- - 5 - -
We broil a couple of steaks.
"I told you this was an experiment," Shon says with his mouth full.
"Uh-huh."
"What's the worst that could happen? Same thing that happens to us anyway..."
"Well... Except that, in here, with a lot of food, nobody coming -"
He just blinks at me. Doesn't get it. I'm sorta disgusted with myself, 'cause I saw this possibility - and came anyway. But he still hasn't caught on.
"Trap," I finally say, gesturing around us. "Cage. Hello?"
"Ah," he grunts, chewing quickly. "No prob. The eggheads thought of that."
"And?"
"And what?"
"You don't know, do you?" He just stares. "What their plan was?"
"Well... Guess I could've been listening harder."
I just want to beat my head against the wall.
"Gear down, D. They know where we are."
"They're not answering the radio, Shon. They could be ratting us out right now."
Shon gives me a look like I'm nuts, and keeps eating. Not the sharpest tool in the shed. "Why would they... Oh. Yeah."
Oh, well. Too late now. "Well... we get to hang out again."
"Yup." He gets a huge, goofy smile on his face. "That's cool. Quit worrying, chollo. It's not gonna sneak in here and trap us. No way. And then there's the deal. Ciuna came through. There's only gonna be one long haul and we're done, bud."
"Bullshit..."
"Naw."
I can't even picture deliberately showing up somewhere to get it. And knowing it would last for two solid weeks - and longer, if the asshole could get away with it. I just bet the rest of the year would whizz by, and - oops, what do ya know, it's time to hand myself back over to the psycho for more...
After a movie and a few beers, we fire up a joint.
Half an hour later I'm horny as fuck again, thoughts always going back to the big conquests. So is he. It doesn't feel like I'm being influenced, but the pounding heat doesn't let up, resists all my efforts to distract myself, think of something else...
We get out the whiskey and get shitfaced, but it doesn't help.
- - 6 - -
Next morning, hung over and sore from endless drunken groping, I walk very carefully and get coffee going. Shon comes in and sits down, slowly. Looks at me, and his face goes from a grimace to a smartass leer.
"Uh-huh," I mutter.
He looks pained again. "Sssssh."
I nod, and it's like a bunch of sledgehammers are sliding forward in my skull. While he fumbles around with his cigarettes, I watch the coffee drip into the pot. At least this headache blows away the horniness...
That afternoon, playing Nintendo - all that money, and he sticks with old video game systems - I wanna toke. But I'm hesitant to do it. Not sure why. Wrestling with the thought for awhile...
And then Shon wanders back into the room and plops next to me on the couch. Taps my arm. He's handing me an enormous doobie.
"Hey, I was just thinkin' about the weed. Mayb-"
"You're in trouble," he says. Eyes on the screen, grabbing the joystick out of my hand. "The robots..."
Sure enough, a little later - wham. Off to the races again. Totally aroused, out of nowhere...
"Fuck, that's it, no more weed," I pant.
"Yeah, right." But his voice sounds strained, too.
This is too much. I gotta get relief, which means slipping into my bedroom eagerly. And often.
It's not enough. The fever doesn't let up.
This can't go on, I think.
Must've dozed off. Hungry.
Shon's watching TV, attacking a pizza. I grab a big slice. "You make this?"
"Frozen," he mumbles, handing me a beer. He looks worn out. I probably do, too.
We're sitting there, chewing... and he keeps looking at me. Real quick looks. Guilty-like. Finally I just stare at him until he clears his throat. "Uh... I think the antenna's down."
"Down?"
"Yeah. The static is just the same, if it's plugged in or not."
"I'll take a look at it. Actors. Shit. Leave it to the real men..." He shrugs, and pulls at his beer. "We still got the indoor antenna, right?"
"Uh-huh. And a backup," he says. Looking at his plate. Dammit... he's not done with the bad news. I know that expression.
"What else?"
Now he finds something in the living room more interesting to look at. "The, uh... the tunnels."
"Uh-oh."
"We're okay," he says quickly. "They worked just like they're supposed to."
"What worked?"
"Well, they're sorta like blast doors."
Blast... doors. "Are you telling me... they're sealed?"
"Uh-huh."
"And why are they sealed?"
His eyes dart to the side, like he's looking for an exit. "A breach. The sensors, uh, sealed 'em up... To keep something from getting... in."
"All of 'em? Sealed?"
