Debbie's View

We pulled her station wagon into the alleyway between the two buildings. "How did you ever find this place? I wanted to know. Deb tossed her head, her blonde hair going everywhere. "I know a guy into the rave scene." That was enough. The ravers are always one step ahead of the police. "Well, you see one warehouse, you've seen them all."

We crunched our way up to the stark building, its unremarkable metal door rusting at the hinges.

"OK, let's go in, and do one final checklist. I'm ready,"

And she was. Debbie Matenopoulos was wired, confident, strong, and boy oh boy! Excited. "Hey, hey hey," I reminded her. "Careful now, we can't get too sure of ourselves, I don't want any mistakes. Not with this, this is big." I let her know. "Oh, Mark," she chided, "You think I haven't stayed awake every night for a month, not paying attention to details?" I was sure she had. "Ahem, sweetie, and I'm not calling you that as a downer. You've got more going for you than a certain three of our little party. Its just ...I don't want to see the delightful Miss M getting snuffed herself, courtesy of the state of New York. Just take it steady." She gave me that "its my party" look and a pout of her lips. Oh, well. Let's get this snuff show on the road.

My mouth dropped open in surprise.

The added curtains were one thing, but the game-show wheel! Impressive. "I like it," "I knew you would, one of the studio grunts got it for us. You like the drapes?" "Sure do, but why?" Debbie dropped her stringing out of extension cords. She walked over to me and patted my shoulder. "Honey, if it were YOUR last night on Earth, wouldn't you want to be looking at curtains, instead of these grey walls?" "Maybe," I sighed. "But I don't think that I would, or they will, be entertaining thoughts of the surrounding decor, do you? The vanity troupe is going to have other things on their minds." "Whatever," Oh, that phrase. The ultimate, minimalists dream of a dismissal. How brief. How trifling. How aloof. And you know what? It fit the night perfectly. "Yeah," I agreed. "Whatever."

Debbie's station wagon was soon joined by a small van.

A tall brown-haired dude looking to be in his early thirties came trudging over. "Well," looking our building up and down, "we got them all. Bud is about ten minutes behind me. Damn SJ put up a kicking brawl, but the chloroform got her in the end." Debbie made a face. "Jim, what about the others? Any trouble?" "Nah. Barbara fell asleep first, Lisa was the last," "Yeah, probably because she's the youngest of the bunch." I came over to the two of them. "Younger, I bet means plenty of entertainment, eh Jimmy?" Jimmy turned a little red, then adjusted himself, trying to be discrete, and not entirely succeeding. "Ah, yeah, I've had unholy thoughts over her, man." I thought as much. "Ok, Ok," Debbie crowed. "Let's get the equipment in here." I had temporarily forgotten about the equipment. Damn, that would take at least--then I heard the other vehicle arrive. "Yeah, here we go, its happening!" Jim was just about jumping up and down, and Deb was right with him. "Now that Bud's here, it'll be a helluva lot easier."

Whereas Jimmy was your typical J Crew-wearing tall mezomorph, his companion Bud, well, Bud was quite a different story. Bud was one of those walking refrigerator-shaped guys who never asked how heavy an object was. If it needed moving, all Bud would ask was, "where ya want it?" Bud was two inches smaller than Jim, but I'd say double his weight? Yeah, double. And not an ounce of it was soft. So, we brought out and stowed a large oven, some really nifty photographer's lights, a chest freezer, and plenty of binding cords and tethers. Before the clocks in the town struck midnight, we'd be needing it all.

We all straightened from our efforts in those various ways--we brushed off, smoothed wrinkles in clothing, rubbed hands, shuffled our feet; anything to put off the main event. And yet, we knew we couldn't, not for much longer. "Oh, God," Jimmy wailed. "You guys ready?" Bud inquired. "This is it," Deb flatly stated. For her, that was serious. I shook my head. "Let's get to it, that stuff won't last. And we all had better be real good with our boy scout sheep-shanks and half-hitches." I felt a lump in my throat--as I knew the others did. "One, two, three, let's go," I turned and made for the door. "You did bring the hospital gurnies? I hope?" Debbie half-asked half recited. "Yup," I said. "They fold up, like lawn chairs, these models are neat." "Good, I want to touch them, ah, ... as little as I have to." "Me too," Jim answered.

We brought in, one by one comatose woman, after woman.

"Its incredible," Jim commented.

He'd never seen people posed and manipulated, while still asleep. We bound them all into chairs, one rope across the chest to keep them supported, then each leg and each arm got tied very securely. "Now, let's set up the table, and after that ... it begins. Bud was setting up the lights. "How is it that this place has gas and electric, no one's using it." he wondered. Jim gave him a sideways glance and said rather guiltily, "Oh, I turned on the utilities from out there in the alley. All the buildings around here have exposed meters. It was easy."

