A Comedy of AR's (Book 2)

Chapter 19
CHAPTER 219 .......... Amnesia (Part Thirteen) … Meeting a Monster

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Chapter Description: 2 new pictures added 4/3/24 Images for this story can be found at the following web...... https://sites.google.com/view/comedy-ars-characters/home

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CHAPTER  219

(NOTE:  Chapters 219 and 220 contain  violence.)

 

 

“Alright, Derrek … but this has to remain a secret just between you and me.  You can’t tell anyone.”

 

“I won’t.  I really want to do this.”

 

“Well, okay, I’ll call him … Let me know tomorrow what happens.”

 

I nodded.  “Okay, thanks, Coach.”

 

 

 

Wednesday evening arrived and Sammantha and I finished dinner.  I was nervous as hell.  She would soon be getting the surprise of her life.

 

As 7 pm neared, Sammantha was already getting a bit suspicious.  “Derrek, why would the coach want you back on the team if he knows you had a concussion?”

 

“I wouldn’t actually play, Mom.  But the team only has eleven other guys … and if someone gets hurt in the game, they want me to stand in the field so they won’t have to forfeit.”

 

“I thought you quit the team?”

 

“Well captain X said they really needed me to suit up.”

 

“And Derrek, why would they pass out new cleats before the last game of the season?”

 

“The coach said they’re great shoes and he wanted everyone to break them in for at least a couple days before the game … just in case they didn’t fit right.  The shoes were just delivered today after school.”

 

There was a knock at the door, and my heart started beating at a rapid rate.  I ran to our door and asked, “Who is it?”

 

The voice on the other side said, “Hey, Derrek, it’s Coach Matthew.  I’m just dropping off the new cleats.”

 

Sammantha was several feet behind me when I unlocked our door and said, “Hi Coach, come on in.”

 

But my first look at the guy’s appearance made my blood run cold.  He was big and mean-looking …bald with a very dark beard and mustache … and predator’s eyes.  It was how I would picture someone who had just broken out of prison.

 

If I ever thought twice about letting the guy in, it was already too late.  He pushed the door forward and stepped around me like I wasn’t even there.  He had already balled his fist, and in less than one second, he propelled it forward into the center of Sammantha’s face … breaking her nose and splattering blood in the living room.

 

“Hello, Sammantha,” he greeted her with sarcasm.

 

As she staggered backward the man tossed a ligature, a narrow rope, around her neck and began dragging her down the hallway toward the master bedroom.  Sammantha struggled to put some of her fingers inside the noose of the ligature to prevent choking to death or being ‘hanged’.

 

My entire body shook as I listened to the man’s threats.  How could I have done this?

 

“Long time no see, Sammantha.”  His voice was harsh and angry.  “I’ve waited 14 long years for this day.  Let’s hope it was worth the wait … I’m going to fuck you hard and kill you slow.”

 

Kill her?  I thought the guy was supposed to just ‘rough her up’ a little.  I now recognized what a horrible mistake I had made.  I followed them to the bedroom but kept my distance.  I couldn’t just hit the guy.  He was a monster … maybe 6 foot 3 and 260 pounds and strong as iron … with a super nasty disposition.

 

This was all happening so fast.  He threw Sammantha onto the bed while she was still choking.  Then he used more of the ligature to tie her hands to the opposite sides of  the brass bed posts on each side of the head of the bed.

 

Sammantha had trouble speaking.  Her voice sounded more like gargling.  I was able to make out one sentence clearly enough … “Gort, no, we can talk.”

 

But the man was in no mood to listen.

 

Then in horror, I watched the man punch her left jaw casuing a tooth to pop out.  Sammantha’s face was becoming a bloody mess.  Then he used a knife to slit open her shirt and sports bra, exposing her breasts … and he started pummeling them like a punching bag.

 

I could no longer just stand and watch.  I had to help her.  I had to find a weapon from the kitchen.  There was a butcher block with knives and I selected the biggest one, maybe nine inches and fairly wide.

 

As I ran back toward the bedroom, I could hear him talking to her … It almost sounded like he was reciting a ‘to do’ list.

 

“Well, let’s see, Sammantha …  I thought it was hysterical when I broke your nose the first time … And Coach Bimbo gingerly stepped over your body so he wouldn’t catch anything from you.  You should have taken the hint right then and there.  We never needed any pussycunts on the wrestling team.  By the way, Bimbo is the one who gave me your address today.  That was nice of him, wouldn’t you say?

 

“So what was the damage you did to me 14 years ago?  I have it memorized, Sammantha.”

 

1 … Two ruptured testicles

2 … Two busted ear drums

3 … Two broken pinky fingers

4 … Two torn biceps

5 … Two broken ankles

6 … 20 face slaps

7 … 50 hard butt spanks

8 … One dislocated jaw

9 … One muscle rubbed pickle to burn my rectum

10 … Tin snips to yank out all my pubic hair

11 … You jacked me off with sandpaper

12 … You forced me to eat my sperms

13 … You topped it off with a purple nurple

 

“You ruined my wrestling career and my life.   There’s a lot to catch up on, Sammantha.”

