Chapter 33 - Arlene Part 12
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The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for
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This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise
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Email HarryBerg01@aol.com with your comments.
Copyright 2003
****
Section 12 - Hazardous But Well Compensated Duty
After the big battle with the Mongols where I played the role of Florence
Nightingale, I reached the point where the Pagans considered me one of my own,
even Kurt. I moved from the status of whore to a notch above that. I called it
"useful and dependable whore".
After a short intense period of physical therapy, Kurt slowly returned to his
old self. A slight limp and some nasty scars appeared to be the only reminders
of what happened. His cock still worked. I tested it the first chance I got.
Happiness was having that column of hard man flesh inside my pussy while I
ground my clit against his hairy mound. Regardless of what my brain thought
about Kurt, my cunt overruled it when Kurt's cock was available
Between Kelly and Kurt, it was hard to imagine how my sex life could improve.
I was enjoying great and frequent sex on all fronts. David had gotten over his
fear of STDs and I was back to my every other Wednesday office fuck. David's
search for kink had not abated. The last time at my place, he brought along a
sizeable strap-on and a tube of K-Y. He also brought a wig, one of his wife's
nightgowns and a pair of thong panties. He explained to me what he wanted and
like a good employee I obeyed my boss. I fixed his wig and dressed him then
proceeded to spank his bottom until it turned tomato red. After that I packed
his shit while he whimpered and begged me to stop. Later, while we were eating,
he told me what was on his mind.
"Do you think I could ever pass as a girl?" asked my two hundred and fifty
pound boss.
"In public? " I replied incredulously. I thought he was insane.
"Yes, I want to become a cross dresser."
"David, I think that would be a challenge." I was being polite.
"What's my largest hurdle?"
"Size to start with. You're a big man." Note I did not use the word fat.
"Can't I be a big woman?" said David sadly.
"You're just too big. One of my boyfriends in college was a CD. He could pass
but he was 5'8" and weighed 145 pounds."
"That's great. So you know all about this and can help me. Suppose I lose one
hundred pounds."
"That would be a very good start."
"I'm going on a diet tomorrow," said David putting a handful of French fries
in his mouth.
"All right, I'll help you." I was wondering how long this particular kink
would last.
"What name?"
"Name?"
"Darlene, Doris, Debbie, what?"
"Debbie, that suits you." He looked as much like a Debbie as I did a William.
"Come over here and suck Debbie's big dick," said David pushing me down to his
crotch. I put my half eaten burger back in the Styrofoam box as my mouth took in
Debbie's big cock.
Afterwards back at my desk, I started to wonder if any woman in America was
having as much raunchy, kinky, out of this world sex as little old Arlene. After
I thought about it a while, I went to the Ladies Room and masturbated.
On another front, Kurt not only treated me better; he arranged for me to make
some serious money. I think he now regarded me as a valued henchman who had
competently helped him to take care of some serious business. After all I got
him to the hospital where they removed all the bullets he had taken in the first
seconds of the Mongol attack. I fucked every doctor in the place to insure he
was well cared for and I even laid down for a lesbo head nurse. He owed me. None
of that meant he wouldn't order tell me to climb on top and fuck him like I was
a street prostitute or get down on my knees and suck him off while his buddies
watched. He just said it nicer.
"Want to make some cash?" said Kurt as I was riding his tool.
"How?" I was concerned he meant prostitution.
"Do some pickups. We never put cash and product together in the same room.
You'd pick up the cash."
So Kurt sent me to collect the large sums of money that fueled the drug trade.
I knew that if the DEA ever learned I was a drug money courier I could go away
for the rest of my natural life but the work was simple and the pay was
incredible. I made the longer trips on weekends. At times I made a local
Massachusetts pickup but the big money was in driving to New York, Washington or
Philadelphia for a major amount of cash.
Frequently I drove to New York, met a dealer who would hide the cash in
special compartments of the Mercedes Benz 600SL that I used for these occasions
and then drove back to Kurt's condo where he handed me anywhere from $3000 to
$5000 depending on the size of the pickup. That' a lot of money for a day's
work. I was building a significant pile of cash in my safe deposit box.
I'd completed several dozen pickups without incident when things hit a snag.
The meth dealer's name was "Left Eye". His right eye was glass and in the
center of the iris was a gold skull. What some people won't do to get noticed?