Debbie was positioning the table, a nice imposing one--in full command of the still unconcious women. "There we go, looks real homey," she smiled.

It was an evil smile.

"Home was never like this." I scolded.

Jim was curious. "I wonder what their first words will be when they wake up?" "I hope not Where Am I? Maybe something more unhinged." I was thinking the same thing. "It'll be different for each one, I bet." Bud asked, "how we gonna wake them up, anyway?" Debbie was ready for the answer to that one. "I gotta nice big bottle of amonia cleaner, right here." she proclaimed loudly, "and I'm gonna use it right now!"

Before I could guess her action, let alone stop it, she stood upon a chair and yelled for all the building to hear; "I christen thee Debbie's View!" CRASH! She hurled the bottle against the back wall of the room. Of course, it shattered in a million pieces, sending liquid everywhere. "What have you done?" I shouted. "We'll never clear that amonia out of here!" Jim yelped. "Oh, relax, that was spring water. I said I was gonna use the amonia, I never said that that was it." She reached under the table, and brought out the name-brand standby for the kitchen floor. "Now, this--" she waved it ominously at the droopy focus of our evening, "this is it."

"What, what's going on?" a sleepy Meredith Vieira mumbled. After Debbie delivered a snootful to Joy Behar there was heard a "why am, is this, I'm sitting up?" Not even a complete sentence, damn! "Oh, my what is this?" That was Lisa Ling. "I feel funny, who's there? Well, better. That was Barbara. "What the fucks goin' on, who tied me up?" Ah, that was Star Jones. And she, like her fellow lecturers to the housewife set, was not happy.

I elbowed Debbie in the ribs to hide from their sight until the surprise of their situation hit them all. Reluctantly, she did as I asked. "Hello, ladies." I began; "This is your captain speaking. Or more precisely, your judge, jury and umm hmmm, executioner." Star perked up at that. "who the hell are you?" "Very nice, Star, succinct, direct, authoratative. I like that." She glared at me, testing the bonds that held her fast. "I'm a lawyer, and---" I cut her off with a finger. She knew the gesture very well. "And Meredith, the moderator of our little group. Such a haughty little jap," I flicked a few drops more of the amonia in her general direction. "You're anti-semitic!" she crowed. "Oh, please, that tired old thing? Truth is anti-semitic. Hardly, I can think of twenty women I'd like to acquaint with the sweet kiss of the axe--and only two are of your persuasion. No, dear. Its your excuse for a talkshow; that's why you're all here." I moved on to Barbara Walters, who maintained a neutral expression. "Well, Barbara, care to interview me?" She was stone silent, wow! I couldn't believe this. Just then Joy spoke up. "This isn't funny. All right, this has gone far enough! Release us, this minute!" I was diverted from Barbara for a moment. "You're absolutely right, this isn't the least bit funny." I eyed Star, who couldn't resist spitting at me. I gave her a venomous look as a reply. "But, you're absolutely wrong on your other point. This hasn't gone anywhere near, far enough."

Lisa Ling was really dealing with this well--keeping a mask of Asian composure. I was gratified, knowing full well that this would be a truly exotic little nut to crack.

And so, I began, as the other two guys kept well back in the shadows. "For your crimes of male-bashing, homophobic rantings, incessant preaching and analysis of fluff topics, the lowering of TV standards for a show---. America's gag reflex will never be the same. Oh, and that stunt of not merely firing one of your own, but worse! You turned it into a public humiliation. Anything to say now?" I waited for a response. There was a flurry of yipping and swearing and snuffling. Then, amid the hen-fest, Barbara spoke up. "We all know people in very high places. You will be up for kidnapping, assault, and ... and you'll never get away with this." I expected more of that tripe from Star Jones. I wasn't disappointed. The Gynosaurus spoke. ... "I'm a New York lawyer, and you'll be held accountable, and anyone with you will be brought up on charges." That was better. I waved to Debbie, still hiding, and getting antsy. "This isn't my personal vendetta, oh no! May I present-- Ladies, This Is Your Life!" Out popped Debbie, teeth bared. "More like; This is your funeral, all of you!" Meredith began to sob. Barbara began to cry. Star's heavy coat of makeup was falling apart. "You!" yelled Barbara. "Yeah, me." Debbie shot back. "I've been planning this since last year." Lisa Ling's face fell, at last. She knew that Debbie held her in real disfavour, being her replacement. "And you," turning to her; "you can't even shine my shoes. I don't care how many awards Cosmo gives you, you sucked in that Old Navy commercial. Cargo pants are worse than Dockers, so there!" Debbie turned to me, her features vibrating with anticipation. "Let's get this little picnic going, huh?" I nodded in agreement. All five captive women fell silent--a real first.

