appears.)
Tom is sitting at the control panel checking the various knobs, meters and monitors when Steven walks in.
“Hey, fuck-face. What’s happening?”
Tom furrows his brow and replies, “Nothing, dick-bag. What’s up with you?”
“Same old, same old,” Steven answers while pulling a pack of Merit Ultra’s from his top titty pocket.
“Do you have to smoke in here?” Tom asks. “You know I’m trying to quit.”
Steven pulls a cigarette from his pocket, lights it and exhales while responding, “Sucks to be you then, eh?”
“Asshole,” Tom grunts as he turns back to the control panel.
“On to bigger and better things, the job at hand, etcetera, etcetera…Have you found a spot for our little experiment?”
“Sure did. There’s a group of guys playing five-on-five at this gym in Kansas. Looks like a church league. No spectators. I checked.”
“Great,” Steven replies while dragging deeply. “Do ya wanna see what we’re sending down?”
“Absolutely! What is it this time? A towel? A chair?”
“A chair? What is that? Is that some kind of fucking joke? I told you last week. We’re done with the kiddie shit. The big wigs want us to go primetime and as a result…well, let’s just say the holding pen is full of fucking freaks.” Steven flicks his ash and sets a small plastic disc on the console by Tom’s arm. “Press the button, Tom, and feel your fucking balls crawl up into your belly.”
Tom glances up at his partner, and nervously, he pushes the button. From the plastic object a hologram appears and his balls behave as Steven had predicted. “Wha…wha…what the hell is that?”
“Well, technically it’s a lot of things. His paws are from a big cat…lion or tiger or some shit. His mouth and jaws from a pit bull, but his teeth are from something else…I don’t remember what, but you can see they’re so big it can’t close his lips over them. His torso comes from a warthog….I think…”
“Jesus, and we’re sending that down…”
“Oh yeah. We’re transporting a whole bunch of ‘em. One at a time.”
“Holy shit,” Tom answers and once he collects himself he says, “Umm…cool….I guess…well…let’s get this over with…America’s Funniest Videos is on at 8 and I promised Peg and the kids…”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Christ you’re whipped. Look,” Steven says while pointing at a monitor, “Wait until these poon-tangs are heading down this end of the court, and when they’re right in the middle, send one of those fuckers in. Down here, at this end, right under the basket. Okay?”
“Yeah, I got you.” Tom waits nervously while playing with the flesh under his chin and breathing the second hand smoke deeply. At the right moment, he pushes the button and all hell breaks loose.
One of the men, he looks to be in his thirty’s, is leading his team on a fast break. That’s when he hears the popping sound and sees the small burst of light. The man stops running but the ball continues forward into the light that is shifting and re-shaping as if it had substance. Then, the thing takes form.
It’s gray. It has large teeth and bright red eyes.
That’s all the men need to see. They turn. They run. They scream. Some even wet themselves. None of it matters. The beast charges forward and its claws clack loudly on the hardwood floor. It cuts the distance between itself and the “fast breaker” in only a few seconds and with one quick pounce its claws dig into the man’s flesh while its teeth sink into the back of his skull. It bites with such force that the man’s skull shatters and his eyes pop clean from their sockets.
Not that his teammates have noticed. Several bursts of light have already formed. Some on the bleachers. Others by the exits and still more on the court itself.
“Holy hell,” Tom says over the player’s bloody screams. “This is fucking gruesome.”
“Yeah, fucking aye.”
Tom glances at the monitors and sees one of the things pulling intestines from a gash in a man’s belly as if it were yarn from a basket and asks, “How much are we getting paid for this?”
“I don’t think you wanna know,” Steven replies.
“Because you won’t think its enough.”
Tom waits and listens to the cracking sounds of bones being chewed and the sloppy sounds of raw, bloody flesh being devoured. Then he responds, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“Ya wanna cigarette?”
“I’m certainly thinking about it.”
What would you attempt if you knew you could not fail?