He nods, slowly. Careful not to look at me.
"Let me make sure I got this. The escape tunnels... blocked themselves off?" He nods again. "Because it got inside 'em?"
"That's about the size of it."
I get up, and walk on over to the panel...
All red. The indicators. Well, that's not right, I think to myself absurdly. It just isn't -
The garage. The tunnel to the garage. Breached.
The truck, the bikes. They're out of reach. Aw, fuck, no...
I just stand there, staring at all those red lights, for a long time.
Later, during a soccer game broadcast from Italy or some place like that, I want a joint again. I wanna get laid, and cap it off with some sticky Humboldt...
There's still no response from the listening post. Our heroes.
No getting laid any time soon. No nookie 'til I get out of here. Fuck. And probably not until after some monstrous prolonged tickling -
I can't go through that again.
And we've been promised it'll go on for a long time. Whatever the fuck that means, here. Personally, I think a weekend is too fuckin' long. I mean...
Shit. Almost a month, that one time in Colorado - that wasn't "long" enough... Or it was long, but not reeeeeeal long.
If only there was some way to avoid it...
I look at Shon out of the corner of my eye.
Y'know. It's really after him. Not me.
He's fucked anyway. Stupid goof. Big major talent. That's what it really wants.
And obviously it's gonna get in here. The professor is our last hope. But we can't make contact. So... we have to go on the assumption that help is not gonna come, from outside. That leaves me, and him. And it wants him.
Nobody else is coming to save him.
What if... the tickler could start in on his ass - tonight - like it wants? I could cut a side deal, maybe.
No more waiting. Wouldn't that be nice, fucker? Huh? He's all yours. You own him.
Just him.
Hell, I'm an innocent bystander. He's pissed all over every precaution that would've kept me safe. Actors.
Serves him right. I could just wait 'til he's in the can... Walk over, and turn the key. End the suspense. Maybe open the door, wave real quick, and shut it again - without locking it. There. Come and get him. If I do that, maybe the hunter will be so glad th-
Wait. Wait a minute here. Bad idea. It gets in, locks the door again - and I'm screwed too. Both of us. Of course.
Unless...
It could just shove me outside, maybe, right before it locked the door. I can break into the garage. Probably. Get my bike. Ride the fuck outa here.
I run with that for awhile. Wouldn't it be sensational. Slipping the noose. Not that I'd enjoy the thought of Shon getting it. Of course not. But damn. He stays in here, gets drilled. Weeks - or months, maybe. And not me.
He's the real target. I gotta get laid, and I mean soon, or I'm gonna explode...
It's a new idea, and I take my time with it. Sure, it's too bad D's going through it. Better him than m-
No. Fuck, I'm not that far gone. Shove that thought away.
It isn't like he has any options, really. He's in for it no matter what. So I sit there, and I feel better than I have all day. Picturing it. Riding into... Missisippi. Get some distance between me and this fuckin' cage. Stop for a big fuckin' joint, and go get a room. Find the bars. There's no doubt in my mind I'll hook up with some willing babe, it's never exactly been a problem before...
Fucking my brains out. And leaving the next day. West. Or north. As far away from Georgia as I can. And I'd get a free pass, for awhile - because it would be so involved with Mr. Doran, here.
And I wouldn't necessarily have to tell the state cops what was going on. If I played along with the asshole, it had to cut me a little slack.
Imagine that...
I like it. Stealing a glance at him - and I see he's squinting at me.
Not a nice look on his face, either.
He's got his arm propped up on his knee, and he's staring over his cigarette. Daydreaming. Dark expression, capped with a mean little smirk.
And he's definitely... thinking... about me.
I have a hunch. Looking back at the TV, I wait for a few seconds, then mumble, "Get him. Get Deck. Too bad... He's the sacrifice, it's gotta be Deck."
I look at him. Just in time to see a huge smile - falling. He blinks.
And I nailed him, alright. The next expression says it all. Caught in the act.
He smokes. And nods, looking at me again, but all hangdog now. "Yeah. Me... in the truck. Gone. If I don't tell - and I let it use this place. All it wants. The magic tickler... You'd be staked out right here. Kurt in my room, Simon in yours. More food, brought in here. I just keep my mouth shut..." He trails off, looking embarrassed.
I slug him on the knee. "Aw, wait'll you hear what I been thinkin'..."
