Merry Christmas, Mr. Lorenz (Full Story)

“I can’t even beat off alone anymore,” thought Bill Lorenz. He tossed and turned in bed, flipping over and noticing a fellow inmate, Sappy, staring gleefully at him. “That’s enough,” Bill finally said.

He threw off the covers, climbed out of bed, and started banging on his cell door. “Guard!” he yelled.

“Bill, what do you want at this hour?” the guard asked as he was rubbing his eyes. “We’re all trying to sleep around here.”

“Sorry to disturb you PRINCESS,” Bill replied, “but I demand to speak with Dr. Effington.”

“You know she doesn’t come in until 8:30.”

“Call her in!”

“I’d be happy to call in Dr. Effington, Mr. Lorenz. What’s the emergency?”

“I’m unhappy about having a cell mate.”

“But that’s hardly an emergency.”

“It is when you haven’t slept in two days! How can I get re-educated when I can’t get a good night’s rest?!”

“Bill, as you know, you were given a cell mate to help you with your anti-social behavior. If you are having trouble sleeping, we can provide you with medication. Otherwise you will have to wait for Dr. Effington to approve removing your cell mate.”

“I’m not taking those damn sleeping pills! When you see Dr. Effington, tell her that I demand to see her right away!”

“Will do, Mr. Lorenz.”

Bill turned around and noticed Sappy still staring at him. “Keep smiling Sappy,” Bill said, “one day I’ll kick those teeth in.”

***

“Sappy’s a goddamn rapist!” Bill said to Dr. Effington, “why did you send him to my cell?”

Dr. Effington sat in her chair while she sipped on tea. There was no desk to separate the two. No guards. It was just the two of them sitting alone in a small, intimate room. 

“His name’s not ‘Sappy’,” she replied, “It’s Jeffrey Rohmer. He has a history of not recognizing personal boundaries and we paired him with you because you are recognized as having a more aggressive personality. From you, he might learn consequences from crossing boundaries. From him, you might learn how to deal with difficult people. You both suffer from antisocial behavior. We had hoped that this would be a learning experience.”

“Sappy is a criminal! I’m not!” Bill stated, “I’m a political prisoner!”

“You engaged in activity that resulted in the deaths of several people. That is criminal behavior in every jurisdiction.”

“I had the right to preserve my ideals!”

“Be that as it may, after you were found guilty, you declined the other forms of treatment for reintegration into society. So you were sent here where you will learn how to live in society. This is how the system works.”

“I oppose the system. It’s brainwashing!”

“The aim of the Revolution was to create a more fairer society. That included changes to the justice and incarceration systems. If you play by the rules, you will be fully reintegrated with a clean slate.”

“Fuck you. The Revolution was bullshit. A difference of opinion is not criminal!”

“I’m not here to argue history and politics, Mr. Lorenz. My aim is to rehabilitate you, no matter how long it takes. Because of the Revolution and the new governing regime, I have all the resources to do it.”

“I take that as a threat.”

Dr. Effington finished her tea and lowered the cup to her lap. “Mr. Lorenz, if sharing a cell with Mr. Rohmer is too difficult, we can have him removed,” she said. “Now that that matter is settled, I would like to continue with your therapy.”

“Not today,” Bill replied, “you’ll have to find someone else to brainwash.”

Effington shook her head. “Very well,” she said, “please let the guards know if you need any reading materials. This need not be a painful experience for you, Bill.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Bill replied, “but you can stick that offer up your ass.”

***

“Forget it, Bill,” Susan said, “I’ve consulted with attorney after attorney and they’ve all said the same thing. Just play ball, take the treatment, and you’ll be released. The Reformed Department of Corrections will provide you with a job and assistance once when you’re released. And when you’re deemed fully rehabilitated, your criminal record will be expunged. It’s not like it once was.”

This was the first visit Susan paid to Bill in some months. The guards stood back while the two shared a table in the prison cafeteria. “That’s not the point,” Bill replied, “I’m being treated as a common criminal, which I’m not. What are they saying about me on the outside?”

Susan said nothing.

“That bad, huh?” Bill chuckled, “What happened to the world, Susan? Are we not allowed to be human anymore? This is everything we fought against!”

“We lost, Bill,” Susan said, “Sure it has taken time getting used to that. But I survived the rehabilitation process and things aren’t so bad on the outside. Some people know who I am and the things I’ve done, but everyone trusts the process. It’s like it doesn’t matter. I’m fully reintegrated.”

“You sold out, in other words.”

“Don’t be stupid, Bill.”

After a moment of awkward silence, Bill reached across the table and placed his hand on top of hers. “Did we ever fuck?” he asked.

Susan gave out a throaty laugh. “We got drunk and fooled around once or twice,” she said.

“Why didn’t we ever get together?”

“It would have never worked.”

“I know,” Bill lamented, “you were always too smart for me.”

“You were always preoccupied.”

“Now I’m gonna spend the rest of my life here. My loss.”

Susan stared into his eyes for a few moments while she clasped his hand. Finally, she stood up and straightened herself out. “I handed the package you requested off to the guards,” she said, “Goodbye, Bill.”

Bill exhaled. “So long, Susan.”

He watched her walk out through the gates and out of his life. Then the guards escorted him back to the cell. 

Minutes later, Junior, the senior day shift guard, walked up to Bill’s door. “Good news Bill,” Junior said as he handed him Susan’s package, “I don’t know what you want with all this leather, but it cleared security. Because you’re not on suicide watch, it was approved by Dr. Effington. Of course, it can’t leave this cell. You will be checked each time.”

“Understood, Junior. Thank you.”

***

“Fuck your Philly cheesesteak!” Bill yelled to Junior. The guard was delivering Bill’s dinner directly to his cell. But the prisoner took the plate and dumped the contents down the toilet. 

“Goddamnit Bill,” Junior said, “what’s your problem?”

“As a political prisoner, I’m going on a hunger strike!” Bill replied.

“But you requested the Philly cheesesteak for fuck’s sake! What more can we do to make you happy?!”

“Nothing! My sole aim is to agitate.”

Junior shook his head. “Look,” he said, “if you go on a hunger strike, we’ll just sedate you and feed you through a tube. Furthermore, I’m not here to hurt you. I’m not your enemy. Dr. Effington is not your enemy. No one here is your enemy. We’re all here to help.”

“Help with what?” Bill asked, “to transition me into a society I abhor?”

“Fine!” Junior replied, “stay here for the rest of your life! But please do me a favor: don’t make things difficult for me. We’ve gotten along in the past and I consider you my friend. Don’t turn me into an agent of your persecution complex.”

“But you are persecuting me,” Bill said, “you sold out to this new order. You are my enemy.”

“Whatever,” Junior said as he stormed away, “I can’t deal with you when you’re like this.” 

But a little after midnight, Bill was tossing and turning in his bunk when Junior entered his cell. “Get dressed,” he ordered, “Dr. Effington wants to begin a new treatment.”

“She wants to start now?” Bill asked.

“Yes. It’s tailored specifically for you. Relax, no drugs are involved.”

Bill jumped out of bed and put on his standard prison jumpsuit. Junior and two other guards escorted him to Dr. Effington’s office where he was greeted by a nurse at the reception desk. “I’m just going to check your vitals, Mr. Lorenz,” the nurse said. After taking his blood pressure and temperature, she sat him down for questioning.

“Have you been depressed in the last week?” the nurse asked.

“Well I am incarcerated,” Bill replied, “that doesn’t exactly make me happy.”

“Do you experience any sexual problems? Are you able to achieve an erection?”

The question took him off guard. “Uhh, well, ummm…I am 47 years old. Maybe I don’t have the stamina I once did but…”

“Will you require the use of a stimulant to achieve an erection?”

He began to blush. “I’m, I’m not sure what this has to do with…”

“Just answer the question, please.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Do you have any heart conditions that you would like to discuss that you haven’t previously disclosed?”

“No?”

The nurse then unzipped his jumpsuit and attached a device that stuck to his bare chest. “We will be monitoring your heart rate,” the nurse explained, “but be warned: this device will also shock you if you get too close to Dr. Effington. Understand?”

Bill nodded. He was too petrified and confused to say anything. 

“Alright, Dr. Effington will meet you in her office,” the nurse explained, “please step inside.”

Bill stepped into Dr. Effington’s office, as he had done dozens of times before, and the nurse shut the door behind him. He sat down in the same comfy chair that had always been there.

Nearly 10 minutes later, Dr. Effington stepped into the room. She was dressed a little differently, wearing only a long light blue coat that went well past her knees. “Doctor,” Bill said, “what is going on here?”

The Doctor pulled out her chair from behind her desk and placed it less than five feet from Bill. “This will all make sense in time, Mr. Lorenz,” she said, “now please relax and answer a few questions. First, do you find me attractive?”

Bill wiggled in his seat. “Uhh, yeah. Yes. Why do you ask?”

“Second: do you trust me?”

“I uhh, I don’t know if I have any other choice, Dr. Effington.”

“Fair enough, Mr. Lorenz. Now please, don’t be alarmed. I’m about to remove my coat, and underneath I am completely nude. Do not be ashamed to look at me or my body but please answer every question I ask. If you feel the need to undress yourself or masturbate, you are encouraged to do so. But you may not touch me under any circumstance. Am I understood?”

Bill sat deathly silent but Dr. Effington took that as an implicit ‘yes’.

“Alright, let’s begin,” she said. The Doctor removed her glasses, let down her hair, then unbuttoned her coat…

***

“Do you care to say anything?” Dr. Effington asked.

Bill scratched his head as he gazed at his psychologist’s nude body. She sat cross-legged directly in front of him as he looked upon her torso. He still didn’t believe what he was seeing. 

“This is a little weird for me, doc,” he finally uttered.

“I understand that,” Effington replied, “but let’s discuss your relationships.”

“My relationships?”

“Yes. Your romantic ones perhaps?”

Bill chuckled. “That’s irrelevant,” he said, “now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to return to my cell.”

Dr. Effington shifted in her seat. She quickly uncrossed her legs, briefly exposing her herself before placing one leg over the other. “Please make this work, Mr. Lorenz,” she said, “now, what can you tell me about Susan? Were you ever romantically involved with her?”

Bill began to sweat a little. “Ummm, I don’t think I’m prepared to talk about that just yet,” he stuttered. 

“Fair enough. Did you have any other partners?”

“Ehh, not many.”

“Why is that?”

Dr. Effington was holding a pen at the corner of her mouth, drawing attention to her lips. Bill looked down to her bare feet, noticing her painted toe nails. This slightly aroused him as that provided a bit of color to what he though was her otherwise dry personality. 

“Well, umm, I guess that’s a good question. I suppose I was either too busy or didn’t think I was desirable enough,” he said.

“Did you always have a low sex drive?”

“Uhh, well…,” Bill then unzipped his jumpsuit and touched himself. “…I don’t think so.”

Dr. Effington began speaking in a slower, softer voice. “Why don’t you find yourself sexually desirable?” she asked.

“I…I guess I’ve always felt unwanted.”

“By whom?”

Bill started losing concentration as he continued to pleasure himself. “I don’t know. My family?” he said. 

“Do you wish to explore that? Did you feel neglected by your mother, perhaps?”

As he began to near climax, Bill ignored the question entirely. “Doctor, can you please uncross your legs?” he requested.

“Not right now,” she said, “we still have to make it through this session.”

“Just let me touch you. Any part of you. Let me touch your knee.”

As he reached out, Bill’s heart monitor released several volts of energy, shocking him to the floor. He convulsed on the ground for a few seconds, then he vomited. A few nurses rushed in and helped him back to his seat.

“Mr. Lorenz, you were instructed to not touch me,” Dr. Effington said. Then she stood up and slipped on her long coat. “I hope you heed to that warning next time. But you’ve done well on your first session. When I see you again in a few days, I hope we can pick up where we left off. Good day.”

The nurses picked up Bill by the arms and carried him out of the office. After a quick physical examination, the nurses released him and Junior escorted him back to his cell.

***

“Does this come with a shot of bourbon?” Bill asked. Junior was handing him a cup of coffee through the cell door. Bill’s hands were shaking uncontrollably. 

“For that, I’d have to get approval from Dr. Effington,” Junior replied.

“Forget it then,” Bill said as he lifted the cup to his lips.

“Jesus, Bill, what did they do to you in there?”

Bill was still too horrified to provide any detail. Dr. Effington had absolutely cut him to the bone. “What kind of prison is this, Junior?” he asked, “Just let me do my time, Goddamnit!”

“You should know by now that this isn’t a prison per se,” Junior explained, “it’s more of a rehabilitation facility. In this brave new world, the reformed department of corrections believes that everyone, including you regardless of your past deeds, have something to contribute.”

“What the HELL is so rehabilitating about….,” Bill caught himself before he let out too much information. “Dr. Effington’s methods are unethical,” he continued, “I don’t how she thinks that will rehabilitate me.”

“Bill, just tell me what’s going on,” Junior said.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Is she torturing you?”

“Not necessarily.”

“Is she violating your person in any way?”

“Look, just drop it. I have another session with her tomorrow, maybe it will go better. At least I know what to expect. But you revolutionaries are some sick fucks. I’ll never understand any of you.”

“A lot of people would say the same things about you,” an irritated Junior replied, “at least Dr. Effington hasn’t killed anyone.”

Bill sat stone cold silent on his bunk.

“Look,” Junior continued, “it’s a new world. It’ll take time for you to adjust.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?!” Bill yelled. 

“This may sound stupid, but I believe in you. You’ll put it together some day.”

“Just fuck off, please,” Bill said as he began to rub his temples. He was still feeling side effects of the electric shock from the day before. Junior nodded and walked away. 

Bill pulled out the box of leather goods from under his bunk. He looked over a particular shapen object that he created using crude materials found around the facility. Then he continued toiling away at it, just to pass the time.

***

Bill kept wiping the sweat from his brow as he waited for Dr. Effington. The nurses once again attached the heart shock device to his chest. After 10 agonizing minutes, the psychiatrist walked into the office. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Lorenz,” she said. The doctor rolled her chair just feet away from Bill. 

She was wearing the same boring brown skirt that went past her knees. Bill had seen her don that same outfit hundreds of times. Though slightly relieved…because he thought this might be a normal session…he couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

“That’s quite alright, doctor,” he replied, “I’m sorry for taking out my penis and trying to touch you last time.”