The car's GPS navigational system took me right to his garage in Manhattan's
Spanish Harlem. I should tell you that the 600SL was bullet proof, bomb proof
and drove like a sports car thanks to some very expensive modifications
performed by a German engineering company that specialized in modifying
production cars to perform like sports cars. It also had some very expensive
electronics like a built in radar detector and a text based communications
system where everything was transmitted in code.
In spite of the car's capabilities, I was under a death threat from Kurt if I
ever got stopped for speeding. As a result, I never drove over the posted speed
limit. That was what cruise control was for. There are times it pays to be a
law-a-biding citizen.
When I pulled up at the garage door, I sounded the horn and the door slowly
rolled up for me to drive in. This was the dicey part. I had to get out of the
car, prove Kurt sent me by saying a password phrase, hear the proper response,
and wait while they loaded the car with money. Most of the time I was there five
minutes tops. Kurt had an evil sense of humor when it came to the secret phrase.
The one for today was "Fuck my ass till it bleeds."
Drug dealers are not nice people and drug dealers in Spanish Harlem are
probably the worst of the lot. I was dressed in a short leather skirt and a silk
tank top. As the garage door opened, I pinched my nipples to make them show
more. I had gotten into the role of playing some rich drug dealer's whore.
Besides, I'd learned the kind of people I was dealing with considered you of
less importance if you looked like a whore. However, because I was driving a
$165,000 car I was dressed like an expensive whore just in case the police
stopped me. The car was registered in my name but Kurt kept it garaged somewhere
and only used it for pickups. Don't ask me how he changed the registration but
Kurt had some very good friends in the Massachusetts Department of Motor
Vehicles.
The 600SL was a lot of fun to drive, twelve cylinders and all the horsepower
you can imagine. So there I was tooling through the streets of Manhattan,
looking like a $1,000/night hooker. I wanted to be thought of as a harmless
piece of ass doing a favor for the guy who bought me such pretty things. Whores
are just someone to fuck not be concerned with. Well, it was supposed to work
that way.
I slipped my five-inch "fuck me" pumps on my bare feet to complete the effect.
You can't drive in those shoes. If they wanted to get rough with me, my only
defense was to fuck them out of it. The average man won't break your nose while
your mouth is wrapped around his cock.
I'd never met Left Eye before but his picture was clipped on the dash. I
looked out through the heavily tinted windows and recognized him. I switched on
the car's external speaker and said, "Fuck my ass till it bleeds." He responded
with, "Your butt hole will look like the Lincoln Tunnel when we're done." God,
what an imagination Kurt had.
At that point, I unlocked my car and stepped out showing enough leg that they
could tell my black silk thong panties matched my skirt. Before I exited I
pushed the magic button that opened the secret compartments where Left Eye and
his gang were to store $500,000. I was making $5000 as part of my one percent
courier's fee. Someone at The Side Car informed me I was officially a "bag
woman". Shit, I thought that was a homeless lady who pushed a grocery basket
full of redeemable soda cans through the streets. I suppose it was a dual use
term.
"I need to take a piss," I said as soon as I walked up to Left Eye. It had
been a four-hour drive and I was forbidden upon pain of a severe beating to stop
on the way back. I'd been known to pull in the garage at Kurt's and run past him
to the John and let loose a bladder full.
"Sure, Rico, take her to the john," said Left Eye to one of his guys who
quickly walked away expecting me to follow.
I was in an automobile body shop; actually it was a chop shop. I walked past a
dozen bays where Latinos were busily disassembling cars. I got a lot of leers.
Hell I was dressed to attract them. I stuck my butt and tits out and sashayed
along giving the workers something to look at. I got some lewd comments but
since they were in Spanish I wasn't sure what they meant. I recognized the word
puta. I suspected they weren't saying I was an attractive woman and they
respected my beauty and wanted to take me home to meet their parents.
The chop shop was busy and guys were stacking parts on pallets as they
disassembled the stolen cars. Funny, how the spare parts are worth more than the
whole car.
When we reached the back, Rico pointed me into a bathroom and followed me. The
place was filthy and smelled like a sewer. Rico pushed open a stall door and
gestured for me to sit and do my business. I considered asking for privacy but
decided against it. Pagan girls are supposed to be tough and demanding a little
privacy to urinate sent the message that you had a weakness. I hiked up my
skirt, pulled down my thong, and pissed. I'd drunk a thermos of coffee on the
drive and was about to bust. I cut loose and the sound of piss landing in the
bowl filled the small room.
