Hideous Homicides Part 3
He had been drinking vodka shots that night. Driving his car with his music turned up was risky. If he was pulled over by the police he would surely be done for drink driving. Tonight though danger was the last thing from his mind. A certain song was giving him inspiration. The idea of doing it had been rattling around in his brain for a while. A thrilling notion that made him laugh out load when it entered his head. His hand tapped harder on the steering wheel in time to the frantic beat of the music. All he needed now was a participant in his little scheme. Well maybe the word participant is not quite the word to use under the circumstances. A more suitable word would be victim.
The location was a quiet road not too far from Dr Jellies nightclub. This was the kind of club that posers would visit. The orange girls and celebrity footballers wives style wannabees. You know the type I mean. The champagne taste on lemonade wages. The lads were no better. All preened and chest waxed with perfect hair, the type who would take hours to get ready. He disliked these stuck up types. He imagined they were all some sort of inbred clones of each other with a greater sense of self importance. Well tonight one of those types will get more than they bargained for.
He was sure his chance would come. At some point someone on their own would wander down this way to the taxi rank that was round the corner. He had scoped out this location previously but had lost his bottle at the last moment. This time he had taken in more booze and frenzied himself up by popping a few pills for good measure. Through the gloom he could somebody coming. As he peered through his windscreen he saw it was a group of about five or six. This was too many. He was after a solo pedestrian. After all it is much easier one on one than taking on a group. They walked on by chatting loudly about some stupid reality karaoke television garbage that empty heads liked to watch.
After about another twenty minutes he saw somebody swaggering along the pavement. This person was a male. He was walking along bobbing his head and had some earphones in his ears. As the pedestrian came closer to his car he could see the male was wearing tight burgundy pants and a v necked designer t-shirt. Quickly exiting the car and making sure the coast was clear he approached the male.
"Hi pal, do you have a light?" he asked.
The male had stopped and removed his earphones. "What was that mate?"
"I asked if you have a light please." came the reply.
The male nodded and reached into his trouser pocket. "Here you….."
He was not able to finish his sentence. In a flash a wooden meat tenderiser crashed into his temple causing him to collapse onto the ground. He barely felt the second blow as he slipped into unconsciousness. Whilst reaching for his lighter, he had failed to notice the weapon hidden up the sleeve of the other person asking for a light for his cigarette.
The coast was still clear. Burgundy trouser man was out cold and he picked him up and managed to bundle him into the boot of his car. Part one of the mission was accomplished. Sitting back in his car he started the engine. He then did some air drumming and sped off to where he would commit part two of his mission.
He had headed for the Avon Avenue area. This was a place full of businesses, industrial units and warehouses. At this time of night this area was deserted and made the perfect setting for his master plan. His eyes scanned left and right, he wanted to make sure the coast was definitely clear. Making his way past the old car plant, the cooker manufacturer he guided his car into the wasteland area that was next to the waste disposal site. Killing the engine and headlights he climbed out of his car and went to the boot. He wanted to attend to his new friend and make sure the blow to his head had not been too severe as to render him unable to participate.
The man in the boot was semi conscious. He was aware that he was being hauled out of the boot of the car and he tried to speak but could not get his words out. His mind was very cloudy and his body was weak. He had no strength to fight back as his hands were bound together with industrial cable ties. The same was done to his feet and then he was forced into the rear seats of the car.
"Wakey wakey fucker!" the man said grinning widely.
Burgundy trouser boy summoned up the strength to speak.
"What the fuck are you doing?" he gasped. "Let me go."
"I am living out an ambition! There is something I have always wanted to do, ever since I heard that song." his captor replied.
"Look at the CD cover. Check out the song titles" he said further showing the CD case to the terrified man.
"What are you on about?" he uttered back.
"Surely you have heard of Body Eaters?" the man mocked. "Their best two songs are Hit with a cleaver and actually you can guess the other one."
"You not going to rape me are you?" the man asked shaking with fear.
"Of course not, do you think I am sick or some pervert? Rape is sick."
He made an attempt to try and move but his hands and feet were bound so tight it was impossible. Any hope of getting out of this peril seemed in vain. All hope he feared had vanished.
"Are you hungry?" he was asked.
Hungry, was he hungry? He was absolutely terrified and his head was in great pain. The meat cleaver had left its impression in the side of his face. It resembled one of those chickens that a chef might butterfly cut and then pound down until it was flatter and then pan fry.
"I mean do you want anything to eat? In this bag here I have something you could snack on." the man continued with an evil glint in his eye and a sickly grin on his face.
He tried to shout for help but his voice was weak. His cry for help was met with laughter.
"Scream, yell, shout, nobody will come or hear you." the man cackled and then mimicked a person screaming for help.
"Now what have we here?" he said rummaging in his bag. "Roast beef crisps, chicken crisps, a chocolate bar."
The bags of crisps were then shaken in front of the face of the bound man who just looked mystified by what was going on.
"No I don't think any of these would be tasty enough. Hmm now here is something that is delicious and moorish." the man continued.
He held aloft a see through bag that looked like it had crushed up glacier mints in it and then grabbed the other mans face. His strong fingers forced his mouth slightly open. Burgundy trouser man clamped his mouth shut but felt fingers trying to prize his jaw open.
"Eat, eat!" the man shouted. "Fucking eat."
"Stop it." came the response pleading for mercy.
"Oh come on, this is the other song I was talking about. This is my ambition and you are going to help me realise it." came back the maniacal response.
The helpless man was than punched really hard in the stomach. The shock winded him and he gasped for air. At the same time he then felt one hand gripping his windpipe tightly and then another force the open bag into his mouth. The first contents of the bag slipped into his mouth. More and more of the contents until bits ran onto his chin. His head was forcefully tipped up towards the roof of the car. He tried in vain to stop it but he had not the energy. The bag had not contained broken bits of glacier mints but contained broken glass. He was being force fed broken glass.
Tiny slivers of glass made their way down his trachea. Fragments found their way into his stomach. Blood was pouring from his mouth and jagged shards of glass cut his tongue and gums to ribbons. Even more broken glass was being forced into his mouth. He was powerless to resist as the glass caused internal trauma. The man punched him again and again in the stomach. This made him gasp and choke at the same time and he coughed up a mix of glass slivers, bile, blood and skin.
Leaning over into the front of the car he turned the stereo on. The song was now playing. He was acting out the song title Made to eat broken glass. The look in his eyes was of pure joy. The hapless man feasting on broken glass had terror, fear, shock, fright and agony in his eyes.
"Eat up fucker!" he goaded
His hand tipped the rest of the contents into the mans mouth. The choking and spluttering was getting worse now. Blood was gushing from his lips and dripping down his chin. Minute shards of glass had gotten into his lungs now and the internal pain was ghastly. All the way from his mouth down to his stomach was glass and blood filled. His oesophagus and epiglottis had suffered irreparable damage. The haemorrhaging was draining his life away. Eyes glazed over and the choking stopped. The blood still flowed but life flowed no more.
The now limp and lifeless body was dragged out of the car and hauled over towards the fence. The grass here was wild and long and the body was placed along the railings. He pulled the meat tenderiser from his pocket and smashed it some more onto the dead mans face. For good measure he also pulverised his arm and shins.
Satisfied with his work the man got back into his car. The back seats were a mess and he would need to get home and clean it up. Settling into the drivers seat he pressed back on his stereo and replayed the song Made to eat broken glass. Another quick burst of air drumming and then he turned his car around and headed back on to the road. His ambition had been lived out now. It felt good.