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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 receiving 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.