"Shit, you really had to go?" commented Rico.
"It's a long fucking drive from Boston. You get off watching girl's piss, want
a squirt?" I responded. These guys only respect one thing and unfortunately I
didn't have a gun. As it turned out that was a dumb thing to say.
Rico was standing there rubbing his crotch. I was getting the impression that
his Latino brain was mainly between his legs. I finished my piss and looked
around for some TP. There wasn't any in the stall. The dispenser was empty.
Rico figured out what I wanted and grabbed a roll of the sink. He held it out of
my reach.
"Cost you a blow job," said Rico holding the paper over my head.
"Fuck you," I said reaching for the paper.
"Listen cunt, you better show me some respect."
"Hand me the fucking toilet paper, you asshole," I screamed.
That set him off. He stuck his hand in his pocket and out came a small
revolver. Compared to the high tech weapons carried by the Pagans and Amazons,
it looked harmless but I knew it wasn't. That little Saturday night special
would blow a hole right through my head. Rico stepped into the stall as he
unzipped his coveralls.
"Suck it bitch," said Rico arriving in front of me. He grabbed a handful of my
hair and stuck the barrel up against my head.
If I had learned anything in my time with the Pagans, it was that men were
easier to deal with after you had sucked their cock and they had put their gun
away. I was scared shitless this little PR bastard was going to blow my brains
all over the wall.
"All right, but let's make it quick," I answered. Rico slipped out of the
greasy coveralls then pushed down these bright red bikini jockey shorts. He was
already hard. Apparently watching me make water had thrilled him. I had to make
an effort to keep from laughing at the jockey shorts. They were probably a gift
from some Latina girlfriend who wanted her man to look hot.
He had a large uncircumcised cock that smelled like axle grease, urine and
sweat. Fortunately, my Pagan girl cock sucking experience was more likely to be
on the unhygienic side. I went to work. I might also add this was the first time
that my cash pickups required sex. Usually, the amount of money involved created
a fairly serious atmosphere where a piece of ass seemed too unimportant to get
in the way of the deal. I figured this thing with Rico was just a case of a
horny and brainless subordinate taking advantage of the situation.
"Here, since you're such a cunt and you like piss so much I'll give you a
squirt," announced Rico as he grabbed my head and held it. A warm stream of piss
flooded my mouth and I gulped big draughts to keep from choking. I managed to
get it all down without getting piss all over me. Hell, I guess I asked for
that. Next time, I promised to keep my smart mouth shut.
"Piss whore, you really like it," said Rico with a look of disgust on his
face.
"Love it, now put a load of cum on top," I responded sucking him using a
lifetime of accumulated oral skills. I was anxious to get it over with. It was a
long drive back to Boston. Luckily, Rico popped pretty quickly and I added a
layer of fresh semen to my bellyful of warm urine.
"Swallow that salsa, slut," said Rico alliteratively as I finished him up.
Afterwards I took the roll of paper, wadded up a few squares and wiped my cunt.
I remember thinking at the time; it was the first time I'd given a blowjob and
drained a bladder for a half dozen squares of toilet paper. I washed the taste
of Rico's urine out of my mouth in the sink. I remember thinking my stomach felt
full of piss and it was a four-hour drive back. Smart, Arlene, real fucking
smart.
When Rico and I returned to my car, I realized I was in trouble. Someone had
thrown a greasy mattress in front of the 600SL. It was there on the concrete and
I had a deep suspicion that in a matter of minutes, I'd learn why.
"There's $250,000 in the car," announced Left Eye.
"Kurt said $500,000," I responded. This was the first time anyone had done
anything unexpected. I wondered whether this Puerto Rican moron had any idea how
Kurt would react. I learned later that Left Eye had only very recently expanded
from the stolen automobile parts business to the distribution and sale of
illegal drugs. Kurt had told me that if anybody gave me trouble, I wasn't to
argue. Kurt would take care of any problems his way.
"Kurt won't be happy," I said as I moved toward my car door. Left Eye grabbed
my hand when I passed by him.
"You tell Kurt Lambert he can kiss my Puerto Rican ass. But before you go, we
want to make your ass bleed just like you asked us to," said Left Eye as he
shoved me into the arms of one of his hombres. I was spun around and a fist
buried in my abdomen causing my diaphragm to expel all the air from my lungs.