 

Samantha struggled to reply, “You could have returned to our school, Gort.  But your massive ego was too hurt.  You were afraid the other kids would all point at you and snicker, ‘there goes the big bad bully who got his ass kicked by a little girl…. Oh ,boo hoo’.” 

 

“Still an arrogant bitch.  Why don’t we start with the purple nurple?”

 

“AAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!”

 

This Gort person was intending to inflict a lot of pain on Sammantha.  He did say he would ‘kill her slow’.  I had to act.

 

“Now, Sammantha, how about we move to the twenty face slaps … just to get your attention?”

 

She reacted with “OWW!  OWW!  OHH!  OHH!” as her face was battered left, right, left, right..

 

When he got to slap number seven, I saw another tooth pop out of Sammantha’s mouth.  That was the moment when I leaped and drove the carving knife into Gort’s back.

 

He screamed, “AAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!”  but he didn’t go down.  I wasn’t thinking.  I was right handed and I drove the knife into the man’s right ribs.  And that’s not where the heart muscle is located.

 

It was like I hardly fazed him at all.  The man was so powerfully built, that he quickly spun around … and with his left arm, he swatted me like a fly … and drove my body up and across the bedroom … to the opposite wall, head first, where I crashed and fell in a clump … to the floor next to Sammantha’s desk.

 

I wasn’t sure if my body had suffered any broken bones, but it felt that way.  And my head seemed to be spinning … as if I’d been dealt another concussion.

 

My carving knife was still embedded in the man’s back, but he returned to his attack on Sammantha as if he felt nothing.  He reminded me of Rasputin, the mad Russian monk that no one could kill.

 

Gort climbed up onto the bed an sat on Sammantha’s torso as he readied more slaps to her bloody face.

 

“Sammantha,” he growled, pointing his index finger at her nose, “I want to hear you call out the name of the last person you will ever see in your time on this earth.  What’s my name, Sammantha?  I want to hear you say it!”

 

- - - S L A P !!  - - -

 

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.”

 

“What’s my NAME?!!!”

 

- - - S L A P !!  - - -

 

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.”

 

“What’s my NAME?!!!”

 

The ligature was still wrapped around Sammantha’s neck, but I heard her struggling to speak with her scratchy voice.  She was almost gargling.  I heard her say the following words which she barely got out.

 

“Gort, klaatu barada nikto.”

 

The man slapped her face once more and yelled at her, “Try it again, only don’t add the psyho-babble at the end.”

 

“What’s my NAME?!!!”

 

With all her remaining energy, Sammantha expanded her chest and took in as much air as possible.  Then she vibrated her larynx and let out the scream of a wild banshee.  

 

“GORT … KLAATU  BARADA  NIKTO !!!!!!!!!”

 

I suddenly heard the noise of Sammantha’s sliding closet door immediately to my left, next to her desk.  I could not have imagined what caused it, but I soon found out.  A young woman with light brown hair, and wearing a short skirt stepped out of the closet.  What the hell?  What was a strange girl doing in Sammantha’s closet?  Who was she?

 

Gort had his right hand raised, ready to deliver the next brutal slap to Sammantha’s face … but the blow was stayed.  The strange girl had taken two quick steps toward the bed and then did something I had only witnessed before in an ‘Inspector Gadget’ cartoon.

The girl had a telescoping left arm that extended nearly twice the length of a normal human’s appendage.

 

Gort’s head snapped to the right to see what had grabbed his right arm.  “What the FUCK?!” he yelled out.

 

Gort tugged hard but he could not release his arm from the woman’s steadfast grip.  So he used his left hand to rip at the arm that held him tight.  He managed to peel off a small skin portion of the young woman’s left arm, esposing some electronic wires and circuits.

 

“What the FUCK?!” he repeated.

 

While he was yelling, I watched the woman extend her right arm toward the bronze bedpost and it protruded a one-inch circular saw from out of her center knuckles … almost like the ‘Wolverine’ character … She cut the ligature that had binded Sammantha’s left wrist.  Maybe she actually was Inspector Gadget.

 

Sammantha’s survival intincts took over.  In rapid fashion, she flipped over her body to her right while the young woman pulled Gort off her torso.  Then Sammantha grabbed her patented 17 inch serated stainless steel razor sharp fishing knife out of the bottom drawer of her nightstand and cut the rope that was keeping her right wrist attached to the corresponding bedpost.

 

Sammantha stood up and faced Gort.  “You know, Gort, there’s a knife sticking out of your back.  You ought to call the doc tomorrow morning get that looked into.”

 

Gort tugged on his right arm but still couldn’t break it loose from the girl’s grip.  He angrily yelled at his now vertical opponent, “Call your FREAK off, Sammantha … and let’s settle this man to man like you always wanted to.

 

“I’m the freak, Gort.  Read my book.  And if you ask nicely, she might release you.”

 

The man turned his head and said, “Hey ‘freak’.  Let go of my arm.”

 

“Her name is Shilo … And you forgot to say please.”

 

“Fuck this shit … Hey Shilo … Please let go of my arm.”

 

 

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