“Given the circumstances, that’s quite understandable,” Dr. Effington explained, “but due to safety concerns, I cannot permit you to touch me. At least not yet.”

Bill wondered what she meant by ‘not yet’. 

The doctor pulled out a folder and began looking through her notes. “Now last time we spoke, we were discussing your family life,” she continued, “I would like to explore that further.”

Bill sat up in his seat. “Wait a minute,” he replied, “I’d like an explanation for our last meeting.”

She closed the folder of paperwork in her lap and removed her glasses. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lorenz. But I can’t disclose that at the moment,” Dr. Effington said.

“Why not? It’s my treatment. Don’t you think I’m owed an explanation?”

“All of this will become clear in time. Now please, let’s return to the subject at hand.”

“Doctor, you stood completely nude in front of me. I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have questions.”

“Your psychological makeup is quite unusual, Mr. Lorenz. And unusual problems require unusual solutions.”

“Then I cannot participate in this treatment if I’m not given an adequate explanation.”

Dr. Effington sat up and readjusted herself. She ever so slightly slid up her skirt and uncrossed her legs. For a long half second, Bill could see she was not wearing underwear. 

He sat stone faced as she continued her questioning. 

“Mr. Lorenz,” Dr. Effington said, “I need you to trust me in this matter. Now please…tell me about your relationship with your mother.”

Bill began to feel sweat beading down his back. “Uh…,” he stuttered, “there’s not much to tell. She OD’d when I was 15. My father was also a junkie and he ran out on me. I was raised by my grandfather.”

“Did this ever make you feel alone? Guilty?”

Bill chuckled as he began rubbing his face. “Yeah, I guess you could say that,” he said.

“What did you do to address these issues?” The doctor asked. She again placed her pen up to her lips. 

“Uhhhmmm…I’m sorry, Dr. Effington, but I know you’re not wearing underwear.”

“I know you know.”

“Could I see more?”

Dr. Effington moved her fingers down her blouse. “Possibly,” she replied, “but I need you to answer my questions. Were you angry after your mother’s death? How did you cope?”

“Of course I was angry,” Bill said, “I was angry at the world.”

“Is this how you became involved in politics?”

Bill paused for a moment. “I…I don’t know,” he replied.

“Did you ever have any romantic relationships?”

“I don’t think I was ever good with women.”

“Well, what can you tell me about Susan?”

***

“I can’t believe they granted you a conjugal room,” Susan said.

Bill was busy setting the candle light and pouring wine. “And they gave me alcohol too,” he replied, “maybe things aren’t so bad.”

Susan pulled out a chair, sat down, and looked him square in the eye. “I’m not having sex with you, Bill,” she said, “besides, I’m already seeing someone.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“Because it’s John.”

Bill looked down at the ground and shook his head. “Goddamn it,” he uttered.

“There was no good way to tell you,” Susan said.

Bill walked over to the window then glanced at the small Christmas tree in the corner. “Well Merry Christmas to me,” he replied.

“But I did bring you a gift,” Susan said as she dug through her bag. She pulled out a picture of him and his grandfather at Mount Hood some 15 years earlier. “I know that this was the last picture of your grandpa before he passed,” she continued.

Bill took the photograph and turned his back on Susan. He was silent as he recalled the memory of that day. After several awkward seconds, Bill spoke up. “I haven’t seen this picture since the day it was taken.”

Susan said nothing. 

Then Bill turned around. “Why John?” he asked. “Don’t you two have a history? Isn’t the government watching you two like a hawk?”

“Maybe,” she replied, “but I don’t care. I think we always had feelings for each other.”

“But you guys aren’t up to the same old shit again? You just got out of prison for Christ sake!”

“I don’t think I should discuss this with you right now.”

“You are! Fuck. I hope they don’t have this room bugged!”

Susan threw up her arms. “Let’s drop it,” she yelled, “I was hoping this would be a happy visit. But obviously you’re not mature enough for this conversation.”

Bill began drinking directly from the wine bottle. “I guess not,” he replied.

The two uttered nothing for a few minutes. Finally, Susan stood up. “I don’t think I’ll be coming back,” she said, “you seeing me probably isn’t good for your rehabilitation.”

Bill didn’t reply.

“I wish you luck in the future,” she continued, “when you’re released, if you know what’s good for you, please don’t reach out to me. Do you understand?”

He nodded.

Susan knocked, then a prison guard unlocked the door and let her out. Before she exited, she turned around. “Merry Christmas, Bill,” she said, then departed. 

Bill held the bottle of wine in one hand, and the photograph in the other. Then the prison guard stepped in the room. “You still have access to this room for a few more hours,” the guard said, “do you wish to stay here?”

“No,” Bill replied, “please take me back to the cell.”

***

“Merry Christmas, Dr. Effington,” Bill said as he sat prim and proper in the psychotherapist’s office. The good doctor smiled and nodded in astonishment.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Lorenz,” she replied, “I assume your meeting with Susan went well.”

“It did not, but that’s okay. I’m ready to move forward.” 

“Oh?”

“Yes, doctor. In fact, I’d like to learn more about you.”

Satisfied with the progress she was seeing, Dr. Effington gave a slight smile. It was the most warmth and personality Bill had seen from her. “What would you like to know?” she asked.

Bill shrugged. “Anything really. Why did you become a doctor?”

“Well, I realized the inefficiency of modern psychology to combat pathological behavior,” she explained, “in men, there’s sometimes a sexual component. If the new government is truly interested in eliminating crime, this problem should be addressed.”

“Your methods here have been kinda extreme, wouldn’t you say?”

“Only in light of the previous paradigm of sexual repression. But we’re now living in a new paradigm.”

Bill nodded. “I see,” he said, “so I’m sexually repressed?”

“Not repressed, Mr. Lorenz. You’re sexually misdirected.”

Bill thought for a moment. “So I’m assuming you’re still not wearing underwear?” he asked.

“You have assumed correctly.”

“May I see?”

Dr. Effington slowly uncrossed her legs and spread eagle in her chair. Bill gazed at her genitalia. “Am I still permitted to uhh…pleasure myself if need be?” he asked.

“Of course,” the doctor replied. 

Bill unzipped his prison jumpsuit and started touching himself. “Can you touch yourself too?” he asked.

“Can we continue to discuss your history?”

“Actually, I was hoping to talk more about you.”

Dr. Effington started rubbing her right hand down her thigh. “How so?” she replied.

“Do you do this for all of your patients?”

“Just you.”

Bill began stroking himself harder. “So ehh, what gets you off?” he asked.

“A lot of things,” she replied as she rubbed herself.

“Can you take out your uhh…,” Bill began to stutter.

“Breast?” Dr. Effington asked as she unbuttoned her blouse. After she exposed her bare chest, she placed one hand on a nipple and the other between her legs. Bill was completely zoned in. “When was the last time you were intimate with someone, Mr. Lorenz?” she asked.

“Please don’t call me that,” he said.

“Would you rather be called ‘Bill’?”

“I’d rather be called nothing.”

Dr. Effington’s moans of pleasure increased as Bill neared climax. “You can come closer to me,” she offered. 

“I can’t,” he said, “the heart monitor will go off.”

“I had it switched off.”

Bill slowed down as he moved his chair closer to hers. He reached out to touch her leg. As he stroked her leg and himself simultaneously, he began to feel a sense of performance anxiety. 

“Is everything alright?” Dr. Effington asked.

“I’m…I’m sorry doctor, I don’t know what my problem is!”

She buttoned up her blouse and placed her hand on his shoulder. “It’s quite alright,” she explained, “I’m proud of you. You’ve made a lot of progress.”

***

“Well Christ almighty,” Junior said to Bill, “is that a smile I see on your face?”

“You’re damn right!” Bill replied, “it’s a new day for ol’ William Lorenz!”

“Thought I’d never see the day.”

After the two exchanged pleasantries, Bill walked into the cafeteria and grabbed a tray. As he moved his way down the line, he came up to the dessert potions. “Care for some lemon meringue?” the cook asked.

“Ya know, I used to hate lemon meringue,” Bill replied, “but fuck it! Why not?!”

The cook shrugged and plopped the cake onto his plate. Bill then sat down on the other end of the table from Sappy. “Sappy, you disgusting piece of shit! How ya doing this morning?!” Bill greeted.

Sappy didn’t reply.

As Bill shoved his face with sloppy joes and French fries…drenched in nacho cheese of course…a gang of four inmates snuck up behind Sappy. Bill recognized the men. They were all fellow counter-revolutionaries on the outside. The leader tapped Sappy on the shoulder.

“I’m getting tired of seeing you diddle yourself in the shower,” the man said, “if I see it one more time, I’m gonna cut that pecker off!”

Sappy and the gang began exchanging words. Bill licked the nacho cheese from his fingers and approached the group. “What seems to be the problem here?” he asked.

“This has nothing to do with you Bill,” the leader replied, “go back to stuffing that dumbass mouth of yours.”

“Woah woah woah, cool it buster! I’m just trying to keep the peace!”

“How about YOU cool it, turncoat!” the leader retorted. This caught the attention of Junior, who remained on the sidelines with his finger on the taser. 

“Turncoat?” Bill asked, “Tom, what are you on about now? Come on man, we lost! Let’s move on with our lives!”

As the two shouted at each other, Sappy quietly pulled out a shiv and leapt toward the leader. Bill grabbed Sappy and wrestled him to the ground. Junior and the guards never noticed the small dull blade being drawn as their sight was obscured by the gang members. Bill forced the weapon out of Sappy’s hand and snuck it into his own jumpsuit. “Sorry Sappy,” Bill said, “but it looks like you owe me one.”

“Everyone back to your cell!” Junior ordered. The guards grabbed the Sappy and the gang then escorted them out of the cafeteria. “What’s gotten into you Bill?” Junior asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Normally you’d be the one to instigate these fights but now you’re stopping them!”

Bill nodded. “Then I suppose you should be thanking Dr. Effington,” he said.

***

Dr. Effington noticed Bill on the couch, buck ass naked, as she walked into her office. “I’m ready to do this, doctor,” he said.

“I see,” she stuttered as she stared at his erect appendage, “well, uh, what are you wanting to discuss today?”

“Well,” Bill replied, “I want to take the final steps towards rehabilitation, in whatever way you see fit of course.”

“Are you ready for that?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Dr. Effington smiled slightly, nodded, then stripped down completely naked in full view of Bill. She sat down in her usual chair cross legged. “Talk to me,” she ordered.

“What turns you on?”

She looked at him from across the room over the rim of her glasses. “Honesty,” she replied, “intelligence…kindness.”

“Do you think I’m a kind man?”

She started to feel up her left breast. “I seem to think so,” she said, “do you think you are?”

Bill began stroking himself. “No. I don’t think I am at all.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“You said you liked honesty, doctor,” Bill replied, “so I’m just being honest.”

Still cross legged, Dr. Effington began feeling herself between her legs. “Do you think that this will get you out of here?” she asked.

“I absolutely do.”

The two sat there, mouths agape, as they pleasured themselves. Finally, Dr. Effington spoke up. “You’ll have to wear a condom,” she said.

“Understood.”

After she tossed him a contraceptive, Bill quickly unwrapped it and stretched it over his part. “Do you need anymore assistance?” he asked.

“I absolutely do,” she replied as she uncrossed her legs. Bill then went down to his knees and placed his mouth onto her genitalia. But he found her exaggerated moans amusing. Bill knew he was no good at oral sex as he only performed it a handful of times.

“Fuck me, please,” Dr. Effington ordered. He had never heard her use such language. Nevertheless he bent her over the chair and took her from behind. 

Although she squealed with pleasure the entire time, Bill suspected she was faking. Finally, as Dr. Effington rode him cowgirl in the chair, she appeared to climax. The two held each other for a minute before they ever uttered a word. “Are you good?” she asked as she ran her fingers over his lips. 

“Yeah, I’m good. Thank you, doctor,” he replied. 

“Then I declare you rehabilitated,” she said. 

Bill rested limp inside her for another few minutes before she got up and dressed. “I can’t begin to tell you how happy this makes me, Mr. Lorenz,” the doctor said as she put on her bra, “please get dressed and I’ll begin the paperwork for the discharge board.”

Bill took a deep breath, nodded, and began dressing. Dr. Effington got on the phone with the board while he quietly went to a corner of her office to remove the condom. 

He then dumped the empty cumless rubber into the trash can.

***

Dr. Effington noticed Bill on the couch, buck ass naked, as she walked into her office. “I’m ready to do this, doctor,” he said.

“I see,” she stuttered as she stared at his erect appendage, “well, uh, what are you wanting to discuss today?”

“Well,” Bill replied, “I want to take the final steps towards rehabilitation, in whatever way you see fit of course.”

“Are you ready for that?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Dr. Effington smiled slightly, nodded, then stripped down completely naked in full view of Bill. She sat down in her usual chair cross legged. “Talk to me,” she ordered.

“What turns you on?”

She looked at him from across the room over the rim of her glasses. “Honesty,” she replied, “intelligence…kindness.”

“Do you think I’m a kind man?”

She started to feel up her left breast. “I seem to think so,” she said, “do you think you are?”

Bill began stroking himself. “No. I don’t think I am at all.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“You said you liked honesty, doctor,” Bill replied, “so I’m just being honest.”

Still cross legged, Dr. Effington began feeling herself between her legs. “Do you think that this will get you out of here?” she asked.

“I absolutely do.”

The two sat there, mouths agape, as they pleasured themselves. Finally, Dr. Effington spoke up. “You’ll have to wear a condom,” she said.

“Understood.”

After she tossed him a contraceptive, Bill quickly unwrapped it and stretched it over his part. “Do you need anymore assistance?” he asked.

“I absolutely do,” she replied as she uncrossed her legs. Bill then went down to his knees and placed his mouth onto her genitalia. But he found her exaggerated moans amusing. Bill knew he was no good at oral sex as he only performed it a handful of times.

“Fuck me, please,” Dr. Effington ordered. He had never heard her use such language. Nevertheless he bent her over the chair and took her from behind. 

Although she squealed with pleasure the entire time, Bill suspected she was faking. Finally, as Dr. Effington rode him cowgirl in the chair, she appeared to climax. The two held each other for a minute before they ever uttered a word. “Are you good?” she asked as she ran her fingers over his lips. 