Something came up and I tasted piss and my half digested breakfast. I choked it
all back down as I dropped to my knees trying desperately to replenish my air
supply. Someone grabbed my hair and held my head immobile as they landed a good
half dozen full open palm bitch slaps on my face. Those were the kind that hurt
like hell and caused your nose, lips, and mouth to swell and bleed all at the
same time. They also make you unable to hear anything other than a loud ringing.
A couple times, his open palm landed directly on my ear. My God how that hurt
and the ringing wouldn't stop.
"You guys have your fun. Don't stop until her butt's bleeding," said Left Eye.
They stripped me naked which given what I was wearing took less than a second.
I felt a moment of regret as my new leather skirt was ripped off me. I was down
on all fours thinking about survival when I felt a gob of spit landed on my ass
and rough callused fingers enter my rectum. That was painful.
Hey, take it easy, I'm not fighting," I offered. I didn't have any desire to
be labeled non-cooperative.
"Here, use this," said someone as I felt some kind of lubricant applied to my
asshole. Later I learned it was axle grease. My rectum was irritated for days.
Kelly helped me by giving me several medicated enemas that washed me out; but
still rectal tissue and axle grease are not a soothing combination. The grease
burned and I cried out in pain.
"Here, let's really grease her up," said someone. I felt something metal
slipped into my asshole and pushed deep inside me. I was able to look back to
see one of the guys working the pump handle of a grease gun. I could feel the
grease entering and filling my bowels. I started to wonder if I was going to
survive the afternoon.
As soon as Arlene had a butt full of automobile lubricant, someone stuck a
cock up my ass and went to work on my rectum. The grease really isn't a good
lubricant. It's too thick and it irritates your bowel. I felt like my insides
were being pulled out so I started to sob and beg them to stop. Of course, my
pain was their encouragement.
"Suck this bitch," caused me to open my mouth and take in a hard cock. When
you are being ass raped by twenty or so guys, it all becomes a blur. As I've
said before, I'm a survivor so in spite of the pain I began to fuck back and
suck cock like a girl whose life depended on it. And it probably did. The Pagans
had fucked my ass regularly so I could deal with that. However, Left Eye's crew
made a point of being rough and the grease burned like hell. They spanked my
butt with hard stinging blows. After a while, each blow on the same place was
enough to make me go out of my mind. My cheeks were on fire. If they wanted to
hear me scream, they got their wish. Later, I saw the dark purple bruises that
covered both cheeks of my ass.
It wound down after a while. All the guys had screwed me at least twice. I was
lying there moaning trying to control the pain in my ass. My face was smeared
with shit, blood and axle grease from sucking cock that had been deep in my
bowels. I wasn't sure when this was over whether they would let me go or kill
me. I was sobbing in pain when Left Eye returned.
"Ream her ass with this. This whore's been fucked up the ass too many times. I
want the bitch to bleed."
I couldn't see what he handed the guy but it must have been the last thing on
earth you want stuck up your ass. I felt something like the fat end of a
baseball bat covered with spikes being shoved into my butthole and twisted. I
whaled in agony. I begged them to take it out of me. It felt like my bowels were
being ripped out. I told myself this was going to kill me.
"She doesn't like that, now twist it in the other direction," said Left Eye. I
could hear everyone laughing. My screams must have been deliriously funny.
I know how pain feels and this was off the scale. I was screaming with every
ounce of lungpower as they held me and tortured my rectum. I was terrified that
they had punctured my bowels and I would end up with a colostomy bag hanging off
a surgically created hole in my bottom.
I was still down on all fours when Left Eye walked up to me and spoke.
"Tell Kurt, I decided I was paying too much so I took a little discount."
After that, he lashed out with his foot and kicked me straight in the face. I
went down with blood and snot gushing out of my nose.
"Piss on her and put her back in the car," directed Left Eye.
I lay there bleeding as a dozen streams of warm urine soaked me from head to
toe. After that, they shoved me behind the wheel. I was naked, covered in filth
and bleeding from a dozen places as I twisted the key. I had to move or die so I
summoned every ounce of reserve strength and drove. I kept telling myself I was
a Pagan and I could take it. It took everything I had to back out of that garage
without wrecking the car or collapsing or both.
