William Morgan


     The night enveloped him, hid him in the shadows, but it did not mask his nerves. Rick Bollard’s adrenaline was flowing like a flash flood. His right hand holding the .38 was trembling slightly, and he realized he was gripping the gun too tightly. He blew out a long breath, willed himself to relax. His small frame suffered tiny shock waves and his scarred face felt hot. His dull grey eyes watered.
     Relax. Won’t be long now. Someone’s sure t-
     His eyes widened as a silver BMW slowly pulled into the Moregas gas station. They blinked with disbelief when the car parked by the side of the entrance where the light was almost non existent, and the fake cameras saw nothing. He was a little unnerved when the driver got out of the car. The man was tall, dressed in a tux with a purple cumber-bun. His dark hair was cut short, military style. He walked with confidence. Assured. The blonde in the passenger seat was dressed to the nines as well.
    Shit, thought Rick, military?
    Better abort, a little voice told him. Wait for a vic a hell of a lot easier.
    No, he scolded, anniversary’s coming up. Got to get a nice present for Vera. After that thing with Belinda, I gots to buy her some real jewelry, not that cubic zirconia shit. That BMW will do nicely. Big Joe’ll shit bricks when he sees me driving that in to the chop shop.
    Your funeral, said the little voice.


    Rick saw the man come out the entrance, slap the pack of cigarettes on the palm of his hand, open the pack, shake one out, light it, take a long, deep puff, and exhale with pleasure. The man then walked to the car, and Rick came out of the deep, deep shadows, everything on high alert, his awareness on 10. He pointed the gun at the man, said, ” give me the keys man. I don’t wanna shoot, but I will if I have to.” He cursed himself for sounding so small.
     “Shit,” said the man with a southern drawl that seemed to ooze molasses. Rick watched as the man’s eyes looked around. They were calm. The man smiled.
     He reached out the keys to Rick. “Y’all want the car? You got it. Don’t need no trouble. All I need is a hot bath, and a bed.”
     Rick didn’t hear no tremor in the man’s voice. Man wasn’t acting as if someone was carjacking him. Run, you idiot,said his tiny little voice. NO.
     “I’m takin’ the car. The woman stays in the car. For my safety. Don’t need you callin’ the police as soon as I leave. Just a little bit of insurance, understand?” She looked like she had a nice rack, and Rick was partial to nice racks.
     The man stiffened, seemed to grow taller. His face seemed to shift in the darkness.
     “Y’r gonna rape my wife?
     “Naw, man, what the fuck, like I said, insurance. I’ll drop her off at a Mickey D’s, or Burger King, an she’ll call ya.” Of course he was lying. Vera’s keeping her legs clamped after Rick’s cock went roaming, and this adrenaline had his cock rock hard.
     The man sighed, took a hit of his cigarette. “It’s dark back he-a, but I can still see the tent. You get the car. Get a lot for it. If I-” and then he flicked the cigarette in Rick’s face.
     The man was fast. Rick instinctively brought his arm up to protect his eyes, and suddenly the man was right in front of him, and he felt a great pain between his legs. Like someone poured lava on his balls. Rick lost his breath, his lungs useless, bags of nothing. His head felt very heavy, a terrible weight on his shoulders, so he bent over to ease the pressure, then everything went black.



    Gwendolyn Majors picked at her nails, sat fuming in the car. She stared out the car window seeing nothing but red.
     Her husband of five years, Raymond Majors, sighed as he drove.
     “What is it, honey?” His voice no longer had the southern drawl, more Midwestern.
     Gwen shrugged, continued to pick off the purple nail polish. She turned to Ray, her green eyes ablaze.
     “I could have handled him. Little guy like that? Shit.”
     Ray looked to heaven. He was tired. He hated weddings, his own being the exception. Listening to people lie about how the couple were the most wonderful people in the whole wide world. Doesn’t the bride look so beautiful? And the groom! How handsome! Ray saw a fat cow, and a brain-dead hick. Lots of pimples. Hair cut by his mother, whose eyesight must be almost non existent. His wisp of mustache laughable. His smile forced, his eyes screaming for help. He sure drank himself under the table. Made sure he was well sloshed before his honeymoon started, hoping his inebriation will take a few pounds off his new bride. Laying on top of her must be like exercising with one of those medicine balls.
     “Hell, I know that. Dumb-ass could’ve been taken by a child. You see how he held the gun? Christ, I wanted to laugh.” Ray shook his head at the sheer ineptness.
     “Then why’d you take him? Why not let me? I’ll tell you why. It’s because your a man, and the man-“
     Ray rolls his eyes. “Are you gonna start with the again? Really? I did what I did because the moment arrived, because the opening was there. That’s all.”
     “You did it to save the damsel in distress. Man has to protect the little woman from the little horny fish.”
     “Honey, that’s not-“
     “Gonna rape my wife? I heard you, I fuckin’ heard you. You were protecting me. Shit, I almost imagined the white hat on your ten gallon head. Man strong. Woman weak. It makes me so angry! I could have taken him.”
     “Okay, okay, you win, I did it to protect you, to save you, I untied you from the tracks just in the nick of time. Penelope Pitstop lives to see another day. We’re gonna drive off into the sunset, and you’re gonna blow me for saving your life.”
     Her green eyes lost a bit of fire, and she tried to dampen a grin, her ruby red lips making all kind of shapes, and lines.
     Ray looks at Gwen, winks.
     “Naw, asshole’s in the back seat, sleeping.”
     Gwen turns and looks at the would be carjacker laying curled up in the back seat looking like a child taking a nap during a long arduous journey to some place they didn’t want to go.
     I’d have taken him. Easily.