Debbie was at my side now. Jim and Bud were really itching to go. We told them they weren't involved, but we'd make sure they got some great pics of what was to come. With that, they rocketed away, within two minutes the sounds of burning tires could be heard. "OK, let me explain this. Barbara, you'll appreciate this one, being a real TV veteran and all. This is the "WHEEL OF MISFORTUNE," and Debbie is more than happy to turn the letters for me. Now, here's what she's worked her little heart out to accomplish." I bent and planted a nice one on her left cheek. She smiled. "You're very appreciated, and it can only get better." "Yeah, I've been fantasizing almost every night, just what and how its going to happen to each of them." I drew the bound women's attention to the wheel. "Now, there are all sorts of letters and numbers on the wheel. Each one matches exactly, the numbers and letters on this list. This list is a compilation of all the popular snuff techniques taken from the web's snuff community. We have everything here--from being nailed to a cross, to drowning, gutting, raping, the death of a thousand cuts." I gazed around at the five celebs, letting my words sink in. I was looking for weakness. I tried some little taunts--just to make the dam bust wide open. Hey, Joy. "Don't you ever wear dresses? What, were you born in J.C. Penney pants suits? Yuck." She growled obscenities at me. It was going well. I turned to Star, who was really doing a slow burn. "Did anyone ever tell you girl, you look like Al Sharpton in drag." She screamed cracker curses to the ceiling. Barbara gave her a stern look. "Hey, don't start that crap," I left them to jeer at Meredith Vieira. "Hmm, don't you believe in underwear? Ever?" Joy Behar wasn't taking any of Star's shit. "You yeast-ridden bitch! Shut up. And you kinda do look like--" "Yeah, well at least I don't look like a cheap Bette Midler retread!" Now four out of five girls were all bitching and trying to work loose from their ropes. "Oh, cat fight," called Debbie, she was snapping pics. "Yeah, and there's so many great ways to skin a kitty." Lisa Ling wasn't participating in the verbal abuse. She was confining herself to crying and shaking violently.

"OK, Miss Matenopoulos you may decide the fate of prisoner number one." I stepped from in front of the wheel. Debbie could barely contain herself. She manhandled the wheel, and sent it whirling. Tick tick tick. "Hmmm, Meredith, remind you of sixty minutes?" As the wheel ground slowly to a stop, a number crawled into visibility. Number two, Meredith Vieira. Its you!" Debbie chortled. Meredith turned white. Now I took up the wheel and gave it a roll, to determine Meredith's style of execution. A letter D appeared. "Oh no!" I exclaimed. "We have ta roll again." The letter D is for duelling. "You mean, she gets a partner?" I sighed. "Looks like, and we both agreed that it was to be pure chance, the decision of the wheel is final.

"Oh, nuts, that's one less good snuff, if we have to use two together." Meanwhile the women were turning paler with each passing minute. With a nudge, I sent the wheel out once more on its journey. Up came a three. "OO, that's Joy Behar." Debbie was elated. It was just as well, I pointed out to all of them. Both of you are close in age. Now, we must contrive a compound snuff for this. I didn't think we'd need swords. Hmmm. I was thinking. "We have to use stuff already here," Debbie reminded me. I had an idea. "What are you doing?" I spun the wheel of misfortune, and a 4 came up--that was Star Jones. "Well my little chocolate minx," I purred in her ear. Let's see in what form the grim reaper comes for you." "You piece o'shit. You'll pay for this." She was losing her temper. I spun the wheel, paying attention this time, to its letters. I wrung my hands with glee. "Ah, look Deb. An R!" "What's sat, what's sat?" Star bellowed. I crept over to the frantic forty-year old. "Hmm, you've just turned the big 4-0 this past March, right? Well, you're to be roasted. Aha, a nice, plump, Perdue oven-stuffer." I spied the makeup at that point. I gave Deb a look. "We'd better start her first, we'll have to marinate and scrub that foundation and crud off her. "I can do that," Debbie announced, "you decide and prep the other two. Then the three of them will die together--and Lisa and Barb can watch." There was a gurgling hiccup from Star Jones, she must've been envisioning her fate. "Sounds like a plan," I agreed.

Lisa Ling was screaming now.

"No, you're serious?"

What had she been thinking all this time? "Hey darling, this ain't Channel One anymore." I sternly admonished her. "No, and after I put together something for these two--you're gonna be next."

That shut her up--or at least I thought it did.

