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In My Right Mind
Frank M. Adams, 1998
"What the fu-" I started, but was quickly interrupted by the garbled
voice of the crazy slut who had stabbed me with a needle who knows
how long ago.
"Oh, good. I'm so very glad you're awake! It's more fun
this way, really it 'tis." Her voice sounded odd and, I thought,
a lot like Liberace's.
I was lying flat on my back on a table in the center of
a modest kitchen. When I tried to sit up, I noticed that I was covered
with some kind of fuzzy wool blanket and couldn't move.
I don't just mean restrained can't move, I mean that every
part of me under that weird blanket seemed to be paralyzed. Panic loomed
over me for a moment, but years of training wrestled it back under control.
Turning my head from side to side, I took stock of my
situation. On one side, the window shades had been drawn tight and from
what little light crept in around the edges I could see that night was
rapidly approaching. On my other side was the familiar living room where
I had been on the receiveing end of simply wonderful knobbing what
seemed like only minutes ago.
The face-fuck!!!
Memories came flooding back. Memories of how I wound up
paralyzed on a kitchen table in the middle of London.
How could I have been so stupid?
It was bad enough I was trapped in this rainy, foggy,
God-save-the-fucking-Queen country! But then to have to do follow-up
interviews for agents who weren't qualified to wipe my ass was too
much. I should have known it was going to be a cluster-fuck when the
bastards said I didn't need back-up. What the hell was Majestic thinking
by sending me in to help these damn limey loony-toons!
They should have known better!
Shit.
Maybe they did.
I knew after I did it that I'd regret getting into a pissing
contest with that hard-ass Lepus and his fat cat boss. Guys like
him don't forget anything.
Shit.
I suddenly felt like the stick kids use to see if a turd
they found is hard or still soft and tasty. They're curious, but they
don't want to get their hands dirty. Majestic is who I work for and I
cringed when I realized how much they are like those kids.
But if they sent me, there must not be anyone on the whole
damn island, country, whatever, that wasn't suspect.
Oh, shit.
I lay there for moment and tried to rein in my racing
thoughts.
I guess some of the blame was my own.
I mean, I'm not ugly or anything. But I'm not the sort
of guy who normally gets attractive married women interested enough to
polish my knob with their tonsils in the middle of their own living room.
And while I'm on official business yet!!!
What the hell was I thinking? I walked right into it this
time. When will I learn to quit thinking with my dick. "We need you to give
a follow-up interview to that missing Professor's wife, Thomas. Oh, and
by the way, she quite a randy piece of ass! Have fun!"
Dumb. Dumb. Dumb!
I began banging the back of my head against the table in
counterpoint to my self-depricating tirade.
"Don't hurt yourself, deary. I need that pretty head of
yours just the way it is!" I paused in mid-bang at the weird sound of
my host's Liberace-like tones again.
The corner of the room was dark with shadow and it took
me a moment to discern the source of the voice within it. As if on cue,
Mrs. Charlotte Kinnesy moved into the light. She hadn't bothered to dress
after giving me my vitamin ZZZ shot and my eyes dutifully drank in her
lush naked body. As a testament to my piggish nature, I must admit
that I thought I felt the ol' Drill Instructor give a twitch under my
loose bindings. Until I got to her face, that is.
Her lips and most of the skin around her mouth was
gone.
Not cut away neatly, mind you, but ragged and crusted with
dried blood. All of her teeth were visible and most of her naked gums.
It was as if she had given an icy metal pole a big long wet kiss and
then jerked away as fast as she could.
I shuddered involuntarily and spoke to keep from gagging.
"What happened to your face, hon?"
She tilted her head coquettishly and said, "You seemed
so entranced by my mouth earlier, I thought you might like it to remember
me by!"
Whipping her hands forward she tossed something that smacked
into my face with a wet fleshy slap.
I jerked my head away as best I could and noted with growing
revulsion that she had thrown the missing chunk of her face at me!
"You sick crazy bi-" I started, but stopped at the insane
look that sprang onto what was left of her once pretty face.
"Crazy?" She slapped backwards at her face and hair, like
Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man. "Crazy??? You only say that because you don't
understand. But you will, darling, you will."
Her heavy and still quite attractive breasts swayed
hypnotically as she kept hitting her head with one of her hands. The
other, meanwhile, was busy rummaging through a drawer and pulling out
a large cleaver.
I quickly realized I had to play it icy cool if I wanted to
stay alive.
"Listen, Charlotte," I began, in my smoothest 'your pussy
will soon be mine' voice, "I don't know what kind of kink you're into,
but I'd be happy to play along, kitten."