     Ray drove, glancing at Gwen, that red sequined dress accentuating her body perfectly.
    We gotta get another car, he thought, and a change of clothes. That dress is too distracting and I need no distractions when the work begins. Damn, she’s beautiful. Does Walmart sell burlap sacks? First things first, though
     Take care of this asshole. Show him the way of the world. Show him the truth.That the weak do not fuck with the strong.
     “Need another car. This one’s a bit too conspicuous. So’s your dress. Your tits are gonna spill out if I hit a pot hole.”
     “Then avoid all the pot holes, darlin’.” Gwen shakes with laughter, her milky white breasts wobbling in time.
Ray grins, begins to nod his head to the generic Rock on the radio.
     Thump! Thump! Thump! Frightened muffled yell.
     “Ah, fuck. He’s awake already?” Gwen says angrily. “Your losin’ your touch, Ray.”
     “Wanted to knock him out, not kill him, love.”
     Thump! Thump! Thump!
     “Fuck it, he’s gonna wake the asshole. Pull over, I’ll take care of him.”
     “Now, Gwen, babe, no-“
     “I’ll be gentle, promise. There’s a field on the right. Pull in there.”
     Ray looked around, using all the mirrors. Not much traffic this time of night. Pulled into the field, muddy from last nights rain.
     Christ, he thought, that’s all we need, to get stuck. He parked by an untended hedge, hoping that it’ll keep them out of sight, got out of the car, walked around to the passenger side, opened the door for Gwen.
     “Why, thank you kind sir.”
     “Hurry up,” said Ray, as he popped the trunk.
     Gwen stared into the quite roomy trunk and smirked at the man trussed, and gagged. His eyes were pleading, scared. The stench made Gwen flinch back. “Jesus!”
     Ray shook his head. Best man at the wedding was a shitter. Looked real mean when he was drinking with the boys. Had that laugh that wasn’t a laugh, but a tough man’s titter. Fucker thought he was tough. His bowels said different.
     Gwen was furious. She slapped the man. Slapped him again.
     “Dirty fucker!”
     Scratched her nails across his face. Muffled screams again.
     “Shut up! Shut up you little shit. Keep fucking quiet, or I’m gonna take my nail file to your balls.” The man tried to curl up. Muffled sobs. Then Gwen began stroking his hair, and in a soothing voice said, “listen, we’ll be asking you a few questions in an hour or two. I’m sure you know which ones. Uh-uh, no, don’t shake your head, won’t do you no good lyin’. Mr B won’t like you lyin’. Now, be quiet, okay? You wake the guy up in the backseat? Well, the pain will be fierce, I promise you. No more thumping, and we’ll go easy on you. But, while you’re waiting for us, think hard on your answers to our questions. We’re the best. The best, understand? We’ll know. Now be a good boy…,” She grabs his hair, pulls his head up close to her face, whispers, “shut the fuck up.” Slams the trunk. Gets back in the car. “There’s a Walmart a couple of miles ahead. I’ll buy us some regular clothes. Mr B says there’s a place not too far from here that has shitty cameras, but plenty of cars to choose from. Some kind of trance club. Let’s get assholes lesson over with.”
     Ray smiles in anticipation. Drives with glee.
     The weak do not fuck with the strong.