I managed to find the Tri-borough Bridge and Interstate I-93. Fortunately,
there were several bottles of Evian water on the passenger seat. I opened a
bottle and poured it over my head to wash the piss and blood out of my eyes.
Thank God the windows were heavily tinted or someone might have noticed a naked
woman covered in blood driving an S series Mercedes-Benz through the streets of
Manhattan. As I headed back toward Boston, I used the text pager to send the
code that there was a big problem with the pickup. I also sent the code that
indicated I wasn't in good shape physically.
"Can you make it?" stated the readout on the text pager. At least Kurt wasn't
to busy breaking in a new girl to answer my page.
"Don't know," was my response and it was a true one. I had set the cruise
control at exactly the speed limit. I was afraid I would pass out and wreck the
car with $250,000 in drug money on board.
"Coming to meet you at Exit 43 on Mass Pike. Can you make it?" was my next
text message.
"I'll try," was my response. I truly did not know whether I could drive
another mile.
It turned out that Exit 43 was a rest stop about two hours from Boston. How I
drove two hours in my condition was amazing. I don't recall doing it. I pulled
into a parking space in front of the Burger King and passed out. I must have
been there a while before someone tapping loudly on the tinted glass awakened
me. I was never so glad to see Serge and Kurt in my life. Kurt's Lincoln
Navigator was right beside the 600SL. I switched the door lock open and Kurt
opened the door. He immediately jumped back.
"You piss yourself, smells like piss and shit, where are your clothes?"
announced Kurt wrinkling his nose.
"They pissed all over me. They beat me up, raped me, and took my clothes. They
hurt me inside my rectum," was all I managed to say as I moved over to the
passenger seat.
"Serge, hand me the blankets out of the back," said Kurt to Serge who was
still in the Navigator.
In one of the very few acts of kindness of Kurt toward me, he covered me up
with a blanket and let me sleep on the way back to his place. He covered the
driver's seat with the other one so he wouldn't have to sit in piss, blood,
grease, and shit. Later, when I told him what happened, he listened patiently
and then got that look that said somebody was going to die and not pleasantly.
Next day I woke up at Kelly's place. I had been taken to an ER where a sigmoid
scope had been shoved up my rectum for an examination. The good news was that my
colon was badly scraped but in tact, no colostomy. My nose was packed with
cotton, broken in two places. I had two broken ribs and one of my eyes was
swollen shut. The bad news was that I would miss five days of work. I had to
take three days vacation plus two unpaid days to keep my asshole boss happy.
"What's Kurt going to do about Left Eye?" I asked Kelly.
"My guess is that Left Eye and friends and family are going to die a painful
death. It's hard to believe that stupid Puerto Rican would try to pull something
on the Pagans. Kurt left you this." Kelly handed me a thick envelope full
containing $25,000 in hundred dollar bills. It was a lot but I felt I had earned
it.
By the third day, I was felling good enough to make love with Kelly. We did
it very slow and carefully.
When I got up Sunday morning, it was almost noon. I was on the mend planning
to return to work the next day. I made some coffee and read the Sunday paper,
The Manchester Guardian of course. There was a knock on the door. I opened it to
Godzilla.
"Kurt said for you to look at this then cut it up," said Godzilla handing me a
DVD case. "You got a way to destroy it?
"I have a paper cutter, will that do?"
"Sure, just get rid of it today after you're done with it. I got to go."
"Will do," I replied. For once, I was glad that Godzilla didn't want to come
in for a fuck. I was still pretty sore.
I looked at the unlabelled DVD's that Godzilla had given me. I had an uneasy
feeling I knew what was on it. I inserted it in my new DVD player and pushed the
"play" button.
Surprise, I was looking at Left Eye's garage in Spanish Harlem. There was Left
Eye hanging by his arms with rope tied to an overhead pipe. He was naked and
screaming, just like I pictured him when Kurt told me he would take care of Left
Eye.
"I'll pay you everything, no double what I owe, just leave my family alone,"
shouted left Eye. He was also babbling in Spanish.
Guys in Halloween masks surrounded Left Eye. They were using cattle prods on
his private parts. In spite of the masks, I recognized Kurt and Serge. They
kept dousing him with water from a sports bottle then touching the prod to his
privates and pressing the button. Left Eye screamed every time they jolted him.
