The Slob
: Chapter 12

He was standing over me the next morning with his pants off, watching me while I slept. The prior evening, I was trying to stay awake when I felt my eyes starting to burn and my head beginning to drop. I must’ve passed out at some point listening to the Walkman. The headphones were fixed to my ears still but there was no music coming out of them. The Slob was the last person anyone could hope to wake up beside.

Apparently, teasing his victims was a ritual he took great pride in before assaulting them. He chimed the keys slowly in front of me as I laid helpless and exhausted. His pitiful member rising amongst his overgrown hairiness. I could tell he was ready to go again. His wounded eye never seemed to have healed properly. It still looked reddened and infected; a yellowish pus oozing down his right cheek dripped onto my abdomen compliments of Sandra.

She was right; if he took a liking to you, regardless of how much trouble you might have caused, there would be no quick end to the bedlam. But now instead of feeling like living was a curse I was optimistic. I didn’t plan to keep rolling over anymore. Fuck all that.

He tossed the keyring back onto his pants on the ground by his feet and got on his knees. He began to work himself up, using two fingers to stroke his shaft rapidly. I could see a forsaken euphoria and menace churning in his gaze. Once he rose to full form, he couldn’t wait another minute.

He jammed himself inside me viciously, he was even more fervent than yesterday. I watched the joy on his face melt off and distort into a shaking agony. He screeched out and leaned backward to look down at himself. His tiny manhood had been spliced down the middle like when a hotdog overheats and cracks open on a barbecue grill. He howled in anguish not knowing what to do, looking down at the banana split covered in cherry.

He might not have known what to do, but I sure as hell did. As he was catching a brief glimpse of the splintered forearm bone that I’d nestled in my cavity, I vaulted up with haste. While he was still stunned and staring at his divided manhood, I flung the two handfuls of teeth I’d spent the better part of the prior night knocking out from the mouths of the corpses. The bloody and tarnished enamel flew down his yawning, horrified hatch. The Slob fell over, gagging, and I immediately snatched the keyring from the ground. There were six keys on the ring, hand trembling, I tried the first one. It didn’t work, he was still rolling around in the hay, gagging aggressively when I got to the second one. It was also a dud.

Entranced by my terror, I dropped the keys and quickly picked them back up while cursing myself. It was like I just hit the reset button and started from scratch again. I picked a random key, relaunching the process. No cigar. I tried the next one in the sequence instantly after; still no luck.

The Slob was only coughing gently now and began to rise to his feet. By the grace of a higher power, the next key I picked fit. I turned the lock on the neck restraint and heard the promising sound of metal releasing. The sounds of redemption and freedom melted into one.

The Slob’s hand regained his stance, tears rolling down one of his cheeks, pus down the other. He let out an enraged, primal shout and began to charge me. I sidestepped him and slipped out the door but he was right on my ass; deceptively agile for his build. I didn’t have much time to choose my path, the barn doors were shut and enveloped in a similar chain to what I was wearing moments prior. The only other place to go was up.

I ascended the countless steps at the side of one of the colossal vats with his agitated cries riding on the back of my neck and his wet hands swatting at my heels. The meat grinder was only a few feet away from the ladder, I needed to be careful that I didn’t slip or my final resting site would start in a can and end in The Slob’s gut.

When I reached the zenith of the climb, I set foot on a small platform that was mounted at the top of the vat. The enormous dead pool’s contents were bubbling violently. I caught a flash of its morbid contents up close and personal, knowing it was a sight I’d never forget. I could see the skinless faces of girls floating within it, the temperature was elevated to a point that saw their necrotic meat falling right off the bone.

I pushed the images of the human broth out of my mind. I couldn’t lose focus on who was giving chase. I spread my legs faster than a gymnast at the Olympics and pulled the wet, slimy forearm bone out from inside me. It was my female stash spot that The Slob hadn’t accounted for. The one that left his pathetic cock in ribbons looking like streamers at the handle-end of a child’s bicycle. Just as I got a firm grip on it, The Slob was pulling himself up onto the platform attempting to join me. I knew I needed to take action before that happened. He could easily overpower me and toss me in the boiling cauldron.

I didn’t wait for him to understand what was happening. I positioned myself low and drove the fractured bone in under his jawline. Judging by the momentum and by how much of the bone had disappeared, I assumed it reached well into his head.

Blood shot out of his mouth and nose. While his jaw remained unhinged, I could see the bone inside, lurking behind his tongue. It had run its way up through his esophagus and into his uvula. The blow’s force came from the right side of him, causing his fall trajectory to aim more toward the left.

He dropped down about twenty feet or so, landing square onto the nightmarish meat-shredding blades. The machine wasn’t on but, nonetheless, the static swords had done their damage. They’d punctured through his fat frame, skewering him through various angles. He wasn’t moving in the slightest, aside from the outpouring of blood that leaked from the many holes that had burrowed their way into his flab. But that didn’t matter to me, it was time to finish it.

I hurried back down the ladder and stood in front of the infernal machine, remembering exactly how he’d activated it. I started hearing some gurgling noises from above me. Still alive, perfect, I thought.

His impaled and destroyed head lethargically crept over the lip of the intake funnel above me. He looked down at me, smiling, like some kind of demonic angel raining down his secretions all over my face. He had touched me for the last time. As his head shook and death beckoned him, I could tell that he was trying to say something. But it was my time to talk now.

I locked eyes with him and delivered my final message: “You are what you eat.”

I reached up and grabbed a firm hold of the bone that was still jammed in his head before activating the foot pedal. A flood of boiling liquid and girls that he had snuffed out showered him. His cries were quickly muted when I pulled the lever and the blades began to spiral. Some of the vat boil seared my skin but I wasn’t letting go. As the unforgiving steel knives ground him to a hamburger, my hand remained glued to the bone until his head suddenly detached and landed on the ground beside me.

His brow was still twitching while his fat evil figure was being ravaged by the machine he’d created. The wet meat poured out, steaming in front of me. I kept it running for a few more minutes for good measure. I wanted to make sure any traces of his body were now microscopic.

I spat on the prick’s one-eyed, panic-stricken face before walking back over to the cage I’d been housed in. I removed the keys he so enjoyed taunting me with from the neck clamp. I felt awful doing it, but I peeled a pair of jeans off one of the corpses and sifted through for a shirt with the least amount of blood stains that I could locate. And go figure, I found the right key for the barn door on the first try. As I stepped outside, the warm sunlight felt like heaven when it hit my skin. I was free.