We make a pact.
No matter what, neither of us would give the other one up like that. Or run away and keep our mouth shut.
"Or help it," I add.
"Huh?"
"Give it... clues. Real help."
He thinks about that one, and nods real big. So we shake on it.
"Ain't gonna tell it anything it doesn't know already," he sighs.
"Yeah... But the way this could go. I mean, look at the thoughts we got. They're coming from somewhere... else."
"Uh-huh."
"If the worst happens, and I see you coaching the damn thing, I gotta know it ain't really you talking."
"You are one twisted mutherfucker," he frowns.
"Or the other way around," I add quickly.
"I get it. Wish you were full of shit. As usual. But I... Uh, yeah. I could see it happening."
"No helping it."
"Never!" he says, busting out with a grin.
"No matter what?"
"No matter what."
- - 7 - -
I wake up the next day just dyin' for a toke.
Stumbling, like it was a dream, I rolled myself a hooter and took it back to my room.
When I come back out, Shon's loaded too. We eat breakfast, making conversation. Small talk. I catch myself watching him closely. But hell, he's keeping a close eye on me, too...
Just static on all frequencies, using any antenna. Ain't lookin' too good for the Stanford gang. But all the other gear seems to check out okay.
So we adjourn to the couch and watch a flick, but the bedroom scenes do me in. So to speak. I now know where that one expression comes from... I can't see straight. Everything's fuzzy, the blood is pounding in my head. Both heads...
I get up and go into the kitchen. Just for something to do. I reach for a bottle of whiskey from the counter -
And get grabbed.
It's... D. He's grinding himself against my back.
"What the hell!"
He bites me on the neck, which is no small feat since I'm five inches taller. And he growls. His cock, through all the denim, makes me think of something metallic. Barrel of a gun -
I start to turn, and his hand locks onto my shoulder. I could elbow him in the face...
Naw. He's a shrimp. I start sliding to the left, and fake right. Pull him off. No problem. And I turn around -
For a second, I think I'm watching a movie. One of his. I've seen this expression before.
I bet Ciuna likes it. Definitely.
Still, this ain't the same face I've seen after feathers have been teasing his meat for three hours or so. He's one focused mutherfucker now... and there's nobody home. I wonder if he's snapped or something.
"Can't... help it," he pants. "C'mon."
"No. Doran. Listen. This ain't you. It's the tickler. You gotta fight it..."
He stands there, weaving. Sweating.
"Fuck!" Serious frustration, there. And then he bolts, slamming the door to his room.
I think it's a good idea to take the bottle and get some privacy, myself.
That was freaky. Not him, I say to myself, over and over. Puppet-master. Not him not him.
After a couple shots, I'm getting more and more angry. The mutherfuckin' tickler will stoop to anything. And we're defenseless. That kind of power, to fuck with our heads... Well, the best we're gonna do is buy some time. Postpone the inevitable.
I run out of smokes. All's quiet. When I peek, I don't see him. So I take a few steps - cool. His door's closed. He leaves it open when he's not in there...
It's been an hour or so, and the cigarette feels great. I start strokin' off, replaying great sex I've had. After this week, my memories are getting a little... dull.
What if. That's where I went wrong. Right there. Or maybe it was gonna persist anyway. Usually, I just think, eeeeuww, and forget it. Not... now.
Why not?
What would it... be like?
Now, we've never had a "moment", of that variety. Just never came up. We're both ladykillers... right?
Hold on, I think - this isn't real. I've never had a week like this, except maybe puberty. More hormones pumping through me than I knew I had...
So I get a good wall built. What I want - and what it wants me to think -
Then I picture him, in the kitchen. "Can't help it..." And what if he's right?
Literally?
Can it... make us...?
"Deck."
I grunt hard. Oh no -
"Hey... You up?"
More than you know, I think. Eyes locked on the door, pumping my cock.
It's my turn. The last couple hours or so... And I got it bad.
My entire life makes sense now. The great mysteries of the universe. Him. Me. This place - it's perfect.
I see us trying one position after another. Unable to wear each other out. A circle of gloves hanging around us, all casual... and ready -
He wants to talk to me. Shon Doran. The guy the whole world wants to fuck. Me and Shon Doran...
Come in, I think. And then, wham, I'm just furious. I will not. Say it. Out loud.
Not that. It would be such a relief, too...
"Duh," I manage to get out.
