Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 112736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
The guys all go about doing what I ask them to do except for Brian.
Fucking Brian.
“Grab his balls, bitch,” I say and start up the torch.
When the gas starts coming out, I hit the igniter and adjust the flame to bright blue. I want this shit hot. Normally, I’d take longer for shit like this, but I got an ol’ lady at home to get back to tonight.
Looking with disgust at the fat guy’s small, wrinkly sack, Brian reaches down and starts pulling it out from between the legs. When he finally has it and the dick all situated, he yanks his hands out of the way as I bring the bright blue flame right up to the ballsack.
Somewhere after I melt through the skin and start actually getting to the testicles, I hear Diamond’s wails cut off as he passes out.
Fuck.
Finishing up both testicles, I turn off the blow torch and head back to the tool bag.
Grabbing a big pair of scissors from the bag, I toss them to Graveyard and say, “I want that fucking ballsack removed and packaged up. We’re gonna snail mail a gift to them.”
Fuck, torturing is a thirsty ass job.
“Whitey?” I ask as I head over to him. “You bring a cooler or some shit?”
“Shit, knew I forgot something,” he says and sighs. “Fuck, getting old is hell. I forgot where I left my damn wallet last night, and this mornin’ I had to search around the house for twenty minutes before I remembered I left it in my pants.”
Laughing, I say, “Don’t worry about it, brother. I’ll get a beer from the fridge.”
Walking out of the room with Whitey following along with me, I hear Graveyard yell, “Yahtzee!”
Shaking my head, I walk up to the fridge in the break room and pull out a beer for me and Whitey.
“How you doin’, old timer?” I ask after I hand him the beer.
He takes a long drink from the bottle before he says, “Alright, got to work on the bike some tonight after this. I picked up a small rattle somewhere.”
“You need me to have Pappy haul it to the club?” I ask.
“Nah, I don’t think it’s anything serious. I’ll see what I can do in my garage,” he says.
I nod and ask, “How’s Jane doin’?”
“Good as usual, although she’s complaining she doesn’t get to see her grandkids enough, as always,” he says.
“Well, ya know I got a kid she can love on if she needs one,” I say.
“I’ll let her know,” he says. “You know her, she ain’t ever met a club kid she didn’t think wasn’t her blood.”
“Yeah, and she ain’t never not snatched the back of their head if they got caught misbehavin’, either,” I say with a laugh.
“True enough,” he says. “So, what’s the plan for all this?”
“We smoke ‘em both,” I say and watch him to see his reaction.
We don’t deal with fucking rats. There’s no place for a rat in the Bastards and he knows it.
“Figured as much. Can’t say I won’t be happy to wash my hands of them both. I didn’t realize the boy was such a pussy,” he says with a shake of the head.
While Whitey and I were both gone from the fun, I get the feeling I missed out on some good times. A couple of needles are sticking out of Diamond’s chest.
Must have put some drugs in him to keep him awake.
Both arms have been flayed back from the wrist to the shoulder, tendons and joints shattered beyond recognition. I don’t see a single point on his body anywhere that isn’t bloody or hit with a hammer.
Well, maybe that’s wrong, I think as I walk around the body. His head has been left in pristine condition.
Just like Snowbird’s.
“Remove his eyes,” I say to Whitey. “When he gets to the afterlife, I want him blind.”
“Will do,” he says before heading in to remove the eyeballs with a pocketknife.
Looking around the room, I take in all the guys kicking back in the chairs, relaxing, “Ya’ll feelin’ better?”
“Yup,” Graveyard says with a smile.
Grunting as he stands up, Grem smiles at me. “A little. Still work to do, though.”
“True enough,” I say,
We both watch as Whitey delicately removes Diamond’s eyeballs. Whitey is like a fucking surgeon with that knife of his, so fucking careful. When he finally has both pulled out, he walks over to his tool bag and puts them in a Ziploc bag.
“We sendin’ these with the balls?” Whitey asks me as he holds up the bag.
“Yup,” I say and snap my fingers at Brian.
“Get the body up and follow us,” I say.
“He’s bloody!” Brian says with a whine and I can feel my fucking blood boiling with anger.
“I don’t give a fuck, bitch,” I say quietly to him. “Get him unshackled and follow us, you stupid fuck.”