Crack Attack: A Collection of One-Shots and Other Disturbing Shit

Proofless - Chapter 2

"Pearl."

"Black."

"Hole."

"Mitch." I pause and look over at him and the frown on his face, and he shrugs and flops his arms up and down so that his chains rattle. "What? His stomach's a frickin' black hole. You told me to say the first thing and that's the first thing."

"F-ine. Hoodie."

"Robber."

"Bank."

"Fish." I stop again and he reaches over and smacks me on the arm with a satisfied grin on his face. "Fish tank in the bank! Stop questionin' mah authori-tay."

"Yes, my strong and merciless leader. Lachlan."

"Burrito."

"Chi-" We both jump and our eyes shoot over to the snapping, popping door. It slowly opens and she walks in with a small tray of food and a big smile on her face. She closes it firmly behind her and one of the locks snaps back into place, keeping us from escaping.

"Game time's over, boys. Let's get you taken care of so you can get some sleep." She sets the food down on the dresser next to the bathroom and fishes around in her front left pocket for the keys to our handcuffs, jingling them cheerily for us to see before she leans over and unlocks one of Preston's restraints with her crackling taser clutched against her hip as a warning to follow the rules. "Remember, no playing games, honey. I don't want to have to use this on you." He doesn't say anything and he puts on the most forced smile I have ever seen and slowly walks over to the doorless bathroom with her hawk-like supervision. She keeps glancing back over at me to make sure that I'm not doing anything suspicious; she doesn't trust me at all. She's afraid I am going to take Preston away from her, and I will. It's only a matter of time.

"Uh. Thanks," he mutters as he dries his hands on his shirt and she beckons for him to go back to his dent in the bed. "Do I really hafta...?"

"You can't stay out. You know that." She buzzes the taser and he jumps into action and scrambles back onto the bed, and when she leans over him to loop his chain through the headboard, something shines out of the corner of my vision and it takes everything in me not to look over at it. He stiffly settles back on his mound of musty pillows and she walks around the bed and carefully unlocks my right cuff, audibly buzzing her electric toy as a reminder of how much more she likes Preston. I need to be careful here: I am expendable to her. I keep my hands up in surrender but she follows me more closely, standing in the doorway and watching curiously as I empty my bladder. I didn't realize I was putting on a show here. As soon as I finish washing my hands, she buzzes at me again and I head back to my too-warm, too-squishy prison next to Preston. "There we go. Let's just put this through here... and pop this in here... and there we go. Dinnertime!"

The food slithering across the bending paper plates looks like something out of one of Mitch's challenge videos - or better yet, something out of the toilet. Clumpy packaged mashed potatoes reach up toward the ceiling in an improbable tower next to a watery dam of canned green beans, intermixing with the syrupy brown sauce dripping slowly off of a dark-colored mystery meat patty. I am going to need more than two bathroom breaks per day if I have to eat this shit. She is standing there with the metal cookie sheet tray in her hand and an expectant look on her face while we look at the barely recognizable food.

"Thank you, Erica. It was very nice of you to make us dinner." She gives me a small smile and she looks over at Preston, who cuts off a piece of the dark brown sludge with his plastic fork and shoves it in his mouth before he can change his mind. He tries to chew it once but decides it would be better to just swallow it.