“Yeah, I’m good. Thank you, doctor,” he replied. 

“Then I declare you rehabilitated,” she said. 

Bill rested limp inside her for another few minutes before she got up and dressed. “I can’t begin to tell you how happy this makes me, Mr. Lorenz,” the doctor said as she put on her bra, “please get dressed and I’ll begin the paperwork for the discharge board.”

Bill took a deep breath, nodded, and began dressing. Dr. Effington got on the phone with the board while he quietly went to a corner of her office to remove the condom. 

He then dumped the empty cumless rubber into the trash can.

***

“Congratulations Bill,” Junior said. Bill was sitting on his bunk while overlooking some discharge paperwork. The meeting with the board was to take place the following morning. 

“Don’t congratulate me just yet,” Bill replied, “only Dr. Effington has submitted her approval. The board may still turn me down.”

“Poppycock!” Junior retorted, “You have turned into a model inmate. Society will be lucky to have you back.”

“You really think so?”

“Of course! You have taken full advantage of your sentence. You have changed more than any other inmate I can think of.”

“I should have! 10 years is a long time!”

“And I must confess,” Junior added as he lowered his voice, “like you, I was skeptical of the revolution. But seeing how you improved so much, it really makes me feel like I’m doing the right thing here.”

Bill put down the paperwork and walked up to Junior at the cell door. “You are doing the right thing, Junior,” he said, “you’ve been a good friend to me. Thank you for all you’ve done.”

Junior gave a slight smile. “Perhaps we’ll run into each other on the outside,” he replied.

“Perhaps we will.”

***

“William Longsdale Lorenz has been serving in the Northwest Colorado Correctional Facility for 10 years,” the board chairman stated, “he was convicted for the murder of 19 people during a terrorist attack on a federal building in Billings, Montana…two of whom were children…during his time with the Whisper Militia. After his conviction, Mr. Lorenz stated that his actions were purely political as he believed that, quote ‘the reformed federal government, post revolution, was illegitimate’, end quote. After Mr. Lorenz’s apprehension, the remaining members of the Whisper Militia were arrested and sentenced. Thanks to the pioneering work of Dr. Gabriella Effington, Mr. Lorenz asserts that he has been fully rehabilitated. Today’s objective is to evaluate Mr. Lorenz’s suitability for discharge. Are there any questions?”

One council member spoke up. “Yes. Mr. Lorenz, how do you currently feel about your actions with the militia?”

Bill sat up straight in his seat. He gave a brief moment of reflection before answering. “Well,” he began, “the judge told me at my sentencing that he hoped the thoughts of my victims stay with me till the day I died. And I think about them every day. My activities with that group of terrorist…and they were terrorist…was misguided. My parents were gone at an early age and all I had was my grandfather. The only things I knew of the world was what he showed me. He lived in a small world with small ideas. He saw the future and only saw the end. But he was wrong. That’s not an excuse, I take full responsibility for my actions. But I thank the powers that be for living in a future that gives me a second chance. Most people in history were never given that opportunity. So to answer your question, I feel nothing but shame in regards to my time with the militia. I had misplaced anger that I projected onto the world. Thanks to the efforts of this facility, and Dr. Effington in particular, I’ve realized that about myself and I will do everything in my power to remedy my past and contribute to this brave new society.”

***

“I would say I’m gonna miss our exchanges,” Dr. Effington said.

“I bet you would,” Bill replied.

“But with your discharge, I take comfort in knowing I did my job well,” she continued.

Bill finished cleaning out his cell. He picked up his box of goods and walked towards Dr. Effington. “I suppose you did, doctor,” he replied, “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Contribute to society…and don’t come back here again,” she said.

“I see,” Bill nodded, “please walk with me.”

Dr. Effington walked along side Bill as he carried his large box of personal belongings down the corridor. For the first time in years, he out of the jumpsuit and in his outdated civilian clothes. “I think I might miss this place,” Bill said as they strolled past the cafeteria.

“That’s not the intention,” Effington replied.

“I know, but I met some good friends here.”

Bill stopped by Sappy’s cell. “Sappy,” he said, “I think I might owe you one.” But Sappy continued to sit there silently with his usual shit-eating grin.

Finally the two approached the front gate. Bill signed his remaining discharge papers and Dr. Effington signaled to have the gates opened. In the cool Colorado air, the Doctor and the former inmate stood outside the prison walls. Bill sat the box on the ground and lit up a cigarette.

“Will anyone be here to pick you up?” Dr. Effington asked.

“Soon,” Bill said, “but like I said, doctor, I don’t know how to thank you. I didn’t realize until this Christmas how alone I was in this world. Everyone I know is either dead, in prison, or want nothing to do with me.”

“I promise you will find loved ones on the outside,” she replied.

Bill shook his head. “No,” he said, “there’s nothing for me out here.” He then flicked his cigarette away. “You see doctor,” he continued, “I know what you…what all of you…were trying to do to me in there. I appreciate it, I really do. But that’s not reality. This world, this new society, I just don’t get it. I have no friends. Just enemies.”

Bill then pulled out his leather-handled knife, complete with the shank stolen off of Sappy which was now fully sharpened. “I’m sorry doctor, but there’s only one form of intimacy that gets me off,” he said.

He then thrusted the knife into Dr. Effington’s side. Blood gushed out of her and she collapsed to the ground.

During Bill Lorenz’s autopsy, after being shot down by the guards, it was determined that he ejaculated moments before death.

THE END

Merry Christmas, Mr. Lorenz (Part XII)

Sometimes artists create things that drive them insane. For me, this is one of those things.

This might be my last short story for awhile. I’m about to begin one of the many other side projects that may or may not see the light of day. But the important thing is there’s about to be shit posts galore here.

So here’s the conclusion to Merry Christmas, Mr. Lorenz.

“I would say I’m gonna miss our exchanges,” Dr. Effington said.

“I bet you would,” Bill replied.

“But with your discharge, I take comfort in knowing I did my job well,” she continued.

Bill finished cleaning out his cell. He picked up his box of goods and walked towards Dr. Effington. “I suppose you did, doctor,” he replied, “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Contribute to society…and don’t come back here again,” she said.

“I see,” Bill nodded, “please walk with me.”

Dr. Effington walked along side Bill as he carried his large box of personal belongings down the corridor. For the first time in years, he out of the jumpsuit and in his outdated civilian clothes. “I think I might miss this place,” Bill said as they strolled past the cafeteria.

“That’s not the intention,” Effington replied.

“I know, but I met some good friends here.”

Bill stopped by Sappy’s cell. “Sappy,” he said, “I think I might owe you one.” But Sappy continued to sit there silently with his usual shit-eating grin.

Finally the two approached the front gate. Bill signed his remaining discharge papers and Dr. Effington signaled to have the gates opened. In the cool Colorado air, the Doctor and the former inmate stood outside the prison walls. Bill sat the box on the ground and lit up a cigarette.

“Will anyone be here to pick you up?” Dr. Effington asked.

“Soon,” Bill said, “but like I said, doctor, I don’t know how to thank you. I didn’t realize until this Christmas how alone I was in this world. Everyone I know is either dead, in prison, or want nothing to do with me.”

“I promise you will find loved ones on the outside,” she replied.

Bill shook his head. “No,” he said, “there’s nothing for me out here.” He then flicked his cigarette away. “You see doctor,” he continued, “I know what you…what all of you…were trying to do to me in there. I appreciate it, I really do. But that’s not reality. This world, this new society, I just don’t get it. I have no friends. Just enemies.”

Bill then pulled out his leather-handled knife, complete with the shank stolen off of Sappy which was now fully sharpened. “I’m sorry doctor, but there’s only one form of intimacy that gets me off,” he said.

He then thrusted the knife into Dr. Effington’s side. Blood gushed out of her and she collapsed to the ground.

During Bill Lorenz’s autopsy, after being shot down by the guards, it was determined that he ejaculated moments before death.

THE END

Merry Christmas, Mr. Lorenz (Part X)

I don’t know why you guys make me write this smut. I don’t know anything about sex. I’m Mormon for fuck’s sake! I don’t even touch my penis in the shower!

So just remember: if you get uncomfortable reading this portion of the story, it’s your fault. You MADE me write this.

Merry Christmas, Mr. Lorenz (Part X)

Dr. Effington noticed Bill on the couch, buck ass naked, as she walked into her office. “I’m ready to do this, doctor,” he said.

“I see,” she stuttered as she stared at his erect appendage, “well, uh, what are you wanting to discuss today?”

“Well,” Bill replied, “I want to take the final steps towards rehabilitation, in whatever way you see fit of course.”

“Are you ready for that?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Dr. Effington smiled slightly, nodded, then stripped down completely naked in full view of Bill. She sat down in her usual chair cross legged. “Talk to me,” she ordered.

“What turns you on?”

She looked at him from across the room over the rim of her glasses. “Honesty,” she replied, “intelligence…kindness.”

“Do you think I’m a kind man?”

She started to feel up her left breast. “I seem to think so,” she said, “do you think you are?”

Bill began stroking himself. “No. I don’t think I am at all.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“You said you liked honesty, doctor,” Bill replied, “so I’m just being honest.”

Still cross legged, Dr. Effington began feeling herself between her legs. “Do you think that this will get you out of here?” she asked.

“I absolutely do.”

The two sat there, mouths agape, as they pleasured themselves. Finally, Dr. Effington spoke up. “You’ll have to wear a condom,” she said.

“Understood.”

After she tossed him a contraceptive, Bill quickly unwrapped it and stretched it over his part. “Do you need anymore assistance?” he asked.

“I absolutely do,” she replied as she uncrossed her legs. Bill then went down to his knees and placed his mouth onto her genitalia. But he found her exaggerated moans amusing. Bill knew he was no good at oral sex as he only performed it a handful of times.

“Fuck me, please,” Dr. Effington ordered. He had never heard her use such language. Nevertheless he bent her over the chair and took her from behind.

Although she squealed with pleasure the entire time, Bill suspected she was faking. Finally, as Dr. Effington rode him cowgirl in the chair, she appeared to climax. The two held each other for a minute before they ever uttered a word. “Are you good?” she asked as she ran her fingers over his lips.

“Yeah, I’m good. Thank you, doctor,” he replied.

“Then I declare you rehabilitated,” she said.

Bill rested limp inside her for another few minutes before she got up and dressed. “I can’t begin to tell you how happy this makes me, Mr. Lorenz,” the doctor said as she put on her bra, “please get dressed and I’ll begin the paperwork for the discharge board.”

Bill took a deep breath, nodded, and began dressing. Dr. Effington got on the phone with the board while he quietly went to a corner of her office to remove the condom.

He then dumped the empty cumless rubber into the trash can.

TO BE CONTINUED….

Flashback: “Dr. Si”

People ask me all the time: what’s your worst story?

And the answer is the story you’re about to read…Dr. Si. It’s poorly written, the jokes don’t land, and the character motivations make zero fucking sense (much like an actual James Bond story).

Some background though: the last “Detective James from LA” story I posted was The Man with the Golden Eye, which was the second in the series. While Dr. Sí, for all intents and purposes, is a direct sequel to that story, it’s actually the fourth in the series. Magnum Enforcer, the third entry in the Detective James saga, is actually a banger that I might republish here at another time. But you really only need to know two things from Magnum Enforcer: it introduces the Korth .357 magnum WHICH James uses to senselessly kill the villain at a Chucky Cheese in the story’s conclusion, plus Mr. Ree is formally introduced (although he’s in the first two stories)

However, knowing that information prolly won’t change a thing because this story’s still a piece a shit.

Dr. Si

“I’m Amish now,” I said to Admiral Majors and Izzy. “I don’t believe in violence anymore.”

“You mean to tell me we drove all the way to Pennsylvania from Los Angeles just for you to say you’ve taken a vow to never kill again,” the Admiral asked.

“Yes. I killed a man in cold blood. Not out of justice,” I replied. “I felt pure hatred. And I hope to never feel that again. That’s not God’s way.”

“The man you killed was a bent cop AND a serial killer. Fuck that guy!”

“No,” I said. “You see this,” I pointed over to the wide green pastures. Off in the distance, Amish brethren were erecting a barn. “This is God’s way. Hard work and community. That’s what will get us to heaven.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this bullshit,” the Admiral replied. “So you wanna play hardball eh? Fine. $2 million. I am offering you $2 million of tax payer money to join my force. One of our top nuclear scientists have gone missing, and we have reason to suspect that the Ionian Liberation Front is behind it. You’ve dealt with those guys before. If you change your mind, you know where to reach me.”

The Admiral stormed off. Izzy bashfully stood around.

“What’s her name,” she asked.

“Miriam,” I replied. “She’s a good woman. She’ll make an excellent mother.”

“I’m happy for you,” she said. “I’m seeing someone too. I gave Admiral Majors a hand job on drive over here. He’s taking me to dinner tonight.”

“I wish you two the best of luck.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Goodbye James.”

“Goodbye Izzy.”

After I finished tending to the cattle, I washed off the bull semen then went to the homestead for supper. Miriam served me up a plate of beans and cornbread. 

Miriam was a plain and simple Amish woman. We married during the fall harvest. Her father was Ezekiel, one of the community leaders. He was generous enough to take me in.

“Didist thou havest a good day,” she asked.

“I did Miriam. This is a well-earned supper after an honest day’s work.”

“The Lord hath blessed us. I am pregnant with child.”

“This is swell news indeed. The community with rejoice at the announcement.”

We smiled and held hands while we sat around the fireplace. I was loading tobacco into my pipe when Ezekiel stopped by.

“The Lord has brought forth good news,” I told him. “Miriam is pregnant with child.”

“Praise the Lord indeed,” he replied. “I am going to be a grandfather.”

The two of us went to the porch to watch the sunset. I took a match to the pipe. “So what brings you by Ezekiel,” I asked.

“I’m afraid Brother Peter is not doing well,” he said. “He won’t likely survive through the night.”

“That’s a shame. Miriam and I shall pray on it.”

“Unfortunately, I bring more bad news. Bandits have returned and stole four more chickens. We don’t have the funds to replace them. I’m afraid that we are having trouble feeding the children and the harvest isn’t bringing what we need. Times are hard indeed.”

“The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away,” I said.

“I wish someone would do something about these bandits. They have drained all of our resources for the winter,” Ezekiel said.

I puffed on the pipe and rocked in the chair. “I’m sure the Lord will provide.”

