Suburban Deathtrap by Demanding Urge

"The results are positive for heavy metal poisoning, Vick. The specific toxic substances appear to be mostly lead and mercury. My nurse will set up a detox program that probably will help only a little. But rest assured, I may not be able to save your life; nor prevent the intense pain of your condition; but at least my services are very expensive. After all, I am a doctor. You can trust me. Dr. Mallard then called a nurse in and told her, " Set Mr. Teem up a chelation schedule and triple bill his insurance, please. " Nurse Frost took hold of Vick with her medical nunchaku and convinced him to be strapped by the wrists into the dosage administration chair. She took particular delight in tightening the wristbands to bring out his blood vessels. Then with the utmost gentleness of a large diesel, Nurse Frost used a ball peen hammer to stick the IV needles into Mr. Teem. " This particular chelating compound will form a ring structure with the metal ion at the center, by at least two bonds, forming a new molecule that can be separated from your blood. It is my deep pleasure to inform you that it really is intensely painful, and may not work all that well, but at least the treatment procedure lasts for hours. Has anyone ever told you what nice hands and forearms you have?" Vick said simply, " I gotta talk to my American Gothic HMO real soon. " A red haze of pain clouded his mind and he heard somebody screaming. Then realized it was him. A part of his mind broke away from the pain and on that quiet isle somewhere else he wondered how he had been poisoned. He was wealthy and his wife and her two sisters were money hungry, gold - grasping harpies who collectively would not piss on his head if the hair was ablaze….and the meals she insisted on fixing had been worse than usual with a bitter metallic taste. He knew. He began to plan; screams continued to issue from the Kevorkian Clinic into the urban night of stinking busses, cracked concrete, and broken people, their bodies wasted in defeat. Acrid smoke whipped some trash papers along the gutter, in which a fetid dank trickle wormed amid cheap wine bottles and syringes. A tooth lay forlorn, like a kernel of corn away from its cob. As Vick shuffled along the storefronts to his home, an empty man stared back from his windowglass reflection. Here he had always bought the same clothes. There was his eyeglass place, his auto mechanic, where the car was bought, His weak steps crunched grittily beneath his stooped with pain body. His suit hung off his thin frame like he marched from Treblinka that very day. What had he filled his life with? And now he was dying. He stopped and was able to arrange the delivery of certain needed supplies from the hardware store he knew so well. He had always enjoyed the tools neatly racked and the pleasant atmosphere of plumbing parts, wood, and other building materials. He hitched a ride with the delivery truck. As he gazed out the truck window, more of Union City, his hometown that he had never left, rolled by paying his life history a visit at each shop. Vick knew he had lost his life way back when he let others make decisions for him. Now he would make a decision of his own. A final stand. A life of lost chances and unfulfilled desire fixed in one fell swoop. Mr. Teem straightened up despite the convulsions within him and his eyes glittered in the way of a raptor. Hard and keen. Hungry. Bold. Upon reaching his home, he found his wife, Belladonna, and her two sisters Ann Thraxe and Gail O'Tine were planning a cruise to Greece and drinking heavily. Vick directed the deliveryman to the garage and patiently allowed Bell to berate him. Followed by insults and another husband beating with the sisters joining in with fireplace tools. He managed to drag his body away as they roared with laughter and began doing shots of Everclear. Vick waited like a cat at a mousehole. Timing was the key. In time they passed out and Victor began his recovery of manly dignity and self esteem. Late the next morning, Gail woke up. Her tousled blonde hair awry upon her Swedish features, a splitting headache from the night before pounded her brain with waves of pain. She had passed out in the bathtub of all places! She heard a slow drip from the tub spout. She tried to move but found her body immovably gripped by a layer of elastic white goop. The glue was six or seven inches deep. Her nightgown spilled its blue silk into the tacky resin like goo. She lay with her back well and thickly smeared with adhesive and could not sit forward. Gail looked at her submerged fingers and hands that vanished at the wrists into the gripping glue. She pulled hard and the goop stretched but would not release her hands. Her butt and legs were plastered down into the rubbery, sticky mess. Gail then noticed the cold water dripping away into a growing pool of liquid. Two bare wires hung coppery lengths below the spillover drain. Gail's widening blue eyes traced the wires to the wall receptacle. There was no safety switch to the bared wires that reached into the bathtub she was stuck in. Live voltage would course through her trapped body as the rising water completed the circuit. Frantically she jerked at herself. But nothing could break the elastic stuck to her skin. She could only pull so hard before the glue began