Thursday, November 15, 2012

17TH NaNoWriMo Novel In A Month episode for 11/15/12

Bingo Boy - post 17

Jimmy seems dazed. He's tired. He's had it. His head pounds. It's over.... He whimpers - Head. Head. Head. Head.......... And Ricky, eager to oblige, raises the gun..... Jimmy goes - No. No. The heart. The heart. the heart..... So Ricky lowers the gun.... Jimmy reconsiders and goes - No. No. The head. The head. The head. The head..... Gun goes up. Little Chrissie can't take it. She starts suckin' her teeth and shakin' her hands. Almost drops the flashlight. But she manages to keep hold a that. And Jimmy goes - Heart. Heart. Heart. Heart. Heart............ Ricky exhales and goes - Forget it. I think I'll just surprise you..... He crouches down by his victim. Jimmy starts to kick his feet in all directions. Then he stops to catch his breath. It can't be easy for him to breathe, you know. Ricky moves, fast and straddles his legs. But the pants are still damp and clammy with piss and he goes - Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit....... Jimmy just stares at him, fighting to draw breath. Shhh, listen. Hear that wheeze? Look how the tape goes in and out with each labored attempt. 

Then Ricky looks right in his eyes, leans forward and whispers in his ear - But there's gonna come a second, just before the dark, when you're gonna feel the pain. Don't believe what they tell you. You're gonna feel it. And I just wanna make sure you know......... Jimmy shuts his eyes tight and cries. Little Chrissie backs away. Jimmy starts to shake and tremble like he's freezin'. It's pitiful. Ricky relaxes and lowers the gun...... Jimmy breathes a sigh of relief...... And Ricky says - You know, this is a really little gun. It wouldn't a made a big hole or nothin'. Just a little 'ping,' like one a them silver balls in a pinball game, or somethin'. Just bounce around, hittin' the bumpers, shreddin' the brain and puttin' out the lights. You wouldn't a felt it. You wouldn't a felt a thing.... I lied. But now we'll never know, 'cause you're such a God damned cry baby.

Jimmy looks puzzled. What's gonna happen?.... Ricky turns to the girl. He goes - Chrissie!..... She goes - What?.... Ricky goes - Gimme the tape........ She finds the big, gray roll on the ground and hands it to him. And Jimmy's eyes follow every move. Ricky tears off a few inches a tape and carefully smooths it over the crudely punctured piece already on Jimmy's mouth. And now he sweats. And now he whimpers. His nostrils flare. He fights for air. But Ricky just sits there, straddling his legs and watchin'. Then he tears off some more tape and seals up Jimmy's nose...... We faintly hear the weak, small, muffled sound of Jimmy's voice, as he goes - No... No... No...   And Ricky says - You think this is what it was like when your uncle used to kill the little children? You think this is how the people felt when you fingered them to the Nazis? When you told the Germans? Six years old. you were six years old. And so were they. You went to school with 'em.

Little Chrissie goes - Shit, I can't take this. Ricky. Ricky. Ricky... Stop it. Let him breathe. Let him breathe. Let him breathe. Shit! He's dying! Oh, God! He's dying! 

                           ++++++++++++++++

And then it all goes black. We hear somebody rip off a piece of tape, followed by deep, strong lungfuls of air.... cold, clear, crisp pine air.

Then we're somewhere else... a dim, windowless cellar, a little while later. There's a jail cell type cage in one of the corners. Jimmy slumps on the floor, with his arms chained to the wall above his head. He's wrapped in a blanket. All his clothes are gone. But he has a big, bright, tattered, yellow 'gift bow' 'round his neck. Ricky and Little Chrissie stand there lookin' at him through the bars. Little Chrissie's grandma is there too. Her name is Marge. The cage is in her basement. Just in case you don't know, she used to be a dominatrix....

Marge goes - Where'd you get the bow?...... Little Chrissie says - We found it. Must a come off a tree. Must a been for a soldier, or something...... Marge says - What'd you do with his shitty pants?...... Little Chrissie says - We threw 'em out. Don't worry about it....... Marge goes - What do we feed him?...... Ricky says - You don't have to do nothin', Marge. I'll buy all the food. I'll buy everything...... Marge goes - And get a space heater. Don't want him to freeze his balls off, do ya? He still got 'em, ain't he?..... Little Chrissie says - Yeah, he still got 'em...... Ricky gives her a look and she goes - Well, I had to hold him while you pulled off his pants.......... Marge giggles and goes - Ewww, can I play with him?...... Little Chrissie goes - Yeah, do whatever the hell you want. He's your birthday present, ain't he?...... Ricky throws in a quick - Happy birthday, Marge...... Marge goes - Oh, thank you. Thank you (appraises 'gift'). You know, he don't look too bad for his age........ Ricky says - I guess. Look, lemme run over to Target before they close and get him some pants......

Marge goes - No rush. Take your time. Take your time.. Then she fingers her dull, dry tresses and says - Lemme go fix my hair...

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