"You okay?" he says. I pump harder. "Need anything?"
That's it. I growl, and shoot my load. Do I need anything... Shit. Get in here, handsome.
After a few seconds, he goes, "Oh."
Yeah. Oh. I'm really liking this cum-shot -
"Listen," he says, slowly. "It'll pass. I'm okay now. I'm over it. Just... don't worry. It'll pass..."
Well, this is awkward.
I haven't had a cigarette in, like, two hours. And I can't stay in here forever...
So I listen at the door for awhile. Just the TV. Open the door, and peek...
No sign of him. I don't hear him, either. So I think for awhile, grab some clean clothes and fairly run for the shower.
When I get out, he's sitting at the kitchen table with a cigarette and a beer. He looks at me - and -
We stare at each other.
I feel... nothing.
Just ol' D, there. The friendly goofball. Not appealing... in that way. Same ol' partner in suffering.
His expression is... odd. Then I get it. Unimpressed. If I know him like I think I do, he's wondering what the hell he could've found sexy about me.
Suddenly, we both grin. Kick out these huge sighs of relief. I stagger and whistle, and he goes, "Whoooo," as he stands up. We give each other a big ol' bear hug... a long, hard hug. And it's just a hug. Feels like it used to. Nothing more.
"It wants in, D. It'll stop at nothing," he says, flipping burgers at the stove.
"Have you ever... You lean that way at all?" He stares at me. "I'm tryin' to figure out how it could even get us to, uh, want it."
He shakes his head. "Well, when I was doin' coke, once. Didn't make a move, though." He makes that weird mocking laugh of his. "Sorry. How 'bout you?"
"Almost. Once, when I was really drunk. On a shoot. Canada."
Shon laughs again.
"See, if it can put... well, anything in our minds, even shit that isn't already in there..."
He stops laughing. And nods, slowly.
I light my fourth cigarette in a row, right off the last one. But my hands aren't shaking anymore.
The rest of the night goes okay. My mind's still in the gutter. Locked on Bunny, I'm glad to say.
But I'm too damn tired to get hard. Shon, too - he's in his armchair, snoring away.
- - 8 - -
We get up, eventually, and eat a huge "breakfast," even though it's seven at night. Not horny, and that's a relief after the time we've been having.
I read the scripts again - one is especially bad - and he does crunches. It's the only exercise I ever see him do. Thousands of ab crunches. It helps him relax. Of course, if my stomach looked like his I'd probably do crunches too. And no doubt, he'd tell me I've got it backwards... He'll hook up with a trainer for a month before a shoot, but he hates every minute of it.
Eventually he pushes himself up on the couch and takes my beer. Drains it.
We flip through the TV channels endlessly, pounding down more brews...
A sitcom ends. "Guess they didn't fix it in post," I joke. He doesn't respond. Just staring straight ahead, at a point over the TV. I don't see anything there, so that's a relief. "Hey... uh, D?"
He's breathing hard. Poor guy. Looks at me, eventually. Confused, and maybe excited. "I need it, Deck."
I thought we'd talked that out - but his eyes aren't like they were yesterday. Whew. "What? Pussy?"
He makes a face, and swallows hard. "No. Shit... Aw shit, Deck -"
"What is it?" But before I'm done asking, I can feel the answer coming. Like I was about to find out anyway, and it's a seriously big... need.
Shon runs his hands through his hair. "I gotta... Feel it. D, you know - you know what I mean."
And I do, suddenly. It sounds sensational.
"My feet. Tie 'em down. Okay? Cuffed down. Caught good, s-"
"Stop it, just shut up," I say weakly. But I... I don't mean it.
I want him to keep talking. Spell it out. How bad it would be - for him. His feet, bare, and some thick cuffs. And then I want him to be totally unable to talk, 'cause of the tickling. My tickling. I want... oh, fuck.
"In here, with us. Oh shit, dude - locked in here. Tucked in," he giggles. "Bedtime. In my room, and not gettin' out. Payback. Thrashin' me. Making up for lost time. All over me. Please..."
Well, this is crazy, my brain says to nobody in particular. The rest of me is in full agreement with ol' Shon, here. Finally making some sense. And I know how bad he wants it. I've got a hot new urge of my own...
"Now," he gets up, lurching. "Do it. Warm me up for it. Okay? Work me over -"
"Fuck yeah," I growl. That's it. All I can think about...