Lisa decided upon a horrendous scream campaign, to hopefully summon help, or at the very least, distract us. Debbie began going at her with major slappage to the face. Still she kept howling. Oh, what lungs. "I don't know if this will help, but--" I grabbed a large utility knife, and Lisa froze when she saw the blade glinting. "Oh, no!" "Oh, shut up, it isn't for you, just your clothes." I had the idea that if I relieved Lisa of all her clothes, she'd be so mortified and indignant that's she'd crumble. As I began shredding her blouse, I saw it. She had a belly ring. "So, you like piercing, eh?" Debbie was almost drooling now, eyeing me.

"You're not gonna--!"

Yes I was, I thought.

I reached for the ring, and ripped.

Oh no! This reactivated an entire new repertoir of ululations, very high bird-like keening was now coming from Lisa Ling's throat.

"Oh, shit, Debbie, please start on Star there.

Once you've cut her panty shields off, cram them down Lisa's throat till I can get to her. Thank you."

I went to the adjoining rooms of the abandoned warehouse, and tried to make sense of what was there. I had to create something, mutually degrading and fatal. There was a huge bale of razor wire. Nice start! Boat-rope metal shelf braces, bolsters for footons or some kind of foam furniture. Yipes, I saw two huge fluorescent tubes--they had to be four feet long. An old tricycle, where the hell did that come from? Mortar, plaster, all sorts of goodies. A plan was slowly beginning to take shape.

Debbie kept swinging a cinderblock at Star Jones, but the lucky bitch was veering and weaving. Even when the cement block hit home, she still didn't go to sleep. With having had just about enough of that, she remembered the chloroform. Grabbing a piece of Lisa's cut-up blouse, she held her breath, and uncorked it. She soaked the cloth, closed the bottle, and ran over to the tied woman. "Nighty night you brown cow," she exhaled. and slapped the soaked cloth over Star's face. Ferocious to the last, she tried to bite her through it. Then she drooped. "Well, finally."

Barbara Walters was horror-struck.

She looked on, as Debbie untied Jones, and let her fall heavily and noisily to the floor. "Now, where to begin." Debbie hoisted the load of dead weight onto one of the gurnies they'd wheeled their charges in on. She trundled down the hall to a room they'd set up as a kitchen. She just KNEW it would come in handy. Deb cut off every ounce of clothing from the snoring Star. Then she began scrubbing all the makeup off. Now, the fun part. Not having much skill with one, Debbie picked up a razor--and began shaving the larger woman. She didn't worry too much about the hair on Star's head--actually, she needen't have, for it was just one of many of Star's tackie wigs. . Concentrating on the lower body, she did the pits and pussy. "Oh boy, somebody's gonna get lucky tonight with a thick muscular cunt steak." she stated softly. She wondered how one would taste.

"Hey, Mark! I could use a little help here."

I finished my apparatus and scurried off to see what was happening. I poked my head into the make-shift kitchen, and was greeted by two women. One was standing, smiling at her work. The other was her work. "whew, all nice and oven-ready, great job." "Thanks. I need help trussing her up. If she got out now, she'd be a big fat piece of evidence against us." I didn't need to mull over that one. "Well then, let us prepare to roast an atourrney."

We'd raided two stores on the way over--that was why we chose the station wagon. I brought out my trusty Gin-Su, and began slicing into the still form of Star Jones. I was really new at this, but I did manage to identify her liver, intestines, and a bunch of other junk I knew she would no longer need. "Oh, don't ask me to sew that mess shut," Debbie quailed. "Nah, why bother. We're not presenting her to Julia Child or anything." I located an office stapler, and began cachunk, cachunk, cachunking Star's body closed. "Its crude, but hey, it works," I winked at her. At this point, the massive internal assault I had just staged began cutting through her chloro-haze. Pain was shooting through her, and she was rising back to a waking state. "Great, let's gag and tie her good." I commanded. We had to hurry. We crossed her legs, duct taped and bound her ankles. Like a roasting game bird, we pinned the doomed woman's arms behind her back. That should do it.

So, together, one on each side, we wheeled the prepped gyno-meat out into full view of the four waiting soon-to-be snuffees. We were greeted with howls and shrieks. Meredith started throwing up. Joy began chewing at her ropes. Very nice entertainment. "Well, everyone, what do you think. Within, I'd say, two hours, you're going to smell something unique. Pork roast, that isn't quite pork roast. We're a-cooking up a New York lawyer barbecue.

Debbie began gagging the four.