    Some cars are so old, so beat up, the owner doesn’t give two fucks about it getting stolen. They never lock the doors, some will even keep the keys in the ignition, walk away with a slight hope someone will steal it. Give them an excuse to upgrade from a shit car to a crap car.
     The car Ray picked was an old Chevy Monte Carlo. Looked green in the back of the parking lot, but the darkness probably hid it’s true color. The car looked as if it was in a demolition derby. There were so many dents, and dings, lots of rust, not one window was free of cracks. Someone had written in black marker on the passenger door “Wash Me,” then crossed it out, and beneath it said “Kill me.”
     Doors were unlocked, keys were in the ignition, and a 12 pack of Bud Lite sat behind the driver’s seat, along with a plethora of empty bags of Cheetos, and Lay’s salt and vinegar potato chips.
     “Bud Lite. Jesus.” said Ray, disgusted as he opened the door for Gwen.
     “Don’t drink it, then.” said Gwen, glancing at the asshole curled up in the back seat as he snored. Little guy, but heavy to carry.
     Ray got in on the driver’s side, turned the ignition, and, miraculously, the car started. There was a few burps, and farts, and wheezes from the engine at first, but she gave a loud cough, then roared.
     He turned to Gwen, smiled, “lady luck’s still with us. Speaking of lady, you look like Taylor Swift, only with bigger tits.Nothin’ gets my motor runnin’ like Walmart clothing.”
     She blew him a raspberry, sticking her tongue out at an obscene length.
     “Well, you look like Kayne, only whiter.”
     “Touche, my love. Now, where’s this asshole live?”
     Gwen looked at the driver’s license, wondering at the hilarity of working the BMV and taking the photo at the worst possible second. Rick Bollard looked like he just got out of bed and was about to be arrested. “Depforth Street, Off 38th, about three miles.”
     “Okay, you direct, and I’ll obey. That’s a first, right, hon?”
     “Fuck you.” laughed Gwen.
     Rick continued to snore.





    “This it? Christ, looks like he lives carjack to carjack.”
     Gwen, and Ray stared at the run down house, with it’s barely painted siding, weed filled postage stamp lawn, and at the small rotted wood shed.
     “Yeah, look at all the houses on this street. Foreclosure heaven. Fuckin’ sad.” said Gwen, as she reached over for a Bud Lite, popped it open, and poured over the asshole.
     Rick was all spastic as he blubbered, and sputtered, his hands rubbing his face, arms spasming, legs kicking. “Whu-whu-what the fuck!”
     “Hello, asshole,” said ray.
     “Hello asshole,”said Gwen.
     Rick stopped moving. Only his eyes moved. They blinked. Blinked again. And again. Then it dawned on him.
“Oh, no, no, please, please. I didn’t-I swear I wasn’t-oh shit, please…, please don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me!”
     “Aw, shut the fuck up, asshole. We’re not gonna kill you. We’re gonna teach you.”
     Rick was confused. “What? I-what? I-I don’t unnerstand? Teach me? Teach me what?”
     “Not to fuck with the strong.” said Ray, grinning. “Get out of the car, asshole.” He pointed the .38 at Rick’s face. “Only gonna say it once, though.”
     Rick put his hands up, Gwen told him to put them down, just get out of the car. Like, now, asshole.
     Ray tracked Rick with the gun as he got out, then Gwen got out, he then handed her the gun as he got out. “Nice place you got here. Do all the work yourself? I’ve tried and failed so many times at growing so many weeds. You’ve certainly got the thumb, man.”
     Rick was openly crying. “Please don’t hurt me. Please.”
     “Shit, we ain’t gonna hurtcha, asshole. That’d be like when your daddy beats ya for being out late, or sticking the centerfold pages of Big Mama Jugs together with your preschool juice. You wouldn’t learn a lesson. You’d just sneak out when he’s asleep, and shoot your watery jizz over your copy of Spiderman, instead. The pain goes away, the lesson fades, and you go back to your old ways. We are better teachers. You will learn. You will never forget. Now, get in the house.” Ray’s voice was ice cold, robotic, devoid of emotion. It terrified Rick.
     “No-please-listen, I’ve learned. Honest! I swear I won’t, I won’t ever-ever-I-oww!”
     Gwen slapped him hard in the face.
    “In the house, asshole.”
     Rick sobbed, and blubbered, nodded as he rubbed his cheek, now blazing with fire.
     He turned toward the house, felt for his keys in his pocket, had a microsecond thought about running, or screaming, even of turning and attacking. But, that thought turned his bowels to water, so he walked a dead man’s walk to his house.
     “What are you going to do?” He whispered.
     “Whatever the fuck I want.” answered Ray.