I want to hear it. Hear him laugh. Roar like the deranged maniac he is. All the different howls and whoops I haven't heard out of him in so long... Feel the warmth of his feet, wild to get away. I want the triumph of tickling those feet - and knowing I got all night ahead of me. And tomorrow. Wear out his voice. Tire him out, and find some duct tape. Tear up some sheets. Pin him down good.
It's irresistible, the mental picture I got. Long, supercharged days on him. All over him. And then I fire up a joint, one morning, and smile at him... walk over, and unlock the door. Watch a dozen gloves stick it to him, do him right, while I watch. And listen. Drunk, or stoned. Enjoying his punishment - No! The beginning of it. Months of real hard tickling. Perfect...
He's stumbling toward the door. Whimpering. I wish he'd hurry up -
And then he turns toward the wall. Pounds it - slams his head against it. Not too hard, but still. What the fuck.
Mystified, I watch him lean there, breathing hard. Turn. Eyes straight down, so he won't look me in the face. Back, into his room, and shut the door.
I feel angry, at first. Get back out here... and take your lumps.
Then I'm just bummed. He let me down.
After a while, he doesn't reappear. So I stretch out on the couch, in case he changes his mind. And I'm ready. Let's get this fuckin' party started...
"Hey." He's standing over me, lookin' haunted -
I sit up fast. The door looks the same. "No," he says. "I didn't. Came real close, though."
"Good job," I yawn, and reach for a smoke.
He lands heavily next to me and scratches his arm, a firestorm of rope and feathers. I've got a tat just like it, crossing my shoulder blades. He gives me a sad grin. "What?"
"I wish you weren't stuck here. Too."
"Me too." I let that hang a sec. "I don't know what I was thinking. Before I came. Shit... And all I had to do was give it the address." He stares. "Then I would've been off the hook f-"
"Aw, fuck you!" he laughs. But he's still lookin' worried. So I mull it over for a second, and then I hug him again. After a little hesitation, he squeezes back. "You ever tell anybody about this, I'll deny it."
I chuckle. Now there's the Shon I remember. Not in too big of a hurry to end the hug, however. "We're gonna get through this. We'll just take it as it comes."
"I dunno," he mumbles, chin pressing hard on my shoulder. Sighing hard.
"We got some real smart people in our corner. This time. If there's a way to... get us out of here, they'll find it."
"If they're not all laughin' their guts out by now." Which is what I'm thinking, more or less. Ain't got a reply to that one. He snags another breath, and lets it out slow. "Okay." Slaps me on the back a couple times, real hard.
"Ow," I yelp, and take a swing at his arm.
"You're... a dumb fucker," he says, cocking his head.
"Picked a fine time to tell me." I try to stifle a yawn. "I say... we might as well drink like it's our last night of freedom."
"If you say so..."
We have a good couple hours, before the horniness got too intense.
"Seeya later," he says, gulping air and going to his room. I wave at him and head for mine, looking forward to zonking out after I take care of business. Urgent, personal business.
- - 9 - -
After not enough sleep, I drag myself into the main room -
Shon's sitting down in his big stuffed chair... but he turned it. Facing the door. He's getting stoned.
"Hey! Don't hog it," I bark. It takes him a full three seconds to look. Gives me that maniacal chuckle as I relieve him of his burden and take a hard drag.
And as the THC hits me, I remember. Getting high, here, is not a good idea. Not good. Drink, instead.
I shake my head and finally figure out how to exhale. "No, D. Bad. Bad... D."
He nods, all wobbly.
"It wants us high. Fuck with our heads, more easier -"
"Gimme," he says, and then he thinks it over. "Oh yeah." Looks at me. "Shit."
"Let's get some coffee goin'."
"Yeah. Like that'll help..."
Take the deal. I keep hearing it in my head. It sounds good, until I think it over for more than five seconds.
Shon wanders in and out of the main room. Drunk and pacing around...
"Wouldn't it be great, D..."
"No, dude," I say, again and again. "Not great. It would suck. It sucked before -"
"C'mon. You're not... Uh... Remember. Just... Coldwater Canyon. Ooohhh, man. Both of us, at the same time, gettin' fucked with. You look over, and there I am, just as nuts -"
"Doran. No. You're wasted."
"Yeah. But... C'mon, D."
- - 10 - -
A few days crawl by. I have no idea how many.
