Groom Wars

26. To Punish a Pig

During the middle of the night, something poked my leg. I stirred. I had been struggling to sleep due to the consistent pull to listen to conversations that surrounded me, and I had just dozed off and begun a sweet dream about eating chicken empanadas. My roommates had all finally fallen asleep. So what was touching my leg? I opened one eye then the other. In the dim light, I made out a plain face that didn't seem like one of the contestants.

The stranger said, "Uncle Charlie wants to see you."

I swung my legs over the side of my bed and hopped down. Uncle Charlie was one of those middle-aged men, who was overweight, had a couple of grown kids, and was very touchy-feely. I had suffered through an interview with him earlier in the day, and the number of times we would brush into each other after that and his hand would accidentally brush my chest, thigh, or butt was astounding. I noticed he treated the women he had hired the same way.

I followed the stranger out into the hall, wondering what the top producer wanted. The man took me into a dimly lit room and told me to wait. He disappeared.

While I lingered, I surveyed my environs. Two participants, faces darkened by shadows, sat in cushioned chairs near the door. Light brightened the black sweatpants that covered their legs. But, despite a few potted plants with dull green leaves, the presence of the boys and the room's black wallpaper installed within me a premonition of misfortune.

The two aforementioned participants were the ones Uncle Charlie had also been affectionate with earlier in the day. One had porcelain white skin that seemed like it had never received sunlight. His curly black hair contrasted with his pale skin. He seemed like a doll. Like something that would break if you touched him. Crumble in your hands like clay. He nodded at me. I returned the greeting.

The third member of our late-night meeting was an Argentinian Canadian named Diego with tan skin and short blonde hair. He lounged in one of the cushioned chairs. My throat tightened with unease.

I broke the silence, saying, "The main staff left a lot earlier on the first day, didn't they? Only security and a few camera operators stayed overnight."

Diego said, "The first day was like an introduction, and now the real thing has begun, so maybe, they have to put in longer hours or something."

I clucked my tongue. "I don't know, man, my spidey senses are tingling. Something feels off. I don't see any cameras here."

Diego and I had met on the bus ride home from the first challenge, and since we were both on the smaller side, we felt comfortable with each other. He chuckled and said, "I didn't know you were spiderman." Then he surveyed the room and muttered, "You might be right. I don't see any cameras either unless they are all hidden." He leaned forward, suddenly serious, and placed his hands on his knees.

The door opened; Uncle Charlie walked in and locked it behind him, closing us off from the rest of the world.

He said, "Did you boys sleep well?"

Silence.

Uncle Charlie said, "Come on, don't be so tense." He started to unbuckle his belt. "Now, I know, being on a show like this can be lonely and terrifying, but if you help me, I can help you." He pulled his pants down, revealing a pair of stubby, hairy legs. It was harrowing, but I couldn't stop staring at the ghastly appendages. He pulled down his boxers, revealing a wrinkled penis. I felt bile climb up my throat and tore my gaze away from the ugliness of it all. Diego gagged and spat on the ground.

Uncle Charlie said, "I've looked into your families, and I know you've fallen into some tough times. You do this for me, and I can send you some money."