     “Christ, you sure were rough with his old lady.” Said Gwen as they drove back toward the Trance club parking lot.
     “Well, she married the asshole, didn’t she?” Ray thought back to the punches, and kicks, the swollen face, broken mouth, smashed nose. Maybe he did get a little rough. Maybe.
     “And you sure enjoyed asshole’s daughter.” Gwen glared at Ray.
     “Hey, that was business, not personal. I think she was a virgin, you know.”
     “Can anyone living on that street even spell virgin? Bet they use auto-correct on their phones a lot. Text their friends so and so’s a virgil. I saw your cumface, sweetheart. You sure were enjoying doing your business.”
     “And you’ll see it again tonight when we get back to the motel. Hell, honey, I wasn’t enjoying it. I was only teaching asshole a lesson that rape is wrong-“
     “So says the rapist. Like the pot calling the kettle black.” Gwen rolled her baby blues.
     “Hey, listen. That little cocksucker is never ever going to lay his hands on another woman ever again. He was going to rape you. Now, hold your tongue. He was. His cock couldn’t hide in the darkness. He didn’t know what he was going to get himself into, pardon the pun. All he saw was a ditzy looking blonde bombshell in the car. Oh, stop the pouting. He thought you were going to be easy. He’s probably done it before. Got away with it. Thought that little gun gave him power. Little fuck. He ain’t never gonna do that again. He learned a hard lesson, love”
     Gwen could still smell the fear, taste the salty tears in the air, hear the thud of fist on flesh. She still has the image of Rick tied to the bedposts, crying, shouting through the gag of his daughter’s unwashed underwear, made to watch as his wife, and daughter are brutalized in front of him by Ray. The anguish, terror, hate, rage unfold in seconds. She saw the alarm on Ricks face when Ray tells his wife, Doris? Dolly? Whatever her name was, Ray telling her why she was being sodomized. And the abhorrence, the pure un-distilled repugnance she showed as stared at Rick, nearly made Gwen flinch back in revulsion. The woman’s face was unrecognizable. Just a special effect in a horror movie. Her eyes swollen shut, her cheeks abnormally sunken, her nose concealed behind coagulated black blood, her mouth shattered, lips plumped by fist, not Botox. Ray had punched her in the kidney’s, the back of her head, twisted the skin on the back of her arms, slapped her ass until it was bright red, squeezed her right breast until she screamed loud enough to wake the neighborhood, and bit her nipples until they bled. She suffered. She hated. But, not Ray. No. She never took her eyes off Rick. Her hate was palpable, it fogged the air around them. If looks could kill. Then, when Ray was done, she had to suffer again as she was made to watch her 16 year old daughter, Mary? Maisie? Matilda? Began with an M, she was sure of that, she had to watch her being violated. Ray was more gentle, and deep down, Gwen resented it. She wasn’t giving him any tonight. Not for a while. Not until the simmering anger went away. She wasn’t even sure if it even would go away. She’d have to take it day by day. Like a fucking alco.
     She wondered who would free themselves first, the husband, or wife. She knew it wouldn’t be the daughter, Marta? Martha? Gwen had been a wee bit aggressive when trussing her up. She had tightened the cable ties to the point of stopping blood flow to her hands. Hoping the little cunt will lose them. If wifey gets free first, will Rick survive? Which would win her over, her wrath, or her love for her daughter? If Rick gets free, will he run as far away as he can before he calls the police? Which would win over, his fear from a wife full of rage, or the love for his daughter? Interesting scenarios. She ran all of them through her mind, to help take away the thoughts of losing her love for Ray. She didn’t hate him, but she was starting to dislike him. She imagined tightening a cable tie on Ray’s cock. He sure enjoyed that tight pussy a bit too much.
     Ugh! Stop with the jealousy!
     They arrived at the trance club, could hear the booming drone of industrial noise, and yells of patrons. Ecstasy, pile driving music, and sweaty millennials make for quite a night.
     The BMW was still parked on the edge of the field way in the back of the parking lot. Above the booming noise, and screams of drugged out humans, Ray, and Gwen could hear the all too familiar Thump! Thump! Thump!
     “For Christ’s sake!” said an exasperated Gwen.
     Ray laughed. “Who listens to a woman?”
     Enraged, Gwen ran to the trunk, and began slamming her fist down on it. “Shut up! Shut up! I’m telling you, cocksucker, right now! I’m not in a good mood, so you better stop-!”
     “Babe. Honey. A few of the entranced have left their lair.”
     Gwen turned, and saw five young men staring. They were dressed in washed out tees, and bleached jeans, ragged, with torn holes near the knees, and crotches. Probably paid a hefty price for them.
     One of the boys, who looked so young, she wondered if he even had pubic hair yet, laughed shrilly, like a girl on helium. “Look, guys, lady’s so fucked up, she’s yelling at her car. Betcha she popped down one of Bernie’s concoctions. Hey! Lady! That’s a car! A car!”
     Gwen gave him the finger, hoping they’ll come over, hoping she’ll get a chance to spill some blood.
     All the unbearded just laughed, gave her the finger back, then piled into a Ford Tempo. Sped slowly into the night.
     Ray, and Gwen got back into the BMW. Ray started the car, said,
     “To the barn?”
     Gwen rummaged in her sparkly purple purse, brought out her nail file. Her eyes glittered.
     “Oh, yeah, darlin’. Now it’s my turn to play.”
     They drove off, within the speed limit, this time ignoring the continuous Thump! Thump! Thump!




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