horrors2

Anal_Surgery.Satanic_Re.tex

 1\chapauth{Anal Surgery}
 2\chapter[Satanic Red]{Satanic Red: The Third to Last Case of Detective Luke Bavarious}
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 7I polished my Baretta with a rust-colored rag. I own both the gun
 8and the rag because I am a private detective. People come to me to
 9solve problems. Problems given to them by others with every sort of
10type. I am a problem solver for them, the people to whom problems
11were given. Today (9am on a Monday) was no different than last
12Monday, until she walked in.
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16Anastasia Rexenstein. She poured into my office like a sexual
17cocktail, her dress the color of rusty bulging neck-muscles. Her
18eyes peered into your soul like a peering soul-seeing sage. Her
19smile twisted like a grapevine as she threw a stack of cash in
20front of me. ``I want you to find my daughter,
21Bella-Monica'' she intoned. My eyes grew wider than
22dictionaries as I looked at the financial stuff in front of
23me.
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27``Okay'' I murmured.
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31Bella-Monica Rexenstein was last seen in the company of noted town
32drunk, Firth Rockwell, at his sea-side cabin near the sea. Speeding
33towards the location at 56 miles an hour, I began to hear the
34giggle of destiny around me. Night spread across the sky like a
35grape-juice stain, the color of darkness, and other dark things.
36Rockwell was probably up to no good, so I triple-checked my
37Baretta, which was given to me when I started my detective
38business. It was loaded. So was I. With alcohol. The sea-side cabin
39approached like a sick cat. ``Let's do this'' I said to
40no one in particular.
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44I parked my vehicle and surreptitiously slunk towards the windows.
45A light was on, red, the color the Devil lists as his favorite. My
46eyes narrowed --- I hate the Devil. There was no sign of
47Bella-Monica from the first window, so I approached the second
48window as stealthified as I had the first. I still didn't see her,
49so I proceeded to the west side of cabin and looked in that window.
50I didn't see her there either, so I went to the south side to look
51in that window. Nothing, just like what I thought came after death,
52because I am an atheist detective, because of my experiences, which
53are horrid. But as I came to the east side, I saw movement.
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57Inside, Firth Rockwell was wearing apparel, apparel which fluttered
58wavily in the breeze of a fan. He was sharpening a knife, and
59humming the old Irish folk-tune ``I Murder Down a Path''.
60Inadvertently, I hummed along, as it brought back memories of my
61drunken father, who would hum it after four Bud Lights. I felt
62steam rising in me, which I wanted to blow off, in the form of
63shooting Rockwell. But before I could Rockwell left the room.
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67Sneaking in through the backdoor, I heard footsteps stepping down
68the steps to the basement. Furtively, I snuck down the same steps,
69hoping to see something. But when I arrived in the underground
70chamber, what I saw was a sight which I didn't want to see.
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74Bella-Monica was tied to a chair, with Firth Rockwell placing a
75knife to her throat. I yelled at him ``Stop right there!
76Villain!''. But he just smiled at me. And then he put on a
77wig, and I realized the horrid truth. I vomited a rusty stream from
78my lips, which included burning bile erupting from my nose. For
79with the wig on, Firth Rockwell was Anastasia Rexenstein.
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83But then, she pulled the a wig off of Bella-Monica, and I vomited
84again. For Bella-Monica was actually me! Bella-Monica screamed
85harshly ``{\bf listen to me}---'' but I fired my gun at both of them,
86exploding their faces in a shower of blood, brain matter, skull
87bits, and gristle. I fled upstairs and vomited in the sink. For I
88realized, I had just killed my twin brother. I was the last
89Bavarious now. All I could do was sob. 
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