Nailed

Halloween is upon us again, here is my offering for the occasion.
Happy Halloween everyone. Bwuhahahahahahahahaha!!


NAILED.

Having the palms of your hands nailed to a table is probably not the worst, or most painful thing that can happen to a person, definitely not the most pleasant, but still probably not the worst.

Unfortunately for Jimmy Diggs his problems were a shade more numerous than that.

Someone had also hammered eight inch nails through his thighs and into the chair he was sitting in, the heads of more nails protruded from the tops of his shoes.

Several two inch ovals secured his lower jaw and chin to the table top, leaving his neck bent and strained at an unnatural angle, adding further to his discomfort.

His eyelids were stapled to his eyebrows, giving him the 'surprise-eyes' look, and leaving him staring across the table at the TV screen opposite.

Jimmy moaned occasionally, the pain was not so severe any more, three days of sitting here like this had taken a numbing effect.

Even the panel pins through his fingertips, which had given him the most excruciating pain had lost most of their effect.

His brain was also numb from watching “The joys of wallpapering” DVD which was on repeat play.

Jimmy had been a naughty boy. He had borrowed money, lots of money, from some very unsavoury characters, in order to prop up his failing chain of 'Home decorating' shops

And of course, when the present economic climate had seen the further decline of his business, the money had not been paid back.

The bad guys had visited Jimmy, the money had become unimportant now, Jimmy was worth more as a warning to others.

When he was discovered, the medical team which arrived shortly after were about to administer a powerful morphine dose to knock him out before he was freed from his predicament.

“Can you just hang fire for a few minutes with that syringe?” Croaked Jimmy.

“Why?” Said the medic, incredulously.

“I'd just like your opinion on whether that wallpaper pattern really does go with that shade of green.”


©2012 Stephen. J. Green.


Anyone wishing to read previous Halloween stories can find them here:-

2011 – She loves me, she loves me not.

2010 – Pumpkinhead.

Board games

I was just a tad pissed off at getting dragged through the ether again, this was the third time in less than a month.

Stupid drunken teenagers playing around with things they didn't understand. Well, the time for understanding was over, they would be taught a lesson, I had my own game to play.

I burst into the room through a splat of ectoplasm, all gooey and snotty, in spirit of course, my body was long since gone, but it still felt gooey and snotty.

And there they were... The four of them, crouched around the ouija board on the coffee table, all hands touching the pointer, all mouths giggling.

“Is there anybodeee theeere?” Said the redhead, theatrically. Rolling her eyes, and bursting into further fits of laughter, pulling the other three along with her mirth.

Oh yes, there is somebodeee heeere alright, you can't see me, but by hell you're soon gonna know I exist.

I picked up the almost empty vodka bottle and hurled it against the wall, that was when the giggling stopped.

They all eyed each other, their faces delightful pictures of serious concern.

Next the coffee table, ouija board, and drinks glasses sailed through the air, that was when the scramble for the door started. I slammed it shut, they were going nowhere.

Time for the games to begin.

I lifted the redhead up by her hair and slammed her against the ceiling, that was when the screaming started...

It went on for a long, long time.


©2012 Stephen. J. Green.

Falling apart

John just went to pieces after his wife left him.

The very day after she had walked out, he awoke to find unnervingly large clumps of his hair on the pillow. During the course of the day he became gradually balder and balder, and although he was rather perturbed by this, he put it down as being a nervous reaction to his wife's actions. No doubt the hair would grow back once he had got over the initial shock of being abandoned.

The following day, as John was rubbing shower gel onto his smooth, and for some reason that he couldn't quite fathom, sexy-feeling bald head, something floated past his line of vision and into the water below.

Looking down he was shocked to see one of his fingernails floating along towards the shower drain hole. He lowered his hands to eye level and watched in horror as one by one the remaining nine flaked off and joined it, creating an armada of tiny fingernail boats.

John began to feel sick, something was not right here. Maybe he was hallucinating? Another nervous reaction to being left alone?

He towelled himself dry and went for a lie down, convinced that all would be well with his world when he woke up again.

Not so...

John blinked himself awake, and climbed out of bed, only to fall heavily to the floor. Shocked, he tried to stand, and immediately fell flat on his face again. The impact sending one of his eyeballs flying from its socket, it rolled rapidly across the carpet and disappeared under the wardrobe.

He rolled onto his back and squinted along the length of his legs...

There was no feet on either of them.

He almost gagged in panic!

He dragged himself back onto the bed and into a sitting position, tentatively he pulled the sheet aside, there were his feet, either side of a small pile of toenails.

“Oh God! … Oh God! … Oh God!”

John raised his right, nail-less hand to his mouth to stifle the scream that was building inside him, just before he could cover his mouth, the hand fell from his wrist, bounced off his thigh, and landed heavily on the carpet.

The scream came... Accompanied by the tinkling sound of most of his teeth cascading from his mouth into his lap, followed shortly by the wet splat of his tongue joining the pile.

“Oh Gog! ... Oh Gog! ... Oh Gog!”

John was screaming in mind as well as mouth, insanity was kicking in.

A sudden thought struck John, silencing his screams.

Until now he had always believed that his wife would be the one to go to pieces if she ever found out about his affair.

The comical twist of the situation was not lost on him.

He started giggling maniacally, his lunatic mirth grew in volume and intensity, reverberating around the house, bouncing off the walls, until eventually he just laughed his head off.


©2012 Stephen. J. Green.

A problem solved

I stared long and hard at the wretch before me.

The watery, bloodshot eyes stared back.

I took in the scarlet cheeks, the purple-veined nose and the drawn expression. The look of depression, depravation, addiction and despair.

A face that said it had given up, accepted its lot, and in its alcohol-addled logic had stupidly decided that its state of health and state of affairs weren't too bad.

“You really need to give up drinking.” I said.

We both nodded together at the wisdom of these words.

“You're a wreck, and I'm sick of telling you that you need to do something about it.”

Again we nodded in unison, there was such an undeniable truth here.

“Make this the last time we have this conversation, and tomorrow DO something about it!”

Again the nod.

I turned away from my reflection and staggered to the chair, sat down heavily.

I picked up the glass of JD, raised it in the air. “ Here's to tomorrow, the day I'm gonna DO something about this state of affairs.”

I brought the glass to my lips and took a heavy slug. Felt the liquid burn its way down.

Yeah, tomorrow I would do something about it alright, the first thing in the afternoon when I wake up I'm gonna throw that goddam mirror in the bin.


©2012 Stephen. J. Green.