We stumble around in a brown haze of lust.
- - 11 - -
One time, we'd gone to our rooms to "sleep" - that is, to jack off again, and never mind how sore we were already - and I must have drifted off. I thought.
It was an exciting dream, though. I was more ready than I'd ever been. Bring it on, fucker...
The whole thing started by opening the door. That's all. The tickler took care of the rest.
And a point comes where I'm walking. I got my leathers on, and my crotch itches. Boots, jacket, everything. No gloves, though.
Walking to the door.
A stab of fear goes through me. That's when I'm sure it isn't a dream.
Okay. Stop. But I don't. I think about turning around... and I can't. I try harder -
I'm going to the door, and I can't stop.
"Uh... Shon," I say. "Shon. D - Help! Dorrraaaaannnn!," I holler...
I'm not hearing his door open. Let's see... passed out. That would be convenient. The hunter's got him unconscious, maybe, until I -
Only a few more steps. My right arm starts to rise, even after I reef on it with my left hand. Doesn't matter. Still reaching... for the door.
And I'm wide awake, now. Petrified. Shon isn't coming out. I can't stop. I need him to pull me back. I'm too far from the bookcase to grab onto it. Or anything else. Oh, hell no.
My hand goes up slowly. No sign that I'm fighting it with all I got. I keep yelling, too, wanting Shon out here now, dammit - hurry - now -
My fingers curl around the door handle. Oh no, I think. No. And I pull -
But it doesn't budge.
Locked. Of course.
My fingers wander up to the deadbolt...
The lever turns with a gut-wrenching chik. And I watch my hand go back to the handle, and pull -
Nope.
I pull again. Nope.
Scanning the door, I see nothing wrong. Then I figure it out. Higher up on the door, just about in line with my throat.
The keyhole.
Another deadbolt, with no lever to throw. For that one, you have to have the key. And it's... gone.
My arm keeps pulling, as I stare at it.
Where'd the key go? I have no idea -
A-ha. Maybe... it's a good thing Shon didn't come out.
I can't move my legs yet, but my left hand responds. After a minute I check, and find smokes. So I get myself one. My hand keeps pulling at the handle for awhile. It's less determined now, though.
Nothing more I can do, even if I could let go. I have no idea where to look for the fuckin' key. Ironic enough to get a chuckle or two out of me.
During the next cigarette, my hand... lets go. I can move again.
So I head back to my room, finishing off the smoke.
- - 12 - -
I sleep for a long time... and wake up feeling weak, but otherwise normal.
Shon's in front of the TV. Splattering zombies on the Nintendo, with a cig between his teeth, big gleeful smirk. "Deck, my man!"
That stops me. I yawn at him. He's way too cheerful...
After I get coffee and come back, easing down into his chair, he steals a glance at me. Gives me that mocking laugh. "Level fourteen. Hah."
"That explains it. You're way too happy." We've been trying to get past level thirteen the whole time we've been in here. D's a simple man, when you get right down to it.
"You look like shit."
"Yeah, well, you should talk. Guess what I almost did last night."
He looks quick, goes back to the game - and does a double take. Something in my face, I guess. He hits the pause button and tosses the joystick aside...
Hears me out, and laughs some more. Sounding just like the old Shon.
"Man. I didn't hear a thing." And he gives me a weird little glance. Shakes his head -
"What?" I say.
"You, uh... wanna know where the key is?"
"No."
He nods. "That's right."
"You're freakin' me out, here."
"I... hid it."
"You hid it."
Big goofy nods. "Uh-huh."
"So I wouldn't know where it was." He arches his eyebrows a couple times. "Just in case. You're mental. Alright, ya weasel... So where is it?"
"Well, I don't know. Might not be safe to tell you -"
"Get the fuck outa here!" I say real loud, eventually cracking up.
"I mean, you got that runaway hand, you could just give us up anyti-"
"Where is it?"
"A place you'd never look." He pauses for effect. "Under the soap."
"The soap." He starts nodding again, cracking himself up. "What soap? In the shower?"
"No, esse. Right by the sink. Bathroom sink? There's a bar of soap. It's yellow. Under that soap."
I just blink at him. O-kay.
"Under the soap. Skank. And I knew it'd be safe there -"
"Why, I oughta..." Looking around for something to throw at him.
On to Part 3
Back to Part 1
20oct2002