"They're giving me a headache, and I wanna enjoy every minute of this," She began stuffing ripped clothing into their mouths. "Just make sure you don't shove too much, too far down. We want them still breathing." "I know, I've read up on this real good," She raised her eyebrows "do you know how many groups, clubs and websites are devoted to this?" "A whole lot, I can't even begin to guess." With that accomplished, Debbie followed me into the other room. "What have you--? Oh, my God, it looks like a huge swingset, its so big!" "It has to be. It must support two struggling women. Speaking of which, let's go get them now.

We dragged both Joy Behar and Meredith Vieira, chairs and all, down the hall and into their final residence.

"Oo, oo, so go ahead, do the announcer thing," Deb was rubbing her pussy now, growing wet with hot anticipation. "Woa girl, I knew you wanted revenge, but oh, I never dreamed--!" "Shut up, just explain it, and turn it on, or whatever, I ... I need this!" "Your wish is my command. I don't want to be responsible for a desperately dripping debbie. hahaha!" She punched out at me for that one, I stuck out my tongue at her--then addressed the contraption; along with its hapless victims.

"OK, what this looks like is a huge swingset. That's more true than you know." I had an idea. "Be right back." After much scraping and grunting, Debbie saw me return with Lisa Ling and Barbara Walters, chairbound. I had dragged them down the hall. "You don't wanna have them miss this, do you?" Oh, Star's oven is preheated now. Shall we?" "Let's!"

So, we left four women, and a ghastly machination, alone in that room while we both attended to Star's culinary debut into the world. "Oven door open." I began cramming the writhing form into the oven's open maw. Oh, the heat was excruciating. "Nothing compared to the heat she's about to feel." I took one look back, "um, we could still stop this. They'd all be traumatized, but--" "Damn it, they fucked me over! Publicly, remember? No dice! That's final." Shoving me aside, Debbie Matenopoulos kicked the open door, slamming it closed with a resounding metallic CACHUNK! Then she hotly marched out of the room, ready for more carnage. I smiled. So was I.

"OK, now, where were we?"

She poked my ass with her fist.

I wasn't about to argue with that Greek temper.

"Hey, OK, here it is.

A lot of this mess is hanging from beams and the ceiling fan, I didn't exactly have an industrial welder to use. On the left here, are two steel cables. Each one is quite capable of supporting the weight of our ex-View celebs here.

Now, first off, we hang both of them up to dry, Marquis-style by these cables." Debbie looked around at all the other components to the asortment. "What's this giant hollow thing? Looks like a tunnel, made like a huge slinky." "You got it, that stuff's the sharpest razor wire you've ever seen. I mean, they must have wanted to keep everything and everyone imaginable out of here. So, once the women are hung up, we fit them with all of this nice foam rubber stuff, used for furniture. Then the surprise begins. Its all in the design. "And these swinging metal things? Ick! Looks like a nightmare demon's toy mobile." "Oh, its a nightmare, for sure. But no toy you'd want around. You'll see it work, very soon."

So, after a small snoot of chloroform, both Meredith Vieira and Joy Behar were securely cuccooned in nice, cuddley apulstery innards. This was for a reason. Then, together, we hoisted them up, and into, one mad set of cable and lethal wire. At once, both women began to gently swing and spin. "Oh, it works! Its beautiful!" cried Debbie.

"OK, now that that's done, let's finish doling out our last two snuff sentences." I sniffed, what, already? "I do believe I smell the beginning, er, I mean, the end of one Nubian loudmouth."

"Yeah, me to."

We filed back to the room occupied by the wheel of misfortune. I spun, and got Barbara. Debbie spun, and got, who else? Lisa. Now came the letters. Neither one of us knew what the branded victims would receive. That was half the fun. Twice, the wheel spun. Twice, the wheel marked the final destiny of a woman, very familiar to the television public. The public had no way of knowing, however, the hideous, fate doled out to both of them. Such knowledge could freeze the soul.

As Star, surrounded by both heat and steel, quietly sizzled, Joy and Meredith slowly crept back, for one brief, final time, into the world of the living. This felt funny, Joy was disoriented. She was drifting, floating? Hanging? Something was really odd--Meredith was laying or sprawled, or something; uphill? This wasn't a hammock, what w--ow!" she bolted into awareness. Something stung her. As her body was startled it sent an answering shriek of pain into Joy's body. Now both women were awake--and oh yes! Their gags had been removed. But why? Why would they--? Meredith reached out, or tried to, and felt hot, fire! Then she smelled it! "Help, fire, I'm .. we're on fire! A female voice, oo that bitch Debbie--. No, you're not, only that foam rubber you're wearing." She laughed.

It was true, it was burning!

That awful smell!

Why was, oh, her hair was gonna burn too!