That night I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned. I sat up and kissed Miriam on the forehead while she peacefully slept.

I grabbed a shovel and hid behind the chicken coup while I waited for the bandits. I heard twigs snapping and bushes rustling. They were close.

“Stop right there or I’ll bash your head in,” I told the two bandits.

They laughed. “You’re Amish,” they said. “You can’t hurt us.”

“Grab my cock and find out,” I replied, referring to the rooster.

We had a stare down. I waited for one of them to make a move. One went for his pistol and I smashed the shovel right on his dick.

“My dick,” he yelled.

The other one leapt at me and I knocked his clean off his shoulders. Blood sprayed all over the coup. I went over to the other man laying on the ground.

“Don’t kill me,” he yelled. But I smashed the shovel right into his guts.

I buried the bodies deep in the woods.

I took the shovel and began digging behind the barn. Out of the dirt I pulled out an old oak box. 

Inside the box: the Korth 357 magnum.

***

“I’m sorry Miriam,” I said before I departed for Washington. “I’m doing this for the money. I must save our Amish community.”

We exchanged goodbyes and I rode my horse and buggy down to Washington DC to rendezvous with Admiral Majors at the Pentagon. 

“I knew you couldn’t refuse my offer,” the Admiral said. “Now take off that Amish bullshit. You’re a colonel in the Army now.”

I donned my uniform and saluted the Admiral. “Welcome to the Kill Force,” he said.

We boarded a plane and flew to The Hague. “What’s this about,” I asked the Admiral.

“We’re going to meet with Angelika Antoluktokoloplos. She knows the whereabouts of our missing nuclear scientist. Right now, she’s standing trial for war crimes.”

Angelika: my former nemesis turned ally during the Franco De Werner case.

Izzy flew along with us. Her and the Admiral were now married. “The President married us. We had the wedding on the White House lawn. You should have been there,” she said. She was trying to make me jealous.

“I’m so happy for you Izzy,” I replied.

Also on the flight was none other than Mr. Ree. “Well as I live in breath,” I told him. “I thought you died back in Los Angeles.”

He laughed. “No, I had an increased blood flow from that massive erection while I was pretending to be a prostitute. That’s what saved me. Thank god for viagra,” he said as he was popping viagra. “Now I always walk around with a boner.”

Me and Mr. Ree shared a few drinks at the airplane bar. “Keep the martinis coming,” I told the bartender.

“I heard you turned Amish,” Mr. Ree said.

“I’m a new man now,” I replied. “I’m only doing this for the money.”

“You get paid to do this?”

We got rip roaring drunk at the bar. I couldn’t sleep on the flight. Mr. Ree gave me a Xanax.

That morning, the plane landed at The Hague. The Admiral, Izzy, Mr. Ree, and myself were escorted to the maximum security prison by a NATO officer, Maj. Jzerkov. 

“Be warned,” Jzerkov said. “The prisoner is uncooperative, she hasn’t given up any information regarding the whereabouts of the Ionian Liberation Front.”

“Just take us to her,” the Admiral said.

Angelika was locked up in a 3×3 glass box, chained to a chair. “Why is she nude sir,” I asked Jzerkov. “To prevent suicide,” he replied. “These terrorists will stop at nothing to avoid answering for their crimes.”

“Well well well,” Angelika said. “If it isn’t the Admiral and his lap dog. It’s Private Detective James from Los Angeles, isn’t it?”

“It’s Colonel James now,” I replied.

“Where’s our missing nuclear scientist, Ms. Antelukolpolous,” the Admiral asked.

“Why should I tell you anything?”

The Admiral took me and Jzerkov aside. “Release her into my custody,” he told Jzerkov.

“This is highly irregular Admiral! She’s standing trial,” Jzerkov replied.

“Look, I need a bargaining chip.” 

Jzerkov thought for a second. “Alright, Admiral,” he responded. “But you owe me one.”

The Admiral nodded and went back to interrogating Angelika. “Okay Ms. Anolupolokolopos,” he said. “We are prepared to cut you a deal: charges will be dropped and you will be released into my custody….IF…if….you provide us any information. Just a name will suffice.”

Angelika sat back in her seat and smiled. “If you plan on going after the Ionian Liberation Front, you better bring bigger guns.”

“Angelika, please cooperate,” I said.

“Alright,” she responded. “You want a name, here’s a name. The man who kidnapped your highly esteem scientist is none other than…,” she gave a long pause. 

“Dr. Sí”

***

Angelika was loaded onto the plane, strapped to a dolly like she was Hannibal Lector. Maj. Jzerkov was generous enough to give her a jumpsuit.

This time, the plane was bound for Hawaii, the last known location of the nuclear scientist and Dr. Si. 

“Are we getting drunk on the plane again,” Mr. Ree asked.

“Damn right we are!”

Admiral Majors joined us at the bar. He was to brief us on our mission.

“The rest of the Kill Squad will join us in Honolulu,” the Admiral said. “Sgt. Private, Captain Corporal, and Lieutenant Sargent have been fully briefed on the situation.”

“Maybe I’ve been too drunk to pay attention,” I said. “But what is our mission?”

“I thought it was obvious,” the Admiral replied. “Retrieve the scientist and kill all the bad guys. How complicated do you want this to get?”

“What about Dr. Sí? What will we do if we capture him?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

After drinks, I went to the cargo bay to talk with Angelika. I dismissed the guards and removed her mask.

“Can you remove the straps please,” she asked. “I need to use the bathroom.”

I unstrapped her from the dolly and watched her closely while she used the toilet.

“Does this turn you on,” she asked.

It kinda did but I played it cool. “Just making sure you don’t escape,” I replied.

“Where am I gonna go? We’re on a plane.”

I didn’t reply. She wiped and flushed the toilet. “Gonna wash your hands,” I asked.

“Why? I didn’t shit on my hands. So what do you want to talk to me about?”

“What’s the deal with Dr. Sí? Why is he so important?”

“This technology he possesses, you couldn’t possibly imagine its power.”

“A nuclear weapon?”

“No. Something more powerful.”

“What could be more powerful than a nuclear weapon?”

“You have a small imagination.”

I scratched my head. Maybe I was too drunk to have this conversation. “Well what does he want with a nuclear scientist,” I asked.

“Nuclear power can be used for other things than just weapons.”

“Care to divulge?”

“Set me free from this cargo bay and I’ll tell you everything.”

“I’ll have to discuss that with the Admiral. He’s particularly concerned about the….”

I turned around for a second and Angelika leapt at me with a makeshift knife (that she presumably snuck in up her ass (or vagina)). I was quick enough to grab her arm and throw her to the ground.

I laid on top of her for a brief moment. We stared into each other’s eyes while I restrained her, my mouth inches from hers. We were both aroused by the sudden burst of action.

The guards rushed in when they heard the commotion. “I got the situation under control,” I told them.

I stood up and ordered the guards to strap her back to the dolly. “Our conversation is done here,” I said. “I’m gonna go jack of…er, I mean, get a Jack. A Jack and Coke. I’m gonna go get drunk.”

But I didn’t go to the bar. I rushed to my cabin to beat off.

***

The Kill Squad met us at Honolulu Airport. While we were unloading in the hangar, Sgt. Private, Lt. Corporal, and Cpt. Sargent gawked at Angelika.

“I’d like to stick my penis into her vagina, if you know what I mean ,” said Sgt. Private.

I bashed him in the face with the butt of my rifle. “Watch your mouth. Ms. Antolonolupolopolos is under our protection. She is our guest and you will treat her as such.”

“Enough,” the Admiral said. He walked over to Sgt. Private, pulled out a 9mm, and shot him in the head.

“Jesus Christ,” I yelled.

“I will not tolerate insubordination in this unit,” the Admiral said. “Lt. Corporal, Cpt. Sargent…get rid of the body.”

I walked over to Mr. Ree. “Does the Admiral usually shoot people for insubordination,” I asked. 

“Oh yeah! All the time. Don’t worry about it.”

Afterwards, the entire squad, plus Angelika and Izzy, was airlifted by helicopter to a remote location in the jungle…on the other side of Diamond Head. We set up headquarters in a small hut where we planned our excursion.

The Admiral laid out a map on the table. “Dr. Sí and the scientist were last seen at this location,” he said while pointing to a spot on the map. “I believe they’re now here,” he continued while pointing at a different spot. “Do you agree, Colonel?”

“Sure,” I replied. “Why not?”

“Good. We will head out at 0600 tomorrow morning. Load up on extra ammo,” he said to the group. “We’re bound to run into some resistance.”

The squad retreated to their huts around the camp. I ran into Izzy on my way out.

“The Admiral is a great guy, isn’t he,” she asked.

“He’s a crazy asshole. I’ll say that much.”

I noticed that she had a black eye. “You know Izzy,” I said. “If you ever need to talk about anything, you can come to me.”

“Oh, this black eye,” she asked. “This is nothing. We get a little carried away in the bedroom.”

“Well be careful,” I replied. “No choking stuff. I learned that one the hard way.”

Meanwhile, Cpt. Sargent was harassing Angelika in her hut. An explosive collar was placed around her neck in the event she tried to flee or attacked someone in the group.

“If you don’t leave Angelika alone,” I said to Cpt. Sargent, “I’m gonna place that collar around YOUR neck.”

He glared at me as he left her hut.

“I don’t need your protection James. I can take care of myself,” she said.

“I think you do. Any one of us can detonate that collar if you put up a fight. Some men here might take advantage of that.”

I took a seat while she sat up on her cot. I decided to take the first watch.

“The Admiral is gonna get you killed,” she said.

“Probably. But he’s paying me well. That money will help my wife and Amish community.”

“You have a wife? And you’re Amish?”

“You sound disappointed.”

“You’re not my type.”

“Is it because I’m Amish?”

“Just don’t get yourself killed on my behalf.”

We bantered for awhile. She fell asleep and unfortunately I did too. 

Later that night, men snuck into the camp. They hooded, muzzled, and kidnapped Angelika and me. When the hood was lifted from my head, I was in a laboratory.

Angelika was nowhere to be found. 

They placed me on my knees, hands bound behind me. Even worse, the explosive collar was now around my neck.

A man in a white lab coat walked in front me and lowered himself to my face. 

“Hello James,” he said. “I’m Dr. Sí.”

***

“Well shits assholes,” I said to Dr. Sí. “We’ve been looking for you. I guess the search is over! Can I go now?”

“Not so fast,” he responded. “I need to know where your Kill Squad is going.”

“First I want to know what happened to Angelika,” I demanded.

“Fair enough,” he said. Then Dr. Sí turned to the corner of the laboratory. “Angelika, come join us.”

Angelika stepped out, all dolled up with her red hair flowing down to her shoulders. “Sorry James,” she said. “You’re not my type because Dr. Sí is my type.”

The two kissed passionately in front of me.

“I do want to thank you, Colonel James, for returning her to me,” Dr. Sí said.

“Hey, not a problem,” I replied. “Can you return the favor by removing this explosive collar from around my neck? Once when they realize Angelika’s missing, this thing will blow my head off.”

“First, where is the Kill Squad going?”

“They’re probably coming here!”

“We are certainly not at where they are going.”

“Then what are you worried about?”

The doctor turned around and looked at a computerized map of the Hawaiian islands. “I am a man of science, colonel. In order for my experiments to work, I need EXACT measurements. I cannot afford unpredictability. So again…where is the Kill Squad going?”

I was running out of time. The collar was going to detonate at any moment. Then I remembered…

“$2 million,” I said.

“$2 million?”

“Yes, $2 million and I give up the coordinates of the Kill Squad plus any other state secrets you want in order to sweeten the deal,“ I replied. 

I was bluffing about the state secrets part. I didn’t know shit.

“$1 million,” Dr. Sí responded.

“Deal. The coordinates are 113.998N 737.746W. Now get this collar off of me!”

Dr. Sí laughed and ordered the guards to remove the collar. “Thank you for your cooperation colonel,” he said. “But as an insurance policy, I’ll place this collar on one of your acquaintances.”

The guards rolled in Mr. Ree, strapped to an upright gurney.

“They kidnapped me too,” Mr. Ree said. “Can you believe that bullshit?”

“Ohh come on,” I said. “Don’t kill Mr. Ree! He’s cool! Besides, that thing will detonate before the squad reaches its destination!”

“That’s just a chance I’m willing to take,” Dr. Sí replied. 

“Look, I don’t give a damn about Admiral Majors or the Kill Squad. But there’s a woman that’s traveling with them: Izzy. Please don’t kill her,” I pleaded.

“Colonel, relax,” he said. “I’m not looking to kill anyone, except for Mr. Ree over there. I just want to see that thing go off.”

“I don’t understand.”

Dr. Sí put his arm around my shoulders and started walking me around the laboratory. “I understand your confusion. You see, has anyone told you the truth about that missing nuclear scientist?”

“To be honest doctor, for this entire mission, I’ve kinda been asleep at the wheel. I don’t even know that scientists’ name.”

“Ah, let me show you.”

Dr. Sí opened a door and out walked an old man in a lab coat. I think I was supposed to be impressed by this.

“I don’t know who this is,” I said.

“That’s J. Robert Oppenheimer.”

“Who?”

“J. Robert Op…the father of the atomic bomb?! What are you? Some kind of fucking moron?”

“You cloned him?”

“No asshole! I brought him from the past into the future! Don’t you get it yet? I invented time travel!!”

I walked up to Oppenheimer and looked him up and down. “Welcome to the future,” I told him. “We killed Hitler.”

“I know that, dumbass,” he replied. “We should have dropped the bomb on him!”

I looked back over to Dr. Sí. “So what? You invented time travel. Big whoop. How can you use that against the Kill Squad?”

“That’s why I brought my friend Oppenheimer to the present. You see, we created a new kind of weapon: a time weapon.”

“That sounds pretty fucking stupid, Dr. Sí,” I said. “How can you weaponize time?”

“Well you see, if you can triangulate the space time continuum, the quantum field fluctuations will…”

“Okay, sorry I asked,” I interrupted. “That science shit is boring. Cut to the chase. What’s gonna happen to the Kill Squad?”

“I will fire a plasma energy weapon at their coordinates. When the weapon reaches them, it will generate a quantum field around them and they will be transported to a different time and place.”

“My god,” I said. “A non-destructive weapon. You’re a genius Dr. Sí.”

