Sorry, folks. Real update tomorrow. But the NIGHTMARES continue..
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>>6137731>NIGHTMARES IIIThey devised a new execution method. You thought this was gullshit, and said so. As it turns out, you don't have much of a say.
It is mid-afternoon and blisteringly hot, which you were okay with, given (you thought) the ocean would be nice and cold. Cold enough to put you in shock, is what you heard, so you wouldn't feel it, and privately you'd prefer not to feel it. You also heard it'd split you like a ripe tomato on contact, splat!, which'd be okay too. Some poor fuckers could fish up your skull and have a spook. You liked that.
Not this. Asshole #1, all cheekbones, points at an empty matchbox lying on the ground. "In."
"What?" you say. "Are you fucking with me?"
"No." Asshole #2, the one behind you, prods you forward. "In."
"That's—" They're definitely fucking with you. "You know you can gib me the regular way, right? It'd save a lot of time."
"In," Asshole #1, says, voice flat. "In," Asshole #2 says, and prods. You, arms tied, stumble forward.
"Is this a humiliation thing? Because I kind of get it, but there's got to be— I mean— it doesn't seem that humiliating? It just seems... uh... look, I don't even know what you're asking for. You want me to stick my toe in that?" You squint. "I could probably fit a toe, but that— I mean— whatever floats your boat? But—"
"In."
"In."
"This is fucking weird, right?" you appeal to the audience. "Are you guys getting anything out of this? Because I don't... uh..."
Your voice dies, because there's less audience than you expected. Maybe they all left when they saw they switched the method. All it is is Mom and Dad and Ash. When you meet their eyes, they all look down.
"Well, fuck you too," you say limply, then "Ow!" (You've been prodded forward again.) "Chill out! I'll stick my toe in, or whatever. Then will you kill me all regular?"
Another prod answers your question. You're standing right in front of the matchbox. Is there something about it you're not seeing? Nope. It's a matchbox. They don't have it up on a fancy little platform or anything. You sigh. "Whatever! Go piss in the wind, or— whatever. Here."
You slide your foot out of your sandal, meet Asshole #1's black eyes, and tap your big toe into the open bit of the matchbox. Then you scream.