She shrieked to Joy. "We're on fire, its this stuff all over us!" Joy was feeling achey, all rotten from being knocked out, now this, what was ...? Then she felt the flames. It was burning now, shriveling on their skin--melting and dripping hot torture from hell itself! Oh, God, stop this, we're--oof! A big molten chunk of burning furniture-stuffing settled onto her open mouth as she tried to scream. She tried to blow it out, she couldn't breathe right. They had confined her in ... something. She didn't have time to guess what. She groaned, spat! She hurled the noxious liquifying ember away with her tongue, and yes! actually succeeded! It was gone; but then the shock of realization hit her like a sledgehammer! She began to cry. Sobs wracked her entire body--for her tongue had been seared beyond repair! Her tastebuds, her media voice--all gone. Gone forever! As the remainder of the stuffing burned on, she just didn't care. Let it happen, let her body shut down. It was over. Joy's gut-renching cries of prayer went unanswered, for it was not over yet. Not nearly so.

Meredith was having similar problems, the devil's very heat was scarring her for life--she was sure of it. She wasn't too far off. Smoking mad hot polymer was burning allright, and its course was taking it down, down into whatever was holding her fast. It kept burning, and as it did so, it began searing her naked breasts underneath! Now, Meredith Vieira began to scream. She let loose real throat-rippers that could have shattered the most expensive crystal. Of course, there was no crystal. There was no help--no rescue from this, this ...Oh God! Now what have they done?" Meredith began feeling something else! What more was there? Soon, the shrieking pain of her second-degree burned breasts was interrupted by a sharp, biting something! Inhaling deeply, she nearly gagged on the fumes still lingering. However, small mercy--the stuffing had all burned away. Small mercy? Very small; for that nice, comfy insulation, enshrouding both women, had been put there for a reason.

For now, on top of relentless, demonic burning, there came a digging, knifing invasion! What was it? Craning her neck, Meredith glanced over to see Joy crying and screaming as well. They were both ensnared, entangled in some kind of metal--! Then she knew! She met Joy's eyes, she couldn't use her hands to show her. Joy followed the look, and was struck dumbfounded! She had a lump in her throat, that threatened to expand into her very heart and lungs. That insulation was the only thing protecting them from the Satanic, ripping razor-wire. It was coiled around them both--in series. If they moved, tried to touch one another, or shook, it would cut them apart. Joy and Meredith both frantically looked about. They both soon wished they hadn't. For, there were Debbie and myself, smiling, waiting, watching the hitherto unnoticed blood, just beginning to puddle upon the filthy floor under them.

"Hello," I called to Joy.

"Congratulations! You've survived the burning."

Debbie turned to Meredith.

Would you like some water? Just come and get it."

Both women roared, forgetting themselves and their predicament for the moment. It didn't last--as they fought to furiously get at us, tiny violations erupted on both their skins from a hundred places. "Mark, could you please pass the salt?" She kissed me. "You read my mind." Debbie was as hard and as brutal as I. It was so incredibly stimulating. As her manecured hand flung the first volley of salt at Joy, she began humming the theme to The View. Then her voice was drowned out by the horrific shrieks. Meredith, fearing the worst, yet unable to imagine just what could possibly be worse than her present situation, didn't have long to ponder the question. Like scatheing lightning, more intense than the burning napam of the liquifying foam rubber--this ... whatever-it-was! sent bone-crushing pain messages from a hundred parts of her body! Her brain lit up like the Fourth of July, threatening to overload from the incoming pain signals! It was, it ... was, salt! "You bastards!" They were salting her and Joy, every time the razor wire punctured and ripped them up, salt was there. Each time the sticky ooze of her bleeding tried to carry it away, salt was there! Too much salt! The now-thousand myriad bleeding cuts couldn't even begin to dilute the mind-scorching assault! The blood soon realized, as did the two doomed women, that SALT DISSOLVES! And so, suspended some five feet above the floor, a floor fast pooling with their own blood, two women descended into the innermost regions of Hell. The razor wire cut, and cut; deeper. Gravity was pulling the women down, the women's own mass was sending this monsterous metal invasion; this abrading, tearing intrusion inward--and downward.

As Debbie and I watched, sipping Pepsi together, the women descended, lower, lower, and lower; a true monument to the torturous combination of hanging and cutting. Joy and Meredith payed a terrible price for slowly, finally, having their feet touch the ground, for there is no God in Snuffland.