“So you’re not a complete fucking idiot after all,” he replied. “It is far more humane than the nuclear weapons of the last 80 years. Imagine: no more nuclear fallout, no more mass death…we simply transport our enemies to a different time, different place.”

I looked around the laboratory…at all the scientists running around, to Oppenheimer, to Angelika, and then over to Mr. Ree.

“I cannot deny your genius, Dr. Si,” I said. “But it appears that the only one in danger here is Mr. Ree. If you’re really are humane, you’d remove that collar.”

Dr. Sí nodded. “I suppose you’re right, Colonel.” He looked to the guards. “Remove the collar.”

The guards walked over to the gurney and removed the collar. As they were about to dispose of it, it detonated, killing and maiming several of them. 

Out of the confusion, Oppenheimer attacked one of the guards, grabbing his machine gun.

“Put down the gun Oppenheimer,” Dr. Sí said.

“No,” he replied. “You’ve been holding me hostage here. I’m not your puppet!”

“But Bob,” Dr. Sí pleaded. “We’ve been building something special here. Don’t you want to finish our work?”

“No! No more weapons!”

More guards rushed into the room, forcing Oppenheimer to drop his gun. 

“Sorry Bob,” Dr. Sí said. “It appears your time is up.”

Mr. Ree was released from the gurney. The two of us were ordered to raise our hands and were rounded up with Oppenheimer.

“Lock these scum up,” Dr. Sí ordered.

***

“This is science gone haywire,” J. Robert Oppenheimer said. “I should have never agreed to help Dr. Sí.”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” I said to him. “We’ll get you out of here and back to your own time.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” he replied.

“Sure it does. It’s science! Anything is possible.”

“We can’t just go ‘back in time’. Doing so would violate all sorts of Newton’s laws. When the quantum field is generated, the individual is transported to an alternate timeline. The laws of physics remain the same and the outcomes in these timelines might be similar to our own, but it’s not the same timeline. Am I making sense?”

“Nope,” I replied. “But we’ll get you as close to your timeline as humanly possible.”

“Forget it,” Oppenheimer replied. “Our best option is to disarm the weapon to prevent this from happening again.”

“How do we do that?”

“There’s a special property in the element of gold that penetrates through space and time. If the gold is removed from the nano chambers, the weapon would be powerless.”

“Sounds like a plan Bob.” I looked over to Mr. Ree. “Do you think the Kill Squad will alter course and find us?”

“I doubt it,” Mr. Ree said. “I don’t even know where we’re at.”

“We’re at the bottom of a dormant volcano,” Oppenheimer said. “They’ll never find us.”

“Shit,” I said. “Then we have to take matters into our own hands. We just need an opportunity.”

Angelika then peered through the opening of our cell door. “James,” she said, “just hold tight, I’m gonna get you out of here.”

“Angelika,” I replied, “I thought you were with Dr. Sí.”

She then reached her hand through the opening to touch my own. “Dr. Sí is no friend of the Ionian Liberation Front. He’s no friend of peace and justice. I don’t want this technology to fall into the wrong hands.”

“Get us out of here and we’ll destroy it,” I said.

“No! Think about it James. With this weapon, we can right all the wrongs. We can undo our violent past and create a better future.”

“I don’t know Angelika.”

“Please, I’ll get you out of here. But let me have the weapon.”

I thought for a second and agreed to her terms. Then she grasped my hand tightly.

“What’s your wife’s name?” she asked.

“Miriam”

“She’s a lucky woman. Perhaps in another time….”

She let go of my hand and closed the opening. I heard some rustling outside, then a few gunshots. After a few moments, the cell door blasted open. 

Angelika walked across the rubble wearing a skintight leather suit and holding a Heckler & Koch M27.

“Alright boys,” she said. “Let’s blow the top off this volcano.”

***

We stole guns off some guards that Angelika brutally murdered and ran down the corridor.

“The time weapon is is being held three floors above us,” Angelika said. 

We began to feel tremors all around us. I asked Angelika the last time this volcano erupted.

“About 25,000 years ago,” she said.

“Then this thing could go off at any moment. We better hurry.”

We went down the corridors and up the stairs in an attack formation. Angelika and I covered the front. Mr. Ree and Oppenheimer covered the rear.

When we reached the room holding the time weapon, the Kill Squad…along with Izzy….was there. They altered course and stormed into the volcano earlier in a bloody, devastating firefight. Not many survived.

“Thank goodness you’re alive,” the Admiral said. “And you found J. Robert Oppenheimer. Excellent work. Lt. Captain, please dispose of the scientist.”

Lt. Captain cocked his pistol and raised it up to Oppenheimer’s head.

I raised my rifle to Lt. Captain.

“Pull that trigger and you’re dead,” I told him.

“But Colonel James,” the Admiral said, “this time travel stuff is against the laws of God. We must destroy all of the evidence.”

“No,” I said. “Oppenheimer has as much right to exist as the rest of us.”

Dr. Sí then rushed in with his guards. “Well well,” he said. “Glad you’re all here.”

We were surrounded. We dropped our weapons.

Dr. Sí walked up to the Admiral. “I’m happy to see you’re doing well Admiral,” he said.

“This ends today doctor,” the Admiral replied.

“I think not,” he replied.

Dr. Sí walked over to a control panel. In a corner across the room, the floor moved, revealing a lava pit.

“I’m sorry Admiral,” the doctor said. “But you can’t go where we’re going.”

The guards grabbed the Admiral and pushed him towards the pit. “You’ll never get away with this,” he yelled.

“Of course I will. I control time! Think about the possibilities Admiral! We could have taken over the world. You never understood that.”

“Izzy, don’t let them do this,” the Admiral screamed. She walked over to him and the guards.

“You’re one abusive son of a bitch,” she said. Izzy then roundhouse kicked him into the fiery pit. When the screams stopped and the flames died down, Izzy turned around.

“Can I go home now,” she asked. “I didn’t want to be here anyway.”

“I’m sorry madam,” Dr. Sí replied. “I cannot let anyone leave here alive.”

“So what happens now? This volcano will erupt at any moment,” I asked.

“Exactly Colonel. In a few moments, I will time travel out of here and this volcano will erupt, destroying the evidence.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Angelika said. Dr. Sí walked up to her, grabbed her hair and put his lips on her.

“I’m sorry things didn’t work out between us,” he said. “I gotta go.” 

He went back to the panel and a countdown started. A laser dropped down from the ceiling which would release a plasma field around its target, triggering a spacetime ripple that would permit time travel. 

“Before I forget,” Dr. Sí said to me, “here’s the $1 million I owe you. Where I’m going, this money is no good.”

He threw a metal briefcase as my feet.

“Alright,” the doctor said, “let’s get this bullshit over with.”

The laser then fired out a beam, creating the field around Sí. While the guards were mesmerized by the sight, Oppenheimer ran into the field, pushing the doctor out. 

There was a bright flash of light, then Oppenheimer was gone…lost somewhere in time.

“You fool!” Dr. Sí yelled. 

Out of the confusion, Angelika attacked the guards and took a gun. She began spraying bullets across the room. I picked up the briefcase and ran for cover. 

I grabbed a rifle from a dead guard and began shielding Izzy. Mr. Ree then engaged in the firefight. 

When all the guards were dead, Angelika threw down her semi-automatic and grabbed Dr. Sí. He tried to put up a fight.

“Angelika!” he screamed. “This volcano will go off any second. We don’t have time for this!”

“Time’s up bitch!” she said. Then she threw him into the lava pit. A large flame shot up in the air.

Meanwhile, Mr. Ree was monitoring communications between guards over the radio. “Reinforcements will be here in a minute,” he said. 

I handed the briefcase to Izzy. “Make sure Miriam gets this,” I told her. 

We shared one last look. “Mr. Ree and I will give you cover while you escape,” I said. “Angelika, go with her.”

“But I didn’t get the weapon,” Angelika responded.

“Let it go,” I said. “You can save humanity without it.”

I reached out my hand to hers and we looked deep into each other’s eyes. “Goodbye Angelika.”

She gave a pause. “Goodbye James,” she said.

Izzy and Angelika, along with a few surviving members of the Kill Squad, ran back down the corridor. The tremors were beginning to pick up.

Mr. Ree and I stood behind the control panel, waiting for reinforcements to arrive. “Ready to go where no man’s gone before,” I asked him.

He put a cigar in his mouth. “You’re reading my mind.”

As guards were pouring into the room, Mr. Ree provided cover while I fiddled with the controls. The laser pointed in our direction and released a beam. The field surrounded us. 

Where…or when…we were going, only God knew.

Then there was a brilliant flash of light….

*********

Izzy, Angelika, and the Kill Squad made it out of the volcano just as it erupted. As they watched the explosion from a safe distance, Izzy turned to Angelika.

“Do you think they’re dead?”

Angelika looked to the ash cloud hovering over the jungle. She thought for a moment.

“No,” she replied. “They’re out there…somewhere in time….”

THE END 

Merry Christmas, Mr. Lorenz (Part VII)

“I can’t believe they granted you a conjugal room,” Susan said.

Bill was busy setting the candle light and pouring wine. “And they gave me alcohol too,” he replied, “maybe things aren’t so bad.”

Susan pulled out a chair, sat down, and looked him square in the eye. “I’m not having sex with you, Bill,” she said, “besides, I’m already seeing someone.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“Because it’s John.”

Bill looked down at the ground and shook his head. “Goddamn it,” he uttered.

“There was no good way to tell you,” Susan said.

Bill walked over to the window then glanced at the small Christmas tree in the corner. “Well Merry Christmas to me,” he replied.

“But I did bring you a gift,” Susan said as she dug through her bag. She pulled out a picture of him and his grandfather at Mount Hood some 15 years earlier. “I know that this was the last picture of your grandpa before he passed,” she continued.

Bill took the photograph and turned his back on Susan. He was silent as he recalled the memory of that day. After several awkward seconds, Bill spoke up. “I haven’t seen this picture since the day it was taken.”

Susan said nothing.

Then Bill turned around. “Why John?” he asked. “Don’t you two have a history? Isn’t the government watching you two like a hawk?”

“Maybe,” she replied, “but I don’t care. I think we always had feelings for each other.”

“But you guys aren’t up to the same old shit again? You just got out of prison for Christ sake!”

“I don’t think I should discuss this with you right now.”

“You are! Fuck. I hope they don’t have this room bugged!”

Susan threw up her arms. “Let’s drop it,” she yelled, “I was hoping this would be a happy visit. But obviously you’re not mature enough for this conversation.”

Bill began drinking directly from the wine bottle. “I guess not,” he replied.

The two uttered nothing for a few minutes. Finally, Susan stood up. “I don’t think I’ll be coming back,” she said, “you seeing me probably isn’t good for your rehabilitation.”

Bill didn’t reply.

“I wish you luck in the future,” she continued, “when you’re released, if you know what’s good for you, please don’t reach out to me. Do you understand?”

He nodded.

Susan knocked, then a prison guard unlocked the door and let her out. Before she exited, she turned around. “Merry Christmas, Bill,” she said, then departed.

Bill held the bottle of wine in one hand, and the photograph in the other. Then the prison guard stepped in the room. “You still have access to this room for a few more hours,” the guard said, “do you wish to stay here?”

“No,” Bill replied, “please take me back to the cell.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Merry Christmas, Mr. Lorenz (Part IV)

“Do you care to say anything?” Dr. Effington asked.

Bill scratched his head as he gazed at his psychologist’s nude body. She sat cross-legged directly in front of him as he looked upon her torso. He still didn’t believe what he was seeing.

“This is a little weird for me, doc,” he finally uttered.

“I understand that,” Effington replied, “but let’s discuss your relationships.”

“My relationships?”

“Yes. Your romantic ones perhaps?”

Bill chuckled. “That’s irrelevant,” he said, “now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to return to my cell.”

Dr. Effington shifted in her seat. She quickly uncrossed her legs, briefly exposing her herself before placing one leg over the other. “Please make this work, Mr. Lorenz,” she said, “now, what can you tell me about Susan? Were you ever romantically involved with her?”

Bill began to sweat a little. “Ummm, I don’t think I’m prepared to talk about that just yet,” he stuttered.

“Fair enough. Did you have any other partners?”

“Ehh, not many.”

“Why is that?”

Dr. Effington was holding a pen at the corner of her mouth, drawing attention to her lips. Bill looked down to her bare feet, noticing her painted toe nails. This slightly aroused him as that provided a bit of color to what he though was her otherwise dry personality.

“Well, umm, I guess that’s a good question. I suppose I was either too busy or didn’t think I was desirable enough,” he said.

“Did you always have a low sex drive?”

“Uhh, well…,” Bill then unzipped his jumpsuit and touched himself. “…I don’t think so.”

Dr. Effington began speaking in a slower, softer voice. “Why don’t you find yourself sexually desirable?” she asked.

“I…I guess I’ve always felt unwanted.”

“By whom?”

Bill started losing concentration as he continued to pleasure himself. “I don’t know. My family?” he said.

“Do you wish to explore that? Did you feel neglected by your mother, perhaps?”

As he began to near climax, Bill ignored the question entirely. “Doctor, can you please uncross your legs?” he requested.

“Not right now,” she said, “we still have to make it through this session.”

“Just let me touch you. Any part of you. Let me touch your knee.”

As he reached out, Bill’s heart monitor released several volts of energy, shocking him to the floor. He convulsed on the ground for a few seconds, then he vomited. A few nurses rushed in and helped him back to his seat.

“Mr. Lorenz, you were instructed to not touch me,” Dr. Effington said. Then she stood up and slipped on her long coat. “I hope you heed to that warning next time. But you’ve done well on your first session. When I see you again in a few days, I hope we can pick up where we left off. Good day.”

The nurses picked up Bill by the arms and carried him out of the office. After a quick physical examination, the nurses released him and Junior escorted him back to his cell.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Merry Christmas, Mr. Lorenz (Part II)

“Forget it, Bill,” Susan said, “I’ve consulted with attorney after attorney and they’ve all said the same thing. Just play ball, take the treatment, and you’ll be released. The Reformed Department of Corrections will provide you with a job and assistance once when you’re released. And when you’re deemed fully rehabilitated, your criminal record will be expunged. It’s not like it once was.”