She moved towards me, hitting, jiggling and brandishing
maniacally.
"You will? I knew you wanted to understand. I knew you
wanted to know more and so did the teacher."
Grasping at anything to distract her and give me time to think
I replied, "The teacher? Will someone be joining us? I should get up
to greet them."
She tried to smile and I winced inwardly at the hideous
way it twisted her ruined face.
"Teacher's here already," her head smacking increased rapidly
for emphasis, "but you'll see. It has shown me so much, things I didn't
know could be. There's so much, sooo much for you to see." Her voice
ended in a strange Dr. Suess-like rhyming sing-song.
"I've seen such sights, such ab-so-loot de-lights! But
my time has come, my learning's done and you'll soon see why it's all
so fun!"
I didn't have time for this. I was trying vainly to move,
to tip the table over, anything.
Nothing. So I kept stalling.
"What are you talking about?" It was tough to not sound
angry, but I had to try to keep her rambling.
"You'll seeeeeee!"
She glanced down at the pile of bloody ragged skin next
to my face and a look of sorrow clouded her eyes.
"Oh, you don't like my present."
Her slapping hand stopped its obscene drum-solo on her
head for a moment to scoop up her bizarre gift to me. With a childish
giggle, she stuffed the whole thing into her mouth like a three year
old who doesn't want to share her candy with a sibling.
"Gobble, num num num! There! All gone!" It wasn't really.
Half of it was still hanging quiveringly on her chin from her mouth.
But I didn't want to throw up trying to correct her.
"Are you rea - dee?" She said still affecting a child-like
manner.
"For wha - hut?" I replied doing my best to still play
along.
"To learn. To seeeeee!"
So saying, she buried the cleaver in her forehead. Blood,
bright and red, geysered outward spraying me with its sticky warmth.
She began working the razor-sharp metal back and forth in the gaping
wound.
"I'm done. I've learned too much, but you have so much
to see, so many things to KNOW! When you remember me, and you will remember
me, remember me kindly..." Her English accent hinted at playful and
sexy, but I was too shocked to respond.
"Oh, I'll remember you alright." I said finally, squirming
to get as far away from her as possible. Things were in Outer Limits
territory now and I could only control my fear through anger.
"How could I forget a psycho bitch who can suck cock with
the best of them AND who can peel and eat her own skin!"
"Flatterer."
She moved around to the foot of the table still working
the cleaver around in the wound. It made horrible squelching noises and
the blood fairly poured down her mockery of a face. Her eyes were wide
open and tinted pink through a thin film of gore.
"Mmmmmmmmm... that's so much better!"
As she spoke, the tatters of ragged flesh around the hole
that had been her mouth flapped obscenely. "Oh, yes...you'll see
soon!"
"The only thing I want to 'see' right now is your head
getting blown off your fucking body!" I grunted and tugged uselessly
at the strange woolen material pinning me to the kitchen table. I found
that I could move a little, I just had no strength and could feel absolutely
nothing from my neck down.
My bravado was fading fast as I quickly realized how fucked
I truly was. Why do I always have to play lone wolf? I decided three
things right then and there. One, I'd be more of a team player. Two,
that fuck Lepus was a dead man. And third, that if I ever got back to
America in one piece, I'd leave England to the fucking English.
"You'll see things much differently in a moment. Won't
he, teacher?"
She had pulled the cleaver out of her forehead and SOMETHING
pushed tiny jagged feelers through the frothy bloody hole FROM THE INSIDE!
Something very insect-like was climbing out of her head like
a butterfly from its crysalis. Something that shifted and sparkled in
the dim kitchen light like a jewel-encrusted mantis. It's wings were
wet looking and semi-transparant and it regarded me with the same cold
dead black eyes my ex-wife had on the day she told me she wanted a divorce.
Fuck the Greys! In my shock, I couldn't help but wonder what
the boys back at Majestic would think about THIS little stocking stuffer?
Charlotte gave a gurgling sigh and her eyes rolled back into
her head as the thing pulled free at last. I was glad then that I couldn't
feel anything, because I was sure that I was pissing myself at that point.
The alien insect-thing hovered for a moment as if to get its
bearings then dove straight at my face.
"Nooooooo!" The voice screaming sounded like me, but I
knew I was too terrified to make a sound.
The echoing scream seemed to fade away to the sounds of
an unearthly choir and vague uneasy murmurs that hint at things too distantly
removed from humanity to be fully understood.
Instinctively I knew I'd understand all that and more soon
enough.