The slack which each woman had achieved was given to them when all that razor-wire pierced them through and through. For a time, their vital organs were spared; but the odds of the cosmos can not be beaten indefinitely. The spectacular result of this now lay on the bloody floor, in front of the wild eyes of Barbara Walters and Lisa Ling. They knew, with deadly earnest, that they would soon be next. For there, within three feet of them, lay two quivering, roughly humanoid-looking red, seeping lumps. For all intents and purposes, the two fine women; friends, co-workers, were dead. Mentally, both their brains had received too much pain--too many messages. It was as if a burning heart of a blazing sun, a sun which only they could see, a sun meant to power their own shared private Hell, had seared through their nervous systems, much like the salt and wire had done to their exteriors. As a slow end, their minds unraveled into white noise. Their bodies drained into lifelessness as well. Within two minutes, or perhaps an eternity, even the quivering stopped.

Oblivious to this twin horror outside, Star was having a panic attack--and a few other real problems as well. She awoke to intense heat, and her body sizzling all around her. Her first thought was "I'm in a car trunk, or a coffin. Those white pickle-dicks have buried me alive. She felt around, and upon severely burning her fingers realized where she was. She began kicking wildly. She tried to get her knees up, for one great gorilla kick when ... what the f..! Her right knee went through her tummy. No, not through, into. Where was all of her---her insides. She found the somewhat, relatively speaking, cooler regions for her burned hands, she clasped her stomach and chest. Then she found a new horror to pile upon the already mounting terror, threatening to claw her mind apart. Her midsection felt ... different! She knew her own figure, of course she did! And this? this was wrong, somehow! They'd shoved her into an oven or furnace. OK, that was a given. Now, be logical, what would they have done to ...? What would feel like this? She probed around, and felt staples. At that moment, hissing steam and wetness whistled out from within her hollowed gut. Staples flew, pinging and bouncing off of the oven walls. Her sliced skin, with no constraint, flopped open like a badly-made stuffed tortilla! As the oven grew hotter around her, her very flesh beginning to seriously cook, Star knew what they had done. They'd gutted her like a fish! In reaction to this revelation, she howled. She kicked. She was gonna punish that oven, rip it apart. Star was taking in monumental gulps of air--very hot air. This meant that now, along with her body, the moist tissue of her lungs began to saute, as well. She knew then, as her screams were robbed of their amunition, that this was it. The bastards had won. They probably were ruining her four friends at this very moment. She gave in to the relentless onslaught of the inferno. As she began to close in around herself, the searing pain actually began to diminish! She thought, this must be almost like freezing to death--they always say you feel warmer toward the end.

She laughed.

Her heart was in the right place.

She loved working with her friends.

She wished them a speedy end.

She wished.

She smiled.

Stunned beyond comprehension, the two remaining live women of The View waited like zombies--like the condemned souls of the damned, they sat, petrified, unmoving. I motioned to Debbie, to prepare for the dispatching of the final two. She slowly nodded, looking toward the pile of items remaining. She wondered what I could come up with from all that. "We have a little conflict here," I said. The letters that came up on the wheel stood for rape and cannibalism. Now, here's the rub. I myself, want nothing to do with chopping, cooking or eating that 71-year-old grandma there. OK, so, if rape is for Lisa Ling, then the edibilia is for Barbara, right? I don't want a tough stewing hen--forget it. "Well, you can't rape Barbara just to make food out of Lisa." By this time, I was confused. "Great, we can't do this. The one we wanna eat leaves us with one we do not want to rape. And if the one we want as food is given the fatal rape card, then we are denied decent girl-meat. Oh shit! Now what?" I thought of going right in there, and spinning the wheel two more times. "already did that, while you were disposing of the two carcasses. Up came drowning and another for cannibalism. The gods are angry." I wasn't ready to give up. Then the unexpected intervened. "Debbie, get over here, I can help you." Wonder of wonders. Debbie frowned, what did this bitch hope to gain?" Barbara Wawa was trying to cop a deal. Who wouldn't? Now, I was curious. We wheeled Barbara's chair, with her still tied in it, down the hall, away from Lisa Ling. "What's the big idea? What could you possibly--?" Barbara was full of strength now--completely composed. "Now wait just a minute. Its bad enough you want to off my young colleague in there, but not me. I don't care what happens, its not going to be me. I khnow things, and can get things." "What can you possibly offer as a bargaining chip, Barbara?" I asked her.