This was the first visit Susan paid to Bill in some months. The guards stood back while the two shared a table in the prison cafeteria. “That’s not the point,” Bill replied, “I’m being treated as a common criminal, which I’m not. What are they saying about me on the outside?”

Susan said nothing.

“That bad, huh?” Bill chuckled, “What happened to the world, Susan? Are we not allowed to be human anymore? This is everything we fought against!”

“We lost, Bill,” Susan said, “Sure it has taken time getting used to that. But I survived the rehabilitation process and things aren’t so bad on the outside. Some people know who I am and the things I’ve done, but everyone trusts the process. It’s like it doesn’t matter. I’m fully reintegrated.”

“You sold out, in other words.”

“Don’t be stupid, Bill.”

After a moment of awkward silence, Bill reached across the table and placed his hand on top of hers. “Did we ever fuck?” he asked.

Susan gave out a throaty laugh. “We got drunk and fooled around once or twice,” she said.

“Why didn’t we ever get together?”

“It would have never worked.”

“I know,” Bill lamented, “you were always too smart for me.”

“You were always preoccupied.”

“Now I’m gonna spend the rest of my life here. My loss.”

Susan stared into his eyes for a few moments while she clasped his hand. Finally, she stood up and straightened herself out. “I handed the package you requested off to the guards,” she said, “Goodbye, Bill.”

Bill exhaled. “So long, Susan.”

He watched her walk out through the gates and out of his life. Then the guards escorted him back to the cell.

Minutes later, Junior, the senior day shift guard, walked up to Bill’s door. “Good news Bill,” Junior said as he handed him Susan’s package, “I don’t know what you want with all this leather, but it cleared security. Because you’re not on suicide watch, it was approved by Dr. Effington. Of course, it can’t leave this cell. You will be checked each time.”

“Understood, Junior. Thank you.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Merry Christmas, Mr. Lorenz (Part I)

“I can’t even beat off alone anymore,” thought Bill Lorenz. He tossed and turned in bed, flipping over and noticing a fellow inmate, Sappy, staring gleefully at him. “That’s enough,” Bill finally said.

He threw off the covers, climbed out of bed, and started banging on his cell door. “Guard!” he yelled.

“Bill, what do you want at this hour?” the guard asked as he was rubbing his eyes. “We’re all trying to sleep around here.”

“Sorry to disturb you PRINCESS,” Bill replied, “but I demand to speak with Dr. Effington.”

“You know she doesn’t come in until 8:30.”

“Call her in!”

“I’d be happy to call in Dr. Effington, Mr. Lorenz. What’s the emergency?”

“I’m unhappy about having a cell mate.”

“But that’s hardly an emergency.”

“It is when you haven’t slept in two days! How can I get re-educated when I can’t get a good night’s rest?!”

“Bill, as you know, you were given a cell mate to help you with your anti-social behavior. If you are having trouble sleeping, we can provide you with medication. Otherwise you will have to wait for Dr. Effington to approve removing your cell mate.”

“I’m not taking those damn sleeping pills! When you see Dr. Effington, tell her that I demand to see her right away!”

“Will do, Mr. Lorenz.”

Bill turned around and noticed Sappy still staring at him. “Keep smiling Sappy,” Bill said, “one day I’ll kick those teeth in.”

***

“Sappy’s a goddamn rapist!” Bill said to Dr. Effington, “why did you send him to my cell?”

Dr. Effington sat in her chair while she sipped on tea. There was no desk to separate the two. No guards. It was just the two of them sitting alone in a small, intimate room.

“His name’s not ‘Sappy’,” she replied, “It’s Jeffrey Rohmer. He has a history of not recognizing personal boundaries and we paired him with you because you are recognized as having a more aggressive personality. From you, he might learn consequences from crossing boundaries. From him, you might learn how to deal with difficult people. You both suffer from antisocial behavior. We had hoped that this would be a learning experience.”

“Sappy is a criminal! I’m not!” Bill stated, “I’m a political prisoner!”

“You engaged in activity that resulted in the deaths of several people. That is criminal behavior in every jurisdiction.”

“I had the right to preserve my ideals!”

“Be that as it may, after you were found guilty, you declined the other forms of treatment for reintegration into society. So you were sent here where you will learn how to live in society. This is how the system works.”

“I oppose the system. It’s brainwashing!”

“The aim of the Revolution was to create a more fairer society. That included changes to the justice and incarceration systems. If you play by the rules, you will be fully reintegrated with a clean slate.”

“Fuck you. The Revolution was bullshit. A difference of opinion is not criminal!”

“I’m not here to argue history and politics, Mr. Lorenz. My aim is to rehabilitate you, no matter how long it takes. Because of the Revolution and the new governing regime, I have all the resources to do it.”

“I take that as a threat.”

Dr. Effington finished her tea and lowered the cup to her lap. “Mr. Lorenz, if sharing a cell with Mr. Rohmer is too difficult, we can have him removed,” she said. “Now that that matter is settled, I would like to continue with your therapy.”

“Not today,” Bill replied, “you’ll have to find someone else to brainwash.”

Effington shook her head. “Very well,” she said, “please let the guards know if you need any reading materials. This need not be a painful experience for you, Bill.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Bill replied, “but you can stick that offer up your ass.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Jack Hardcock: The Legend Continues (Full Story)

“Why did you give me this ‘Jesus Saves’ tract?” the bank robber asked me. I had the .38 pointed directly at his skull.

“Because I’m giving you one last choice,” I said. “And I suggest you accept the Lord Jesus as your personal Savior.”

“And what if I tell you that you can wipe your ass with this?”

I shook my head in disappointment. “Then tell Satan he’s next,” I said. I pulled the trigger and unleashed the full fury of my .38 right there in the bank lobby.

Shouts and screams echoed throughout the halls while the robber’s brains spewed out onto the marble floor below. I raised my hands to calm the crowd. “No need to thank me,” I said, “I’m just a good Christian Samaritan doing his job. Have a blessed day.”

I exited the bank just as the police arrived. The officer in charge started yelling in my face. “Goddamnit Jack Hardcock!” he screamed, “you had the suspect disarmed and apprehended, but you shot him anyway!”

“It’s good to see you too Sarge,” I replied sarcastically. “I figured that I save the taxpayers money by executing the bastard right then and there.”

“That’s not how justice is done!” he exclaimed. “Get out of my city before I throw these cuffs on you!”

“With pleasure,” I said then spat on the ground. But that’s the kind of thanks I get for being an instrument of the Lord’s Wrath.

***

“It’s time to go to Bible study,” my brother Pete Hardcock said. Him and his wife were kind enough to allow me to sleep in their garage while I got my life together. This was a year after I saved the city of Cleveland and Progressive Field from a renegade FBI agent. To pay the bills, I was now doing private detective work; stalking cheating spouses and such. It was beneath the dignity of a lethal holy weapon such as myself.

“You know I don’t need that shit,” I said to Pete, “I don’t have to read the Bible. I know everything in it is true and divinely inspired. That’s good enough for me.”

Pete’s stay-at-home wife, Jesseka, brought me a plate of green bean casserole. “Where’s the bourbon?” I asked.

“You know we don’t drink in this house,” Jesseka replied.

“If God didn’t want us to drink, He wouldn’t have made Kentucky bourbon,” I explained.

“Say Jack,” Pete said, “why don’t you come to church and meet a nice Christian lady. You’re 21 years old. Don’t you think it’s time to settle down and start a family?”

“Poppycock,” I replied. “How can I settle down when there’s so much evil on the streets? Like I tell everyone, I’m a blunt instrument of the Lord. So I have no thoughts or desires of my own.“

Pete and Jesseka’s son, Klyde, came rushing into the garage. “Uncle Jack,” he said, “someone’s at the door for you.”

“Back to work,” I uttered to myself. So I pulled up my pants, lit up a cigarette, then walked towards the front door. There I found a woman with tears streaming down her face.

“Are you Jack Hardcock?” the woman asked. “My daughter has gone missing. I need your help!”

***

“My daughter ran off to California to do porn and I’m absolutely devastated!” cried Ariana Huffington after I invited her into the home. I handed her a towel to dry herself from the pouring rain. “I don’t know what could have led her to such a decision! She was raised in a good Christian home!”

Ariana and myself, along with Pete’s family, sat around the fire place as she explained her story. “The Devil got to your daughter,” I said, “he’s my longtime nemesis. I’m quite familiar with his tactics. So you came to the right place.”

“Can you bring her home, Jack Hardcock?” Ariana asked.

I lit up another cigarette and took out a notepad. “I can,” I replied, “but it’s not going to be easy. I’m gonna need her name, age, and her last known whereabouts. I’m also gonna need a $78,000 advancement, in cash preferably, plus a $2500 per diem.”

“Also, where we could find these pornographic videos? You know, for research purposes and such,” interjected Pete.

“Good thinking,” I replied. “Knowing what kind of porn she does…anal, BDSM, etc…would be quite helpful in this case.”

Ariana bawled her eyes out as she provided all the requested information. Pete immediately pulled out his phone to do research. “This videos are too upsetting,” he said. “Excuse me. I’ll be in the bathroom for awhile. No one knock on the door.”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Huffington,” I said, “I’ll bring your daughter home.”

***

I laid in bed twisting and turning all night. To comfort myself, I started cleaning my .38. But the green bean casserole that Jesseka made was running the through me. 

As I was walking to the bathroom, I found Klyde…my nephew…watching pornographic videos on his computer. I lifted the .38 and fired a round into the monitor. 

“Jesus Christ, Uncle Jack! I was just trying to help you with your investigation!” Klyde screamed.

“You’ve defiled yourself AND that computer,” I said. “If you’re not careful, you’ll end up just like that poor girl. Do you wanna be shoving metal rods into other men’s pee holes for a living?”

“I don’t know, Uncle Jack,” Klyde replied. “It seems like pornography is everywhere these days. I just can’t avoid it.”

“I understand,” I said as I put my arm around him. “But just remember: Jesus will be returning very soon to vanquish our enemies. All hell will be unleashed on Earth and every man, woman, and child forsaken by God will know His wrath.”

“So true Uncle Jack,” Klyde nodded.

“Now you run off to bed.”

I went to the bathroom to take a shit. While on the toilet, I began looking through my notes. They read, “Subject’s age: 20 yo. Last known location: Oakland, CA.”

Then I paused to ponder the name: Layla Huffington.

***

“Don’t forget your Winchester ammo, Uncle Jack,”Klyde reminded me before I boarded the Greyhound bus.

I chuckled a bit. “You must mistake me for some stupid moron, Klyde,” I replied, “I never forget that!”

Thankfully he did remind me because I forgot.

“Well Brother Jack,” Pete said as he slapped me on the back, “don’t you be enjoying California too much. If you come back as a Democrat, I’ll strangle you with my bare hands and hang your corpse in the front yard.”

“Heh, good luck getting passed my .38,” I said as I pulled out my gun.

We laughed and exchanged hugs before I took my seat on the bus bound for Oakland, CA. When I arrived 12 days later, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. So I grabbed my bags and checked in at the La Quinta Inn in Alameda.

“Name please?” the clerk asked.

“Hardcock. Jack Hardcock.”

“ID?”

I laid the .38 out on the desk. 

“Ah yes, Mr. Hardcock. Welcome to Alameda,” the clerk said. “Room 213 is ready for you.”

I went up to the room, threw my bags on the bed and began checking for bugs and wiretaps. I found nothing. Then there was a knock on the door. 

“Room service,” the voice said. 

I drew my weapon and cracked open the door. “What do you want?” I asked. 

“I’m here to bring you more toiletries, Mr. Hardcock,” the housekeeper replied.

I opened the door and invited her in. She pushed her cart in front of her and started dispensing soaps and shampoos on the nightstand and skink. When she was finished, she parked her cart in front of me. 

“Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked.

“Yes, just one more thing…”

I punched her in the face and wrestled her to the bed. As I had my knee to her back, I ripped off the wig. 

“Nice try, Peter Tucker: FBI agent!” I said.

I released my knee and Peter started laughing as he rolled over. “Nothing gets passed you,” he said, “you’re as sharp as a tack!”

“What the fuck do you want? Why are you watching me?”

Peter sat up in bed and began wiping away the makeup. “Now now, settle down Jack,” he explained, “I know you’re after the missing Huffington girl. I promise to not interfere with with your investigation, the only service my office will provide is protection.”

“Protection from what? There’s nothing on the streets that I can’t handle myself. Remember, I spent six months in Cleveland?!”

“I know that! But things operate a little differently here.”

“How so?”

“Well, for one thing, I’m in charge.”

I let out a huge guffaw. “Don’t tell me the FBI put you in charge of the San Francisco field offices!”

“You better believe it, bucko,” Peter replied. “Furthermore, I don’t you running around here with that puny ass peashooter fuckin everything up! So you play by the rules or I’ll have you locked up in San Quentin! Do we have an understanding?”

“Peashooter? You mean this LETHAL weapon?” 

I then pulled out the .38 and shot Peter’s makeup sponge right out of his hand.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about, Jack!”

“Alright Peter,” I said as I placed the .38 back in its holster, “I’ll play it your way. But what’s with the disguise?”

“Disguise?” Peter asked. “This is how I dress.”

***

Please take the barrel of your .38 out of my nose!” the manager of the porn theater cried. “I don’t recognize the girl!”

“I know you know something!” I replied. “If you like having a nose, you better spit it out!”

“I know nothing! I swear!”

“You’re a liar. And you know what the Lord does to liars and pornographers? There’s no forgiveness! The Book of Isaiah says so,” I said. “But you will live to die another day. So get right with the Lord, for hell is in your not too distant future!”

I pulled the trigger and his nose splattered against the wall. The manager screamed on the floor while blood streamed through his fingers as he held his hands over his face.

Meanwhile, Peter Tucker was waiting outside of the manager’s office. “I’m proud of you, Jack,” he said. “You didn’t put a bullet in the suspect’s brain this time. You’re really maturing as a person.”

“Thanks Peter,” I replied as I put the .38 back in its holster. “Gosh though, this Layla Huffington girl is really hard to find. I mean, millions of men beat off to her picture everyday! You’d think SOMEONE would recognize her.”

“People go missing all of the time. I think you’ve done enough work for the day. C’mon, let’s get drunk and forget about it.”

I nodded then Peter and me left the theater and began walking past skid row. I couldn’t shake the image of Layla from my mind. There was something about her face that was haunting me. 

