Tales of a Drunken Degenerate, part twenty-three, Thank You For Not Smoking
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You're still alive, and you're still in the garage, but that's about all you know. Well that, and you're experiencing more pain than you'd previously believed was possible. Your eyes are covered by what feels like duct tape and your sense of time is all fucked up from being beaten unconscious so many times. You sitting in a chair of some kind, held to it with what is almost surely more of the same duct tape that's covering your eyes and your mouth. From time to time, someone would pull the tape off your mouth, more often than not taking a little skin in the process, and ask you questions; most of which you didn't know the answer to.
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At first you tried to be brave, so when you were asked a question you couldn't answer like, "Why the fuck is that midget still hanging around outside our shop?" You just said whatever came into your head, such as, "Hell if I know, maybe he's got a thing for bikers. You know, a lot of people have wondered what it's like to get fucked by a dwarf. That doesn't make you gay. Just like accidentally taking another guy's load in your face doesn't make you gay. Or does it?"
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But hearing the sound of your ribs cracking and the ringing in your ears from constant blows to the head with what could only be a crowbar or the business end of a tire iron can really dampen a man's spirits. So can pissing all over yourself when holding it in is no longer a viable option. The last time you'd blacked out, they woke you up by pouring gasoline all over you. Then someone walked around you, flicking a lighter but thankfully never actually lighting you up. Every time you heard the scrape of the flint you were sure that you were about to die a horrible death. Eventually you couldn't help it, you cried. They laughed.
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At least they hadn't taped your ears closed as well. In between marathon beating sessions, you could hear the bikers talking to each other. Apparently, the guy who'd clubbed you over the head was the brother of the guy you'd given the unwanted facial to. The only reason you're still alive is because Oscar showed up asking questions before they had a chance to kill you . Unlike you, Oscar hadn't been stupid enough to come alone, and whoever was with him stayed in the car with a video camera. This was at least two days ago, maybe more, but from what you could gather, someone has been watching the place ever since. The two brothers still wanted you dead but the rest of the club didn't seem to be willing to risk it without knowing more, so they had to settle for taking turns beating you into oblivion. As long as they didn't beat him to death, the club didn't seem to have any problems with this, in fact a few of them took a few shots themselves, just for fun.
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Now two of them are talking, and you hear one of them mention the police coming to the door earlier. He's not happy about this. "I say we sneak this fucker outta here after dark somehow and leave his body in a fuckin ditch somewhere." "Sure Fuckhead, and just how are we gonna do that when there's only one way out and it's being watched day and night, huh?" asks the other one. "Hell, I dunno... but we gotta do somethin, and we gotta do it now. That cop comes back with a warrant and we are totally fucked man. Holy shit, what was that?!" Gunshots. Coming from outside.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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