Random Fiction #2 – 113018

With his back against the wall, Craig could feel the prickly pears of the collonade against his bare skin. That only caused the guards to push him harder against it, knowing the pain it caused. It wasn't pleasant but all in a day's work for Craig Thommassen, savior of the universe.

Craig closed his eyes behind the scratchy woolen bandana that covered them and smiled. Streaks of blood staining his dingy white teeth, at least those remaining that hadn't been knocked out by the feverish fury of blows and boots to the head. He'd been in a hole without sunlight or basic necessities for three days, the threshold for surviving without water. He not only survived but thrived by drinking his own urine. The dark yellow fluid stained his teeth and fouled his breath something fierce.

“Are you prepared to talk, Mr. Thommassen?” Masters Robinson asked. He moved closer to his captive, inspecting him like an insect. His face was close enough that Craig could smell Masters' lavender-scented aftershave.

“Is that lavender I smell? Are you wearing White Shoulders again? I know your sister told you to stop stealing her perfume, I was sitting on her bed when she called you that night.”

Masters erupted in a rage, drawing his arm back and punching Craig in the jaw with all his might. “You will not disrespect my sister, Mr. Thommassen!” he screamed. “It's my shaving cream, you idiot!”

Craig held his tongue, more for the fact that it was just about ripped out of his mouth by the force of a fist than not being quick enough on his feet for a snappy comeback. He shook his head and squinted his eyes, attempting to stop the stars that momentarily blinded him. He spit out another tooth, this time his sole remaining canine incisor, and the first batch of blood spurting from the wound.

“My, my, my, aren't we touchy this morning?” Craig said. “It is morning, right? I haven't seen the sun for three days and I've had this blindfold over my eyes since you dug me out of that stinky hole. The sun on my face feels wonderful. Give me a moment to take it all in.”

“ENOUGH!” Masters yelled. “Guards, my cat-o-nine tails. QUICKLY!”

The pudgy soldier to his left with the bayonet laser rifle and the untucked uniform top, certain to earn him demerits after this was over, dug in the black leather duffel bag at his feet. His hand drew blood as he was in too much of a hurry to pull out his master's favorite toy. He handed Masters the proper end and proceeded to suck a bloody finger to stop the bleeding.

“Now, Mr. Thommassen, you will come to know pure pain,” Masters said quietly, almost in a whisper. “And I will derive great pleasure from watching you writhe in that pure pain.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't catch that,” Craig said. “You were whispering. I don't think your men heard it either. Let me help you.” Craig lifted his head toward where he assumed the men were in formation. “Hey, guys! Your master here is into some twisted, kinky shit here. He's going to get great pleasure in whipping me. You might want to stand back. It could get messy.”

Craig turned back to Masters as the men released him and stepped further back. “There, now you'll have plenty of room.”

Masters seethed with anger as he slowly removed his jacket. It didn't fit after his recent weight loss and restricted movement in his arms, which wouldn't do well with swinging his weapon. He carefully folded it in a small square and gently placed it on the ground a few meters away.

“This is going to be good, I can feel it,” Craig said. He spat another mouthful of blood on the dry, sandy ground and stood up straight and tall against the wall.

He sensed Masters' confusion. “Hey, I'm okay,” he said. “Please proceed. I'm not going anywhere…yet.”

At that Masters flung the cat-o-nine tails back and forth, ready to strike a deadly blow against his enemy.

A laser blast rang out from behind the men, piercing Masters's skull, instantly vaporizing it. The cat-o-nine tails fell limply to the ground.

More blasts rang out. The rest of Masters' men fell dead.

“Bout time you showed up!” Craig yelled, still not able to see anything under the blindfold. “I was stalling him as long as I could. Maybe next time make your grand entrance a few seconds earlier, will ya?”

“Oh, Craig, don't be such a baby,” Marta Remington said, ducking over the wall at the far side of the compound. “I was having too much fun watching you piss him off.”
Copyright © 2018 Chad V. Holtkamp.

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Verne Ho