As we were about to enter the bar, a street performer was playing a familiar tune on his guitar. “Do you hear that song?” I asked Peter.

“Yeah, it’s a shitty acoustic version to that Eric Clapton song. What of it?”

“Layla,” I said.

I walked up to the street performer and handed him a $20 bill. “You better take the money,” I told him, “cuz if you don’t give the answers I want, you’ll get a bullet instead.”

“Fuck off copper!”

I slapped him across the face with the butt of my .38. As he laid on the ground, I pointed the gun at his skull. “I ain’t no cop,” I said. “I’m Jack Hardcock and I don’t play by the rules. So tell me about Layla or else you’ll be my next victim of the day.”

“It’s just a song, man!”

I cocked the .38.

“Alright alright!” the performer cried. “She’s my ex-girlfriend! She dumped my ass and fucked off to Los Angeles!”

“Layla WHO?!!”

“Layla HUFFINGTON!”

***

Don’t you have a whole FBI field office to run?” I asked Peter Tucker. Donavan McNabb, the guitarist I threatened to shoot on the streets of Oakland…and Layla’s ex-boyfriend…was packing his van before the two of us departed for LA.

“You know,” Peter explained, “the funny thing about San Francisco is that no one commits crimes there. What are the odds? So I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“Well if you’re tagging along with us, you’re paying for gas,” I said.

“Don’t worry,” Donovan interrupted, “this is a 1994 GMC Vandura. It’s a marvel of modern engineering. So this thing DEFINITELY doesn’t suck up a lot of gas.”

“It’s all good,” Peter replied, “I’ll just use my credit card issued by the federal government to pay for the $15 per gallon gas here in the State of California for an investigation that has absolutely nothing to do with the government.”

“Good thinking,” I said. “Well hop on in! Let’s get this show on the road!”

***

We all got high driving down the SR 1. It didn’t help much. I couldn’t shake the half naked images of Layla from my mind; something was compelling me towards her. And it wasn’t just my erection either.

“I know I’m a federal agent and all,” Peter said to Donovan, who was driving the van, “but goddamn this is some good weed.”

“For Christ sake,” I said to Peter, “stop using the Lord’s name in vain!”

“Come off your high horse, Jack,” he replied.

“No, he’s right,” Donovan interrupted, “God is all around us. God is love. We should treat him with respect.”

“That’s an interesting perspective,” I replied.

“Shut the fuck up Donovan,” Peter said. “You’re just a dumbass California stoner. I shouldn’t even be letting you drive! It would have been much faster taking the interstate!”

“What’s the rush, man?” Donovan asked.

“A girl’s gone missing,” I said, “and her mother is paying $3500 per day to find her.”

“All Layla did was move to LA for work,” Donovan said as tears began to stream down his face. “I just wish she hadn’t had dumped me.”

“There there,” I said as I patted him on the back, “I completely understand why she left you.”

Donovan pulled off to a lone gas station overlooking the California coast. Peter went inside to ask for directions and take a shit while Donovan stood around with his thumb up his ass. Meanwhile, I continued to study Layla’s dossier. 

Then some jackoff in a red Porsche convertible pulled up behind the van. “Hey, are you gonna pump any gas?!” the man yelled. “You’re holding up the line!”

“There are other pumps, sir,” Donovan replied. But the gentleman wasn’t having it.

I grew annoyed as he continued to lay on the horn. Finally, I walked up to the Porsche and pulled out the .38. 

“Listen here, shitheel!” I said to the man, “we’re on a mission from God, GODDAMNIT! That means we don’t have to obey the laws of man. So I hope you’re right with the Lord, because if you keep laying on the horn, you might be meeting Him sooner than you think!”

The man began to piss himself as he wept and raised his hands in the air. “I’m so sorry mister,” he cried, “I just need some gas.”

I lifted the .38 and pulled back the hammer. “Have you accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as your Savior?” I asked.

The man bawled as he accepted Jesus into his life. Then I shot him in the kneecap for the inconvenience 

Peter ran out of the gas station after he heard the gunshot and patted me on the back. “I’m really proud of you Jack,” he said, “you’ve shown a lot of restraint these last few days.”

I nodded as put the .38 in my holster. “You know, it’s just never occurred to me to NOT kill everyone I come across. I don’t what it is. I guess California has really gotten to me.”

We both laughed then continued on our journey to LA.

***

I threw Donovan McNabb against the wall in our room at the Cecil Hotel. Then I put a knife to his throat. “Did you bring an extra toothbrush?” I asked. “I forgot mine.”

His hand was shaking as I took the toothbrush from it. “Relax,” I told Donovan, “why are you so stressed out?”

Right then, Peter Tucker startled me as he came in through the door carrying a trey of coffees. I drew the .38 and blasted the trey. Piping hot latte got all over him. 

“Goddamnit Jack!” Peter yelled. “That’s the fifth time I’ve had to go to Dunkin Donuts! Will you stop blasting every trey I carry in?!!”

“We’ve been in LA for two days!” I said as I put the .38 back into the holster. “We’ve got nothing! NOTHING! We need Layla Huffington before it’s too late!”

“Too late for what?” Donovan asked. “She’s already in the porno business.”

I then backhanded him across the face. “I know that,” I replied. “But maybe it’s not too late to save her.”

“Save her?” Donovan said as he rubbed his cheek. “I don’t think she’s in any danger. I just want to talk to her to get some closure!”

I kneed Donovan in the ballsack then threw his head into the mirror, shattering the glass. “Goddamnit Donovan! Don’t you get it?” I said. “Layla is under the clutches of Satan! The Lord has made it MY quest to rescue her! MY QUEST! And when the Lord speaks, I answer the call! So you best not get in the way, or you will be the NEXT one to swallow a bullet.”

Peter stood back in quiet contemplation as he rubbed his hand across his face. “Donovan, will you step outside the room, please?” he requested. 

Donovan granted his request as he wiped blood from his temple. Peter closed the door behind him. “I know what’s going on here, Jack,” he said. “I know you too well. You’ve been watching her videos, looking at her naked pictures constantly. That’s too much for a man that doesn’t masturbate.”

Then a dark revelation came to me. I looked down at the broken shards of mirror at my feet. “And I want her for myself, is that what you say?” 

“It’s an obsession,” Peter replied, “an obsession that has gotten ahold of many men in your position. And as a man with 20 years of backed up semen running through him, it’s an obsession that will crush you.”

I nodded in agreement. “So what do you recommend?” I asked.

“Seeing as you are emotionally compromised in this case, I’ve had no choice but to utilize my massive FBI resources to track Layla Huffington down. So I posed as a porno producer and got in contact with a director that has worked with her many times before,” Peter said. “Plus, you should beat off every once in awhile.”

“Who’s your contact?”

“A very well respected man in the business,” Peter replied. “His name is Dillon J Dudenburg.”

***

“ I’m Dillon J Dudenburg. I’ve directed hardcore porn, I’ve directed softcore porn. I’ve studied under Stephen Sayadian AND Nick Millard. And I’ve also directed episodes of Grace Under Fire,” the famed filmmaker, recently fired from a major motion picture, informed us. He was puffing on his Black & Milds while we interviewed him in a U-Haul storage unit in El Segundo. We were using it as a “casting couch”. The three of us…Peter, Donovan McNabb,and myself…were all donning our fake mustaches while undercover as porn producers.

“That’s very interesting, Dillon,” Peter said. “Jack, do you have anything you’d like to ask?”

“Yeah,” I replied, “what does the ‘J’ stand for?”

Dillon took a drag off his cheap cigar. “Just ‘J’,” he said.

“Did you read the script?”

“Uhh, yeah,” Dillon said as he dabbed his cigar in the ashtray, “and I have a few ideas. First, I’d like to cast as our leading lady an actress I worked with on Pee On Me Vol. 9….Bella Bixby. I think she’s perfect for the role.”

“But part of the agreement was to cast a different actress that you worked with on Info Whores: Layla Huffington,” Donovan interrupted. 

“Layla Huffington?! No way man!“

“May I ask why?” Donovan said. He was getting irate.

“She gave the entire cast and crew crabs man! We had to shut down production for a whole month!”

That was enough. Donovan McNabb leapt out of his seat and began to strangle Dillon. “I GAVE HER THOSE CRABS!” he kept shouting. 

Peter and I wrangled Donovan while Dillon laid out on the floor trying to catch his breath. “Donovan, chill out,” I said, “that’s my responsibility!” I then kicked Dillon in the side and grabbed him by the lapels. “Where’s Layla?!” I kept asking.

“Last place I saw her was at a strip club in Riverside,” Dillon replied as he coughed up blood. 

I stood up straight and ripped off my mustache. “Let’s get going,” I ordered.

“Wait a minute,” Peter said, “we have this place rented out until the 24th. So how are we gonna….”

While we were talking amongst ourselves, Dillon, still on the ground, pulled out a switch blade from his sock. As he charged towards Donovan, I drew the .38 and blasted a hole in the filmmaker’s face. His body fell to the ground as blood gushed out of every orifice.

“My god, Jack, what have you done?” Peter asked as he knelt beside the body. Then he began to weep.

“Peter, you’ve seen me kill hundreds of people,” I said, “why are you crying?”

“Don’t you get it?!” he yelled, “Dillon was the greatest artist of our time!”

“The Bible specifically prohibits the production and viewing of internet pornography,” I replied as I put my gun back in the holster. “I did the world a favor.”

Peter stood up and got in my face. “When you find Layla Huffington,” he said calmly, “you take her and get OUT of the state of California. Or else I will kill you myself.”

I lit up a cigarette and gave him a smirk. “Gladly,” I said. 

Then we were off to Riverside.

***

“So it’s totally cool that we left a dead body in that storage unit?” Donovan McNabb asked Peter. We back in the Vandura en route to Riverside. Peter sat silently in the backseat. He was still pissed at me for killing his favorite porno director.

“Yup,” Peter replied to Donovan. “There’s a dead body in every storage unit in El Segundo anyway.”

“Do you know the strip clubs in Riverside?” I asked Peter. “Would you happen to know which one Layla Huffington might be at?”

“She’s at the Glory Hole,” he said while thumbing through the latest issue of Fine Gardening.

“How would you know that?”

“You mind your own goddamn business, Jack Hardcock!”

We rolled up to the Glory Hole an hour later. Donovan was adamant that he go inside first. “I really need the closure,” he said.

“No,” I replied as I reloaded the .38. “This is about me. I’ll go inside and scope the place out.”

I put the fake mustache back on and wondered inside. “That will be a $20 cover charge,” the bouncer said to me. 

“That’s outrageous,” I replied, “it’s 1:30 PM!”

“Those are the rules.” So I shelled out the 20 bucks and went to the bar area. Strippers were everywhere but I was the only patron. “What can I get you, honey?” the bartender asked me. She was a mature woman, 65 to 70. All she was wearing was a tiny purple thong. 

“Bourbon please,” I said.

“All we have is Tennessee Whiskey.”

“Dickle?”

“Just Evan Williams, green label.”

“That’ll do. I’m here to hate myself anyway.”

She poured the stiff drink and I scanned the club. There was no sign of Layla Huffington anywhere. So I summoned the bartender back. 

“Excuse me, but does Layla Huffington work today?” I asked. The bartender leaned forward and her boob rested gently on my forearm. “Sweetheart, Layla ain’t a stripper no more,” she said. 

I lowered my head, fearing my search had come to a dead end. 

“She does peep shows in the back,” the bartender continued. “Go on. Pay her a visit.”

I nodded and picked up my whiskey. A puny bald man greeted me in the back. “Sir, just step into one of the rooms, drop a quarter into the slot, and the curtains will open,” he informed me. “The performer will do whatever you ask of her for five minutes before the curtains close. At that time, you will have to insert another quarter if you want the show to continue. You will be able to see her, but she won’t see you. If you make a mess, clean it up. Enjoy the show.”

I walked into a pitch black room and dug into my pocket. I only had one quarter. I dropped it into the coin slot and the curtains swung open. The room brightened up and in front of me, on the other side of the glass, was a scantily clad Layla Huffington.

I quickly turned my head. My back was facing the glass.

“Hello?” Layla asked, “is anyone there?”

I was too terrified to speak. 

Then I could hear her knocking on the glass. “You have me for five minutes,” she said, “is there anything you want to see?”

“Uhh,” I stuttered, “my apologies. It’s been so long since I’ve laid eyes on a woman.”

“You have nothing to fear mister,” I heard her say, “I do this all of the time.”

“I suppose you do,” I said.

“So?” Layla asked after a long pause. “What do you want me to do?” 

I backed up and leaned against the glass, still not facing her. I couldn’t find the words. “I just want to hear your voice,” I finally said.

“My voice? What do you want me to say?”

“Who are you? Where do you come from?”

“Umm, well,” I heard her chuckle, “no one’s ever asked me that before.”

I didn’t reply. 

“I grew up on a farm in Iowa,” she explained in a soft voice. I could feel her standing near the glass. “I dreamt about being somewhere, anywhere but where I was. One day, I left for the big city, expecting big things. But big things never came. I realized that I’m just a small town girl, meant for a small world. And now I’m here. It’s a tale as old as time.”

My left hand reached across my body and I placed it against the glass. I could see Layla out of the corner of my eye, but I still couldn’t face her. 

“Do…” I started to say. “Did you ever love someone?”

There was a long, awkward silence. “I…I…,” she stuttered. 

Then the curtains shuttered and the room returned to black.

***

“So you’re telling me that you spent three hours in a strip club and Layla Huffington wasn’t there?” Peter Tucker asked me while we were staying at the Red Roof Inn off 91. “Meanwhile, I had to smell Donovan McNabb’s farts while sitting in a van under the blazing sun?” he continued.

“That’s correct,” I replied.

“Why are you lying?”

“Why is it so hard for you to believe that I’d spend three hours in a strip club?”

“You’re a Christian man for fuck’s sake!”

“I was doing my job!”

“Goddamnit Jack! You’re hiding something!”

“No!” I screamed, “NOOOOOOOOOO!” I threw my .38 into the mirror, shattering it into a million pieces. The gun itself, my most prized possession, was destroyed. “Pete, you don’t know the burdens I carry,” I said, “men have families, people they love. I have no one. Men have friends, people that understand them. I have no one. I have been, and I fear always will be, an instrument of God’s wrath. Only Jesus can understand the weight I carry on these shoulders!”

