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- Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
- Path: sparky!uunet!spool.mu.edu!torn!nott!emr1!giovanne
- From: giovanne@ccrs.emr.ca (Elan Langouste)
- Subject: Bikersluts, Chapter 4
- Message-ID: <1993Jan28.221610.8242@emr1.emr.ca>
- Sender: news@emr1.emr.ca
- Nntp-Posting-Host: nova.ccrs.emr.ca
- Organization: Ugly Twisted Nastiness
- Date: Thu, 28 Jan 1993 22:16:10 GMT
- Lines: 89
-
-
- Sedative Pie
-
-
-
- Calais...Calais...Calais...
-
- He whispers it incessantly. At night, clutching his pillow,
- repeating it endlessly until sleep finally takes him, and during
- the day, on all fours crawling the tiles of his room, hissing it
- violently.
-
- Calais...Calais...Calais...
-
- And at the worst of times, when his whispers become only faintly
- audible under the bed with the lights turned out and his eyes
- turned wide, when he is terrorized by the memory. It was the
- highest expression of hatred for him, a word which exulted his
- heavy contempt for the cruel hands of fate. It was all he ever
- needed to say.
-
- His name is Paul, which he has long forgotten, and which his
- caretakers never knew. They were looking through the thin window in
- his door right now, as he scuttled across the floor on his hands
- and knees like the strange combination of a jungle cat and a
- spider. He lived in number 26, and his food was passed to him on a
- tray through a smaller door built into the large white one.
-
- Number 26 was considered unpredictable and potentially dangerous.
- When he had first been delivered he was silent, drugged by the
- police and restrained. When he woke in a locked room he was almost
- reasonable, twitching slightly and staring. His spasms weren't
- lingering after-effects of the drugs and his stare wasn't a
- reaction to the lights, they discovered however. He was fighting
- against imminent loss of muscle control and his eyes spoke verses
- of insanity. It was then that they opened the door while he
- appeared almost reasonable and he spoke his first word.
-
- "Calais," he said.
-
- They were puzzled. They assumed it was his name. "Calais?" they
- said. It was a mistake.
-
- It took several men to collect him from the closet later where he
- had barricaded himself. Calais...Calais...Calais... hissed
- devilishly from behind the door. He was bound tightly in a
- restraining jacket and fastened to a stretcher. He was wheeled back
- to the room where they had kept him, the wheels of the stretcher
- spinning over the gleaming floor and sliding over the newly soaped
- area in front of door number 26.
-
- Paul had torn her cheeks off. At the mention of the word he leapt
- forward onto the woman, dug his fingers deep in death-grip into her
- jowls and ripped. It was two years ago, and ever since he had lived
- in the same room, with sedative medication kneaded into his food.
- He appeared almost reasonable.
-
- They were still looking into his window. A group of them, peering
- through the glass which was woven with a grid of fine steel thread.
- A key fit into the lock on the outside, and the handle began to
- turn. "It's unthinkable," an authoritative male voice came through
- the slowly opening door, "to keep a man locked up for two years on
- medication without any regular tests."
-
- Paul sat up on the bed. He had been flushing most of the meat pies
- which contained the sedatives down his toilet for the past three
- weeks. He fought hard against the nervous twitches which were
- convulsing down his left side as the man fully thrust open the
- door. He didn't tell them about the sedatives. He appeared almost
- reasonable.
-
- "Good afternoon..." offered the man who had entered.
-
- Paul said, "Calais."
-
- The man assumed he was filling in his name. He extended his hand to
- shake, "Good afternoon, Calais."
-
- It was a half hour later when the police were finally notified of
- Paul's escape. Dangerous and unpredictable they described him,
- shaking their heads sadly over the blood stench and the mess, the
- flayed off skin and the heaps of meat pies under the bed.
-
-
- --
- ---
- Brought to you by the Shepherds of Grace and Danger, Ottawa, Canada.
-
- "We will breach no sheep before their time."
-