Serge would place a prod under Left Eye's dick and hold it up. Kurt would squirt
water over his peter then the both of them would zap his dick and balls at the
same time. Based on the volume of Left Eyes screams, I'd say it hurt.
The camera panned around and focused on an older woman trussed up just like
Left Eye. She must have been at least seventy years old. She had those flap jack
boobs that older women get from time and gravity. I immediately suspected that
was Left Eye's mother. Mom was naked. In spite of her age, a masked Pagan was
holding her legs beside his waist as he pounded his cock in her pussy. It was a
stand up rape that was forcing her to hang by her arms. Mom did not look like
she was enjoying it. She was screaming something in Spanish.
The camera panned to the left and there was most likely the rest of Left Eye's
family unit being raped on two of those thin greasy mattresses that little
Arlene knew so well. Reno brought the camera in for a slow panning facial
close-up of Mrs. Left Eye, two daughters both of whom looked to be teenagers and
a boy that looked slightly younger. A fat Pagan in a Clinton mask was screwing
the boy in the ass. I thought I recognized one of Kurt's confederates by the
tattoos on his belly. The little boy was chewing on the mattress as his ass was
being thoroughly reamed. His face was stained with tears and he was obviously in
pain. Let's face it. We women are bred to have large hard tubes of hard male
flesh in our bodies. Most of us even like it. But for men, it has to be an
acquired taste. Right now, you could tell that Left Eye's scion was having a
hard time enjoying eight inches of cock in his rectum.
The next close-up was of the youngest daughter who had to be no more than
thirteen. She had no tits and no pussy hair so she was definitely pre-pubescent.
Not that was in anyway, stopping someone I could tell from his height alone was
Godzilla. A male cock very much in proportion to its owner's 6'10" height was
penetrating that little girl. The girl was crying and pleading in Spanish.
Her older sister was screaming her lungs out as she was taking a big one. You
could tell from the position of the Pagan the way he was standing on his feet
fucking downward that he was inside her rectum. The girl was maybe fifteen. She
still had those puffy little girl tits that drive pedophiles crazy. Someone had
punched the older girl in the eye and it was swollen shut. Drug dealers should
not have families.
Finally, the camera swung to someone I assumed was Mrs. Left Eye. At one time,
she may have been attractive but not now. Her face had been converted to
hamburger by Pagan fists. Eyes were swollen shut, nose was flattened and her
bloody lips framed a mouth missing most of its front teeth. Three Pagans were
working over the Missus with a vengeance. I watched as they beat her tits until
they were dark purple.
Then two Pagans grabbed her ankles turned her upside down. They spread her
legs wide in a V. Reno went in for a close up of a pair of needle nose pliers
getting a grip on her clit and stretching it out much further than you would
have thought possible. Then a scalpel appeared in the lens at the base of the
clit. There was a moment's hesitation before the blade moved. Blood spurted as
the scalpel passed through her flesh leaving a round wound when the final string
of flesh was sliced through. I had just witnessed my first female castration.
A huge noise came from the sound track of the DVD and the camera followed the
sound to reveal a large wood chipper being started. It was then I saw several
naked male bodies lying on the garage floor. Those must have been workers in the
chop shop unlucky enough to be present when Kurt showed up for his pound of
flesh. The camera focused in on one of the bodies. There was Rico. I recognized
that pair of red bikini jockey shorts still around one ankle. Between his legs,
there was just a bleeding hole where his cock and balls had been. A Pagan
wearing safety goggles over his mask was casually picking up the dead bodies and
feeding them into the chipper. The noise the chipper made when it ground through
bone was deafening.
The camera panned to Left Eye who was watching his family being raped with a
look of absolute horror on his face. Next they threw Left Eye's mother and wife,
also alive and screaming into the wood chipper while Left Eye watched. Kurt
walked slowly up to the hanging Left Eyes took his balls in one hand and twisted
the sack through a couple of revolutions and pulled down hard. This elicited
some very loud screams from Left Eye. Kurt used his free hand to take out his
K-bar knife, expose the blade and slowly castrate Left Eye. After that, they cut
Left Eye down and threw him in the wood chipper while he was still alive.
With that the DVD ended. I suppose the children either wound up sold to a
South American brothel or followed their parents into the wood chipper. I used
the office paper cutter I bought to slice the DVD into a dozen tiny pieces. Only
an idiot would keep that kind of thing around.