I stood silently by the window while Peter picked up the crippled .38. “You broke your little gun,” he said.

I said nothing.

“Sally Wally was right about you back in Cleveland,” Peter continued, “you are a menace. I know you know where Layla Huffington is. So get her and take her back to the pit of hell where you come from. But know this: today won’t be the last time you’ll see me. I will find you. You are getting what’s coming to you.”

Peter grabbed his coat and slammed the hotel door. I poured a shot of bourbon and joined Donovan on the patio where he was smoking a joint. 

“What was all that commotion about?” he asked.

“It was nothing.”

Donovan took another hit off his joint and began to stammer. “You know Jack,” he finally uttered, “I’ll never forget what you did for me back in El Segundo.”

“What do you mean?”

“Shooting that knife-wielding porno guy in the face like that. That really meant something.”

“It was all instinctual. I would have done it for anybody.”

“Yeah but…it’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I’m really thankful that you mysteriously appeared to me on the streets of Oakland. After Layla left me, I thought everything was over. But I didn’t realize that this was only the beginning of my journey. While I still want to face her, I feel like I’m becoming whole again. And for that, I feel like I owe you one.”

I took a swig from my bourbon and looked out to the Riverside cityscape below. “I’m gonna cash in on that favor immediately,” I said to Donovan. “I’m going back to the Glory Hole again tonight and I don’t want you there. But I’m gonna need a SHIT TON of quarters.”

***

“I don’t know what you want from me, mister,” Layla Huffington said from behind the one-way mirror, “so you DON’T want me to take my clothes off?”

“No,” I replied, “I want to preserve your dignity.”

I finally gathered the courage to look at Layla. She was everything that I had hoped for. God was speaking to me at that very moment. He was telling me that it wasn’t a sin to gaze upon her; she was already mine. 

“Look, if you just want to talk,” Layla said, “I can just meet you at the bar. It’ll cost you, of course, but at least I’ll be able to see your face.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” I said.

“Why not?”

I didn’t know how to reply. So there was a long silence then the curtains fell in front of the mirror. I dropped another quarter in the slot and they opened again. 

“You must have a lot of quarters,” Layla said, “you’ve been here for two hours and told me almost nothing. Sure, not having to take my clothes off makes things easy. But it’s been really boring. So please, say something.”

I figured it was time to come clean. After all, it was costing her mother thousands of dollars a day for me to find her. So I took a deep breath and considered my words. 

“Layla, I can’t get you out of my mind,” I explained, “I’m a lonely man. But that’s the cost of being a blunt instrument of the Lord. Yet I’ve been sent on a mission to find you and return you to your family. But I can’t shake the feeling that God has finally smiled upon me and said ‘it is not good for man to be alone.’ So he delivered you to me.”

Just as I had feared, a look of puzzlement fell over Layla’s face. “Excuse me?” she laughed, “Is this a joke?”

“This is certainly not a joke,” I replied.

“Look, I don’t know who the fuck you are! And my family? Those abusive fucks? They can go to hell! I’ve spent my whole life trying to get away from them and there’s no way I’m going back!”

“Layla, listen to me…,” I said. I was beginning to panic. “Maybe you’re right,” I continued, “maybe we should meet face to face at the bar…”

“Like hell we are!” she interrupted, “you stay away from me!”

Layla pressed a panic button. The lights went out and the curtains closed. I began pounding on the glass. “Layla!” I yelled. 

Two large bouncers stepped into the tiny room. “Sir, you need to leave,” one of them ordered as he laid his hand on my shoulder. Without my .38 special, I had to rely on my physical prowess to overpower the men. So I utilized my signature move: a kick to the scrotum so hard that it induced vomiting.

As the bouncers barfed all over the floor, I took one of their taser guns. Then I roundhouse kicked the one-way mirror and the glass came crashing down.

***

“Layla, wait! I love you!” I yelled as I chased her out of the strip club and into the parking lot. As she frantically dug through her purse to find her keys, I pulled out the taser.

“Don’t make me use this,” I warned her. I inched closer towards her as she swiftly opened the door to her vehicle. 

“Stay the fuck away from me!” Layla screamed. Then she swung around and nailed me in the stomach with a pair of brass knuckles. I dropped the taser as I fell to the ground. 

Layla then squealed her tires as she attempted to back out of her parking space. But standing behind the vehicle was Donovan McNabb. “Layla!” he shouted. 

She slammed on the brakes and put the car in park. “Donovan?! I could have killed you!” she screamed through the window. Then she stepped out of the vehicle to confront her ex-boyfriend.

“Donovan, goddamnit!” Layla shouted, “how the hell did you find me?”

“Nevermind that!” he replied, “I was worried sick about you after you ran out on me!”

Layla slowly rubbed her fingers through her hair as she tried to find the words. “I’m sorry I did that,” she replied, “I just didn’t have the courage to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Donovan asked, “That it was over?”

Layla began to stutter. “I…I don’t know,” she said, “Donovan, I just don’t know who I am, okay? When I’m here, I want to be there. And when I’m there I want to be here. I just needed time away.”

“You could have said so!” he said.

Before Layla could answer, a squad car pulled into the lot. The police officer slowly rolled up and shined his bright light into our faces. I climbed to my feet as I was still struggling to catch my breath. 

“Everything’s alright, officer,” I said, “no need for the law. Thank you for your service and blue lives matter.”

The officer slowly opened the door and stepped out of the vehicle. I couldn’t see his face as I was still blinded by the light. Then I heard a faint laugh. 

“Well well well, Jack Hardcock found Layla Huffington,” the officer said. Then he stepped in front of the light and his face was plain as day.

It was Peter Tucker.

“Peter, I don’t have time for your theatrics,” I said, “let me get Layla and we’ll get the fuck out of California.”

“You know Jack, I was thinking…,” Peter replied, “I could save the taxpayers a lot of money by just killing you right here.”

“Look, how many times do you want me to say I’m sorry for killing your favorite porno director?”

“Dillon J Dudenburg was his name, Goddamnit!” Peter yelled as he pointed his 9mm at my head.

“Whatever. You can’t kill me. There’s too many witnesses. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life in prison for murder and impersonating a police officer?”

“I’m in the FBI. I AM THE LAW.”

“Peter,” Donovan interrupted, “Jack saved my life. I will be forever grateful for that. So if you’re gonna kill Jack Hardcock, you’ll have to kill me too.”

Peter thought for a moment, nodded, then turned the gun on Donovan. He pulled the trigger and a bullet landed square in his chest. 

Layla screamed as her ex-boyfriend fell to the ground. That provided enough of a distraction for me to grab the taser gun and fire it towards Peter. The hooks grabbed ahold of him and he began to spaz out. Yet that wasn’t enough to bring him to the ground.

“I’ll get you next time, JACK HARDCOCK,” Peter yelled. While volts were still discharging through his body, Peter pulled off each of the hooks like they weren’t shit, then he slowly walked back to the police car and drove away. 

Layla was holding a dying Donovan in her arms. There was no stopping the bleeding. As he was drawing his last breath, he grabbed me by the arm. “You were right, Jack,” he said.

“About what, Donovan?”

“There is an afterlife. I see it now.”

“Do you see Jesus?”

“I don’t see Jesus,” he explained, “but I do see Satan. Oh shit…”

Those were Donovan’s last words.

***

Care for a Fruit Roll-up?” I asked Layla. I was riding in the passenger seat while she was driving down I-10. We we’re leaving California for good. 

“No,” she simply replied.

“More for me then.”

We didn’t say much. Before we left, I loaded Donovan’s dead body into the trunk. The two of us were still covered in his blood. 

“I’ve been wondering, Layla,” I said, “have you gave any thought to what I told you back there at the strip club?”

“The fuck are you talking about now?”

“You know…about me being madly in love with you, God sending you to me, and all that jazz…”

Layla then swerved off to the shoulder and slammed on the brakes. The sudden stoppage made me spit out my Fruit Rollup. 

“Get out,” she demanded.

“But why?”

“I’ve known you for maybe four hours and you’re already the craziest son of a bitch I’ve met.”

“Layla, I’m just asking you a question. I have feelings, ya know? And you’re not being very receptive to them!”

“I’ve got my boyfriend’s dead body in the trunk, and you want to talk about FEELINGS? Who do you think I am? Your mother? Your therapist? Fuck you AND your feelings!”

“But…but…I know that God…”

“You think that God is on your side?” Layla interrupted. “Then good for you buddy! Maybe he’ll give you a ride cuz I certainly won’t! Now get out of MY car!”

I stepped out of the vehicle stunned. But before I shut the door, I leaned forward to say one more thing. “Layla, I just want to say that I will always love…,” but she squealed the tires, with the sudden force shutting the door closed, then off she went…going 9-0, eastbound down I-10. 

Other than the blood soaked clothes on my back, I had nothing. The sun was just dawning over the desert horizon. 

About five miles down the road was a lone gas station. I walked inside, grabbed a biscuit, and tossed it into the microwave. Then I walked up to the station attendant.

“Gotta take a shit,” I said.

“Bathroom’s down the hall.”

While glancing through a porno mag while sitting on the toilet (I must’ve been in Nevada), I heard a commotion outside. I quickly wiped my ass and stepped out of the bathroom. The attendant was being held at gunpoint by a couple of bikers. One of them was holding a .38 special. 

Before they noticed me, I grabbed my biscuit from the microwave. “You guys should really try the food here,” I said as I chewed on the bread.

The biker with the .38 turned his weapon on me. “Give us your money too, pal!” he ordered. 

So I took out my wallet and pulled out a $5 bill. “I’ll tell you what,” I said, “I’ll make you a deal: you give me that .38 and I’ll give you this $5 bill.”

“Or else what?” the biker chuckled.

I took another bite of the biscuit. “Welp,” I wondered aloud, “then I hope you’ve accepted Jesus into your life. Cuz you’re about to meet him.”

The two bikers nervously cackled while sweat poured down their faces. I stared them down while continuing to eat the biscuit. Finally one of them looked over to the other. “Can you believe this jackass?” he asked.

Then I threw the rock hard biscuit into his face, wrestled the .38 out of his hands, and shot dead the other biker. With the last thief on the ground and my knee to his throat, I pointed the .38 between his eyes. “I’ve already sent two people to hell today: Donovan McNabb and your friend here. Shall I make it a third?” I asked him. 

The biker cried as he shook his head ‘no’. 

“Then accept Jesus in your life,” I said.

“I accept! I ACCEPT!” he yelled.

“Then I’ll see you in heaven,” I replied. I pulled the trigger then bits of skull and brain matter went all over the floor. 

I stood up straight and secured the .38 in the front of my pants. Then I looked over to the attendant. “Sorry for messing up your floor,” I said, “and for clogging your toilet.”

THE END.

JACK HARDCOCK WILL RETURN 

Jack Hardcock: The Legend Continues (Part XII)

“Care for a Fruit Roll-up?” I asked Layla. I was riding in the passenger seat while she was driving down I-10. We we’re leaving California for good.

“No,” she simply replied.

“More for me then.”

We didn’t say much. Before we left, I loaded Donovan’s dead body into the trunk. The two of us were still covered in his blood.

“I’ve been wondering, Layla,” I said, “have you gave any thought to what I told you back there at the strip club?”

“The fuck are you talking about now?”

“You know…about me being madly in love with you, God sending you to me, and all that jazz…”

Layla then swerved off to the shoulder and slammed on the brakes. The sudden stoppage made me spit out my Fruit Rollup.

“Get out,” she demanded.

“But why?”

“I’ve known you for maybe four hours and you’re already the craziest son of a bitch I’ve met.”

“Layla, I’m just asking you a question. I have feelings, ya know? And you’re not being very receptive to them!”

“I’ve got my boyfriend’s dead body in the trunk, and you want to talk about FEELINGS? Who do you think I am? Your mother? Your therapist? Fuck you AND your feelings!”

“But…but…I know that God…”

“You think that God is on your side?” Layla interrupted. “Then good for you buddy! Maybe he’ll give you a ride cuz I certainly won’t! Now get out of MY car!”

I stepped out of the vehicle stunned. But before I shut the door, I leaned forward to say one more thing. “Layla, I just want to say that I will always love…,” but she squealed the tires, with the sudden force shutting the door closed, then off she went…going 9-0, eastbound down I-10.

Other than the blood soaked clothes on my back, I had nothing. The sun was just dawning over the desert horizon.

About five miles down the road was a lone gas station. I walked inside, grabbed a biscuit, and tossed it into the microwave. Then I walked up to the station attendant.

“Gotta take a shit,” I said.

“Bathroom’s down the hall.”

While glancing through a porno mag while sitting on the toilet (I must’ve been in Nevada), I heard a commotion outside. I quickly wiped my ass and stepped out of the bathroom. The attendant was being held at gunpoint by a couple of bikers. One of them was holding a .38 special.

Before they noticed me, I grabbed my biscuit from the microwave. “You guys should really try the food here,” I said as I chewed on the bread.

The biker with the .38 turned his weapon on me. “Give us your money too, pal!” he ordered.

So I took out my wallet and pulled out a $5 bill. “I’ll tell you what,” I said, “I’ll make you a deal: you give me that .38 and I’ll give you this $5 bill.”

“Or else what?” the biker chuckled.

I took another bite of the biscuit. “Welp,” I wondered aloud, “then I hope you’ve accepted Jesus into your life. Cuz you’re about to meet him.”

The two bikers nervously cackled while sweat poured down their faces. I stared them down while continuing to eat the biscuit. Finally one of them looked over to the other. “Can you believe this jackass?” he asked.

Then I threw the rock hard biscuit into his face, wrestled the .38 out of his hands, and shot dead the other biker. With the last thief on the ground and my knee to his throat, I pointed the .38 between his eyes. “I’ve already sent two people to hell today: Donovan McNabb and your friend here. Shall I make it a third?” I asked him.

The biker cried as he shook his head ‘no’.

“Then accept Jesus in your life,” I said.

“I accept! I ACCEPT!” he yelled.

“Then I’ll see you in heaven,” I replied. I pulled the trigger then bits of skull and brain matter went all over the floor.

I stood up straight and secured the .38 in the front of my pants. Then I looked over to the attendant. “Sorry for messing up your floor,” I said, “and for clogging your toilet.”

THE END.

JACK HARDCOCK WILL RETURN