"Oh, please, I know the media inside and out. I know who runs the country, the banks. I can also get you somebody the world wants to see snuffed--has for a long time. More than me, really." Debbie and I exchanged looks, we weren't sure. "We're um, kinda in trouble if we let you go, you know? We just shredded Vieira, sliced and diced Behar, and cooked Jones to a crisp. We can't let you go now. It would have to be something so big--!" She was right. I began to turn my back and walk out when I heard... "Stop! "For openers, I don't even know where this place is. Next, I'll prove myself, I'll do in that youngster in there for you! Listen, finally , I'll give over to you the decade's best snuff prize ever. Think about it!" I stopped, dead in my tracks. Why was this happening? It would have been so easy. Debbie was having second thoughts as well--along with third and fourth. "A, you mean you'll do Lisa in, for us?" This was the ultimate--if Barbara did that, she'd be as guilty as we were. Debbie put it to me. "Do we trust her? I wanna know who's the snuff of the decade? Who does the world hate so much that...?" "One thing. I won't let her suffer, I'll snuff Lisa, then give you my mystery victim. And I go free, that's all I want. We will never cross paths again. And I'm sorry about the View firing you, Debbie." Wow! We were both struck with surprise. We slowly agreed. I located my good old Gin-su and freed Barbara. "Now, who is the unlucky guy, if it is a guy?" "Good guess. I'll give you, delivered to a place of your own choosing---Geraldo Rivera! Or as we insiders know him "Jerry Rivers". With that, she walked into the next room.

We watched from just outside the door.

"I've bargained and won. We're getting dressed and out of here."

"What did you promise them?"

"I'm gonna give them Geraldo!, isn't that a kick?"

"But they're monsters, they killed three of us, you can't--" Lisa Ling was talking fast now, hastily talking through her shock and dread. Barbara was faster. She punched the young girl's temples out with the very same cinderblock Debbie had tried to subdue Star with, earlier. This time, it worked. Never knowing what hit her, Lisa went down--and never rose again.

We stood there, stunned.

"You did it!" we both said in unison.

"Hey, you may not like me much, but I always keep my word. Except maybe to Susanne Sawyer and maybe to Larry King, that dried up old turd. Now, let's get some stovetop action going."

Still in a state of utter speechlessness, we both moved numbly, from room to room. We gathered up the various items Barbara requested. Within ten minutes, a huge institutional-size grill was firing up. "OK, kids," yeah, I guess at 71, she had the right to call us that. Let's consider the fences mended, huh?" She made the first slice, drawing the sharp blade silently down the girl's abdomen. "We call it even. I walk out of here, you get Geraldo, and we all three of us, are about to make Bennihana here." She smiled, quite authentic really. "How appropriate, that's good, Bennihana." "Yeah, it fits," She began over a large sink-sized tub. "All the bad stuff, we just throw out." She looked over her shoulder at us while she worked over the still-warm body. "I just wanted to spare her the rape--she didn't deserve that. This is quicker." Wow, she had Lisa gutted in six minutes flat. We could smell the olive oil heating. Debbie chopped garlic and ginger. Barbara sliced, paper-thin Lisa medallions. "Pity we can't do tempura, she's so fresh, she'd be a natural!"

"Barbara, pardon me, but, I can't help but think; I mean wonder," I studdered over my words. "Uh huh, that, like, maybe I've done this before? Now, whatever gave you that idea?" With that, Barbara flipped her former colleague over, and began assessing the plump little butt. "Ah, tenderloin, sirloin, steak, chops, and if you two are really good, and give me a ride back to New York city, I'll braise you a pussy steak, better than anything you can saute here tonight. Its really delicious with white wine and a touch of cilantro. Believe me, I know!"

Now remember," Barbara called, as she exited the station wagon; call meon my cell number," We were both groaning, we were so stuffed--girl meat is so rich. I kissed Debbie's nose, and she chomped on my ear. "Will do," I yelled, over the car engine. Barbara Walters winked, as a small group of people came into view. "Don't forget now! I've got this fantastic ' steak, I'll keep it frozen for a special occasion! And if "Jerry" makes an appearance, as I'm sure he will, that should be special enough! With his latest work about to end, the poor thing's desperate. Let's the three of us, help him out!" She waved bye bye, and was gone. I smiled, then grinned, then roared. Debbie looked at me strangely. "What?" "Oh, nothing, really." She tore at my hair. "Hey, alright! I was just thinking of something Barbara said back there, before we left--a little thing. That is what clenched it--I knew then we could trust her," Now Deb was really curious.

"And what was the little thing that made such a big difference?" I composed myself, feeling the heat rise to my ears. At last, I told her. "When you were hunting up that Igloo container we gave her, for you-know-who's cunt steak, she pointed to that pile of stuff I had rummaged through to build the ... a, the wire thing. There against the wall were two four-foot long fluorescent light tubes, remember? Well, she pointed right at them, and snorted; "Rivera, you're about to be royally fucked. I'm finally gonna be rid of you!" Deb laughed. I joined her. "Barbara wasn't a tender chicken, but she was cool." I patted my full tummy. "Yeah," Deb replied with a sigh, "Those tough old birds are kinda special, I guess. God love 'em.

We drove on, both wondering just where the adventure would take us next.

Vrykolakas

9/11/2002

6:50 PM.