to skin her like a rabbit. Gail moaned in terror and writhed in a confining strata of albino adhesive goo. The water slowly began to collect into bigger puddles atop the glue that she was stuck securely in. Her eyes rolled in terror and the first of many tears streaked her high cheekbones with cold wet ribbons, adding their miniscule contribution to the now inch deep water, only a few more inches and her goose would be cooked in paste gravy. The porcelain drank up the body warmth. The sheer silk of her French nightgown was little protection from chill. The dripping became the pulse of her life as time ran out on her life. Every drop became a step of torture, implacable, one after another as she lay stuck and helpless in the glue. The water was but an inch below the live wires. The drips became louder to Gail's frame of mind, a Chinese water torture fraying her sanity and she began to panic and thrash in the stark white tiled bathroom that was just one of many millions like it, except Gail knew her doom was in this one. Exhausted, her breaths came shallow and rapid and her glued body trembled as she watched the water rise. In a state of resigned paralysis and her existence was measured by the fall of individual, rather loud, descending water droplets. Gail began to whimper again……………….Ann awoke to some sort of noise in the bathroom. Her head felt like hammered crap with a generous dose of zoo dust. And she could not get up from bed. She lay with her bare feet sticking out from a heavy piece of canvas. Someone had sewn her to the mattress with steel piano wire. The mattress had been screwed to the frame also. The canvas kept her firmly spread- eagled to the bed. Only her straining neck and head protruded at the other end. She had been well and tightly stitched to the mattress inside the bed frame. She was struggling away when the bedroom door opened just enough to place several insect foggers into the room and trigger the lethal sprays. The arm withdrew and closed the door. The lock engaged with a final sounding click. Choking vapors filled the room and Ann thrashed with all her might and inhaled more and more insecticide. Soon it felt like her eyeballs were very cold and the walls began to breathe in and out at her. Black spots flickered on her vision and a rapid shutter effect became more pronounced Her struggles weakened as the aerosol death clouded over her trapped body. She screamed and began to choke. The world spun in a dizzy haze. Ann blacked out….......................Bell woke to the sound of her AMG BMW sounding its alarm. Cursing her headache. She stumbled down the hall to the garage door. She tried the light, but it seemed to be out. She felt the stairs and descended them feeling the railing for guidance. Where the last step should have been was open air.Her two bare feet that had the expensive crushed black opal nail polish on each and every toe and matching platinum big toe rings, plunged into a thickening, gripping, heavy substance. A wet hollow muffled glurp came from the bottom of the tub as her feet struck bottom and then stuck fast as the unknown substance continued the squeeze play with the remorseless coils of a granite anaconda. She flexed her slender legs to absorb the impact of landing. The ooze had slowed her drop. However, Bell could not budge her feet a bit. Her car continued to alarm and flash its headlights and in those flashes Bell saw that she was inches over her ankles in a 65 gallon galvanized tub of quick drying cement. Her purple robe reflected the headlamp flashes in sparkles and sheens as she struggled in a futile manner. Her slender calves and well - turned ankles strained. She decided to claw the clinging muck away. She broke all her black opal nails. Her efforts at digging out were rewarded with stuck hands. Now the pressure began to mount about her surrounded hands and feet. She sat on the next lower step and pulled for all she was worth. Her muscles creaked and tendons frayed a bit but not a centimeter of freedom was allowed by the hardening concrete. Then her BMW remote started and the headlamps came on bright. The imported conversion lamps were for off road and rally use. White light brightly streamed into Bell's eyes, blinding her with high candlepower beams. She could not see but heard a dragging noise. It was Vick. She thought the metal toxins she poisoned him with were too slow, yep, had been afraid of that…Should have used ricin. Damn it. Got sloppy, thought Bell. " Oh love of my life, where are you? " a voice of icy sugar purred. Bell began spastic exertions that did nothing to free her trapped limbs. " Shall we have fun on the autobahn today, honey bunch'a purple onion tops?" He sounded crazy. There was no way to break loose, she was definitely, permanently, stuck. She tried to reason with him, and a brick on the accelerator was his answer. The engine rapped up the rpms and drowned out her voice. Using a cane in each hand to support his weak legs, Victor gave a wet tender kiss into Bell's ear and whispered, " All work and no play makes Victor a dull boy." Leaving her struggling away in bonds of rock and with mounting carbon monoxide levels, Victor made his way to the door and exited laughing his head off at her terrified eyes and pleadings and deadbolted the door, well satisfied with his three - way suburban deathtrap.

End